Magic of Fire and Shadows (Curse of the Ctyri Book 1) Read online

  “It’s impenetrable, Princess. The war is already lost; we lack provisions necessary to march around and over the Vecny pass, which would only help if that side didn’t also have the Fire. We can’t get through the Phoenix Fire here, so perhaps it would be better to focus on becoming the queen your parents would want you to be rather than waging a war you can’t win.” He heaved a sigh, and turning toward her, he unbuckled his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

  But as he dropped the warm cloak over her, her mind spun. “Cervene has the best army in the entire realm.” Had King Jarian known something would happen someday that would lead to war? Why else have such a large, well-trained army? She walked around Evzan and toward the shimmering vertical expanse. “This whole time, I’ve only been thinking about getting through the wall . . .”

  “Princess,” Evzan said wearily. “Please—”

  “But what I really want to do is tear down the wall.” Adaline stopped inches from the border, watching as light refracted over the magical barrier. Slowly, she lifted her hand, stretching her fingers to brush the shimmering divider. Right before her hand connected, Evzan stepped beside her and grabbed her wrist, preventing contact with the Fire.

  “Adaline,” he begged, his face ravaged with pain. “Please stop. I’ve stood by all morning, letting you hurl yourself at the wall because it seemed you needed a dose of reality. I thought you’d see reason, accept your responsibility, and stop. But I’m done. I’m not going to do it anymore. I’ll carry you out of here and sling you over my horse if necessary. This self-abuse ends now.”

  He let her? He was done? Self-abuse? The fact he erroneously believed his permission even mattered only solidified her determination. He thought he could throw her over his horse? He might try, but she would make him pay.

  Adaline wrenched her hand free. Hesitating only to take a deep breath, she pressed her hand against the shimmering wall. Her heart thudded in her chest, but otherwise, nothing happened. She was still standing, not burning, not . . . anything. “I’m not trying to pass through the wall,” she said, realizing that whatever magic held the barrier in place was bound by specific rules. “Which means it’s not expelling me.”

  “Princess . . .” Evzan breathed.

  Adaline blocked him out. She stared at the power preventing her army from crossing the border, and she wondered if there was a way to break it. She pictured her fingernails as long daggers, lethally sharp and slicing into the glimmering veil as she dragged them through. “Break,” she whispered. “Break. Break.” And then she yelled, “Break.”

  The wall didn’t break. It didn’t do anything. She sighed and wished there was a way to cancel the magic, to nullify it. She settled her hand into the energy and closed her eyes. The power felt like sunlight on the lake on a warm summer day. Too bad she couldn’t pull the plug and drain the magic away. Or maybe douse it like pouring water over a real fire. What if she could put a sponge into the pool of enchantment and suck the power up and throw the sponge away? Or block the power with a shield and make it reflect back on itself?

  Adaline opened her eyes and sighed with defeat. There was no difference. She pulled her hand back and was about to turn away when a tiny dark drop appeared where the tip of her finger had been. The darkness oozed outward, spreading quickly, and when it touched the ground, the division in the grass disappeared.

  Adaline inched her foot forward and gasped when her toes crossed through into Beloch. She had no idea what she’d done, but something had worked.

  “Bodgy strewth,” Evzan breathed. “What have you done?”

  He’d expressed her feelings exactly. The hole continued to grow, and a sudden realization hit her. She turned to Evzan. “Get the armies through. Get the armies through!”

  He straightened and bellowed toward the milling men a dozen yards away. “Cervene! Avenge your king!”

  In that moment, discerning those with military training and those without was easy. The men who’d trained scooped up weapons and packed satchels, captains and generals called for their most trusted, and sectors of the army advanced. Several men ran to Evzan, but their conversation was a jumble of meaningless words to Adaline.

  She smiled at the widening gap, her grin turning triumphant as men passed with their weapons into Beloch. She’d done it. Somehow, someway, she’d made it happen. Dozens and then hundreds of soldiers poured through the gap. Finally, she would see Beloch pay for what their monarch had done to her family. These soldiers were trained by the best to be the best. They would—

  “Evzan,” she said, blinking to make sure she was seeing right. The dark gap in the Phoenix Fire was no longer growing. The men streamed through, but another moment later, the iridescent wall of magic began to regain its lost ground. The hole was shrinking.

