Magic of Fire and Shadows (Curse of the Ctyri Book 1) Page 2

  “Both of the princes are home?” Roza asked, stepping out of the shadowy hallway, an eager look in her sea-green eyes.

  Marika’s expression shifted from anger to gloating, and she waved Roza closer. “My darling daughter,” the woman crowed. “You will be adored. You will be so loved. And you will be happy.”

  “I have no objection to marriage, Mother,” Roza said eagerly, her gaze darting over to Vasi.

  “Of course you don’t,” Marika replied, her eyes gleaming. “You’re what a daughter should be. And I’m going to marry you to a prince.”

  Vasi shook her head, but her thoughts went to Nikolai, and a hopeful smile tugged at her lips.

  He’d asked to see her, he’d remembered her, and that almost made the rest of the day bearable.

  Vasi took a deep breath. Her father would be home soon, so she just needed to wait. She wouldn’t give in to her stepmother. No matter what.

  2

  Adaline

  As the spare heir of Cervene, Princess Adaline spoke many languages, but romance wasn’t one of them. Never was this more clear than when her sister Mari, the crown princess, leaned over the table toward Adaline and whispered, “Do you like Evzan?”

  “As in romantically?” Adaline asked, grimacing. She held her fork and knife perched over her plate and blinked at her sister.

  The two young women lounged in the crown princess’s suite, and the smells of roasted chicken and apple tartlet filled the room.

  “Yes.” Mari batted her eyelashes. “You can tell by the way he looks at you. He probably wanted to be your guard all along.”

  Adaline screwed up her face. “Evzan is not the least bit interested in me. Not like that.”

  “Are you quite certain, little sister?” Mari laughed.

  “Of course. He’s a guard . . . Oh! You’re not interested . . .” The idea of Mari and Evzan being amorous made Adaline’s stomach clench and appetite vanish.

  Mari sighed and leaned back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling. “No, but he’s so handsome—and a captain of the guard.”

  “Which is still a guard,” Adaline pointed out. “You’ve never expressed any interest in him before now. And, I mean that kind of thing . . . It just isn’t done by people like us.”

  Mari nodded, her features sobering. “I know, but . . . Well, maybe for you. You’re not going to be Queen, so maybe you could marry for love.”

  “Not Evzan,” Adaline said, her face flaming. She looked away. “Not anyone, probably.”

  Adaline caught her sister’s gaze in the large mirror, and the beautiful crown princess smiled. Mari’s onyx hair fell in waves over her shoulders and down to the small of her back, as lustrous as satin. Her eyes shone like vibrant emeralds, and her skin was so fair it was practically the color of fresh cream. She was as dainty and feminine as their mother and even more kind. As the crown princess of Cervene, Mari’s hand was much sought after, and her stunning beauty only increased the number of proposals.

  Adaline’s unruly hair was the color of wheat, her eyes like the muddy lake in the center of their kingdom, and her complexion like milk . . . after it had been mixed in oatmeal. She was neither dainty nor feminine, and she’d never been accused of being kind. Ever.

  “Do you think if I asked Evzan nicely, he’d teach me to defend myself too? I think it would be impressive if I could wield a sword or spear the way the guards do. Are you as good as he is now?” Mari asked with a sly smile.

  Adaline frowned and spun to face her sister. “Did he tell you he was training me?”

  Mari laughed, the sound of crystal flutes clinking in celebration. “No. But do you really think Evzan would risk his career to appease you without Papa’s consent?”

  Of course not. But knowing Adaline had her father’s approval made the anxiety of the secret disappear. “Was Father very cross?”

  Mari snickered. “Not a bit. In truth, I think he’s quite proud.”

  Neither of them brought up their mother. If Heathyr knew about Adaline’s weapons training, the queen would not be proud. She’d be mortified. If she’d spoken on the matter, Adaline didn’t want to know.

  A knock on the door interrupted their tête-à-tête.

  “Yes?” Mari asked, rising from the table.

  “Princess Mariliqué?”

  Mari opened the door to a young page with a mop of typical-Cervenish blond hair. “Yes?”

