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A PIERCING SCREAM JOLTED Cyrele awake. For a moment, she expected to feel the hard ground of the river bank beneath her, to breathe in the humid air surrounding the Rasa River. Her imagination conjured up the sight of flickering lights in the darkness, disappearing as barges sank beneath the water. But the only light here was the soft light of a candle illuminating Enosis’ face as the other woman scrambled out of her bed and towards the door.
Of course. She was in the Emerald Palace with Kamene. She’d never even heard the screams of the dying from her place on the river bank, so why had such a sound convinced her she was back in the wasteland?
Another scream tore through the air, and suddenly Cyrele realized that she recognized the voice—it was Kamene. Belatedly, she tore off her covers and rushed to follow after Enosis, who might well have already reached the princess.
The door to Kamene’s bedchamber was already open, a crackling sound coming from inside of it. Cyrele ran towards it, the air growing hotter with each step...to find that the room was aflame.
Enosis dragged Kamene towards the doorway, but all that Cyrele could do was stare at the fire circumventing the room, so spread out that she couldn’t understand how Kamene had remained oblivious to it while it’d reached this size...or how it had stayed contained to the princess’ bedchamber.
“Cyrele!” Enosis’ voice called back for her.
With a start, Cyrele realized that she needed to move and scrambled to follow after Enosis. Then the three of them were fleeing the queen’s chambers, into the empty hallways.
“Fire!” Enosis called ahead of them as they ran, repeating it again and again until someone finally responded.
Guards ran past them in the direction of the old queen’s chambers, the commotion spreading through the palace as people began hearing and sharing the alarm. A few servants took charge of Kamene and her measly household, escorting the three of them to a temporary chamber.
“This is our mistress’ guest room,” one of them said. “Once she returns, she’ll come greet you. Please make yourselves comfortable in the meantime.”
Then the servants hurried out of the room, leaving them alone.
“What happened?” Cyrele asked.
“I woke surrounded by flames,” Kamene said, voice soft and vulnerable. “I don’t know anything.”
“Did something in particular wake you, your highness?” Cyrele pressed. “A noise?”
“No. I woke from a nightmare. It hadn’t a thing to do with the fire.”
Cyrele and Enosis tried to press her as much as two servants could press their mistress, but no matter what they asked, the princess’ answer didn’t change. She saw nothing and heard nothing before awakening to a room full of flames. It made no sense, but Kamene had no reason to lie. Yet how could the princess be so oblivious?
Then the door to the room opened as a familiar-looking woman walked in. A bevy of servants followed on her heels, one of whom proclaimed, “The Princess Senna graces you with her presence.”
Akaterin had been so certain that Senna would seek Kamene out. Had counted on it. But Cyrele was not prepared for the Princess Senna to be here now, in front of them, at the first sign of a crisis—and she had no idea how to take advantage of the situation.
Kamene dropped into a small bow, while Enosis adopted a bigger one. Cyrele was a second behind them, copying Enosis’ position.
“Rise,” Senna said. “For goodness’ sake, the lot of you were almost burned alive. Let’s not stand on formalities now.”
“Thank you for the use of your chambers,” Kamene said with a tremor in her voice and a far-off look in her eyes.
Senna regarded her with crossed arms, not seeming particularly impressed. “This is very likely the only chance we’ll have to talk without my family scrutinizing our every move, so let me give you some advice. You aren’t the first person to get caught in the middle of my family’s machinations, and you won’t be the last. But the ones who survive pick themselves back up and become proactive about protecting themselves. So shake off the melancholy already. Or die, if you prefer. It’s your decision.”
A spark of anger flickered over Kamene’s expression, but she refrained from voicing it.
Senna saw it nonetheless, her lips forming into a bitter smile. “There, that’s better.”
“Is it truly better?” Kamene challenged. “Is holding onto the memories and feelings actually better than pushing them away?”
“Is fighting better than laying down and letting Avenah decide your fate?” Senna retorted, taking Kamene’s sudden lack of formality in stride. “I certainly think so. Right now, you’re nothing but a puppet on a string. Cut the string and you may yet last long enough to become a thorn in his side.”
A thorn in Avenah’s side? How? Cyrele couldn’t imagine a single thing Kamene might do to disrupt Avenah’s machinations. She simply didn’t have that kind of power.
Yet suddenly, some vivacity returned to Kamene’s features, some echo of the haughtiness Cyrele had once known from her. “And why would I want to be a thorn in his side? If I wanted anything from him at all, why wouldn’t it be an alliance?”
“Have you considered that your precious betrothed may have set the fire in your bedchamber himself?” Senna asked, as if such a conclusion were obvious.
