AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When it will happen for Gesine, we can’t be sure, but it’s said the change comes between their third and fourth decade, and the stronger the elemental, the sooner.
Gesine is thirty-six and a powerful wielder of three affinities.
It could happen in four years, or four months, or four weeks.
It could happen tomorrow.
I hesitate. “Have you … felt anything?” Wendeline once told me some elementals sense the beginning tugs on their sanity, while others may go to sleep lucid, only to wake up lost.
“Besides overwhelmed and unequipped?” She smiles weakly. “Perhaps this heavy worry plaguing me is sleep deprivation.”
“Zorya says you were drooling.”
Gesine groans, smoothing her palms over her face. “I’ve heard about that several times already. I suppose I was exhausted. I don’t recall her carrying me to my room.”
Only for Gesine to rush back here.
For what, though? I sense what Jarek and Zorya sense—that Gesine is looking for something specific. But if she hasn’t openly shared it, she must have her reasons.
“I’ve been building those wards like you taught me. I think I’ve got it.” Mainly on doors, using my affinity to Vin’nyla, the Fate of Air, to weave an impenetrable wall, stronger protection than any lock can provide. It took some practice. Four wooden doors lay in splinters from where Jarek kicked through before I finally mastered it. The last one, he crumpled in pain, confirming my ward was as hard as stone against his shoulder.
“You are picking things up quickly. And you don’t need your ring anymore.” She taps my bare finger where Princess Romeria’s engagement ring used to sit, a powerful ornament made from token gold from Aoife and a dull white stone, origins unknown, but rumored to be that of the nymphs.
“It served its purpose. I no longer have to mask anything.” My caster magic is a welcome buzz deep inside me, rather than the paralyzing noise it once was. And I’ve resigned myself to seeing Princess Romeria’s face when I look into the mirror, rather than the one I grew up knowing. “What should we work on next?”
“Building a flame wall, perhaps?”
My eyes narrow. “You already taught me that, remember?” Though I did it myself the first time, based on need.
She blinks. “You’re right, I did.” Her gaze drifts toward the endless collection of books. “I’m just so tired.”
“Then you should take a break. There’s nothing that important in here, right?” I try to keep the suspicion from my voice. She gets it from everyone else, she doesn’t need it from me too.
“I’m afraid there might be,” she says vaguely. “But it is too much for me to search on my own.”
“Zorya and Pan have been helping, haven’t they?”
“Yes, but it’s still not enough.” She shakes her head. “No, I need experts. Dozens of them.” She hesitates, as if building up courage to say her next words. “There are those who could use their affinities to better direct their search.”
“And where do you find those people, besides Mordain?”
She bites her bottom lip, and I know without her answer, that is exactly what she’s aiming for. Zander warned me Gesine would make this request, and when she does, it is to be a resounding no. After how badly Wendeline betrayed him, I can’t fault him for not welcoming more casters with open arms.
I can almost see the gears working in Gesine’s mind, searching for a way to convince me.
“That would mean telling them about Ulysede and how we opened the gate, which would mean explaining what I am.” A key caster. My very existence is an offense to them, punishable by death, as has been the case for two thousand years.
“I share your worries,” she begins slowly. “But I do not mean the entire guild—”
“Can you really control that, though?”
“The scribes have managed to thus far, with knowledge of Ianca’s summoning. For years.”
“That you know of. You haven’t been in contact with them in how long? Since before you escaped Argon? That was months ago. Everything has changed. So much is out in the open now.”
She bites her lip. “I trust the Master Scribe to involve only those who are necessary.”
“Well, I don’t.” And Zander won’t entertain this conversation. “The last thing we need is for Queen Neilina to find out I’m not her daughter and to tell those two hundred Ybarisans who are on their way here.” Hopefully. “She’ll order them to kill me. They can’t know I’m not Princess Romeria. We need them for when Telor’s army shows up. And what happens if your Master Scribe decides prophecy isn’t worth allowing a key caster to roam loose, let alone play the role of queen of Ulysede?” Play being the operative word. My voice escalates with my words as wariness swells.
“Prophecy has already foretold of the nymphs walking the earth again in the age of casters, and that means a key caster must survive culling. They are aware, even if they are not yet aware.”