  No. No, no, no! They needed more time.

  Adaline darted through the advancing men, her heart racing as it thundered its need for revenge. She pushed and screamed her way back to the wall, oblivious of the strange looks from her father’s soldiers. Placing both hands on the barrier, she willed the hole to stay open. She begged the magic to recede, and when that didn’t work, she wrapped her hands around the edges of the gap and pulled as if she could rip the magic obstacle in half.

  The energy shifted, and panic seized the princess. “Get away,” she screamed, feeling the pulse of the inevitable. “Get back. It’s going to—”

  Roaring pain lashed Adaline. Her insides felt as though they were being melted, and her body seized and thrashed on its own accord. Her skin was on fire, and the smell of burning flesh and boiling blood singed her nostrils. She saw soldiers burst into flame, but the roar in her ears blocked out all other sound. Adaline’s vision tunneled and then exploded.

  A resounding crack echoed through the valley as the magic of the Phoenix Fire detonated. Soldiers bellowed in pain, and excruciating heat licked the air.

  The magical barrier snapped shut, expelling, by force, anyone touching the border.

  Bright light burst across the valley, consuming Adaline’s entire field of vision. Everything in her world shattered, fractionating into a million pieces, and then it all disappeared.

  12

  Vasilisa

  Vasilisa spent hours picking wildflowers at the edge of the wood, gathering armfuls of silvery daisies and fragrant lavender. She watched the moon rise high into the night sky and even made friends with a large toad that had come out to catch crickets. The moon bathed her father’s manor in graceful light, letting Vasi believe for a few minutes that her life was still beautiful even though she knew the truth.

  She waited until the carriages left, surrounded by peacock guards, before collecting her flora and heading home. Marika had held another dinner with more titled guests to avoid, and time out-of-doors was much preferred to serving the haughty nobility or hiding in the kitchen.

  Vasi felt the shifting energy even before she reached the house, a clunking sense of doom as though chains were winding around her.

  “How soon could I take possession?” Lord Baine asked, his voice drifting out into the darkness.

  Vasi froze near the trunk of an oak tree and then ducked behind it to avoid being seen.

  “I think my offer is more than generous,” Lord Baine continued, his voice growing in volume as he approached from the side of the house. “And you’ve made your feelings for everything around here abundantly clear.”

  Vasi pushed her back into the trunk, the rough bark scraping against her bare arms. The relentless toad hopped up beside her, croaking his displeasure, and Vasi waved it away. What did he have to be upset about? Nothing. Go eat more crickets, Toad, and while you’re at it, eat Lord Baine. She stilled her movements when Marika spoke.

  “I told you the price I need, Emeroi,” she responded, her voice a throaty purr reserved for men. “It’s a simple exchange.”

  “Viscountess, you seem under the delusion I have more influence over my uncle than I actually do,” Lord Baine responded, hi
s words clipped and tight.

  Clearly he wasn’t infatuated with Marika, which might’ve made Vasi like him if he weren’t so vile. Instead, she just acknowledged the duke wasn’t an infatuated fool.

  “I’d rather our exchange be of our usual variety,” he stated. “Gold paid on acquisition.”

  “I’m not interested in a single sum of gold, Your Grace. I’m in need of an unlimited supply. You, of all people, should understand this. I cannot continue to live like this,” she simpered.

  Vasi rolled her eyes in disgust, wishing she could crawl away from the exchange. She loathed these two; they were worse than cockroaches. Where did that toad go? Maybe he could get some of his friends and swallow them both.

  Marika continued her ingratiating platitudes. “We both know that the tsar listens to you above anyone else. I just need you to nudge him in the right direction.”

  “Nudge him in the right direction?” Lord Baine snorted. “Your husband is expected to return any day now—”

  “Then we don’t have much time, do we?” Marika snapped, all pretense of civility gone. “Get me what I want, then you can have what you want.” The clacking of her heels on the paving stones announced her retreat.

