Kneave was the capital of Odalia, and a celebration was in progress when Lady Mykaela guided us through the winding streets, she riding on her palomino and Fox riding behind me on the gray dapple she’d purchased in Murkwick. I had never seen so many people packed together in so small a space before.
Knightscross constructed its houses according to the natural paths of the land, and so I was used to broad roads. I’ve lived in Kion for many years, but I’ve never grown used to the narrow, constrained lanes of busy cities like Odalia. Adding to the feeling of close confinement are the groups of people who have gathered to watch noisy bands of musicians cavorting through the streets, dressed in confusing swirls of clothing and color. Some carried tambourines, while others chose drums or trumpets. All were not shy about making as much noise as was possible.
People built small fires around the city square and took turns leaping over them while others watched and applauded, laughing. The sight of those flames, coupled with the smallness of the spaces and the largeness of the crowds, alarmed me. I clung to my brother, fearful that the fires might spread, that parts of the city might burn before long. Despite the heat and the smoke surrounding us, his skin was cold to the touch.
“They celebrate the spring equinox,” Fox said as boys and girls alike leapfrogged over the pyres, daring each other to jump higher at every turn. “Fire is a cleansing tool, and to leap over it is to clean themselves of all sickness and evil in anticipation of the coming year.”
“But we don’t do this in Knightscross.” The closest thing we have to a large fire was my father’s forge, and I could only imagine his reaction should the villagers elect to jump over it.
“Farmland is not an appropriate venue for fire building, Tea.”
“I’m not sure cities are made the same way.”
The festivities quieted somewhat when we passed. People stopped to stare—at Lady Mykaela’s empty heartsglass and then at the silver tints of mine. They tried to melt back into the crowd, to give us room, though the paths were small and gave them difficulty. Fox received a few of those stares for his lack of heartsglass and for the plain silver sword at his hip, as none of the revelers wore weapons that I could see. Not for his absence of shadow, I tried to convince myself, and certainly not because they knew he was dead.
Kneave was nothing like Knightscross. It may seem ridiculous to imagine I could compare the two. But Knightscross was all I’d ever known, and not even my books prepared me for the shock of the city. My village was simple and muted against a backdrop of forests and stone, where the forge and the gossip were the noisiest sounds.
But the city of Kneave wore its people for emphasis, like giant exclamation marks that walked in every street and loitered at every corner. Its citizens attired themselves in bright and stunning dresses that called to the eyes. None of the women back home wore veils; it would be an awkward garment to wear when working in the fields. Some of the Kneavan women wore these loosely about their persons, and others wore them coiled so tightly about their heads that I could not tell the color of their hair or even if they had any. A few took this a step further; they had on masks and long, flowing robes that hid everything but their eyes.
Many of the people’s faces were smooth and polished, at times prettier and handsomer than they first appeared. It felt to me that there was something strange about their features—they were a little too refined and a little too contrived, like a whetstone had given them precision but also left them too sharp for nature to allow for. To my eyes, it was like each person wore two faces that shared the exact same space, one pressing down on top of the other—one too pretty and affected to be natural, and the other too flawed and regular to be artificial.
“Glamour,” Lady Mykaela said over her shoulder without looking up from her book. I would later learn that it was her habit to read as she walked and read as she rode. She had given me a book from her collection so I could do the same, but I was unused to riding horses, and sore buttocks soon distracted me from turning the pages. “The smallest of magics. Harmless for the most part. It allows the people their vanities, but we asha can see them all the same.”
We rode past colorful banners and vibrant pinions. The marketplace was awash with sights and smells—from the fresh, minty scent of potted plants to the tantalizing aroma of fried foods and baking bread that reminded my stomach I’d had nothing but a strip of beef jerky in the last few hours. Signs calling for prosperity and luck graced every door. Carts wheeled by, and children raced past older folk, who bore armfuls of clothes and baskets. Occasionally a carriage would pass, too rich and ornate for its inhabitants to give us more than a second glance.
I expected Lady Mykaela to make for the harbor. She had told me that the fastest way to Kion was to take a ship from the port of Odalia in Kneave, as opposed to the monthlong journey it would take on land. When she rode past the street leading down to the rows of ships anchored at the dock and onto the road leading to the Odalian castle, I was surprised.
