Page 14 of Aubade Rising

I despise failure. My research: learning the Gallos.

I’ve been surrounded by its constant presence for the last fortnight and it’s making me cranky.

I’ve combed the palace library for references, even roping Haelyn in to help.

She found a few texts but they all say the same thing: visualise your magic and draw it out of your body.

That’s it. So simple. Haelyn has begun to master it after only a few sessions.

She’s as keen as I am to narrow the gap between us and the Mordros.

Seeing her sitting calmly in the library with a small tornado swirling in front of her is infuriating.

Today, I’ve taken a different approach, sequestering myself in my laboratory, determined to make some progress.

I sit cross-legged on the cold floor and close my eyes.

That little acorn of light sitting in my chest, perks up at being noticed, itching to be used.

It’s a clear day for once. There’s no need to keep my magic locked away when I can replenish it easily.

I need to focus – until I have this under control, my experiments are going nowhere and I’ve had enough of clearing up debris.

The problem I have is not being able to visualise my magic. I never have. The day draws to a close, but nothing is working. Head and back aching, I pick myself off the floor.

As arranged, Diogel waits at the foot of the cliffs, ready to escort me back to the palace.

His presence is a comforting constant as I travel back and forth to the islet, braving the rough seas.

He guides the ferry skilfully through the currents, avoiding the worst of the eddies.

Today, the creases in his forehead are deeper, thick brows furrowed.

“She’s a bad one,” he nods towards the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

“No doubt about it.” There’s nothing particularly special about the looming clouds approaching but I haven’t grown up on these waters like Diogel, so I’m not about to claim differently.

Instead, I hunker further into the ferry’s hull, bracing against the rocking swells and pushing salt spray out of my face.

“Mind if we detour to the city quay? I’d feel better if we help move out the stragglers before she hits.” I try to nod but the motion sends a spasm of nausea through my stomach.

As my ferry approaches the quay, Diogel’s glance warns me not to disembark. I half-smile; I’m not tempted to sneak into the city alone tonight. And if I was, I’d find a way to do it without implicating him.

While I wait for the other passengers to embark, I notice the river level has dropped despite the churning waves.

It’s a sign the inland glacial lakes are frozen, a precursor to the devastating spring floods.

When the lakes melt, the river swells. A ritual deluge collides with the ocean tides, causing lethal currents to flood the lower city.

Everyone living and working close to the harbour evacuates if they can, staying in taverns or with family closer to the palace, praying they will have a home to return to.

Of course, the Mordros are not impacted, closeted safely in their family townhouses, high above the tidal line.

I look up to that district in disgust. None of them open their doors or provide sanctuary each year, despite having room to spare.

This year I will be one of them, safely ensconced behind the palace walls. That thought sobers me.

The final passengers board and a shadow looms over me. Captain Devath appears at my shoulder, gesturing to take the empty seat next to mine.

He folds awkwardly into the compact space, legs taking up half of the central aisle. I concentrate on ignoring the pressure of his thigh pressed into mine and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke that surrounds him.

His stare travels from my shoes to my windswept hair, likely finding me lacking in some way. For once, he makes no comment. I flinch when my stomach makes an unnaturally loud gurgle, wrapping my arms tightly round my waist, leaving no doubt the noise came from me.

Laughter explodes from the Captain, which turns into a coughing fit, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes at my mortification.

“Well, that’s the rudest way to greet someone,” he croaks, voice hoarse from laughing, eyes glittering. The temptation to join him surfaces but I smother my smile, cheeks burning.

“So charming,” I retort, refusing to laugh.

“Oh, come on.” He’s interrupted by my stomach rumbling again and this time I can’t help seeing the funny side. A giggle slips out of my mouth, just one, but that’s all it takes and then I’m in stitches too.

We’re still laughing when the ferry docks and Diogel waits patiently for us to compose ourselves before we disembark. It takes a while: every time we get somewhat under control, my stomach sets us off again. Eventually, we manage to climb out of the ferry.

I’m not sure what comes over me but as we walk up to Chi An Mor together, I ask Eskar if he’d like to visit the laboratory.

“And put my life at risk with one of your explosions? I’ve heard you’re dangerous.” Sarcasm drips from his lips like honey, but this time it makes me smile.

“I’ll do my best not to blow your head off,” I retort, a warmth spreading through my chest smothering the faint hint of unease that my pyrotechnics are known at court.

“I’m sure I can handle some of your fireworks, Sage.” He chuckles darkly and I’m intrigued at his change in manner today. He’s standing close enough that I can count the salt spray on his cheeks but his expression is shadowed by the long, dark hair that falls over his eyes.

A guard paces back and forth outside the palace doors.

He sees us approach and stops, standing to attention.

I try not to take offence as Captain Devath’s posture stiffens and he pulls away from me.

He has a short, whispered conversation with the guard and, before I can overhear a word, he stalks off, squaring his shoulders, all plans to visit the laboratory with me forgotten.

The next afternoon at the lab is a waste of time.

I’m clumsy and distracted, looking at the door which stubbornly remains closed.

The quiet solitude is unwelcome today and I leave early, frustrated at Eskar’s mercurial behaviour.

It’s a relief to arrive back in time for the hustle and bustle of dinner and I convince Haelyn to join me.

We’re discussing her latest library acquisition when Eskar calls the room to attention.

A wave of anxiety passes through the servants and members of the court alike and the silence which follows is heavy.

“The people responsible for the attacks on Athnavar, Cathair and Porth have come forward,” he announces, hands twitching at his sides.

“The rebel group Kevren Gwir have claimed responsibility. This act of treasonous aggression will not go unpunished – the King will have justice.” He pauses, surveying the room without fixing his gaze on anyone.

“The rebels are to be considered incredibly dangerous. Any citizen found associating or communicating with this group will face strict consequences: the penalty for treason is death. Notices will be posted in every major town and city in the morning.” Turning promptly, hands clasped tightly behind his back, he leaves, avoiding eye contact.

“Kevren Gwir? I’ve never heard of them.” I turn to Haelyn as the hall explodes in chaos. Half the room leaves, the other half stay to dissect the proclamation.

Haelyn has gone remarkably pale; her wide eyes, two dark pools of fear.

“There’s been rumours of Kevren Gwir building strength for a few years.

They aren’t the largest group of resistance against the crown, but they are definitely the most organised.

” She pauses, fingers pulling at a loose thread in her napkin “And the most equipped, given the scale of their attacks.”

I shudder, and now appreciate the risk I took visiting Cedar alone. The threat feels closer now they have a name. “What does Kevren Gwir mean?”

Haelyn will know more. Nobody knows more about Trevesiga than the King’s Archivist. “Why are you asking me? I don’t know anything about them.” She throws her napkin on her plate and bangs her chair as she rushes to leave.

Bewildered, I stare at her empty place before leaping up to follow. It’s too late – she evades me in the chaos and my knocks on her door are ignored.