  Seconds later, Vasi heard Lord Baine leave, too, and she sighed in relief.

  The night dew kissed Vasi’s face, and she exhaled again as her heart settled. She’d eavesdropped on Marika’s conversations too many times this week, and though listening to the conversation with the tsar may have been treasonous, this conversation felt far more dangerous. Vasi wasn’t surprised Marika planned to sell their family home out from under them. But what would she tell Casimir when he returned? Knowing Marika, the blame would fall to Vasi for the loss. And the price?

  Vasi could guess the steady stream of income Marika had her eye on. Nikolai. Since Roza wasn’t attracting the prince on her own, Marika was stooping to underhanded means.

  Vasi would rather her family home burn to the ground than let it pass into the ownership of the revolting duke. Furthermore, it wasn’t right of Marika, Lord Baine, and especially the tsar, to treat Nikolai like an object to be bartered with; he was a person, not a treasury. Yet, Marika’s conniving and plotting were hardly surprising.

  If the consequence for status and wealth was to be manipulated and used, Vasi was glad she was poor and, as Marika had said today, unmarriageable.

  When ten minutes had passed in silence, Vasi emerged from behind the oak and crossed the lawn to the back entrance of the house. As she passed through the gate and into the kitchen garden, she heard the hushed voices of Cook and Brida as they argued.

  “If you don’t tell her, I will. It’s not fair to have her find out from one of them,” Brida said. “’Specially not with her da’ getting the runaround.”

  The toad appeared again and released a loud croak, and several other amphibians responded.

  “Where were you ten minutes ago?” Vasi whispered down to the warty creature. “I could’ve used your help eating a very large bug.”

  When she glanced up, the garden had melted into a tapestry of dark shades interspersed with vivid wisps of light. Vasi blinked, pushing down the hunger and exhaustion, and the garden reappeared in shadows. She hurried forward, and the squish of a fallen tomato underfoot made her cringe. When the tangy aroma perfumed the air, her stomach growled in response.

  “Nothing good ever comes out of putting your nose where it don’t belong,” Cook responded, followed by a long sigh. “Still, her ma’ would turn in her grave if we didn’t tell her—”

  “Tell me what?” Vasi asked, stepping into the warm kitchen, the savory smells of the meal she’d missed teasing her. She extended the bouquets and said, “I thought we could use these around the house tomorrow, help bring the summer inside.”

  Brida’s smile wavered as she took the blooms and then set them on the thick table in the center of the kitchen.

  Vasi grabbed a bowl and dished up cold potato soup. She set the dish on the cooktop to warm the leftovers and then slathered butter on a thick slice of bread.

  “Marika ordered fresh flowers from town.” Brida glanced past Vasi at Cook.

  Cook stepped away from the stove, her chin trembling as she said, “Your da’ is coming home this week.”

  Vasi beamed. “I know. Probably the only good thing to come out of the tsar’s visit earlier this week, right?”

  But immediately after she’d said the words, Vasi thought of the princes: Nikolai’s tortured looks as well as his playful banter, and Henryk’s smoldering silver-eyes. Those stolen moments with them had been a boon, but she shouldn’t dwell on either prince or their flirtatious banter. Dreams would get Vasi nowhere; in fact, it would probably be best, for everyone’s sake, if she forgot all about them.

  Cook and Brida shared a weighty look, and Brida coughed.

  “I’m just going to, uh . . .” Brida blushed as she looked around the kitchen desperately. Her gaze landed on the table, and she scooped the flowers back into her arms. “I’ll just head outside and trim these.”

  The maid fumbled with the blooms, dropping several on the floor while grabbing a bucket, and then she headed out the door.

  Vasi waited until the door was closed before turning her attention back to Cook.

  But the older woman had shifted, and her girth was facing the stove once again.

  There was something amiss or Brida wouldn’t have fled, but Cook was clearly not ready to open up. The older woman silently stirred a pot of porridge, grumbling incoherently under her breath.

  Knowing Cook was not one to be pushed, Vasi looked over the rest of the leftovers of the extravagant meal served to the party tonight.