“We shall stay at the palace for the night, at King Telemaine’s request,” the asha said. “It is the spring equinox, and I draw Heartsrunes for the children in Kneave every year. We’ll leave at first light tomorrow and catch the earliest ship to Kion. Speak up, Fox. I can see the question on your face.”
“I do not mean to cause offense, Mistress. But many Odalians consider it bad luck to offer bone witches a place to stay, even for a night. For the ruler of Odalia to do so would be disastrous in their eyes. How did you manage to convince the king?”
“It was his idea. The royal chancellor and the palace steward have been taken into his confidence, albeit reluctantly, and no one else is aware of our housing arrangements.” She smiled faintly. “And in case you wondered—no, I did not compel him to do it. Drawing Heartsrune for so many at once is a tedious task, but I do it in gratitude to His Majesty.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of the king I deemed responsible for Fox’s death, but my brother only shrugged and said that it was a soldier’s life, and if they blamed the king for every cut and kill and death that they take, there would be no army left in all the kingdoms.
“But wouldn’t that be better?” I asked as we dismounted. Stablehands from the royal stable hurried forward to take the horses’ reins. “No armies would mean no war.”
Fox laughed suddenly, though his chest did not rise and fall. “Silly girl. You are not yet an asha, and you already understand the games kings and queens play? I certainly don’t.”
The castle was open to all who came at this time of the year because, like the spring equinox, this was the custom. The people wore magic on their brows. They painted their lips scarlet with the spells’ fullness and dusted their cheeks with its rouge. I could feel the enchantments woven into their clothes. Lady Mykaela took her time pointing out some of the spells to me so I could commit to memory how they looked and what they felt like. Many arranged elegance in their feather bonnets and solemnity in their tailcoats. Composure adorned a lady’s majestic hat. It didn’t work on me; the overabundance of feathers made her look like she had assaulted an ungainly duck in a past life and wore its skin, and the thought made me giggle.
“Why do they do that?” I asked Mykaela. “Why do they waste magic this way?”
“It is the way of the rich,” she replied, shrugging one silk-clad shoulder. “They commission the ateliers to spin it into their clothes and call it fashion or have apothecaries paint their faces and call it beauty. You are village born and do not understand the way the city’s mind works. The city rich are not like bees in a hive that work together to share honey for all. The city rich are like the jungle apes; they show off their red bottoms and beat their chests because they fear to be culled from the herd if they show weakness. Even the most inferior of runeberries can suffice for this magic, so we let them be.”
“Is that why you don’t wear magic like they do?”
Lady Mykaela grinned at me. “But I am wearing magic, little one. The difference is that it is woven so finely into my hua that you cannot detect it.”
The people in this part of the city recognized her too and gave us a wider berth. I walked through the crowd with my head down, the ground suddenly more interesting to study than people. Lady Mykaela was used to the silence and walked with her head thrown back and a secret smile on her lips. Fox brought up the rear and paid no attention when those standing closest shrunk back.
The king and his son stood at the castle gates, welcoming visitors. King Telemaine was a large man of unexpected height. It was easier to imagine him in the smoke of battle or in the aftermath of a bloody duel, not dressed in rich satin robes of dyed purple, with a crown two sizes too small for his head. He had a great black beard clumped against his chin to hide a thin, nearly lipless mouth and bright-green eyes that were more shrewd than clever. His heartsglass was built to size, twice as large as my own but adequate when framed against his massive chest. Beside him was a young boy a year or two older than me, wearing a smaller crown and his father’s eyes. But where King Telemaine’s eyes were a hard and opaque jade, his son’s were deep and gentle emeralds that smiled back despite his serious face. He was easily the most handsome boy I’d ever met. When he caught me staring, I looked away, frantically willing my blush to fade.
“Lady Mykaela.” The king stepped forward, large hands folding over one of the asha’s and hiding it from everyone’s view. “Thank you for coming, as always.”
“It is my pleasure, as always. There is a good crowd here. How many heartsglass are present?”
“Four hundred and eighty in all.”
