CHAPTER SIX

“Wakey, wakey!”

The whisper floated to Asterin through the darkness. She ignored it, savoring the blessed silence that followed. Then the heavy ripple of fabric cut the silence short and blazing white light pierced her slumber. “Close the damn curtains!” she howled.

When the curtains stayed open, she groaned and rolled onto her stomach, burrowing her face into the pillows. Those, along with the covers, were wrenched from her grip.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” that voice taunted again. Asterin cursed it like a sailor, curling in on herself in a final attempt to fall back asleep. “Come on, you managed to beat me for the first time in your life and I return only to find that you’ve given up already?”

She shot up in bed with a little scream as Orion’s grinning face swam into view. Heat radiated from her face as she yanked her satin dressing gown below her knees.

“Orion!” she shrieked. “I am not dressed!”

“Clearly,” he said. “What a sight for sore eyes. That neckline is sinfully low.”

“Well, I thought you were Luna,” she snapped. “I saw no reason to cover myself.”

“What? I don’t sound anything like Luna!”

She shrugged and flung her finger toward the entrance. “Out!”

“I’ll be back in two minutes.” He winked and tugged playfully at her hem. “You should wear this more often.”

Asterin whacked him in the head with the back of her hand. He just laughed and flounced out of her chambers.

After the door snicked shut, she flipped out of bed and prowled toward the bathroom, grumbling all the while—but before she made it halfway across her room, her window shattered and a man tumbled in.

Her magic reacted faster than she did, beyond her control yet again, spirals of jagged ice shooting straight for the intruder’s heart.

Only as the man looked up and she met Quinlan’s wide eyes did she realize her mistake.

“No!” she shouted, too late.

A wave of heat swelled over her as fire exploded from his palms, melting her ice into a deluge of water that splashed high enough to soak him from head to toe.

“What in hell was that for, brat?” he spluttered, drenched but unharmed. He clutched his hands protectively to his chest. “Is that how you say good morning? How rude.”

“Immortals have mercy,” Asterin said, clutching her chest. Her shock soon turned into fury. “Have you ever heard of using a door?” she yelled. “I could have killed you!”

“That would have been awfully ambitious of you,” Quinlan replied nonchalantly, peering at his cupped palms.

Without a word, she strode over to him and slapped him hard across the face.

He blinked, cheek darkening with a hand-shaped print.

“What were you doing outside my window?” Her body trembled. “And don’t call me brat, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut, and for the first time he seemed to focus. His eyes dipped down, snagging briefly on her neckline. He blushed. “Uh …”

She snapped her fingers. “Eyes up here, Holloway.”

“Right,” he said smartly. There was a pause. “Apologies. You look nice.”

She glared at him. “You’re dripping on my rug.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you really?”

He smiled sweetly, dimples and all. “Of course.” He peeked into his hands again and then slowly unfurled his fingers. To Asterin’s astonishment, a baby bird quivered in his palms, nothing more than a tiny ball of brown fuzz. It peeped up at her and chirruped bravely. “Nice defense spell on the window, by the way. If we hadn’t made it inside a second sooner, you might have decapitated both me and this little guy.”

This is an injustice, Asterin couldn’t help but think, glancing between the baby bird and Quinlan’s dimples. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe I’m the one apologizing in this situation. And you still haven’t explained why you even triggered my spell.”

“I was just jogging through the gardens when I saw this little guy stuck on the railing of the balcony below your window.” He paused. “And then I, uh, figured I’d might as well pop by to see if you were in. To say hello. To you. I mean, you to the bird.”

Asterin’s eyes narrowed. “And how exactly did you know that it was my window?”

Quinlan shifted his feet helplessly. “I don’t know, I just counted all of the windows from outside. Your chambers are on the fourth floor, facing the gardens …” He trailed off. “I am beginning to realize that I sound like a stalker.” At Asterin’s unimpressed eyebrow raise, he ducked his head. “I apologize. It was instinctual, not intentional, I swear.”

