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“Your wards are weak, young man.” My aunt’s voice greeted me as I walked into my study.
I knew she would have found her way up here, but the sight of her sitting at my desk made my blood boil. She had her feet up on my desk, crossed at the ankles, and was flicking through a book as she lounged in my chair.
I closed the door softly, so as not to draw attention, and stood where I was, my hands balled into fists as I glared at the woman before me.
She looked so much like my father. Her dark hair had grown past her knees, and while she had not wrinkled, her skin was weather worn and greying. Her eyes, though, were as sharp as my father’s had been. I had only met Saffron a few times since my childhood, but every time she arrived had been shadowed by darkness. When I was eight, the kitchens went alight during the night, but it was put down to a stray ember on a dry day. When I was fourteen, a sickness plagued the city after her arrival, and whoever had not been infected had to be housed within the castle grounds.
When I was seventeen and she bid us farewell the day before my father and I’s hunting trip.
Anger flooded through me at the memory.
As if she knew what I was thinking, Saffron closed the book on her lap and swung her legs down from my desk, pushing herself to stand. I watched her closely as she put the book down and rounded the desk, crossing the room towards me and stopping closer than I was comfortable with.
“If you are here to discuss magic, then I think we should be discussing yours.” I spat out, stopping myself from cringing when she placed a hand on my cheek. She was at least a head shorter than I was, but that did not stop me from feeling like a child under her gaze as she assessed me.
“My magic will work until it no longer needs to.” She patted my cheek, her long, black tipped nails digging into my skin as she did so.
“Is that so?” I growled, moving past her to my desk, “Because it is already showing signs of weakness.”
Saffron rolled her eyes, tutting her tongue against her lips and waving a hand at me dismissively. She took up the seat across the desk from me, tenting her fingers as she rested her elbows on the dark mahogany.
“Weakness is subjective, my dear.”
“Weakness could ruin everything for me.” The words I spat at her did not seem to have the intended effect on her. Instead of any sign of fear, her eyes lit up, as though the potential of her nephew’s downfall was entertainingto her.
“Then I suggestmoving quickly.”
16
Kira
Iwatched Cyrus as he jogged back to the castle.
He had been acting strange for the last few days, present physically, but mentally he appeared to be in a world of his own. I had held a full conversation with him, only for him to ask me to repeat myself when I had finished because he had not heard a single word. I frowned at his figure as he disappeared back through the double doors we had just exited only minutes before.
The woman he called Saffron was imprinted on the back of my eyelids. Her smile reminded me of a belladonna flower; beautiful to look at, but if underestimated would kill you without a thought.
Cyrus’s sister, Calliope, clung to my arm, turning me away from him and leading me back to where her girlfriend was still sitting in the grass. I looked back overmy shoulder, but Cyrus had disappeared, and I was greeted with nothing but the staggeringly empty gardens. The sun was high in the sky and sweltering, but that did not stop Calliope from lounging on the grass again, patting the space next to her for me to sit down.
I let myself sink to my knees next to the two girls, the two teenagers not that much younger than myself, but the way they relaxed and let themselves lounge on the grass made me feel twenty years their senior. Taking them both in as I sat, the envy I felt in my chest grew even larger. They were so free in the way they expressed themselves.
Calliope had her hair cut short, the ends barely brushing her chin, and the tips were coloured a deep purple. Her dress looked as though it had been deliberately cut at the hem with a pair of kitchen scissors, and she had multiple bracelets climbing both of her wrists. Her shoes had been discarded nearby on the grass.
“Kira, this is Fionnuala.” Calliope introduced the girl next to her, grinning at her.
“Just call me Nola.” Fionnuala smiled at me, holding out her hand for me to shake, her voice slightly accented, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”
I flushed pink at her words, shaking her hand gently before letting my hands fall back into my lap.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Nola. You work in the castle?” I asked, keeping my voice polite as I asked questions. Nola nodded her head.
“Yes, as a healing apprentice.” She grinned, the pride radiating from her. I grinned back at her, her smile infectious. She was almost the exact opposite of Calliope, her blonde hair brushed back into a neat braid, and her clean, white healers’ robes stained green at the back where she had been lay on the grass.
“Her parents moved into the city from Water when we were children,” Calliope explained, “Their house was right next door to me and my mother.”
The two girls grinned at each other, and my heart ached a little. The way they looked at each other like they were the only two people that mattered in the world set off a whirlpool of envy in my stomach. Calliope slid her hand underneath Nola’s, and Nola clutched her fingers tightly.