I started. In Knightscross, it would be a good year if there were more than twenty thirteen-year-olds for the equinox.
“We have even less reason to delay, then. The night grows old. This is my apprentice, Tea Pahlavi, and her brother, Fox.”
“I am enchanted.” King Telemaine was an experienced statesman. The faintest spasm of orange flickered across his heartsglass, but only for the briefest second. I felt an irrational surge of resentment and forgot my embarrassment.
“No, you aren’t.”
Both King Telemaine and Mykaela turned to me; the man was curious and the asha cautioning.
I could understand his disinterest of yet another bone witch in his kingdom, but Fox was a different matter. “My brother died. You told him where, and he went like a good soldier to fight and got nothing but a coffin for his troubles. Surely he deserves more than your indifference”—I gave his heartsglass a pointed glance—“even if it is well concealed.”
Some of those in his retinue gasped, alarmed by my frankness. Lady Mykaela said nothing.
The king threw his head back, revealed two rows of square, white teeth to everyone present, and laughed aloud. “Such spirit in this one! You’ve chosen well, Mykaela! She’ll grow your fangs soon enough.”
“She shows much promise,” Lady Mykaela murmured. “She seems to have learned to read heartsglass with little training.”
King Telemaine turned to Fox. “I am grateful for the services you rendered your kingdom, young man, and I am sorry for the situation that finds you here. I shall talk to my stewards and ensure that your family will want for nothing. It is small compensation, but it is the least I can do.”
“You are too kind, Your Majesty.” Fox bowed.
“It was a bad business. I remember that order, but I had little choice. I could not afford to have my northern borders terrorized by some nameless creature. We never did find the daeva, but my men must have injured it, for the attacks ceased soon after. What are the chances of it slinking off to whatever lair it calls its own to die?”
“With much respect to Your Majesty,” Fox said, with his usual gravity, “I hope it did not.”
The king laughed even harder. “I see that you have your hands full with these siblings, Mykaela. Fire and calm, these two, water and flash. Much like my sons. This is Prince Kance.”
The boy smiled at me, and I felt my cheeks prickle with heat again. “It is my honor to meet you, asha.” He bowed low, and his heartsglass swung with the movement. Like his father’s, it was set in silver and adorned with an intricate working of the royal family crest along its edges: a lion’s silhouette emblazoned against the sun.
“I’m not an asha,” I stammered. How could a simple smile work such wonders to my heart? “I’m…I’m—”
“An apprentice,” Lady Mykaela interrupted, taking pity on me, “due to take up her novitiate in Ankyo.”
“But a bone witch all the same, eh?” The king winked at me. “It has been a rare year. The first new bone witch in decades! Two of you from Odalia, when many other kingdoms are forced to do without. Doesn’t Istera only have that one old crone left, Mykaela? Of course, we don’t have Kion’s heartforger, but he’s old and getting on in years.”
“Heartforger?” I asked before I could stop myself.
King Telemaine gestured at my heartsglass with a thick hand.
“Their heartsglass are silver white, like yours. But they don’t wave magic about like you do, only fire up memories and forge them into new ones.”
Two others approached the king—one a royal councilor, judging from the robes he wore, and the other a young boy in a brown cloak and hood. I read the blue and yellow palpitations on the older man’s heartsglass, an irregular heartbeat of fright. The other’s was easier to discern—his was beet red with anger, directed at us. I didn’t bother to look at their faces, keeping my eyes on the councilor’s heartsglass instead.
“Your Majesty,” he stuttered. “We shouldn’t—shouldn’t keep the children waiting.”
You cannot spend so much time on those witchfolk, the man’s heartsglass seemed to whisper. What would the people think, seeing their king consorting with these pariahs?
“He is right.” Lady Mykaela laid a firm hand on my arm. “We had best get started. Four hundred and eighty children are waiting.”
“Kings and queens may be let off with ungracious behavior,” she murmured once we were alone again. “Bone witches may not. Speak in that manner to the king or to anyone else in the palace, and I will box your ears and have you clean the city outhouses for a month. We are welcomed in most of Odalia because of his generosity and are outcasts without.”
