Page 14

Morgana

“ A nd then he said it’s up to me whether I’ll try.”

I pace back and forth across my bedroom, an echo of Leon half an hour ago. Tira watches me from where she’s perched cross-legged on her bed. The balm is soothing the sting of my cuts as we speak, but it hasn’t relieved any of my agitation from my conversation with him.

“It’s totally unfair for him to put that on you after everything he’s done,” Tira says.

“Exactly! And then he has the audacity to say he could find a way to tell that dryad in Hallowbane about all this, but not me? After he let me into his bed .”

“Bastard,” Tira says, thumping her fist into her pillow for emphasis. “I hope the tips of his pointy ears shrivel up and fall off.”

I snort, feeling the blessed relief of having Tira at my side, making stupid jokes to brighten the clouds hanging over me.

“Thank you for not judging me,” I say. “About Leon.”

I filled Tira in on everything that had happened between Leon and me after we crossed the border.

At first, I wasn’t sure how she’d react.

Even I thought I was a complete idiot for getting involved with the man who’d so painfully betrayed me.

Yet she just made some wisecrack and told me we all make mistakes.

Now she shrugs. “There’s nothing to judge. To be honest, you and the Nightmare Prince is still much easier to stomach than you and my brother.”

She grins as I make a rude gesture at her, but even our usual banter can’t distract me. I sigh.

“He knew what my power meant to me, and he took it from me. He did the thing he knew would hurt most, and to add insult to injury, he did it while lying to me and hiding things from me.”

Damia was right that day on the boat. He really is a soldier—with a soldier’s ruthlessly practical mindset. Even after Gallis thought I could provide a cure, he wasn’t going to tell me about Fairon if he didn’t have to.

I suppose he still didn’t have to, really. The explanation may have come far too late, but he decided to tell me of his own accord.

“Would you have agreed to come here with him if he had told you everything?” Tira asks, echoing Leon’s question. “Did you trust him enough—care about him enough—back then to choose this over us squirrelling ourselves away in Gullert with Will?”

“Yes.” I hesitate. “No. I don’t know.” I throw myself down on my own bed, staring at the ceiling. “The point is he never even gave me the chance to decide. He took the choice away from me because protecting his brother was more important than respecting my freedom.”

“I mean, we all do crazy shit for our family,” Tira says tentatively.

“That’s the worst bit!” I say, rubbing my hand across my face before I remember the cuts there and hiss in pain.

“Part of me understands why he did it. Of course I do. But it doesn’t mean I owe him anything, not after the way he’s handled things.

Even if I could help his brother. Which I highly doubt. ”

“So what are you going to do now?” Tira asks.

I roll over to face her. “I was kind of hoping you’d tell me.”

“Sorry,” she says. “Above my pay grade.”

I squint at her. “I don’t pay you.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. You’d think even a runaway princess could spare some gold for her lady in waiting.”

“Oh, that’s what you are, are you?”

“Yes, for now. Waiting around to figure out when we can get out of here.”

“I’m working on it,” I say. “A week’s more training and I think I’ll be able to surprise Leon with the progress I’ve made. If he tries to stop us leaving again, I’m still prepared to fight him. What happened today doesn’t change that.”

“Doesn’t it?” Her cheeky grin drops as she becomes serious.

“I don’t like how close things came today, Ana,” she says.

“I know you held your own in the library, but look at you.” She gestures to my injuries.

“We might not have wanted to come here, but at least we thought we’d be safe from your aunt.

If she can send someone after you all the way out here in Filusia, then we’re definitely going to face worse if we ever make it back home.

You might be strong enough to beat Leon with the element of surprise, but what about everyone else? ”

“We always knew we’d have to be careful,” I say. “Gullert would still be a good place to lay low.”

“I know, it’s just?—”

“It’s just the attack makes it feel more real,” I say, and she nods. I agree with her. Knowing my aunt is a threat is very different to being confronted with it when I least expect it.

“If I’m honest, I’ve been avoiding thinking about Oclanna,” I say.

“I don’t blame you,” Tira says. “She sounds like a monster.”