“Stalking me, you mean?” she quipped.

“Of course not! I meant spatial awareness.” He hid his face behind his wrists and peeked out one eye at her, the baby bird still hopping around in his cupped palms. “Please forgive me?”

Asterin sighed through her nose, trying desperately to maintain a stern expression. “You’re still dripping on my rug.”

“That, I can fix.” Quinlan waved his hand and a warm wind wrapped itself around them in a hurricane of heat, whipping her hair into the air. The wind thrust her forward, causing her to stumble into his chest. He smirked at her and held her close, the scent of ash and smoke and northern air washing over her. One hand still cupping the baby bird and the other heavy on her waist, he leaned down, lips brushing her ear. “Feeling a little warm?” he whispered roughly, his tone sending involuntary shivers down her spine.

Asterin scowled and shoved him away, hating the smug quirk of his lips, the way her blood thrummed. The heat died down, leaving his clothes and her rug completely dry. She narrowed her eyes, face flushed, telling herself it was from the temperature. “You’d do well to remember your place.”

“As?”

“As a soldier. Under my command. You aren’t even allowed in my rooms.”

“Who’s not allowed in your rooms?” Orion asked, nudging his head into the bedchamber. His eyes landed on them, widening at Quinlan. “Who in hell are you?”

Quinlan raised an eyebrow. “Who in hell are you?”

Orion marched over, jostling Asterin behind him. “I’m Orion Galashiels, Princess Asterin’s Royal Guardian.”

Quinlan stepped closer with all the bravado in the world, chin high. “I’m Quinlan Holloway, Princess Asterin’s …” He trailed off, glancing at her for help.

Asterin simply folded her arms across her chest. “Court jester.”

“Wow.” Quinlan backed down with a wince. “Ouch.”

When Orion turned to her, she said, “While you were away, a present arrived from the Queen of Eradore. Two new Elites. I know Quinlan doesn’t look like much, but his cousin Rose is fairly competent, trust me.”

Orion didn’t look too happy about the news, but then his boots crunched. He zeroed in on the glass still littering the carpet, and then the broken window. “Why …?”

“Don’t ask.” Quinlan passed the bird to Asterin without explanation and pulled an affinity stone out of his pocket. All at once, the shattered glass hovered into the air, glittering like frost, and then each piece ignited a fiery yellow. The glowing pieces whizzed high above their heads, amassing into a clump, fingers of blue flame licking at the ceiling but only melting the glass. Finally, Quinlan let the clump fall, catching it neatly in his hand and offering it to Asterin. “A paperweight for you, Your Highness. Careful, it’s still hot.” An understatement—when she held her hand over the glass, it rivaled the heat of a bonfire.

“You’re a fire-wielder,” Orion realized.

Quinlan bowed theatrically. “House of the Fox, at your service.”

Fox. So fire is his most powerful affinity, Asterin thought. After seeing how masterfully he controlled his fire affinity, she couldn’t help but admit her curiosity. Fire was the most difficult element to control, after all.

“At your service, my ass,” Orion said, and Asterin noticed that the usual twinkle in his glacier-blue eyes had gone flat. “Get out of here.”

Asterin gaped. “Orion.”

“You said it yourself, Asterin. He’s not even allowed in your rooms.”

“Unless I give him permission,” she retorted. Why am I defending him? She blamed it on Orion’s uncharacteristic incivility. “Quinlan, my sword, please. By the dresser. I’ve got some ass to kick.”

The Eradorian obliged. As he passed her Amoux, he gestured to her dressing gown and asked, “Aren’t you going to change first?”

“Nope,” Asterin said, scarcely noticing the strangled noise her reply choked out of him, already focusing on the task at hand. There was no way in hell she’d let Orion beat her—not now.

Her Guardian gave her a hard look. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She pretended not to understand his double meaning, only crooking two fingers at him in invitation.

