CHAPTER THREE

Asterin was halfway through fixing the hole when Luna walked in and caught her red-handed with a bucket at her feet and wet glops of plaster dripping down the wall. “What have you done?”

Smiling her best smile while Luna stared in abject horror, Asterin edged toward the bathroom in case she needed to make a quick getaway. “I, uh, tripped.”

“You, uh, tripped?” said Luna, eyes wide with false wonder. “Into the wall? Through several layers of plaster?”

The smile stayed perfectly in place. “I … may have been sparring in my rooms.”

Her lady-in-waiting and best friend of ten years groaned. “Again? How many times must we go over this? What is it about not in your rooms that you don’t understand? What’s wrong with literally anywhere else?”

“It’s private here,” Asterin said, righting a stool that Orion had knocked over. “There’s plenty of room, and—”

A loud gasp interrupted her. Luna yanked her fingers through her honey-blond hair, rushing over to the fallen oil painting. “Asterin! This is a Van Ryker, for the love of the Immortals!”

“Oh, stop. I’ve already fixed the hole, anyway.” Smugly, Asterin threw the trowel back into the bucket, splattering more plaster onto the rug. “Oops.” Her work was far from flawless, but admirable, in her opinion—although Luna obviously didn’t think so. The girl shot her a fearsome glower and snatched the trowel out of the bucket and began smoothing out the clumps. While she worked, Asterin nosed into the closet and dug through a pile of clothes strewn on the floor. She emerged with Garringsford’s firestone.

Luna squinted. “Is that new?” The trowel skidded against the wall. “And is that blood ?”

Asterin discreetly rubbed out the dried specks with her sleeve. “Of course not. Our dearest Garringsford gave it to me. Supposedly, she wanted to watch me practice magic for the betterment of our soldiers, though only the Immortals know what her true intent was.”

While Luna gawked at her, Asterin strode to the other end of her bedchamber and yanked the drapes out of the way before flinging the windows open. A great gust of wind blew into the room, cooling the beads of perspiration slicking her skin.

She stepped onto the windowsill and leaned out, inhaling the crisp early spring air and sighing in contentment. Once, she’d had a lovely little balustrade balcony—until her mother had ordered its demolition after the guards kept catching young Asterin practicing handstands on the railing. So, dangling over the empty void as far as she could and straining to catch a full view of her beloved city had become her alternative. Sure, the four-story drop to the courtyard guaranteed a few broken bones, if not death, but the palace itself had been built upon a mountain in the center of the kingdom, a stunning plummet of sheer white rock rising a thousand meters above sea level.

At the foot of the mountain lay the city of Axaris, the jewel and capital of Axaria. Quadrants unfolded around the mountain like petals, dividing the city into districts—trade, entertainment, manufacturing, and business. The residential sectors encircled the quadrants in a ring, flush with greenery. Eight main roads carved through the districts like veins, each leading to different parts of the kingdom. And here, in the center of it all, a heart connecting everything to everywhere—the royal palace. Her home.

Then there was the Wall—a towering slab of steel-reinforced stone surrounding the palace on all sides, patrolled by guards day and night. The only way to the palace was through the Wall, and the only way through the Wall was up the palace road, a wide marble path bordered by grass and the white rock of the mountain. The guards on the Wall controlled the magical wards, and their combined defenses shielded the palace from any attack.

Asterin counted herself extremely lucky that her chambers were just high enough to peek over the Wall. She loosened her braid and let her hair whisk into the flurry of the wind. While she already missed the sharp bite of winter, she couldn’t help but love the way spring seemed to breathe life into Axaris. Her city spread out before her, every district a precious treasure trove, winking and twinkling vibrantly in the afternoon sunshine, teasing at the riches hidden within the sprawl of winding streets. Thick plumes of multicolored smoke puffed into the sky from terracotta chimneys and the white columns of the manufacturing district, tingeing the horizon with the purple of twilight. She held up the firestone against the sky, fitting it into the outline of the sun, and pondered in silence.

At last, she hopped off the sill and flopped onto the bed. She threw an arm over her eyes and moaned, “I’m sore all over. My arms, my legs, my neck. Everything hurts.”

“I do really hope it’s only from fighting,” Luna said.

Her neck swiveled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A nonchalant shrug. “I’m just concerned about your well-being. I mean, you haven’t requested any contraceptive tonics. It wouldn’t be fit to have a seventeen-year-old princess carrying an heir already—”

Asterin let out an indignant squawk, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. “Luna!”