But it wasn’t obvious. Avenah could hardly hide his need for Cyrele’s skills under a feigned interest in Kamene if the princess were dead. He wouldn’t simply dispose of her...unless he would? Because if Kamene were dead, no one would look twice at where he reassigned her servants.
The princess regarded Senna with confusion. “But why...” Then a sudden fury seemed to overtake her. As if the fire of her emotions was a physical force, Cyrele found herself taking a step back from the sudden heat radiating off the princess—what was that? Had it simply been her imagination? “He could simply send me away, like he does with the rest of his wives! Why kill me?”
“Probably for the same reasons he placed you in Queen Amese’s chambers. Because it amuses him. Because he can.”
“Forgive me, your highness,” Enosis interrupted, eyes on the ground to appear as subservient as possible. “But we know nothing about who set the fire. Why suspect the princess’ betrothed in particular?”
The look in Senna’s eyes turned haunted. “I know my family’s work when I see it. I’ve been around their power all my life, even wielded it for a time. Fires of that size don’t simply materialize out of thin air and they don’t spread like that. But the fires set through the power of my family can.”
Cyrele’s head spun from the new information. The fire must have been set with the power of the Karits? But why would any of them want Kamene dead?
It couldn’t have been Akaterin. Cyrele was inside the chamber and Akaterin needed her. Matiser could have made any of them disappear whenever he liked during the voyage back, so he had no need to arrange for an accident now. And Avenah was allied with Matiser...unless this was something that the princes disagreed on? If Avenah wanted Kamene or even Cyrele out of the way against Matiser’s wishes, now would be his first chance to strike, wouldn’t it?
That didn’t mean it was Avenah. Apart from the currently absent Maelstrom, Cyrele didn’t know enough about the royal family to guess at who might conduct such an attack, but that only meant there were suspects she hadn’t identified yet. Was Senna one of them? What had she said...
...that she’d wielded the power of the Karits for a time. And yet, Akaterin believed that she still had some of that power—perhaps enough of it to burn down an unguarded bedchamber without arousing her family’s suspicions?
Then Kamene took a deep but shaky breath, wrapping her arms around herself. “But what am I supposed to do if my own betrothed is the one who wants me dead? I can’t...I don’t see how I can stand against that.”
“You can,” Senna disagreed. “You must make it more annoying to get rid of you than to keep you around. That means allying yourself with someone he doesn’t want to deal with. Someone he considers a nuisance but not a threat. Someone like me.”
A calculating glint appeared in Kamene’s eyes. “Is that an offer?”
“It is. And a rather gracious one, at that. You should be appreciative.”
“I am appreciative,” Kamene said. “And I will say yes. But why make it? You can’t possibly rescue every princess that marries into your family.”
Senna tilted her head in consideration. “Avenah was the one who placed you in Amese’s old rooms. All I’m doing is mirroring his level of interest in you.”
Except that Avenah wasn’t interested in Kamene at all. He was interested in Cyrele—or at least, in what Cyrele could do for him. And Cyrele was very much unsure if it would benefit her if Senna should discover that. After all, who knew what a Kavan princess who’d lost access to the temples would do that knowledge? Would she continue trying to thwart Avenah? Or would she be like Akaterin, spying an opportunity to claim power that the rest of her family wanted to deny her?
Yet perhaps it was worth the risk to find out. Because Cyrele had a very limited window of time to find the first temple and attempt to sabotage it beyond any glyphwriter’s ability to fix, hopefully locking everyone out of those temple vaults forever. The Maelstrom was on his way to find out what she’d done. The storm could disappear as soon as all the Karits found their powers waning.
And Cyrele needed to reach the first temple before any of those things happened. She would never accomplish it on her own. She needed to make use of someone. And her best options were either Aralath, Akaterin, or Senna. She simply needed to decide which alliance came with the least devastating risks.
#
THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN the two princesses was abruptly interrupted when the door burst open and Avenah strode inside, radiating displeasure. He outright glared at Senna, before turning a forceful look towards Kamene. It was surely deliberate that he had avoided so much as glancing at Cyrele.
Behind him, Matiser walked in, his expression practically carved from stone.
Are you alright? came a voice in Cyrele’s head. Undoubtably Matiser—she’d never known Avenah to so much as feign concern.
I’m unharmed, she told him.
“Would someone like to explain to me why my betrothed’s rooms are on fire?” Avenah asked.
“As I would have told you if you hadn’t gone charging off,” Matiser said, a slight reprimand in his voice, “it appears that someone started a fire in Princess Kamene’s bedchamber. I can only imagine this was an attempt on her life.”