  “If we put the rest of the meat in the larder on the thrawl, do you think it will keep?” Vasi asked, eyeing the seared meat swimming in gravy.

  Cook grunted. “Already put the pheasant in there. Wasn’t hardly touched at all. But the roast is mostly gone. You best eat the rest of it now if you want some; otherwise, you know it’ll get ate afore morning.”

  Vasi grabbed the platter; the thick mushroom sauce glistened with fat from the meat. Vasi perched on the edge of the table, sliced the meat, and then dragged the heel of the crusty bread through the gravy before setting the meat on top. The savory richness was reminiscent of her childhood, and Vasi closed her eyes and smiled. She took another bite, and another, hunger roaring to life with the prospect of enough food to satiate her. Vasi bowed her head over her food, her world focused only on slicing through the generous roast.

  The kitchen door banged open.

  “Here you are,” Marika snapped. “You’ve been off traipsing around all day, and now you show up in the kitchen? Just in time to eat my food?”

  The rich food turned to dust in Vasi’s mouth, and she had to swallow several times to get the lump to pass.

  Marika crossed the kitchen, advancing slowly as if circling her prey. “You’ve made yourself scarce this week, Vasilisa. Prince Nikolai said he ran into you the other night. Is that right?”

  Vasi started to nod then thought better of it and shook her head.

  Marika raised her eyebrows and asked, “What happened? Was Henryk with him? I want every detail, right now.”

  Don’t tell her.

  “I was off getting truffles in the woods, mum.” Vasi glanced through the kitchen and pointed to the basket still sitting on the counter. “I bumped into him, and . . .” Vasi waved her arm in a dismissive gesture, hoping to convey that the meeting was inconsequential. “I apologized and left.”

  “It must’ve been just as they left, thank Svet,” Marika said, praising the djinni she didn’t even believe in. “Vasilisa, when will you learn?” She shook her head, but not a single hair from her elaborate updo even dared to move. She fixed Vasi with her dark gaze and with perfectly painted lips said, “You’re such a cursed thorn. And you talk like a dim-witted fool. I don’t know why your mother didn’t have you educated.”

  Derisive laughter rolled into the
kitchen, followed by the poisonous Roza. Tossing an errant curl over her shoulder with manicured nails that matched her silvery dress, the young woman quipped, “Did you just call Vasi a fool, Mother?” She giggled. “I don’t think that’s strong enough. If I ever want to find Vasi, I only need to follow the trail of dirt she leaves behind—Hey, that’s my steak!”

  Roza raced forward, but her pointed heel caught in the grooves between the stones, and the brunette beauty stumbled.

  The seconds stretched as Vasi watched her gorgeous stepsister flail and then crash to the stone floor with a shriek of pain. Serves her right.

  Vasi dipped her half-eaten sandwich into the gravy, but before she could take another bite, Marika caught her wrist in a vice-grip.

  “What do you think you’re doing? This isn’t your food.” Marika dug her nails into Vasi’s skin and yanked the girl’s hand down. “You heard Roza . . . It’s her steak. Set it down.”

  Vasi released the sandwich, and it plopped into the gravy, splattering her apron and Marika’s dress.

  Marika pushed the platter from Vasi’s lap. The meat and gravy fell to the floor, followed by the ceramic platter which broke on impact, the shards clattering on the stone.

  Even though the mess was nowhere near her, Roza exclaimed, “That almost hit me!”

  “Now look what you’ve done, you clumsy mule.” Marika’s nails continued to bite into Vasi’s flesh.

  Roza scrambled to her feet, and she held her now-broken shoe in her hand. “Look! L-look what else,” she stammered, shaking her shoe at Vasi. “This is your fault.”

  Tears welled in Vasi’s eyes as the pain in her wrist seared and throbbed, radiating up her arm. Black spots danced in her vision. Unable to bear the horrific pain, she gasped. “Please!”

  Marika tightened her grip, and her sharpened nails dug deeper into Vasi’s skin, blood oozing from the gashes.

  Vasi batted and pried at her stepmother’s hand, but Marika’s hold was unyielding. Screaming, Vasi dropped to her knees, desperately pulling at her stepmother’s fingers.