  “The queen asked me to deliver this,” he said with an adoring smile, handing her a sealed note. “They will meet you out front in an hour.”

  Mari nodded as she ran her thumb over the wax seal. “Thank you. Will you please send my maid Sarith back up? She’ll likely be in the kitchens this time of day.”

  “Right away, Your Highness.” He bowed and then left.

  “Where are you going?” Adaline asked, leaning in to try and catch a glimpse of the contents of the envelope as her sister sat back down.

  “It’s a secret,” Mari said with a frown. She set an embossed invitation and folded note on the table, and her shoulders slumped as she met Adaline’s gaze. “Promise not to tell?”

  Adaline huffed. “Who would I tell?”

  Mari moved the note, revealing the seal on the letter, a familiar crest of a stylized lion standing central in the red wax. The Lion of Beloch.

  Mari smiled, but her eyes lacked the light and happiness that usually accompanied the expression. She tapped the thick paper on the table and said, “It’s the official invitation. Prince Nikolai Baine of Beloch has returned from his military tour. His father has invited me to be their particular guest at a ball in his honor.”

  Beloch neighbored Cervene, and while relations between the two countries had always been cordial, neither side had ever proposed an alliance. “Why?”

  Mari shrugged. “Mama says kingdoms need treaties like fish need water.”

  “Why would they want a treaty with us?” Adaline knew almost nothing about Beloch except most precious stones came from the mountains within their country’s borders. Cervene’s topography had rolling hills her mother liked to call mountains, and while they were agriculturally rich, they relied on trade for luxuries. Beloch’s wealth was renowned, and with their abundance, they’d acquired all they could need and want. So why would Beloch want a treaty with Cervene? “What did Father say?”

  Mari held up the note. “The only thing Papa told me is he and Mama will be accompanying me.”

  Mari’s beauty, like Beloch’s wealth, was well-known. Of course she would be invited to be the guest of the prince. A pang of jealousy stabbed Adaline’s gut, mixing with the ever-resident insecurity. Spare-heir. Spare-daughter. Spare-person. An aching hollowness seeped through her chest. “When are you leaving?”

  “Today.” Perhaps sensing Adaline’s hurt, Mari continued, “The courier was delayed, so we only received the invitation a few days ago from the tsar. It’s a ten-day journey to Strasny, so we’ll arrive only a few days before the event.”

  “Oh.”

  Mari laughed, but the sound was forced. “Oh, come now. You’ve always despised balls. Surely you’re not going to pretend to be jilted.”

  “I’m not,” Adaline said as she forced a shrug.

  Mari’s maid returned, packed a small valise, and then helped the crown princess into her traveling clothes. When Mari was ready to go and the porter collected her case, the three women went down to the foyer to await the carriage.

  Adaline chewed on the inside of her lip, trying to come up with a reason to attend. “What if he has a younger brother?”

  Mari tilted her head as she examined her sister. “Who?”

  Adaline wanted to smack herself. She’d been silent for the last twenty minutes, and the question likely made no sense. “The prince, Nicholas. Or maybe a cousin . . . or something.”

  The king and queen came into the foyer along with several servants and courtiers. The conversations amongst the group swirled around the girls.

  Mari raised her eyebrows and whispere
d to Adaline, “It’s Prince Nikolai.”

  “My darlings,” the queen said, approaching the princesses. She embraced Mari and air-kissed her cheeks. “You look stunning as always. I’m sure this will prove a most advantageous alliance for all.” The queen’s lips thinned, though her smile stayed fixed when she turned toward her youngest. “Adaline, darling, I expect you not to make a mess of things while we’re gone. Have Dimira help you with any questions that come up—”

  “That’s enough, Heathyr,” King Jarian said, winking at Adaline. “Adaline is brilliant and fair. She could run the entire country if she chose to, not just the palace staff.” He kissed his eldest daughter. “And both of our girls’ beauty could shame the stars.”

  “Jarian!” Heathyr exclaimed, her eyes wide. “You shouldn’t speak such blasphemy. The djinn will curse us.”