He scoffed, taking his time unsheathing Orondite, holding his blade loose in his grip. That was her first warning—that easy stance meant trouble. She stilled her breathing, Amoux steady and solid as she waited for the spring to recoil. For that single drop of rain to split the surface of the lake. For his telltale inhale—and there.

Orion shot forward, faster than a jungle cat, his sword cleaving through the air. She heard Quinlan suck in a breath. But Asterin was even faster than her mentor, Amoux nothing more than a blur. The cut that could have taken her hand off slashed through nothing. Orion drew back to right his blunder and she met him without hesitation. The collision of their swords nearly knocked her over—and before she could regain control, Orondite hooked around Amoux and wrenched upward. Tears pricked her eyes at the pain that shot through her wrist.

Focus.

Her Guardian drove his sword into hers again and again, pummeling her defenses as fast as she could set them up. She scrambled over the pile of pillows that Orion had abandoned on her floor earlier, struggling to recover from his attacks.

“What do you think happens when you put your trust into people you don’t truly know?” Orion asked, hacking a pillow in half with an effortless slice and a shower of feathers. “Like your father did, all those years ago?”

Asterin swallowed. “That has nothing to do with this.”

Slice. Two pillows sheared apart. “Of course it does.”

With a snarl, she hurled herself forward and thrust. Sloppy. Orion parried her easily and bore down upon her blade with cruel, crushing strength. The strain on her wrist raked a groan from her throat. A chilling wind gusted through the broken window at her back. Her feet slid across the floor and an idea flitted through her mind.

“What do you think happens when you don’t listen to the people you should trust?” Orion demanded. “The people who will stop at nothing to protect you when others betray you?”

She looked up, eyes blazing, inches from his face. “Door.”

His ire flickered. “What?”

Asterin withdrew just as suddenly as Orion had at her door only a few days earlier. Except there was no door between them to crash into now—only air. As he staggered forward, he just managed to wrestle back his balance. But now she claimed the upper hand.

She met Orondite with fluid grace, moving like water, striking like fire, and fighting with all the ice she held within herself. She remembered the feeling of the omnistone’s power singing through her body, now felt that power within herself as she delivered each blow with pristine accuracy and merciless strength. Sweat dripped down her neck, yet she did not waver. All she felt was the calm in her mind as she sought out his weak spot—one chink, that was all she needed.

When she found it, she was more than ready. Her Guardian swung high, and she dove beneath Orondite’s rapid slash, coming up behind him. Keep your guard lower next time, she thought, and slammed the flat of her blade into the back of his legs. His knees buckled, and she darted around to his front, swift as an asp, springing into the air and delivering a final kick to his chest.

Orion toppled over and smashed into the floor on his side, skidding to a halt near the wall. He rolled limply onto his back, clinging Orondite, his chest heaving. When Asterin walked over and settled Amoux against his throat, his jaw had gone slack.

“I trusted you to teach me to fight, all those years ago,” Asterin whispered. “How to protect myself. So that if I ever had to fight—”

“You would win,” Orion finished, staring up at the ceiling. A slow grin crept onto his face. “I guess we both succeeded.”

“I guess we did.”

For the second time in her life, Asterin pulled her Guardian to his feet.

And then she grabbed Garringsford’s firestone from her bedside table. Breathing in through her nose, she drew from the stone’s power. When she exhaled, the tiniest spark skittered to life across her open palm.

Orion’s eyes widened. “How …?”

“It’s all because of the omnistone,” Asterin said softly. “I couldn’t have done it without Rose and Quinlan’s help.” She turned to Quinlan, the baby bird still perched on his shoulder. “And for that, I’m thankful.” She waved Amoux at the Eradorian. “Well? What did you think of our little battle, my Elite jester?”

Quinlan’s indigo eyes glimmered with a new kind of respect, undimmed by her jibe. “Just remind me to never find myself on the wrong end of your sword.”