“I promise,” I said meekly, because Lady Mykaela was the kind who carried out anything she threatened, if our time at the daeva mound was any indication. “What did he mean by heartforgers?”
She tapped at my heartsglass. “A different magic but with the same color. They’re of more use to the people than bone witches, so they aren’t as reviled. They can take memories and break them into bits and pieces, distill them down into potions and spells, and build them back up into new hearts, bright and counterfeit, so that even we can’t tell one heartbeat from the other. Fortunately, some artificial hearts cost more than a kingdom, and so few people bother.”
“But why?”
“For noble reasons and for horrible reasons. Give your heart to the wrong person and they can abuse that trust, and there are spells to prevent you from drawing one anew. When you have enough enemies, it is sometimes necessary to speed up what nature did not intend. The strongest spells require memories. There are many people who wish to forget, and there are many rich enough to pay for the privilege.”
“But that’s terrible!”
“People can be terrible, Tea.” Lady Mykaela’s empty heartsglass winked against the light as she turned away, and I wondered what in the asha’s past was responsible for making her so sad.
• • •
Only one asha was necessary for the equinox ritual, so I stood aside, watching from the sidelines while Lady Mykaela attended to her task. As her apprentice, I was given a spot among the most junior of the king’s staff: on the edges of the crowd but able to watch the proceedings without looking over everyone else’s heads. Fox, not quite as fortunate, stood somewhere in the middle of the group. It did not matter; I could feel him there, and that was enough.
We were part of a large audience looking on, where at the center of the town square, a group of children around my age stood expectantly. They were dressed in their prettiest and most expensive clothes and held their empty heartsglass in their hands. After presenting themselves to the king, the boys and girls waited as Lady Mykaela moved down the line, tracing runes as she went.
Each heartsglass case seemed to me even more elaborate than the next. I could feel poise and composure incantations woven into the dress of one girl so that the crowd marveled even as she fidgeted and squirmed in her lace and satin best. One boy dug a finger into his nose with undue diligence, the spells on him muting the action. It was simpler back in Knightscross, I thought. We were too poor to afford but to behave.
Behind me, a chorus sang, and instruments were played by unseen hands. Lady Mykaela continued, fingers working at the air, and the people watched, their faces enchanted to hide their disdain of the bone witch—to all but those who can see through the magic and through them.
“They say you can bring back the dead.”
I looked behind me. A boy stood there, his hostility obvious.
“They say you can bring back the dead,” he repeated. “Well? Can you?”
Most of the people in Kneave had gone out of their way to ignore me, and so his pointed derision took me by surprise. “It depends. Do you require raising?”
It did not appear to be the answer the boy wanted.
“Can you, or can’t you?” A black cloak many sizes too big swallowed him up, hid his heartsglass from my view. I could not see the color of his hair, could only see the lower half of his face and one of his eyes, which was hooded and gray. If only I could see his heart, I thought, and tell whether he had reasons to be smug or whether he was merely stupid. At least he did not smell of spells and invocations, none woven into his clothes to mask his disgust. “I’m a bone witch. Of course I can.”
“My father says bone witches are demon children,” the boy persisted. “They curse the healthy and blight the sane. No other magic would touch them because they sell their hearts to the Dark. That’s how they raise dead men, soulless as they are.”
“Bone witches do not sell their hearts!”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Because you have no hearts to give, the lot of you. So you take others for your own and bleed them dry. You grow the dead by the armies, and if we don’t keep you in check, you will let them overrun us.”
“That’s not true.” I grew angrier with every word. I had done nothing for the boy to single me out. “You hate us for nothing more than prejudice.”
The boy pulled his cloak even tighter around himself. “I know your tricks. My father told me all about your kind. If you can’t see my heartsglass, then you can’t curse me.”
“I don’t want to curse you.” That was only half the truth, because I was angry and did wish I knew how to shut him up.
From inside his hood, the boy’s face hardened. “Your kind killed my mother,” he snapped. He turned and fled back into the confines of the crowd but not before his heavy cloak shifted and I saw his heartsglass. It blazed back at me for an instant, a bright-tipped shimmering silver, and then it was gone, lost in the maze of people—and the boy along with it.