Claiming the Prince: Book One (46 page)

“It talked about a Realm of Light that apparently some Princes and a few Raes could pass through.”

“Huh.”

“It also spoke about the Shine, about claiming. It struck me that claiming is not dissimilar to what my kind do with the heart-place. You said an Elf Prince gives away pieces of his heart to make himself stronger, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When a Rae calls upon her inner light and joins it with that of a Prince, making them one whole . . . it sounds very similar.”

“Maybe,” she said, shaking away the fatigue. The warmth radiating off of him and the rocking motion of Gur’s flying weren’t helping. “Except a Rae doesn’t go mad or kill herself if her Prince dies.”

“Maybe not, but the histories all ended very similarly. One died and then the other died soon after. Some of them killed themselves in grief.”

“I’m sure those were the more interesting stories,” she said. “The ones worth repeating. But I’ve known plenty of Princes and Raes who’ve gone on to live quite long, healthy lives after the other dies.”

Her mother for one.

Of course, she suspected her mother was guilty of having her Prince murdered. Perhaps in doing so, she had severed whatever connection they’d shared.

Vaguely, Magda wondered if she could free herself from Kaelan by murdering him. Not that she had any desire to do so. In fact, she deeply wished that she could repair whatever had gone wrong between them. She wasn’t sure if her desire to reconnect with him stemmed from the heart-place he’d
mistakenly
given her, or if she simply missed the ease of the friendship they’d had. Or maybe she just missed feeling him, the ever-present surf of his emotions breaking upon her. No longer knowing what he felt at any given moment left an emptiness inside of her. A distant cousin to the feeling she’d experienced when he’d died.

“Kaelan—”

“Cae.”

“Do you still love Honey?”

He was quiet for a breath.

“No.”

“Does that make you less sure that you know what love is?”

“I know what it is, Magda. I may not understand it, but I know it.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I am.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to her.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m a Rae. I’m supposed to protect the Lands, my people—”

“Honey isn’t one of your people.”

“If I can’t protect an innocent nymph in my company, then who can I protect? I’m not even sure—”

“What?”

“I’m not sure I can protect myself,” she finished, sagging. “If I fight Lavana, there’s a very good chance I’ll lose.”

His grip tightened on her thigh. “Mag—”

“If I do, please help Damion and Honey escape the Spire. And Hero, watch out for him, all right?”

“You’re not going to die,” he said, breath hot on her ear. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because I need to say it. Because I might not be here to say it later.”

“No wonder you’re so anxious,” he said. “Have you no confidence—?”

“It’s not about confidence,” she said. “I have the Enneahedron, I have you; therefore, I have a good chance. But I have no control over the judgment of the Crown or the rest of the family. There’s also a real possibility I could be dead before the week is out.” Her energy ebbed away. “And to be honest, I won’t risk speaking freely to you or anyone so long as we are in the city. You’re not the only one who will have to put on a different face for the court.”

“And what face will that be?”

“One that will make no one doubt my confidence,” she said. “The face of a Rae. There’s one more thing,” she said, holding up her left hand and the ironwood sheath. “If I die, find a way to return this to my mother’s tomb.”

“What is it?”

She lowered her hand, fingers curling in the coarse fur of Gur’s mane. “Something I hope not to have to use.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why not Damion?”

“I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but . . . I trust you to take my words to heart, or at least give them some thought. Damion will only try to get himself killed if I die. Just as he did for Alanna. He won’t think about anything.”

The silence that followed left her drifting, fending off the pull of sleep.

“Magda,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

“I need to tell you something . . .”

She roused, squinting against the fierce blue span of sky and the wind that tore tears from her eyes. “Yes?”

More silence.

“What is it?”

“I asked Damion to train me . . .”

“I know.”

“So I can kill my father . . . and my brother.”

Her heart sank. “Kaelan . . .”

“I know you love him—”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“I can’t stop you from feeling whatever you feel. But you can’t stop me either.”

“Kaelan, please, don’t.”

“If I don’t, I will always live in fear of being discovered.”

Pain wrenched through her. “Vengeance won’t bring you peace.”

“I didn’t start this—”

“That’s right. As of now you’re innocent. They’re the guilty ones. Endreas has shown who he really is by doing nothing to help you, to protect you, his own brother. Maybe the Rae I was before wouldn’t have cared. But
I
do. I don’t want to be that heartless noble again, the one who puts her own advancement above her friends, above what’s right.”

“The prophecy—”

She twisted to glare at him. “Fuck the prophecy.”

His brow arched. “That’s not how you used that word before.”

“It’s a very versatile word,” she said. “Damn it, Kaelan. Don’t do this. Please, I am begging you.”

His gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “I’ve made my decision. After you’ve vied for Radiant, I’ll join Python and the Resistance.”

She turned her back to him again.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” he said. “I knew you’d be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I’m disappointed. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“I’ve been meeting with Kirk.”

She twisted again. “What? When?”

“They have greater resources than you realize,” he said. “I’ll be safe with them, until the time comes.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

Her face burned. “And here I thought I could trust you.” She turned again, wishing he had let her fall asleep earlier. Now her ears were ringing and her head pounding and her teeth grinding.

“You can help me, help the Resistance,” he said. “They want you too. They’ll support you if you vie for the Crown.”

“Right. So there can be war with the King.” She shook her head. “I won’t be Python’s puppet, or Endreas’s. Is this why you’re helping me? You want me to succeed because you think I’ll help you start your war?”