  King Jarian winked again, and his girls giggled. “The djinn have better things to do than punish a doting father. They know my heart.”

  Dimira came into the foyer, her glossy-black hair peeking out from under her wimple. Once married to King Jarian’s brother, she’d stayed with the royal family after her husband’s death, both as the girls’ governess as well as an esteemed member of court. Her gaze went to the king and queen. “I’m sure the djinn would never strike at you, Your Majesty. Nor the stars.”

  “As the palace’s resident Celestial Sister, you would know,” King Jarian said with a twinkle in his eye. “And thank you again for your help guiding Adaline while we’re gone. How fortunate you’re still with us.”

  “It is an honor, Your Majesty.” Dimira pressed her hand to her chest. “Your brother, may his soul rest with Death, always said I had a good grasp of politics.”

  Goodbyes were made, the coach packed, and the tension in Adaline’s stomach hardened to stone.

  As Mari stepped into the carriage, Adaline blurted, “Please, can I come? I promise not to be a bother. If you want, I’ll pretend I’m mute the entire visit.”

  The king and queen exchanged glances, and Adaline’s heart tripped when she saw her father’s expression soften.

  “Jarian . . .” Queen Heathyr said and then pursed her lips.

  “You know you can’t go, Princess,” Evzan said, stepping next to her and grabbing her arm. Evzan wasn’t much older than her, perhaps twenty, but his features had the sharpness of a man. Just over six feet and fourteen stone, with golden-blond hair and vibrant blue eyes, Evzan was striking. But even in this benign setting, his lithe movements and strength announced his prowess as a fighter. He glowered down at her. “We have our training every day, and you’re at a critical crossroads.”

  An awkward moment of silence followed before several people spoke at once.

  “You make a good point.” The king rubbed the trim beard on his chin. “Adaline—”

  “Oh, let the child go,” Aunt Dimira said. She wrapped her hand around Adaline’s waist and squeezed gently, pulling the princess away from her guard.

  “Yes, Father, please,” Mari exclaimed, poking her head out of the carriage door.

  Adaline could feel the king wavering. “Father, please. I’d rather go with you—”

  “I strongly recommend against this, Your Majesty,” Evzan said, drowning out all of the other voices. “I believe it is unwise to take both princesses.”

  King Jarian nodded. “Of course, you're right, Evzan.” He turned to Adaline. “I’m sorry, my girl. I need you here to look after Cervene. Just until we get back.”

  Adaline’s eyes filled with tears. She swallowed back the emotion clogging her throat and nodded. “Of course, Papa.”

  Dimira moved her arm up around Adaline’s shoulders. “They won’t be gone long, Princess, and we’ll have our own entertainment, yes?” Dimira gave another gentle squeeze and added, “We’ll have a private magic show in my room like we used to. Would you like that?”

  Even knowing she would have Dimira for company, Adaline couldn’t make her heart hurt less. Dimira invoked the djinn to watch over the king, queen, and crown princess, said goodbyes, and then returned to the castle, but Adaline waited until the coach pulled away and was well down the tree-lined road before she faced Evzan.

  With eyes still glistening with tears, she said, “How dare you?”

  The striking blond man blanched. “Your father asked me to remind him if he were to waiver, Princess. I was only doing what he’d requested.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she snapped. Without another word, Adaline turned and fled to her rooms.

  3

  Alone in the garden, Adaline took a deep breath and started her form. Side-kick low, side-kick high, and then she shifted into a wide stance with a knifehand strike, followed by three rapid palm-heel strikes to her imaginary opponent. She straightened, sliding her right foot forward as she kicked with her left, bringing her hand down like a hammer as she brought her left foot back to the ground. Rotating one hundred and eighty degrees, she swung her right leg up into an arc and then brought it forcefully down like an ax as she exhaled. A week of practicing her forms was driving her crazy. She wanted to spar but refused to be in the same company as her guard. At least not willingly.

  The sudden fall of spring raindrops kissed her hot cheeks, and Adaline turned her face to the sky. She unsheathed her sword and called, “Come out now, Evzan. I know you’re there.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide, Princess. Just giving you a little space.”

