| |
“Pick it up,” Victoria commanded.
Five-year-old Isla bent down to pick up a large ice block—about the size of a loaf of bread—from a metal tray on the floor.
“Hold it until I tell you to stop.”
Silent tears trickled down the girl’s face, dripping off her chin as she obeyed her mother’s command. Victoria sat back in her chair, watching Isla’s anguish with cold eyes. After a few minutes, the girl’s arms began to tremble. A minute more and the ice slipped from her numb fingers, finally tumbling down and breaking with a loud crack. Large pieces skidded across the hardwood floor of Victoria’s living chambers.
“Did I tell you to drop it? Pick up the pieces,” Victoria growled.
Isla fell to the ground, sobbing.
Frigid magic flooded the room—Victoria’s eyes lighting up with a subtle golden glow.
“I said... Pick. It. Up.”
Isla shook her head slowly, sniffing and wiping her nose with the back of her arm.
Victoria shot up from her seat, her body quivering with fury as her magic echoed about the room in angry glacial pulses.
“Isla. Do as you’re told.”
Still kneeling on the floor, Isla shook her head again, closing her eyes tightly as she tucked her arms close to her body. A current of warm magic swirled about, circling the child and wrapping her in a comforting cocoon.
Victoria stalked forward. Grabbing Isla by the wrist, jerking her to her feet. She peered into the girl’s eyes, “Why aren’t you listening to me?”
Isla’s little jaw clenched as she glared back at her mother in defiance. Tears continued to drip down her cheeks, landing on the floor in tiny splashes. The warm magic still clung to her, giving her entire body a coppery halo.
Victoria’s eyes widened as she bent closer to peer into her daughter’s, her lips parting in surprise.
“What have you done!” Victoria screamed.
“You c-can’t hurt me anymore,” Isla said, still sobbing.
Victoria dropped Isla’s arm, the girl falling to the floor in a crumpled heap.
My vision blurred as black smoke curled about me, bringing the rich aroma of burning pine with it. A gentle breeze stirred up the white ash beneath my feet as the smoke became denser. The scene surrounding me darkened completely before my stomach dropped, signaling my jump back to the present. A deep, hot pain throbbed behind my temples—an expected side effect of shifting my consciousness to the future and back.
A few tears slipped down my cheeks as I opened my eyes, and I quickly dashed them away with the back of my hand.
Staring down at the sleeping babe, I swallowed a lump in my throat.
“I’m trying, baby,” I said quietly as I rubbed the back of my finger across her chubby little cheek. “You’ve given me an idea, and I’m going to save you from all of this if it’s the last thing I do.”
Turning, I left the room.
“Jakob,” I called. “I’m going to the vaults. I need to look for something.”
He nodded, going back to his schematics spread out on the kitchen counter. He was always working on some ingenious project or another. I could quite literally see into the future, but Jakob was the visionary. His innovative plans for the future saw a better world before us. If only we could reach it. We had to reach it.
Leaving our rooms, I took the elevator down several floors to the royal vaults. I placed my hand on a scanner before the automatic door opened. Tapping my bottom lip with my forefinger, I glanced about the massive room that held our family’s most prized possessions. My line had been rulers for as long as there had been mages—long enough to acquire immense wealth. The room reeked of old magic and potent herbs.
“Where are you?” I mumbled as I began poking through the many glass cases and chests of all sizes. Glittering baubles and trinkets covered every horizontal surface in the room. Old oil paintings almost entirely hid the walls—portraits of my ancestors, gallantly portrayed in gilded frames.
I was looking for something specific. Something that would help me put a halt to Victoria’s madness.
Sighing, I rubbed a hand down my face. “I’m going to have to consult the ledger.”
My feet brought me to a pedestal that held a hefty tome. “I need to find the Guardian’s Tears,” I said to the book before flipping it open—annoyed when I only found blank pages. “Come on, you. I know you know what I’m talking about.”
I flipped the page, frowning as another blank sheet stared back at me. Closing the book, I momentarily shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“A little help here? It’s a tiny bottle, about this big.” I held my thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. “If I remember correctly, there’s not much left after father used it to handle that misbehaving master telekinetic over a century ago.”
Crossing the fingers of one hand behind my back, I opened the book once more. Spying a line of minuscule text across the middle of the page, I shook my head and sighed.
Microscopic would have been a better word.
Rolling my eyes, I snatched a magnifying glass from the shelf behind me.
“You’ll find what you seek on page eight hundred and sixty-two.” I set the magnifying glass down as I flipped through the pages, my brows drawing together. “Ledger, there are no page numbers. How am I supposed to find page eight hundred and sixty-two?”
It only sat there, as books do. I slammed it closed.
I shook my finger. “I’m not in the mood for this! I’ll toss you out the window. Is that what you want? Fifty-three, no, fifty-four stories is a long way down.”
The infuriating book was notoriously indestructible. Countless generations had tried.
Sighing, I resorted to begging. “Please. It’s important.”
Opening it once more, I found an animated pencil sketch of a blue armoire with a glass front. A small bottle with purple liquid sat on the middle shelf. I watched as itty-bitty blue bubbles rose to the surface and popped.
“That’s better, much better. Next time, lead with that.”
I closed the book, patting its cover before heading off to find my prize.