Rage flickered behind Avenah’s eyes. “An assassination attempt? Against my betrothed? Who would dare?”
You would, Cyrele thought almost involuntarily—then felt a cold fear at how easily the thought had come to her. Neither of the princes reacted, either physically or in her mind, so she must not have inadvertently projected the thought at them. But she needed to take care.
“We all know there are plenty of people in this kingdom who would dare,” Senna pointed out with unbelievable daring considering whom she was speaking to—though of course, she was a Karit herself.
The look Avenah directed at Senna was teeming with hostility. “Why am I in the presence of Kava’s most disappointing princess?” he asked, his tone scathing.
“That’s enough,” Matiser immediately intervened. “Apologize to her, Avenah.”
Surprise flickered across Avenah’s face. “You can’t be serious.”
“You know I am.”
“When will you stop seeking the approval of someone who is never going to forgive you?” Avenah asked, his voice laced with frustration.
“This is not a debate,” Matiser told him, expression unyielding. “Apologize to her.”
Avenah gave a defeated sigh. “Princess Senna, I spoke impetuously. It was only my concern for my betrothed that made me so rash. Will you ever forgive me?”
“No,” Senna said.
“There.” Avenah turned to Matiser, ignoring Senna’s response entirely. “Are you satisfied, cousin?”
Matiser gave him a nod, before turning to Senna. “Thank you for caring for the Princess Kamene and her household during their time of need. You have my gratitude.”
Senna tilted her chin up. “I don’t want your gratitude.”
“I know,” Matiser said, and there was almost a hint of sadness behind the words.
“Kamene,” Avenah suddenly said, stepping forward to take her hand. “I am glad to see you unhurt. Rest assured, this won’t happen again.”
Cyrele couldn’t decide if he’d finally acknowledged his betrothed in order to disrupt the uncomfortable dynamic between Senna and Matiser or because he’d remembered she was a person rather than object to be debated about. Certainly, neither of the princes had paid Kamene any heed until this moment, though she was the most aggrieved party. Their concern for her truly was all an act.
“Thank you, your highness,” Kamene politely responded. But her brow was furrowed, as if in consideration.
“In the meantime,” Matiser added, glancing at Avenah, “you should choose a new chamber for your bride.”
A stubborn light appeared behind Avenah’s eyes. “And why should I?”
“Because the current one is dangerous, Avenah,” Matiser said, taking on the same tone one would use to talk to a child.
“Who’s to say that the fire wasn’t intended to chase my betrothed out of Queen Amese’s chambers? She has plenty of rivals who wouldn’t like the symbolism of her staying in a queen’s rooms. I refuse to give the perpetrators what they want.”
“Avenah,” Matiser said with exasperation. “The guards and servants dislike being in the Raya Wing. They will follow our orders, but they won’t be at their best. Is this a risk worth taking?”
“Stop being reasonable and trust me, Matiser. No one is more invested in my betrothed’s wellbeing than I.”
Between Matiser’s carefully guarded expression and Senna’s openly dubious one, Cyrele didn’t imagine anyone found Avenah’s declaration particularly convincing. Even the servants kept their gazes carefully turned away from the princes so no trace of skepticism would show.
The two princes held eye contact for just long enough that Cyrele wondered if they were privately arguing in each other’s minds—but then Matiser’s posture loosened, as if in defeat. “Princess Kamene’s bedchamber will be closed off, of course,” Matiser began addressing the room, “but the rest of her rooms remain undamaged. We will convert another one into an adequate substitute bedchamber. That is, if the princess acquiesces?”
That his asking for Kamene’s consent came as an afterthought indicated that there was only one correct answer to the question. Yet, Kamene appeared to hesitate before giving it. The princess glanced at Senna with uncertainty.
And Avenah noticed, narrowing his eyes at the interaction.
Tell me, Cyrele, his voice suddenly appeared in her mind. What did Senna and Kamene speak about before I arrived?
The cold touch of fear spread through as she considered how to answer. She didn’t want to betray the confidence of the two princesses, though it was not as if she owed them anything—neither of them had offered to help her. Yet she didn’t dare lie to the prince. What was the most innocuous thing she could tell him?
The Princess Senna encouraged the Princess Kamene to advocate for herself more, Cyrele thought back, hoping she wouldn’t regret her decision.
I hate that woman, the prince said. I swear she has made it her life’s mission to irritate me. If it weren’t for Matiser’s pathetic desire to appease the sister who’d once loved him, I would have rid myself of her long ago.
Cyrele kept still, willing herself to show no reaction. From Avenah’s revelation that Senna was Matiser’s sister to his easy admission that he’d dispose of someone for being a nuisance, he’d given away a shocking amount of information. He must have grown far too comfortable in her mind.