“I’m only saying!” Luna exclaimed.

Asterin might have harbored a minuscule infatuation with her Guardian, and sure, sometimes she got sidetracked when they sparred, but she’d seen him shirtless before, and anyway, it wasn’t like she had started frothing at the mouth or anything. She had self-control, thank you very much. She never thought about his perfectly sculpted body. Ever.

Well, maybe once.

Or twice.

She groaned, collapsing back onto the bed and burrowing beneath the duvet, face hot, poking her head out only when a knock sounded from the door.

Luna straightened, dusting plaster from her hands. “I’ll get it.” Moments later, she returned with a garment bag. “Your new dress.”

That perked Asterin up enough to crawl out of her makeshift cave. Luna helped her first into her corset and petticoats and then into the gown, lacing up the back while Asterin ran a hand down the taffeta skirt. “It’s gorgeous,” she said. Thousands of tiny crystals had been sewn onto the bodice, sparkling like fresh morning dewdrops.

Luna made a tsk sound, pinching the back collar. “It’s a little too big around the bust. We’ll have to arrange an appointment with the seamstress.”

“Or I could just eat a lot of cake,” Asterin reasoned. Her lips pursed critically, and she motioned for Luna to unlace it. Somehow, though the dress itself was spectacular, it just didn’t look quite right on her. “Or you could! Although you’d have to eat a lot more cake than me. I bet you would look much better in it, anyway.” She shimmied out of the dress and handed it to Luna.

Luna laughed, disappearing into the closet to hang it up. “I think not.” She returned with a bathrobe, tossing it at Asterin’s head. “Imagine the fits the other court ladies would throw if they saw me wearing all those diamonds—me, a commoner! A nobody, without a single drop of noble blood in my body. They complain enough as it is that I’m your lady-in-waiting.”

Asterin scoffed. “I haven’t a care in the world for who you descend from, be it the King of Ibreseos or a troll.”

Luna perched on the bedpost across from her and laughed again. Sweet laughter, so familiar that Asterin had to smile along. “A troll, really?” Her best friend reached forward to tuck a lock of hair behind Asterin’s ear. Blue eyes the shade of cornflowers in late bloom searched her face. “Are you thinking about us again?”

“Maybe.” Luna knew her all too well. More often than she cared to admit, Asterin wondered how things might have been. Luna was more of a princess than Asterin could ever be—charming, pretty, and courteous. She was the heiress Queen Priscilla had always dreamed of. Not the sword-wielding, quick-tempered daughter she had ended up with instead, prone to dredging up trouble whether she sought it or not.

Luna sighed, heading for the bathroom. The rush of running water carried into the bedchamber, the sweet scent of winterberry and evergreen oils wafting out on curls of steam. When Asterin drifted through the door, Luna was crouched over the claw-foot tub.

Her friend glanced up. “I might not be as docile as a mindless royal,” she said, “but I’m no leader. And my magic is pathetically weak compared to yours. This kingdom needs a fighter to rule. A powerful fighter. Someone like you.”

Asterin boosted herself up onto the porcelain countertop, shoulders slouched. “I can barely even control my powers, Luna, and they’re all I have.”

Luna snorted. “What happened to beating the pulp out of guards during training?”

“Yeah, well, I get an earful from my mother every time she sees me so much as carrying Amoux,” said Asterin, turning her stare up to the ceiling. “You know … sometimes I almost feel like my mother would rather have me dead than on the throne.”

Luna clucked, dipping her fingers in the water to test the temperature. “Don’t say such things. She may be hard on you, but she’s still your mother. She loves you in her own way. And besides,” she added, shooting Asterin a sidelong look, the corner of her mouth twisted slyly upward. “She ought to die eventually.”

Once the bath had filled, Luna departed to run some errands. Asterin slipped out of her robe and stood before the mirror. Her eyes slid down the curve of her neck and hips, arms and thighs toned and taut from years of training. Her fingers brushed across smooth, unmarked expanses of skin she knew had once been scattered with scars—at least, until she’d learned to heal them, though perhaps a little too well. So many years of sparring, and not a scratch to show for it.