“No,” he said. “I decided to help you long before any of this. But this is something I have to do, with or without you.”

“Then it will be without me.”

After that, neither of them spoke.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the furious barrage of tears attempting to break through. The chill that had fled her returned, seeping deeper, down into her chest.

Though Kaelan was right behind her, she felt as though she had lost him all over again.

T
HEY CAMPED TWO NIGHTS.

On the third day, the air began to thin and cool, the sky above deepening to mountain blue, pines eating up the deciduous trees. The flat white scars of roads ducked in and out of view, growing as numerous as the silver streams and steel rivers. More rooftops appeared. Twisted fingers of smoke broke from chimneys and groped at them as they neared one of the few true urban centers in the Lands.

Though she was burrowed deep against Kaelan for warmth, they had spoken only in glancing words.

When they landed, she ate, stretched, and ran through her training sets. She slept mostly while they were in the air, so that she could complete her exercises. Her body ached, both from the long hours spent flying and the exertion of training.

Flor would sit by, either barking orders or asking Honey to contact various long-dead family members.

Most of the time, the nymph claimed not to be able to reach them, but some she did. The information, the memories, that Honey relayed was convincing. And yet, for some reason, Magda remained leery.

Hero stayed a fixture on Honey’s shoulder. Magda didn’t ask him to return to her. If he preferred the nymph’s company, she couldn’t blame him. Her mood certainly hadn’t been growing brighter as they neared the Spire.

Damion and Kaelan joined her in training when they didn’t sleep. She took turns knocking Kaelan on his ass and then getting knocked on her own ass by Damion.

The knit of his brow told her he was worried by her slow reflexes and failure to consistently defeat him. Not that she failed utterly, but her body seemed reticent to return to the honed and deadly fast switchblade it had once been. Bit by bit though, she could feel it happening, the surface hardening. After everything she’d been through since her return, the woman she’d become in exile was sinking away, like someone drowning under thickening ice.

Early on the afternoon of the third day, they landed on a ridge not far from a road, where two rounded white wicker-wood carriages waited. The horses skittered, held by wide-eyed Pixie drivers. Meer stood atop one of the carriages, arms folding and unfolding with an air of impatience.

Magda and Kaelan dismounted. She pressed her forehead against Gur, allowing her old soft self one last moment so her affection and thanks could flow into the semargl. He purred, nuzzling into her armor.

“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy walking again,” Flor said, brushing back her side-swept bangs. She hadn’t taken her hair as short as Magda’s, which was shaved close to the scalp at the back. Still, the sharp straight locks brushing the matriarch’s chin would prove a shock at court, which had been entirely the point of course. Magda just hoped it would work as Flor intended.

Magda approached Anqa charily as Damion and Honey slid off of the great gold-eyed bird. She pressed her hand gently to the sleek feathers of the roc’s neck and offered her gratitude.

An odd flurry of images spilled from Anqa’s mind into hers, but all Magda could gather from them was that the roc would come again, if needed.

Magda thanked her again and backed away.

Anqa squawked, wings spreading wide, and then turned and took flight. Gur lingered a moment longer, gaze roving over each of them before he, too, flew off.

“The Rae, the Prince, and I will ride in this coach,” Flor said. “Damion, you and Honey will ride behind.”

“Do I have to ride inside?” Damion said, frowning. “I hate carriages.”

“Yes, you do,” Flor said.

He deflated.

“I’m sorry we cannot all ride together,” Flor said to Honey, “but it would be inappropriate for a Rae to arrive within the Spire’s walls with her attendants in the same carriage.”

From the corner of her eye, Magda caught the drivers gaping openly at them. She almost laughed.

Seven years ago, if she’d seen a Rae with short hair flying on a lion-semargl with a Prince thought dead, his eccentric short-haired mother, a scarred warrior, and a misty-eyed nymph wearing a rat on her shoulder, she probably would’ve gawked too. But mostly it reminded her that every moment from this time forward, she would be watched.

Drawing back her shoulders, she recomposed her face into an impassive mask.

“Mother Flor, please,” she said, stepping aside as the driver opened the carriage door.

The interior was airy with an abundance of windows. The seats were lined with gray satin.

“You honor me, Mistress,” Flor said with a bow.

She held out her hand for Kaelan to assist her. It took him a moment to reach out and offer his hand. Magda bit back a grimace. His single hesitation had already put a chip in this tenuous façade. If anyone thought that the judgments of the servants wouldn’t have an impact upon the nobles, then they knew nothing of how gossip spread at court.

“Oh dear, my sweet boy,” Flor said with effortless grace as she took his hand. “I can see your long years in exile have left your finer sensibilities in a terrible muddle.”

He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“Worry not,” she said as she alit. “Everyone will be so delighted at your miraculous return, I’m sure they’ll all forgive your brutish human-like manners.”

At the word
human
the driver’s eyes rounded.

In the Pixie world, humans offered a kind of taboo thrill. Flor, as removed as she’d been from the rest of society all these years, had been quite genius in bringing up humans, associating that intrigue with Kaelan’s
faux pas
. Magda had a feeling the word
human
would be mentioned at every turn no matter where she and Kaelan went.

She ignored Kaelan’s hand as she stepped into the carriage on her own and settled beside Flor in the forward-facing seat.

Kaelan slid across from them.

The driver shut the door. The carriage bounced as he mounted at the front.

Overflowing food baskets appeared in each of their laps. Then Meer perched on the seat next to Kaelan, nose in the air.