  She spun, holding her weapon at the ready, but still didn’t see him. Blast.

  As if the overcast sky were Evzan’s ally, the light rain opened into a torrential downpour, covering the garden in a murky haze. Adaline could just make out the trellises, raised beds, and stone walls, but no Evzan. She knew he wasn’t far away.

  Within seconds, Adaline’s tunic and fitted trousers, along with her flaxen-blond hair, plastered to her body. “Stop playing games, and reveal yourself.”

  His low chuckle filtered through the rain. “How do you intend to defend yourself if you can’t even locate your opponent?”

  Of course he wouldn’t call a halt. Evzan was not only a sadist, but he was also masochistic.

  “No one with any sense would be out in this weather,” she called to him.

  “No one with any sense would attack you while I’m your guard. You’re not training to fight people with sense, Adaline. You’re training to fight a waghalter.”

  Evzan sprang from atop a trellis to land in front of her. He loomed over her, moving far too quickly to avoid, but she parried and dodged away from the force of his strikes. He advanced, and the ring of their steel weapons was louder than the crescendo of the rain. Water cascaded down his face, dripping from his nose and chin, his hair darkening with the moisture.

  Adaline leaned back, looking up into his feral eyes, and her heart jumped to a staccato rhythm of panic. When he appeared like this, Evzan seemed almost inhuman. And while his family name, Shulz, was well-respected, Adaline didn’t know anything else about them.

  “You’re avoiding me,” he said as he held out his sword to the side in a signal that the fight was over. It wasn’t an accusation, merely a statement of fact. He smiled, but it was neither kind nor comforting.

  Denial would be pointless. “You’re a difficult person to avoid.” She sheathed her sword and walked around him. “But I’ll continue to do my best.”

  He caught up with her in less than three steps. “Avoiding me is stupid,” he said, walking beside her. “First, it took me less than five minutes to track you down. But for those few minutes, you’re vulnerable. Second, it’s my job to protect you, a job your father gave me. Dodging me is dodging him. And third, all you’re doing when you run off is making small windows of opportunity for assailants to attack and kill you.”

  “You already said that,” she snapped. “And assailants? Really?” Throwing her hands into the air, she reeled on him, heart pounding with fury. “What assailants are you worried about, Evzan? I’m in my garden, in my castle, in my father’s
country. In fact, I’m here because you made me stay. I don’t know how I could be any safer.”

  He wiped his wet hair back and narrowed his eyes. “Listen, Princess. If you want to quit training, that’s up to you. But you’re just barely touching the tip of the blade of what you’ll need to be a fighter. Either way, it’s your choice. However, when it comes to your safety, there is no compromise; you will listen to me because I answer to your father in that regard. Not you.”

  “Understood,” Adaline said, seething. She clenched her jaw and balled her fists, but even knowing her behavior was irrational, she was livid with him. With a shake of her head, the princess left the garden. Stepping into the hothouse, Adaline grimaced. Her soggy tunic and pants clung to her, cold and heavy against her thin frame. Her leather boots were soaked, and each step squished, leaving a little pool of water behind.

  Ringing out her hair, Adaline headed for the nearest bridge over the winding stream but maliciously snapped, “Oh, I still plan to train, Evzan. Just not with you.”

  As she stepped over the first bridge, she felt his warm, calloused hand at her elbow.

  “Adaline,” he said, his voice rough. “Please. Stop for a minute, and talk with me.”

  She halted but refused to meet his gaze. “What?”

  “You have a natural aptitude for swordsmanship and weapons, but watching soldiers train and having a trainer are two very different things.” He waited a moment before continuing, still standing behind her. “You’ll never excel if all you do is watch and imitate others.”

  True, she thought and pursed her lips. She couldn’t deny his statement without sounding like a fool.

  “No one paid me to spend hours correcting your form and teaching you to block, strike, or parry,” he continued. “It’s wrong to refuse you, not only because you’re a princess but because you want to learn. Or did I judge the situation incorrectly?” He crossed his arms, his corded muscles flexing over his wet tunic.