She eased herself into the bath, her sore muscles sighing in relief at the hot water. She plonked the firestone into the tub’s depths and watched it sink. Never had she displayed any potential in fire. It was well known that possessing two fundamentals usually allowed a wielder to unlock the two secondary elements connecting them—for example, water and earth were connected by ice and wind. So theoretically, if she did possess fire, the final affinity in the fundamental trinity, through practice and patience, she might be able to harness the power of all nine elements.

But how had she made those other stones explode? More than likely, her emotions had played a significant role—but she hadn’t wanted to hurt Garringsford. At least, she didn’t think so. Yet even then, there was no way all of the stones should have responded to her, unless …

Asterin sat up suddenly, sloshing water out of the tub in her haste. “Unless I am omnifinitied,” she whispered to herself.

Luna interrupted her wallowing to ask if she still planned to attend dinner—Asterin declined, preferring to stew over her revelation in the warmth and comfort of the water over the cacophony of Mess Hall.

Finally, when the water bordered on ice cold and her skin was as wrinkled as a prune, she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. The sky outside had softened to a dusky orange. Luna returned, and they lounged on the bed in their dressing gowns.

Asterin nibbled on fruit and cheese, wincing while Luna struggled to comb out the seemingly infinite snarls in her hair. Asterin popped a grape into her friend’s mouth. “So, how is everything going with Eadric?”

She could hear the smile in Luna’s answer. “Lovely as always.” A pause. “He’s been so busy, though. We only manage to see each other once or twice a week.”

Asterin gaped, dropping her melon slice on a pillow. “That is unacceptable. Come on.” She hopped off the bed, dashing for the closet.

Luna blinked owlishly. “Wha—”

After throwing on a loose cotton blouse and trousers, Asterin tutted and picked out a sheer gold dress with a plunging neckline. She brandished it at her friend. “Put this on. That’s an order.” Cheerfully ignoring Luna’s flustered protests, Asterin helped her into it and zipped up the back before diving back into the closet to find a pair of matching slippers. “These, too. Hurry up!”

A balmy breeze caressed her skin as Asterin nudged the windows open, icestone in hand. Frost crackled from the sill at her command, shooting to the courtyard far below. Notches carved themselves down the center, smoothing out into a narrow crystalline staircase. The sun had set, but the ice caught the glow of lamps, gilding the steps gold with flickering firelight.

Luna, long accustomed to her escapades, only sighed and stepped obediently onto the sill. To fill the silence as they descended, she chattered on about her latest work of art—a sculpture, one of the many displayed in the parlor-turned-workshop that Asterin had set aside for her. They were all true masterpieces, every single one of them.

“Can I commission one of Garringsford?” Asterin asked as they passed a second-floor balcony.

Luna frowned. “What for?”

“Could you give her bullhorns? And a duck’s beak. And a pig’s snout.”

A snigger. “I can’t give her both a snout and a beak at the same time.”

They hopped off the staircase and into the flower bed undetected, or at least ignored. Like Luna, the patrol guards knew better than to question the notorious schemes of the Princess of Axaria. After picking their way around clusters of fresh buds cast gray in the shadows of the poplars standing sentinel overhead, they strolled arm in arm toward the training ring, tucked behind the stables and the guardhouse. The night was pleasant, the leaves rustling and the crickets chirruping in harmony with the soft whickering of horses.

Then came a thud and a chorus of victorious whoops.

Luna yanked Asterin to a standstill just before they rounded the stables, eyes wide and frantic. Finally, she had understood where they were heading. “Eadric can’t see me in this!” she whispered furiously, flapping her hands at herself. “There’s even a thigh slit! I look—”

“Gorgeous, as usual,” Asterin said with an eye roll. Then she dragged her friend out into the open, forcing her over to the training ring’s wooden fence.

Large blockades had been positioned inside the ring, encircling two vaguely human-shaped targets pockmarked with gashes and holes. Blue cotton spilled from the wounds of one and green from the other. Two figures guarded the targets, one apiece, each wearing either a blue or green band across their forehead. Asterin watched as a slight girl with fiery orange hair leapt from a blockade behind the much taller soldiers, roaring a terrific battle cry with her sword brandished.

Luna gasped as the blue-banded soldier whirled around and crossed two long knives over his head, barring the girl’s attack on the stuffed target with a screech of steel. They fought like wildfire and tempest, blades slashing swift and precise, but then the girl dropped low enough to slide between his legs and deliver a killing blow straight through the blue target’s back and out the other side. A yelp came from the green-banded guard as a spear flew out of nowhere and burst right through the second target’s neck, showering clumps of cotton everywhere. The guard looked up in time to see a second girl drop from the top of the blockade and land nimbly on her feet with a smirk.