In a way she resented it...but she was also beginning to realize she could use it. Matiser may have been too careful in how he presented himself to her, Akaterin too focused on winning her over, but Avenah? Avenah didn’t appear to care what she thought at all. Now that he had her under his supervision, he’d begun taking it for granted that she would always obey.
“You may as well accept,” Senna was saying. “Avenah will make sure you have as much protection as he wants no matter where you stay.”
Or as little protection as he wants, she didn’t say. But considering the accusation she’d made before the princes arrived, the implication was clear.
Kamene gave a nod, then turned to look Avenah in the eyes. “I trust you’ll do as you think is best. I am in your hands, your highness.”
“Wonderful,” Avenah said with a bright smile that failed to reach his eyes. “Then it’s settled. Matiser will see to the arrangements.”
Cyrele, Avenah added in private. Urge Kamene not to get caught up in Senna’s games. Senna has no power to protect any of you and no incentive to, either. Make sure Kamene knows that.
I will tell her, if she deigns to listen to her servant, Cyrele lied.
You’ll want to do better than that, for your own sake. The people around Senna have a tendency to meet with misfortune.
Misfortune, your highness?
Oh, yes. Her entire household was poisoned a few years back. Everyone else died, but Senna didn’t even show signs of illness. And that wasn’t even the first time that Senna had needed to replace servants whose health had mysteriously declined. The woman is a menace.
Was Avenah implying that Senna had poisoned her own household? Why would she do that...unless there was a reason that she needed to get rid of her household. Were they full of Avenah’s spies? Was Senna truly so ruthless that she would kill them all?
If only she’d died from the poison back then and saved me from her constant meddling...came a musing thought from Avenah, one that felt like it was barely even directed at her.
Does that mean that she was poisoned along with her household? Cyrele asked. Because something wasn’t making sense. If Senna had poisoned her household, then she shouldn’t have poisoned herself as well. And if she’d been poisoned, then how could she have avoided falling ill?
Avenah paused for just long enough to make the moment uncomfortable. Then, with a trace of reluctance, he said, Yes, she was poisoned as well. She must have had some way of protecting herself. It doesn’t matter. The point is that the people who get close to her tend to be the worse off for it. I happen to need you alive and well, so keep your distance, why don’t you?
As you command, Cyrele said.
But in reality, she wasn’t sure how much she could trust Avenah’s words. Why exactly did he want her and Kamene to stay away from Senna so badly? It couldn’t simply be that she meddled—Avenah was the second most powerful man in the kingdom! Meanwhile, Senna had apparently been neutralized, in Akaterin’s words. Whatever power Akaterin thought Senna had managed to hold onto, surely it was nothing compared to Avenah’s.
All of which begged the question...if Avenah wanted to keep Cyrele away from Senna, was it in Cyrele’s best interests to obey him? Or defy him?
#
THE PRINCESS SENNA provided Kamene and her two servants with temporary rooms while the old queen’s chambers were searched and cleaned. Avenah wasn’t happy about it, but Matiser convinced him to let it be. Still, Senna dismissed herself almost as soon as the princes left, denying Kamene the chance to speak with her further—and that might very well have been because they had Avenah’s attention now.
Worn from tonight’s drama, Cyrele found herself lying awake on her back, staring at the unfamiliar patterns on the ceiling and wishing they would resemble the cracks in her parents’ workshop, where she had used to fall asleep after a long day of helping with their bronze-working. Instead, she was in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by strangers. And in order to move forward, she had to choose one of these strangers to trust with her life.
But who? The practical Aralath, the cunning Akaterin, or the inscrutable Senna?
Then Cyrele heard another voice in her mind. One she had been expecting sooner.
What happened? I heard there was a fire—and that you’re surrounded by Avenah, Matiser, and Senna.
It was Akaterin, who’d evidently been the last to find out about this night’s events, turning up hours later than Senna and the princes.
They’re gone now, Cyrele told her. Senna reached out to Kamene as you’d predicted, offering us a room in her chambers after someone set Kamene’s bedroom on fire.
Was anyone harmed? I can’t imagine a single reason why anyone would bother targeting Kamene, of all people.
Frightened, but not harmed. Cyrele considered sharing Senna’s conclusion that the fire had to have been deliberately set by the power of a Karit, then discarded it. She didn’t want to give away too much information before she’d decided on whom she should risk trusting. The princes seemed to believe it wasn’t an accident, she said instead.
Akaterin went silent for a moment. Then, it seems you’ll spend at least a little time somewhere that I can reach your mind. We may not have this kind of chance often. Ask me anything you’d like.
