One day, Eagle discovered a jewel nestled in the branches of a tree. She caught it and brought it to Shark.
Is this for me? Shark asked, beaming at so generous a gift.
Nay, it is mine, I only wanted to show you, Eagle replied, peeved at the assumption.
And so the first fissure was cast.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Yllis careens around the corner, nearly crashing into a servant. His dark eyes are stormy.
“Did you find him?” I ask, breathless.
He shakes his head. “What exactly did he say to you, Oola?”
I twist my fingers in frustration, recalling my brother’s words. “He wanted more, begged me for a little more power. When I refused, he got upset. Yllis, I’ve never seen him like this before. He was…”
Eero’s eyes had bugged out of his head. The veins in his forehead and neck had been so prominent, I thought he might burst.
His frustration and jealousy and anger ripped at me. Clawed me open. I knew then that his gift had been a terrible worst mistake. I could never give him any more of my Song.
My voice is a quiet hush. “He said that he would find a way to get more. That I could not stop him.”
Yllis wraps strong arms around me. I sob into his chest, feeling the weight of my failure drag me down. He calms me with tender, wordless sounds and his solid presence, but I feel selfish for relying upon him.
“You have not told anyone, have you?” I say into his chest.
“No, of course not. And none of the other Cantors know the spell nor have an interest in it.”
That, at least, is something. “But still, someone could discover it. Or craft a similar spell. Eero has a way of getting what he wants.” Or maybe that was just with me.
“I think we have created a monster,” Yllis says. He pulls back to look into my eyes. I can only agree.
Whatever happens next will be my fault. I crumple inside to consider it.
* * *
The vision was interrupted by the bleating of a horn as the base residents were called to the mess hall for breakfast. Jasminda tucked away the caldera and followed the blaring noise to the morning meal.
She hoped to see Jack again—he’d woken her with a kiss before disappearing back to his work—but as soon as the plates were cleared away, a line of soldiers led the refugees to a caravan of buses for the trip to Rosira.
Benn appeared and directed her to a special vehicle, a boxy, close-topped four-wheeler. He explained that for security purposes, Jack rode in an armored vehicle, which couldn’t legally transport civilians. Jasminda had wanted to share the long journey with him from the eastern border of Elsira to the capital city on the western coast, but it wasn’t to be. Instead she had to put up with a lonely trip, complete with a driver whose eyes would flick to the rearview mirror, shooting cold, suspicious glances at her. She didn’t waver, meeting his gaze each time until he looked away. He was no doubt wondering why he was chauffeuring around a Lagrimari-looking Elsiran girl.
The rain stopped as they drove west, and a tension she hadn’t realized she was holding released. She admired the rolling hills and dense forests of Elsira’s picture-perfect countryside. Night fell, and dusty, unpaved roads eventually gave way to wider, paved highways, illuminated by electric lights and full of vehicles of all shapes and sizes.
Jasminda sucked in a breath when she got her first glimpse of Rosira from the crest of a hill. The city swept up and away from the ocean like a gentle wave. Lights sparkled from thousands of houses, which from this distance gave the impression of being stacked on top of one another, but as they drew closer, were really etched in layers going up the steep hillside.
There were no skyscrapers or especially tall buildings like in the pictures she’d seen of the megacities of Yaly. The main industry here was commerce, and docks stretched the entire length of the coastline with an assortment of vessels anchored there like great beasts asleep in their pens.
She tested her connection to Earthsong, then dropped it, immediately overwhelmed by the dense press of so many energies. How could anyone use magic in a place so heavily populated? Did Lagrimar have cities, and if so, how were the residents able to cope?
Her vehicle traveled a serpentine path through the city. Jack had assured her he would find lodging for her, though he hadn’t mentioned where. She suspected the Sisterhood had a dormitory of some kind where she could stay. Surely women whose mission was to feed and care for the settlers would not view her as terribly as the soldiers had. She could only hope.
The steep road through the densely packed buildings turned back on itself several times, dizzying her. After half a dozen twists and turns, the truck approached a gilded gate guarded by soldiers wearing black uniforms with gold trim and fringed epaulets. The gates swung open, revealing a brightly lit, curving drive that ascended even higher.
The Royal Palace of Elsira loomed in front of them, white stones gleaming under the illumination of a shocking quantity of electric lights. The pictures in her textbooks did not do it justice. Columned porches ran along the first floor with a seemingly endless number of arched windows just beyond. Carved into the stone above each window were images of the Founders, the magical Lord and Lady in various poses showing how they’d transformed Elsira.
Somewhere within this building lay the sleeping body of their descendant, the Queen Herself, protected by the Prince Regent who ruled in Her stead until She awoke and returned to power. Seeing it in person, Jasminda was transfixed. Though there was no longer any magic in Elsira, the palace seemed to give off its own energy and spoke to her in an unfamiliar way.
The driver exited the vehicle, and Jasminda remained, hoping that whatever business Jack had here would be quick. The trip had been exhausting, and she wanted nothing more than to fall into whatever bed she was assigned. The door she leaned against jerked open and there stood Jack, holding out his hand.
She stared at it uncomprehendingly. “Can I not wait here for you?”
“You would prefer to sleep in the truck?” The corner of his mouth quirked, shattering his grim expression.
She looked from him to the palace and back again. A knowing smile crept up Jack’s face.
“When you said you’d find lodging for me, I didn’t think … Jack, I can’t sleep in the palace.”
“Why ever not?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the truck.
“Because I’m a goat farmer. Palaces are for royalty. The Prince Regent cannot possibly allow someone like me here.”
“Trust me, it’s all right. Many officials and dignitaries live in the palace. A whole wing is devoted to ranking officers and their families. Honestly, it’s more like an inn than a proper palace these days.”
“But—”
“I’m well acquainted with whom the Prince Regent allows under his roof.” A flicker of pain crossed his face, and he took a deep breath. “Jasminda—”
“Commander!” an insistent voice bellowed from across the driveway.
“One moment, General,” Jack responded while his eyes pleaded with her. She accepted his offered palm, gripping it as she stepped from the vehicle and approached the palace.
A battalion of servants greeted them inside the entry. Jack announced her as an honored guest and conferred with a matronly woman who must have been in charge of things. Two maids whisked her away before she could even thank Jack or say good night, let alone find out what he had wanted to tell her. Hopefully it was whatever he’d said she needed to know about him. Her heart burned to know his secrets, even as part of her was glad she didn’t.
She barely registered the dazzling hallways of the palace, the opulent room she was led to, the plush carpeting, detailed tapestries, or hand-carved furniture. She saw only the bed, canopied and enormous, and then the backs of her eyelids as she sank into the extravagant mattress.