A tall man in full uniform appeared from the deep shadows of the two blockades, his broad chest and shoulders nearly filling the space completely. “Death by severed arteries. Nice work, ladies. Alicia, try withholding your battle cries. Even though you won, you gave away your position and lost the element of surprise. Casper, keep your guard lower next time. And Gino, always stay alert to your surroundings—projectiles have to fire from somewhere or another. Good aim, Hayley. Try to extend your follow-through for more power, like this.” At his beckons, Hayley retrieved the spear from the green target’s neck for him. He backed out of sight. Asterin felt the anticipation mount, and then a blur of silver hurtled from the darkness, the spear plunging straight through not one but both targets. It lodged into the blockade directly across the ring with a wooden thwack. Pandemonium erupted from behind the blockades, whoops of dazzled awe drowning out Luna’s timid squeak.

“Captain Covington!” Asterin called out.

One foot braced against the blockade and muscles taut against his uniform, the captain yanked the spear free and glanced up. He caught sight of Luna immediately. Asterin watched in delight as his jaw dropped to his chest. “Fall in,” he managed.

The shadows of the blockades shifted, and four more figures emerged. They jogged over to the four soldiers already lined up, some still with cheeks flushed from the excitement. As one, Asterin’s Elite Royal Guard lowered to one knee in salute, right hands clasped to their shoulders across their chests.

“Your Highness.” Eadric strode forward and bowed his head to Asterin before gently grasping Luna’s hand and raising it to his lips. “And Miss Luna.”

Captain Eadric Covington was the commander of her Elites, as well as Asterin’s most trusted and capable soldier. The son of a Cyejin lord, he had first entered the royal ranks as an Elite himself when Asterin had only been a child. Cyejin heritage had given him hair streaked with tawny brown highlights that reminded Asterin of the cacao nibs her father used to have imported from Morova, straight brows, and dark eyes that shone like pine honey in the sunlight. Built like an ox, his mouth was set in a line so firm he appeared constantly unimpressed, although currently his gaze was nothing but adoring.

And roving—down the dress. One of the Elites cleared his throat and Eadric’s eyes snapped back up, sheepish. A faint blush had worked its way up his neck, perfectly matching Luna’s.

“Doesn’t she just look stunning in gold?” Asterin asked, gleeful.

“But she always looks stunning,” Eadric said, confusion crinkling his brow, so genuine and honest that Luna hid her face behind Asterin’s shoulder in embarrassment. One of the Elites awwed. Without so much as a glance, the captain said, “One hundred push-ups, Jack.” The aww deflated into a quiet grumble. “Make that two hundred!”

Asterin surveyed her Elites, eyes lingering on the two empty spots at both ends of the row—five males and five females traditionally made up the guard, but she was currently missing two.

“All right, that’s enough for tonight for the rest of you,” Eadric said. “Clean everything away and patch yourselves up before bed. And if I hear about any buffoonery, I’ll have you running ten laps around the palace every morning for the next week. Do I make myself clear?”

“He’s such a mother hen,” Luna murmured with a fond sigh, just loud enough for Asterin to hear.

Eadric nodded as the Elites drowned out Jack’s grunts of “Thirty-­three … thirty-four …” with their choruses of “Yes, sir!”

“Dismissed,” he said. Then he extended an arm to Luna. “Shall we?”

As the three of them wound their way back to the palace, Asterin hung back, perfectly content to behold the couple from a distance. Eadric’s chest puffed as Luna raised onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The hardness in his face transformed to soft wonder every time she beamed at him.

Then Eadric halted in his tracks, staring upward. “Is that a staircase made of ice?”

“Yep.” Asterin skirted past him and began climbing.

“What if it melted while you were on it?” the captain spluttered.

“Don’t be silly, Eadric,” Luna said, following suit. “Asterin’s ice doesn’t melt.”

He rubbed his temples. “So this is how you’ve been duping your guards?”

Asterin paused her ascent to glare down at him. “My guards are oafs.”

At that, the captain held his hands up in surrender. “It’s not my fault your mother ordered General Garringsford to assign you palace guards until we can fill complete rank for the Elites.”

