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She supposed that was only fair but…she didn’t want to think about that. If the histories were to be trusted, he was meant for another. What she knew of his fate was that he had attacked the avatar of Justice, that he was sent to Boreas for a time, and that he had married a princess—two of which had already occurred.

Even if she did have an attraction to him in a purely physical sense, which was, when she thought on it, a base, instinctual thing and not something she had any control of, she had no intention of acting on it. There would be nothing to gain but heartache. Aurora had enough of that already. That, and he was a distraction she could ill afford.

Pleasant though it might have been in other circumstances, she had something she needed to accomplish.

But, if she were being honest…

“You’re not…unattractive.”

“Be still my heart, such high praise!”

And even that felt like she’d given him too much. He struck her as someone who, once they were given any ground, pushed until one was overwhelmed completely.

“I would very much like to discuss something else.” She squirmed as she made short work of his knots.

“Hmmm, I’m sure you would,” he teased.

They needed to find another topic to discuss. Something less fraught. And preferably something he could expound on at length so she would be free to rebuild her walls as she focused on the methodical task before her.

“Tell me about Aureum. I’ve only ever read stories about it.”

He was a window into a world that had been utterly lost. What remained in her time was a backwater province that had mostly become arid plains and desert, with only a sliver of green closest the border to Viridis.

“Such a blatant change of topic. And catered exactly to my interests.”

“Please?”

He chuckled.

“What would you like to know?”

“When we go there, what will I see?”

“Hmm, well, first—no, give me a moment. I have an idea,” he said, rising from his position and walking to the door, his hair only half combed. “Bring me a minds-eye stone,” he ordered the attendant.

“Your Majesty, that might be a little—”

“Are you saying that the Viridian capital is so impoverished, it can’t even afford one minds-eye stone?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.” The attendant bristled. “It will take but a moment.”

He settled back into his spot and leaned his head back. Aurora continued brushing, working out the worst of the tangles with the help of a little oil.

“What’s the stone?”

“You’ll see.”

She worked in companionable quiet. When she was done, she combed the full, silky length of it. As it dried, his thick hair developed a beautiful, loose wave. Most women would kill for hair such as his. Theron sighed contentedly.

“What do you suppose it would cost me to have an attendant comb my hair like this every day?”

“Given the cost for a bar of soap? Probably your firstborn.”

“And what would you charge, madam fairy?”

She concentrated her hearing. No one had taken the absent attendant’s position at the door. Orithyia had threatened her not to divulge this information, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, Aurora hoped.

“Information and favours.”

“Oh? What kind of favours?” Theron asked, his voice deepening.

Aurora snorted. It seemed Theron was still angling for something she planned on guarding.

“Military aid, to start.”

Theron laughed.

“Planning to conquer Trisia while you’re here?”

“Hardly. Drakon is an enormous flying serpent who can summon molten boulders and rain them down from the skies. He breathes a fire so hot it turns people to ash in an instant. It will take considerable force to subdue him.”

If it could even be done. She could only hope that here, during the first cycle of calamity, his powers were not as devastating as they’d been in her time. After all, the great serpents of myth and legend grew in strength and potency as they aged, and the Drakon of her time had been thousands of years old.

“And aside from my military, what else would you demand for your hair-combing services?”

“Help with finding someone.”

“Oh? I had no notion you knew anyone in Trisia. Should I be jealous?”

“I don’t know them, precisely. But I will need their help to slay Drakon.”

“And my military won’t be enough?” he asked, slightly affronted.

“No. I wish it were that simple.”

He turned around, his gold eyes taking her measure, trying to puzzle her out. But no matter how penetrating his gaze, he would not uncover her secrets so easily. Aurora could ill afford it. For what kind of sane man would believe her full story? Orithyia hadn’t, and she had knowledge no one else in Trisia possessed. No, she needed his aid more than she needed to unburden her soul, more than she wished she could be fully honest.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

Her ears twitched as the attendant marched through the hallways. Aurora had never been more grateful for their presence.

