She froze and peered closer. The writing on a scroll wasmoving.
Elena motioned for the orb and it floated downward. She watched, fascinated, as the runes unlocked in the light, unspooling and lengthening, forming new figures and characters until she realized they weren’t words at all, but drawings of women surrounding a single flame.
She studied the scroll further. It wasn’t many women, it was the same woman. And she was dancing around the fire.
“What is that?” Ferma asked, peering over Elena’s shoulder.
Elena stared at the scroll, her mind racing. It showed seven different stances. Elena recognized none from her training in the Unsung and Kymathra, but she recognized one thing, felt it deep in her bones: Here lay a path to power.
“This is the way to hold fire,” she whispered.
There were translations beneath the runes, and Elena recognized her mother’s handwriting. The seventh form was unclear, however, the text and woman torn off. Elena smoothed the lower corner of the scroll. Someone had drawn a small flower. A jasmine. Below it were her mother’s initials, like the mark of an artist:A. M.
She rolled the scroll and slipped it into her skirts, already making for the exit.
“Elena, wait,” Ferma called. “Maybe we should inform your father about this.”
“Our gracious king doesn’t want to teach me about fire,” she said. “This will be our secret.”
“Did you ever considerwhyhe’s hesitating?” Ferma asked. Her tawny eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the library. “Do you even remember that day?”
No.
“Yes,” Elena said, her throat tight. In truth, she only remembered moments: her mother’s reverent eyes, her father’s agonized scream. It was the only time in her life that she had seen him fall to his knees.
“He doesn’t want you to have the same fate as your mother,” Ferma said.
“She was delusional,” Elena said softly.
Madness ran in Ravani blood, and although her mother was not of the royal family, madness had found her too, through the scrolls. Like all the fire fanatics, Aahnah had come to believe redemption could only be achieved through burning. She had leapt into the pit of the Eternal Fire, leaving Elena not even her ashes to scatter in the wind.
“Maybe if she had known how to hold fire, she wouldn’t have burned,” Elena murmured.
“Fire is dangerous. It’s pure chaos,” Ferma insisted, gripping her arm. “You can’t learn to wield it with only a scroll. You almost burned down the palace the last time you—”
“Mother’s Gold, Ferma, you sound just like the king—”
“I don’t want to lose two queens, Elena,” Ferma said.
At this, Elena felt her anger dissipate. She turned away to hide her flush of guilt.
“Leave me,” she whispered, but her voice echoed through the tall chamber.
Ferma hesitated, but then she bowed deeply.
“Your Highness,” she murmured.
Elena returned to her room to find a message from Samson.
Congratulations on our engagement.Attached was a statement he had prepared. As she read it, Elena felt a coldness slither in the pit of her stomach. Marriage was an inevitable fact of life; she had a responsibility to bear an heir. But Elena had always believed she could rule without a partner, just like her father had without his. It would be harder, yes, but at least she could focus solely on protecting her kingdom.
There came a knock on the door.
Elena quickly closed the message and stowed the scroll in her desk drawer. Then she nodded to the guards to let the visitor in.
“Your Highness,” Samson said and bowed deeply.
“Skip the formalities.” She beckoned toward the covered terrace. “Let us speak out here.”