Asterin just shook her head. “Are you coming or not?” She peered down to see Eadric eyeing the staircase dubiously.

“What?” Luna asked, confused.

“I’m taking the palace stairs, like a normal person,” Eadric declared, and dashed off.

“Boring,” Asterin said. Luna hummed in agreement.

Once they had safely arrived back in her chambers, Asterin commanded the staircase to liquefy. It streamed into the flower bed below.

Luna laughed. “No wonder those flowers look extra perky.” A firm knock drew them toward the entrance to Asterin’s chambers.

“—and both of you are incompetent,” Eadric was berating the guards stationed outside when Luna opened the door. Both girls sighed, pulling him in by the arm and shutting the door. His expression turned serious as he turned to Asterin. “Your Highness, I just ran into a messenger. You’ve been summoned to Throne Hall.”

Asterin made a face. “At this hour? By whom?”

“Your mother. Apparently, you’ve been sent a gift … from the Queen of Eradore.”

Eradore. A starkly beautiful land on the opposite side of the globe, shrouded in mystery and magic. Other than the royal family, only special guests, residents, and students of the world-renowned Academia Principalis, the best school of magic, were permitted to cross into the inner city of the kingdom’s capital, Eradoris.

Luna frowned. “I thought I heard that their queen passed away recently.”

“It must be Queen Lillian’s daughter, then,” Asterin said thoughtfully. “What sort of gift?”

“I’d be guessing,” Eadric admitted.

Asterin stood, but fingers locked around her wrist and tugged her back. “You can’t go in that!” Luna cried, gesturing to her outfit.

Asterin raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with trousers?”

“Not the trousers, the blouse. The sleeve is still ripped from the time you fell out of that tree.”

Eadric took on a pained expression. “You fell out of a tree?”

Luna shooed him out the door and dragged Asterin back into the bedchamber. When she at last allowed the princess to depart, clad in a slim-fitting cobalt overcoat with pearlescent embroidery and sleek navy trousers, Eadric was nowhere in sight. Shrugging, Asterin sauntered down the staircase, hands slung in her pockets as she headed for Throne Hall.

His deep voice jumped out from behind her. “Your Highness.”

She almost hook-kicked him in the face. “Damn it, Eadric.” She had a vague sense it was his small retribution for the tree-climbing fiasco.

The ghost of a smile flickered on her captain’s face as he fell into step beside her. “My apologies.”

They had almost reached Throne Hall when General Garringsford rounded the corner, blocking the corridor. “Your Highness.”

“General,” Asterin said, eyes flicking to that perfect bun, every strand perfectly in place, as usual. “How are you faring?”

“Your concern is very touching, Your Highness,” she answered, voice too low for Asterin to discern the exact level of sarcasm. “The healers patched me up just fine. I do believe I owe you an apology.” She smiled, nearly as sharp as the glint in her flint-gray eyes. “I underestimated you.”

Asterin’s fists clenched in her pockets. “No hard feelings.”

“None at all. Anyway, your mother requested that I fetch you.”

“Her Majesty requested that I escort Her Highness,” Eadric said, voice flat; whatever had been left of his good mood vanishing. “Ma’am,” he added.

“Is that so?” Garringsford inquired. “Well—”

“How about you both escort me?” Asterin snapped. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

“Your posture is sloppy, Covington,” said the general. “Fix it at once.”

Eadric’s jaw twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”

They arrived at the entrance to Throne Hall, six of Queen Priscilla’s guards snapping to attention outside the massive double doors. Asterin had spent hours as a child staring in awe at those doors while her father held court within. Hundreds of wolves had been carved into the dark oak, prowling down a mountain toward a lake. On the left, Lord Conrye rose above the peaks, wielding his legendary greatsword, Vürst—Frost, in the mortal tongue. Now Asterin’s height matched that of the blade. Below, the ice god’s wolf form rippled in the lake’s reflection. Once, she thought that she had caught the piercing eyes of both human and wolf moving, though of course no one had believed her.

To this day, she still pretended that Lord Conrye was watching her from somewhere in the Immortal Realm, even though no one knew if the Council truly existed anymore, as they hadn’t involved themselves with mortals since the time of legends.

Right before the guards opened the doors, splitting the two halves of the god apart, Asterin had to pinch herself—because as she walked by, she could have sworn those same emerald eyes followed her inside.