“It’ll have to wait. We have company.”

He cupped the back of her neck, drawing her close.

“You will tell me.”

Aurora said nothing, returning his stare, refusing to be the first to flinch. The longer she held out, the more wicked his smile, and the more his gaze dipped to her lips.

Theron only released her when the attendant knocked on the door to deliver the stone, an opaque blue crystal the size of her fist with a copper colour band around it inscribed with ancient symbols. She’d never heard of such a device, though it bore some similarities with her artefact. Theron took the stone and sent the attendant out.

“I fear my words won’t do my kingdom justice, but I can picture it clearly in my mind. This device will allow me to share it with you.”

Theron closed his eyes, holding the stone in both hands. Images flashed before him, a magic wholly unknown to her, lost in time and never recovered. Her eyes widened, taking in the unexpected sight.

“We would cross The Colonnades Of The Colossus, a land bridge that soars over the Dragon’s Tongue River, and enter my eastern-most province, the Dragon’s Flank. The land is hilly, bordered by the Dragon’s Tail and Dragon’s Spine Mountain ranges, and gradually meets the sea in the south. In spring, the whole landscape is covered in colourful wildflowers. Small towns hug the rivers, and the largest city is the harbour.”

He was showing her what remained of Aureum’s habitable land in her time. She recognised the Colonnades, but the water was higher, faster, a series of rapids beneath. The landscape was shocking in its beauty and abundance, green and dotted with flowers in reds, pinks, yellows and whites, vast forests where she only knew arid wine country. The towns were of particular interest. So little remained of old towns, where the original buildings were buried under thousands of years of occupation. Their plans were strikingly orderly, the buildings taller than she would have thought possible. But if her day out in Boreas were any measure, just seeing more than the ankle-high walls was still surprising to her.

“But we wouldn’t stay there long, or travel south far enough to see it. We would travel the winding trade road through the canyons to Aureum proper, where Altanus lies. This time of year, it should be carpeted in grazing lands and fields of wheat…” He trailed off, a scowl on his face.

High, green cliffs soared overhead of a well-tended road that abutted a river along the same path, occasionally widening in places where waterfalls rained down from above to create small ponds of striking depths. It was a feast for her eyes, all the more so because of what she remembered. The old trade road had been as dry as a bone, the waterfalls as extinct as the river, the small, deep ponds turned into wells that had long gone dry. But when he brought her out of the mouth of the canyon and into the old Aureum-proper, she could barely stifle her gasp.

Gone were the arid plains and seemingly endless desert beyond. In their place, a land of vibrant green, sparkling rivers, an enormous lake at the foot of mountains capped with dazzling snow. The city itself was no less spectacular. Painted buildings, colourful roofs, a bustling market, tree-lined streets, tranquil parks and rising above it all, a palace more resplendent than even her wildest imaginings. She’d always thought the ancient Aureans lived less splendidly than the Viridians, their cities poorer, their architecture less advanced. Perhaps what she’d learned had been more fairy tale than truth, if what Theron was showing her was to be believed.

“But the cursed blight has devastated much. The once-mighty rivers are polluted streams and the fields have become arid and patchy. The lake at the foot of the Dragon’s Spine just north of the capital used to be crystal clear, but ever since Orithyia’s tower went up, angering the spirits, that picturesque place is now a shadow of itself.”

“A tower?”

He showed it to her then, an alien construction shooting out of the mountains, a white spire, darkening the snow that surrounded it. The rivers trickled through the land, the farmland suffered, the lake waters turned murky, and everywhere in his mind, there were people who were hungry, sick, their eyes hollow and hopeless.

“She constructed it in my kingdom without permission and angered the spirits. Ever since, my lands have been blighted. It fell not long ago, and I hope that will be the end of it.”

He dispelled the images, setting the stone aside.