“When I think about what she did to my parents, all out of stupid greed for the throne, it makes my blood boil. Literally.”

I hold my hands up, balling them into fists and imagining the roiling heat of my sun beams flowing into them.

“But I also can’t picture confronting her. What would that even look like?” I drop my hands to my sides again. “Imagining myself on the throne is ridiculous.”

“Is it so ridiculous?” Tira says, cocking her head at me.

“Of course it is,” I say with a huff. “You know the Temple would never let a solari rule. It would mean another civil war. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact Oclanna is a heartless murderer I’d say she can have the kingdom. It certainly doesn’t want me .”

Tira doesn’t immediately answer, but when I look over at her, I can tell there’s something she wants to say.

“What?” I demand.

“I’m just thinking…the Temple, your aunt.

Look, I know he’s a dick, but when we have enemies this powerful, maybe having a super-strong fae prince on our side isn’t such a bad thing?

I mean, curing his brother would have to offer us some bargaining power, right?

Maybe we could bargain our way to a safe future, instead of having to fight him for it. ”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I say.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I know you already feel guilty about the idea of walking away from this Fairon guy. It’s not in your nature to let someone suffer out of spite. That kind of petty shit is more my domain.”

She’s right—though not about being petty. Tira talks tough, but she cares as much as me deep down. She’s right that I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from feeling guilty if I didn’t even try to help. And as much as I might be angry with Leon, could I really just let Fairon die?

What Tira’s suggesting is making Leon useful to us rather than an obstacle, seeing him as a tool rather than an enemy. I can live with that, because it doesn’t require me forgiving him either way.

“Alright. I’ll try. I’ll stick with this plan of his—at least long enough to see if there’s any way it will work. Then I’ll have the bargaining chip to ask whatever we want of him.”

If Leon’s done all this for his brother, I don’t see him turning down any of our terms—not if it means I’ll cure Fairon.

It might sting, having to negotiate for my freedom rather than simply taking it—but at least I’m still getting to make my own choices.

And at least this way, we can ensure that freedom comes with certain protections.

After all, our liberty isn’t worth much if Tira and I are executed the moment we step foot back in Trova.

“I know why we’re really here,” I say to Gallis when we meet outside the training room the next day.

I’m still not ready to speak to Leon, so I caught Stratton at breakfast and asked him to escort me to training.

He was surprised I didn’t want to rest more after yesterday, but the balm worked wonders on my cuts, and I don’t want to waste any more time.

Which is why I jump to the point with the proctor now.

“I know Leon wants me to find a way to help his brother,” I say. Gallis’s face doesn’t give much away. “Something to do with this celestial spark you’ve mentioned.”

“It’s not all he asked of me,” she says eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, he hopes we may be able to unlock new abilities within you—and that one ability in particular. It’s part of why I was so eager to help. In terms of magical theory, it’s a fascinating experiment,” she says. I try not to get annoyed at the idea of being viewed as an experiment.

“But he also asked me to help you strengthen your existing abilities,” she continues, “to achieve some precision and moderation, as we’ve discussed. That, I believe, is for your benefit rather than his.”

Her eyes twinkle a little, and I get the sense she knows precisely what kind of tension sits between myself and the fae prince.

She wants me to know that he was, at least partially, telling the truth all those times he claimed he wanted to help me.

I don’t know if I’m convinced, but if it turns out I can’t cure Fairon then being strong enough to take Leon on will still be my priority.

“Well, now I know, I imagine we can speed things up a bit.”

She inclines her head. “Yes, I’m glad he told you. And glad to see you so determined despite yesterday’s events. Shall we begin?” She gestures to the door.

When I step inside, it’s clear that she already knew what Leon had told me. Once again, everyone here is one step ahead of me, because there are a dozen tall yellow flowers sprouting from the training room’s mossy floor.

“I had one of the geostri mages grow them for us this morning,” she says. “Sunflowers. Rather appropriate, yes?”

I smile wryly. At least this will beat practicing magic with a cushion.

“Whether one believes in the gods or not, whether we believe that life starts with a celestial spark or otherwise, there’s no question that there are patterns in the energy of living things,” Gallis says as she steps between the sunflowers.