The offer surprised Cyrele. She hadn’t received one like it since she’d been commanded to travel to Kava, not even from Aralath. Though the move was no doubt part of Akaterin’s calculations, Cyrele couldn’t help feeling touched that someone—anyone—was encouraging her curiosity. Even if she had to be careful with how much she indulged.
Princess Senna implied that she’d held power once, but no longer has access to it. Is that true?
Yes. The Maelstrom and Avenah cut off her access to the temples, which meant she couldn’t replenish her power. All of her abilities have since faded away...or at least they should have.
They didn’t?
Unlike me, Senna once had access to the third temple. To be candid, my cousins denied me this power because I’m better at wielding the magic of the first two temples than they are. Or at least, better than Avenah. Matiser is subtle enough that it’s hard to judge how good he is. Fortunately for him, he has Avenah’s trust—no mean feat, because our dear, insecure heir is insistent about neutralizing potential rivals.
The picture grew clearer. You’re a potential rival, Cyrele guessed. He feels threatened by your abilities, so he makes sure that you need him enough that you can never turn on him.
That’s correct. Senna is different, though. Her abilities were once so average that Avenah hadn’t hesitated to give her unfettered access to the third temple, as a gift to his favorite cousin’s beloved sister.
His favorite cousin? Cyrele asked—then winced as she realized she’d interrupted a Karit. Much like Avenah had become too comfortable in her mind, she was growing far too comfortable conversing with Akaterin, dangerously so.
But if the Karit was offended, she gave no sign of it. Oh, you don’t know? Senna is Matiser’s sister. His older sister.
That...wasn’t what she was asking. But it was an opening that might shed some light on Matiser and Senna’s mysterious dynamic nonetheless.
They had a falling out? Cyrele prompted.
Oh, yes. It was very dramatic. Duty versus love. The relationships you’re born to versus the ones you choose for yourself. I’ll leave it up to you to guess who chose what.
Well, Matiser certainly hadn’t chosen love, so...
But I digress, Akaterin continued. The point is that Senna was average, until one day, she wasn’t. Her abilities grew to the point that Avenah forbade her access to the third temple even before their little feud took off, then to the other temples once their relationship had well and truly soured. Still, there was a period of time when, much like myself, she’d held only the power of the first and second temples...and yet rumors abounded that she could still light flames or misdirect breezes. Abilities that only the third temple could grant.
And you want me to find out how, Cyrele finished, because it’s possible whatever she did could help you control the storm.
She might have found some way to hold onto a sliver of the third temple’s power. Or maybe Matiser even smuggled her in, if she could stomach spending that much time with him. I need to know what she did and how she did it.
But even if Cyrele wanted to trick Senna, even if she was capable of such a thing, she couldn’t hand over the knowledge that Akaterin wanted without understanding it first. If Senna merely had a way of reaching the third temple, then fine. Cyrele had already sabotaged the temple and there was no harm in handing that over. But if Senna had a way of using the power of the third temple without entering the third temple’s vault, then Cyrele couldn’t allow Akaterin to have it. That was too much power to hand over to the self-professed magical prodigy of her generation, no matter how many questions Akaterin graciously answered for her.
This was truly as far as she could go with Akaterin, wasn’t it? Even if she discovered a way to traverse the storm, Akaterin would not bring Cyrele to the first temple. The Karit wanted to go to the third temple, which would only make her discover the sabotage all the sooner.
That left Senna and Aralath as the only other people Cyrele could turn to. Both of them should agree to go to the first temple, because neither of them had its power. And both of them could help Cyrele get past the storm beyond what Akaterin could do for her—Senna by sharing her knowledge directly, or Aralath by whatever methods spies used. Of the two, she knew Aralath better, trusted her more. But Aralath didn’t know the location of the first temple, and Senna did.
Of course, there was one other concern. If Cyrele lured one of them out to the first temple with the prospect of power, she might very well have to betray that person to keep them from acquiring it. Else she’d risk them turning that power on her when they discovered her plan to take it away forever.
Could she do that? Betray someone who hadn’t threatened her the way the princes had? Simply because she didn’t trust them with the powers they sought? It would be so much worse than merely denying them the power of the vaults.
What is Senna like? Cyrele found herself asking.
Pretentious, Akaterin answered in an instant. She thinks she’s better than us, for all that she never had our skill. At least, not until she found some way to cheat.
And what, hoarding the power of the vaults to one family didn’t qualify as cheating?
But then, it didn’t matter, did it? Akaterin might not have been an unbiased source, but Cyrele found herself hoping Senna was truly as petty at the Karit claimed. Or even as ruthless as Avenah had painted her. It would make her easier to betray.