Nothing had been the same since my father had been killed.My thoughts flickered back toward the betrayal that had altered our lives.
I could still remember the king reading off the list of supposed crimes my father had committed against the Quarter—treason, espionage, turning from the gods. I remembered the look in my father’s eyes as the king finished his list. The words “You won’t get away with this. The darkness you’ve unleashed won’t prevail,” falling from his lips. And I would never forget the way the former king had merely laughed before demanding his son pull the trigger. Shaking my head, I focused back on my sister.
“I know,” I replied to Kira. “It’s still going to take time for our mother to come back from this. For us, too.”
My younger sister nodded, even as silver drops rimmed her eyes. We had all taken our father’s death poorly, but I knew it hit Kira the most. Having only been eight when he passed, Kira had missed out on so much with our father.
“How are you feeling about your Marking Day?” I asked, my gaze sweeping over my sister as we settled down onto the couch, the worn beige fabric pulling taut in places.
Our family home was a patchwork of worn furniture, chipped glassware, and mismatched colors, creating a worn, yet cozy atmosphere that I had grown to love. Old magazines with frayed pages sat in a pile on the coffee table, the corners folded to certain pages my sisters and I had liked. A half-drank mug of lavender and valerian root tea rested on a faded coaster from the Tilted Tavern on the end table beside Kira.
Kira fidgeted beside me, picking at the skin around her nails, unable to make eye contact with me as her words came out in a barely audible murmur. “What if it happens to me, too? What if I mark as an aetherial affinity too? If I’m sentenced to go work in the temples for the king, like Orela was. What if?—”
“Kir, it’s going to be okay. What happened to Orela isn’t going to happen to you. I’m sure you will mark as an elementalaffinity, or maybe as a healer—that wouldn’t be so bad.” My heart ached inside as my thoughts flickered toward our middle sister, who had undergone her own marking eight years ago. My fingers began to absentmindedly trace over the bargain mark on the inside of my wrist, tracing over the symbol repeatedly—a habit I had picked up exactly eight years ago—as I vividly remembered my middle sister marking with the aetherial affinity of a seer. The mark burned faintly, like it was reminding me of just what I’d traded to have the symbol inked on my wrist.
It was the day my life had changed. I refused to have my sister work directly for Lucanus—trapped in a life of servitude at the temples. Not after what Luc had done to my father, after what he had taken from us already. I wouldn’t let him take Orela’s freedom as well, so I had done the only thing I thought to do.
“You don’t know that,” Kira protested. “Orela can’t fly anymore, and while she may have more freedom than other seers?—”
I cut her off. “Kira, stop.” I grabbed my sister’s hands, stopping her from shredding her nail beds further as she looked me in the eyes, sea-glass orbs much like mine, ablaze with terror for her future. “Orela is safe. Yes, her wings were clipped, as seers’ wings are. But she still has her freedom. She’s not required to serve in the temples, and you won’t be either. You won’t be tied to the royal family no matter what you mark as, I promise you that.”
Her eyes watered as she looked up at me. It fractured my heart that my sister was so scared for something that should be a special moment—the moment you received your affinities and wings . . . the moment you could take to the skies.
“You don’t control what markings you will receive—not a single angel in all of Aurelia can. Each person receives their own markings as decided by the gods. Stop worrying aboutsomething that only the gods can control. It’s going to be okay, I promise you that much.”
My youngest sister reluctantly nodded, leaning into my side as we sat in silence on the couch for a few moments longer, soaking in the time together. I absently stroked her hair, unknotting her tangled curls as I prayed to the gods that it would be okay.
3
RAELYNA
With a heavy sigh,I headed out the door of our family’s home, hurrying down the hallway before impatiently tapping the elevator button five times (not that it would make the elevator appear any faster, but hey . . . a girl can dream).
“Finally.” The word was a quiet mutter in an otherwise empty hallway as the doors slid open. I darted inside, needing to make it to the next section of The Wall, where our family’s tavern was located. My parents had owned the Tilted Tavern for nearly four centuries. It had been built in a time without skyscrapers or technology and had become a local institution, hence still being called a “tavern.”
Ever since I could remember, it had been a place frequented by lowers as well as some Solis Guards on watch around The Wall. Although our regular customers usually cleared out when the guard shifts changed and soldiers flooded the bar, not wishing to be on the receiving end of their mockery.
I’d been working here a few nights a week ever since I had passed my own Marking Day ceremony.
The night air was hot and clammy against my skin as I quickly clambered down the steps on the side of The Wall andinto the lowly lit street. I had always loved the solace found on the outskirts of the Quarter at this time of night. You could hear the laughter of citizens making the most of their lives, drinking away the stress of the day as friends and family gathered around to share food and drinks. I smiled to myself as my gaze snagged on the sign outside my family’s tavern—the worn wood, splintered at the ends from years of sandstorms, as the sign read, “Wings In, Drinks On!”
The laughter grew louder as I approached the doors of the Tilted Tavern. My body protested from exhaustion, overwhelmed by the chaos of my already lengthy night. Not to mention my encounter with Lucanus, and yet, just as every other night, I pasted on a jovial smile and stepped through the doors for my shift, knowing my mother needed the help, ignoring the way my body screamed for me to just lie down on my bed instead.
The tired eyes of my mother met mine from across the room, where she stood working the counter. I knew that my mother loved working here. The Tilted Tavern had become an establishment of pride for both my parents. Well, it had been, until my father passed on.
Now, it seemed to just remind my mother more of my father with each shift she had. I hated the lingering sorrow and sadness that were ever-present in my mother’s eyes while working at the tavern each day. And yet, this tavern was what kept my family afloat through the long winters in Solis Quarter.
Ensuring that a smile was pasted on, I began to make my way to the bar top, nodding and responding to the regulars already shouting my name in friendly greetings.
“How ya doing there, Raelyna?” one regular shouted from across the bar.
At the same time, his wife shouted over the chattering voices, “Stop bothering the poor girl. Just let her be on her way. She doesn’t need any more from you tonight.”
I laughed in response as I greeted Marilu and her husband. The couple had been coming to our family’s tavern for as long as I could remember, having been friends with my father while he was in the Guard. The TVs were on in the background, showing another pilaeria match at the central pitch. I could just spot the outside wielder flying across the pitch, water ball in hand as he ducked, avoiding an attack before using his own affinity to throw the ball to another player. I nearly paused, watching as the forward took off through the air, ball in hand, as he flew toward the fire gate. A roar rose in the tavern as he scored.
Stepping behind the counter, I quickly set to work. I tied an apron around my waist before turning to the first customer, a guard from the looks of his gray uniform and mask pulled down around his neck, and saying, “What can I get for you?”
“Bourbon, and make sure it’s on the rocks.” The exhausted rumble sounded from the gruff-looking guard, and I quickly set to work making the drink, sliding it across the counter to him, before turning to the next customer and getting their order as well.