Was it truly a blight brought on by angry spirits, or merely a drought? She’d gathered he had a contentious relationship with the Orithyia of this time. She sympathised, but was he putting the blame in the right place or merely placing it where it was most emotionally satisfying? She put a hand on his.

“Your kingdom is beautiful, Theron. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so full of life.”

“Did you miss the part about the blight?”

“Even so, it was stunning. You’re right to be proud of it.”

“Hmmm, I can’t tell if you’re being sincere, or if you’re buttering me up for something else.”

Aurora laughed. It felt good, cleansing after everything that had happened.

“Will you tell me about your kingdom’s myths and legends?”

“If you insist,” he grumbled. “I shall tell you of the dragon whose body became Aureum and Niveum.”

Aurora curled up against the pillows on the bed and listened, rapt by the stories Theron told of ancient heroes, the tales of giants and faeries, of the dragon who fell in love with a unicorn and gave her wings, and of the First Great Sundering. But as the sun rose in a cloudy sky, Aurora’s eyelids drooped, until sleep took her in its gentle embrace. Her last recollection was of Theron tucking her in and wishing her sweet dreams.

A crack of thunder woke her moments before the door to the bedroom was swung open. Lightning flashed in the darkened room, painting two paladins of Knowledge in vivid detail. They marched inside and dragged her from the bed without so much as an explanation.

“Theron!” Aurora cried.

But as she searched the room for him, it was apparent he was gone. She was alone in whatever was to come.

Arms pinned and tied behind her back, Aurora was roughly ushered from the guest palace and into the rain, across empty, muddy streets and towards the temple of Knowledge. Outside, men and women wailed, waiting on the steps as acolytes kept them from entering.

Had Theron betrayed her after all? Traded her disloyalty to Orithyia and the secret hoard of artefacts for his release? Her magic uncoiled inside her, a beast scenting her rising panic. Orithyia had threatened to have her tongue pulled out, her eyes blinded, and her feet cut off. Aurora instantly regretted not sleeping with the protective artefact around her neck. She’d been such a fool to trust he would be an ally.

As she was dragged into the temple, everywhere was packed full of the sick and dying, temple medics rushing between patients, desperate to keep them from death. The children outnumbered the adults five to one. This was the plague of torchlight fever. Children lay on threadbare blankets as acolytes pressed wet compresses to their heads, others urging them to drink a bitter brew. Adults who had succumbed were removed from their places on the floor, only for it to be filled moments later. And everywhere, the moaning of the patients mingled with the harried commands of the medics.

Aurora was pushed through the narrow, wending path between the victims and up stairs where even here, patients lay. The second floor was nearly as crowded as the first. It was only the third that was devoid of patients but instead crammed with clerics either passed out in corners, their clothes dirty and their hair dishevelled, or staring blankly at walls with dark circles under their eyes, unable to rest amidst the clamour. It was through all this suffering that Aurora was ushered until at last she was made to kneel at Orithyia’s feet in a private chamber.

“Leave us.”

The priestesses left, closing the door on their way out, and the din instantly silenced. Here, Aurora could hear her own ragged breaths, the rush of blood roaring in her ears as her heart tried to escape the cage of her ribs. She tried to marshal her magic to her bidding but it remained elusive, like grabbing hold of rushing water. Orithyia touched the tip of her switch to Aurora’s cheek, just below her eye.

“Tell me all you know about this hero you mentioned. The avatar of Justice.”

It took a moment to register that the high priestess had not dragged her here to dispense with gruesome punishment. Or confront her with the theft of the artefacts. Theron hadn’t betrayed her then. But why was she asking about this now, when the plague should be taking up all her resources? Where had Theron gone?

Orithyia scowled.

“I have a city beset by plague, and no spare time for your dawdling. Do I need to use the switch, girl?”

“No! No,” Aurora assured her. “I don’t know what more I could tell you. The hero of the holy sword possesses both wild and divine magic, as I said, and as far as I know, that has always been the case. He’s made an avatar of Justice before Drakon comes to Trisia. His mission has always been to seal the beast away.”