“That energy is like a flame and, as with the sun, we rely on its warmth to survive. When someone draws closer to death, we find that inner flame burns less brightly. When someone’s flame extinguishes completely, they die and grow cold.

We solari are more in touch with our celestial flame than others. ”

I raise an eyebrow. “Even more than incendi?”

“Their magic is filtered through a different element. Just because they too produce heat doesn’t make it the same. Their fires need air and fuel to thrive—the celestial flame is quite different.”

I nod, trying to wrap my head around the idea as Gallis continues.

“When you and I cast our sun beams, we are finding the celestial flame inside ourselves and projecting it outward.”

“So what does that have to do with healing someone?” I ask, wondering how much theory she’s going to pile on me before we arrive at the tricky little issue of needing to save someone’s life.

Gallis smiles serenely. “You are unusually powerful, Morgana. If you can connect with a fading, damaged celestial flame in another living being, then we believe you may be able to revitalize it by channeling your magic into it.”

She just said that when someone’s dying, their flame fades.

And when it goes out, they’re gone. So she’s talking about bringing someone on the brink of death back to life.

It’s a crazy idea, but not as crazy as the thought that pops into my head next: If I can revitalize a celestial flame, could I snuff one out?

That would certainly solve the problem with your aunt.

I’m too startled by the idea whispering at the back of my mind to be able to fully process it right now. Instead, I quickly brush it away. It’s all hypothetical anyway.

For now, at least.

Gallis claps her hands together and calls me forward. “Enough talk. Now that you know what you’re looking for, let’s see if you can connect with the celestial flames of these plants.”

I eye them, focusing more on the details. They don’t look very happy. Most of their heads are drooping, and several have shriveled, brown petals.

“Did you say these were grown this morning?” I ask dubiously.

Gallis’s lips twitch with amusement. “Yes, but I asked our mages to starve them a little—they’ve had the water and nutrients drained from them.”

In other words, they’ve started killing them so that I can save them. I try to ignore the heavy weight of doubt about whether I can pull this off. Instead, I focus on the flowers.

“So you said I have to look for the celestial flame?”

“Yes. Think of how you summon your sun beam magic and start there.”

I frown, trying to translate the heat running through my veins to the flower in front of me.

It’s difficult. I feel my magic surging in my own veins, begging to be freed, but I know that’s not what I’m looking for.

I try to tweak my approach, instead thinking of how I relate to an object when casting my orbital magic.

The flower unfurls into my awareness, and I feel a spark of light.

“I think I see it,” I say, shutting my eyes to help me focus on the sensation. “It’s not quite a flame though, more like an ember.”

“That’s because it’s dying,” Gallis says, and I can hear the excitement in her voice. “Focus, Morgana, see if you can do more than sense the flame. Try to manipulate it.”

Slowly, I push my awareness toward the ember until I think I can feel the small amount of heat it’s giving off, like a coal still glowing from the fire.

I swallow, knowing there’s one more step in this test: attempting to actually charge the light with my own.

I try to keep hold of the ember while calling on my magic, drawing it from my veins.

It rushes from me like a flood, completely engulfing the ember.

I feel like I have no control, gasping in frustration as my power batters the flower’s inner flame.

Gallis mutters something sharply, and I open my eyes to see the sunflower has become a blackened lump, still smoldering from the heat of my magic.

“I knew this wouldn’t work,” I say. “I can’t revive anything.”

“You’re mistaken, Morgana,” Gallis says. “This is incredible progress.”

I point at the singed mass that was once a sunflower. “ That’s progress? At least it still had petals before.”

“You just did something I’ve only read about in very old texts. You burned the flower with magic that came from within the plant. There was no visible sun beam, no external projection of your power. Which means your magic truly did tap into the flower’s inner flame.”

Okay, so maybe it is progress. But when I look at my handiwork, I shudder to think what would happen if I turned this power on someone I was trying to help.

When I imagine it, all I can see is Bede’s smoking corpse—the last person who died when I didn’t have full control of my magic.

Only rather than Bede’s hateful features, now his face is replaced by someone who looks a lot like Leon—like what I imagine his brother would look like.