“And after the beast is sealed, what then?”

“I…I don’t know. His life after that is never really mentioned.”

Aurora didn’t even know the first hero’s name—no one did. So much history had been lost throughout the cycles of chaos and calamity that some periods had no more than a few distinct potsherds to define them by.

Her scowl deepened.

“You said Drakon brings a veritable apocalypse with it. This hero, he seals the beast away alone? How?”

Aurora swallowed, her magic twisting inside her chest. She didn’t trust this Orithyia, not with her secrets or her safety.

“I can only surmise it has to do with the weapon he wields.”

The first lash came without warning. Fire raced down from her cheek to her chest. Aurora screamed, curling in on herself. The high priestess had struck like a viper.

“You think I don’t know by now when someone is lying to me? The next time I use this,” she tipped Aurora’s head up with the end of her switch so that their eyes met, “I will not be so generous as to avoid your eyes.”

“I-I’m supposed to help,” Aurora replied, her eyes swimming with tears.

“ You? ” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“My wild magic.”

“What is someone with wild magic doing serving in a temple?”

She’d forgotten. In the past, those with wild magic never served in the temples, instead being pressed into service with the royal houses. That had only begun to change recently in Aurora’s time.

“I didn’t know. I thought it had abandoned me.”

Orithyia rolled her eyes.

“Goddess preserve me. They must have taken you in out of sheer pity. So? What is so special about your wild magic?”

“I…”

She didn’t want to tell her. Maybe it would be better to suffer the beating, knowing Theron could piece her back together. But she didn’t think she would be able to hold out for very long. She was no warrior, accustomed to taking blows with stoicism.

The second lash raked across her face, ripping through her scalp, her right eye, her cheek, her nose, her lips. Fire gave way to a rush of blood. Aurora’s scream only further split open the bloody wounds. She couldn’t see! She couldn’t see! Her magic surged, but nothing happened. It was too late. The damage had been done. Half her world had gone dark.

“You waste my time at the expense of people’s lives. You were warned. Answer.”

“I can p-pause time,” Aurora sobbed.

“Hmmm,” Orithyia hummed, mulling her words. “Clearly not very well, or you could have avoided my switch.”

She hated it then, this creature in her chest. All it did was writhe inside her, never obeying her will, doing whatever it liked. It had nearly killed her last night. Today, it couldn’t even protect her from having her face split open. She was no better than a mouse facing off against a lion, and she didn’t even have the protection of tooth and claw.

“I h-have no training. I only l-learned about it a few days before I was s-sent back to your time.”

The high priestess studied her for some time as Aurora wept, her blood and tears mingling on her ruined cheek and raining down on the floor beneath her. She wished she could remove it, this magic that felt more like a curse than a gift. But there was no tearing it out. It was embedded in her soul.

“I can see now why you failed in your time. You’re a brainless twit.” Orithyia grabbed her face, her finger pressing on Aurora’s open wound. Aurora shrieked. “A condition you have yet to overcome, if your choice of company is any indication. Don’t think that I’m unaware of your seduction of the Aurean king. If you have any good sense in you, then heed my words—Queen Flora has plans for him, and when he is gone, you will still reside in the guest palace. I suggest you do your best to prove your worth to me.” She released Aurora with the flick of her wrist and pulled the bell-pull, wiping her bloodied hand with a pristine scrap of silk. The paladins entered, awaiting instruction. “Take her back. Give her parchment and ink.” She speared Aurora with an uncompromising stare. “You will draw this holy sword, as well as the beast, so that my people will know what it is they’re to look for. Now go, I have a city to care for.”

Aurora was pushed through the temple, bloody and beaten, until she was back out on the streets, the rain adding insult to injury. Every drop felt like acid against her wounds. By the time she was deposited back in the atrium of the guest palace, she was a mess, soaked to the bone. She stumbled back to her room and collapsed on her bed, hoping desperately that Theron would return.