When we return to the palace nobody comes to see me. As if my yesterday’s speech had no repercussions. Father has not been seen at all, Mother helps Spica with her holiday homework and Rigel is out in the city, probably having fun with his friends, the servants notify me.
An hour passes swiftly. Demus is already waiting for me when I get down, dressed in a black lace blouse with several emerald buttons, high waist pants of the same tint, covered by a blue cape. He stands tall, his breastplate polished and boots of the finest leather. I barely give him a look before heading to the main gate.
He follows, only a step behind. He does not speak, when we pass the gates, nor when we arrive at the Academy territory. It’s close to the palace, only forty meters or so separating two grand buildings. At times, the Academy seemed even more pompous than our home, with its tall granite towers and gneiss roads. The gates open automatically, and I go in, feeling the barrier pass through me. My insides turned, but I keep my cool. Demus follows. He should have at least grunted, but he made no sound. I look at him, in genuine surprise. He doesn’t seem to be mesmerized by the surroundings, as if beauty is a foreign concept for him.
His steps are light, his legs lean, even with heavy armor. His face resembles the paintings hang in the Academy, the same bewitching and menacing features. He looks like he belongs here, with his stance and self-assurance, his pride. Academics here look the same - they share the same unyielding gaze, the same lack of interest for everything other than their field of study.
It must be an old habit from when there were very few magic wielders around. As years passed, more and more children were born with Nature’s gift. The Academy used to be empty, grandiose, chilling, now it’s well-inhabited, full of life and subjects, of people who are willing to spend their entire lives studying the wonders of Nature and the Fae.
I ask one of the Fulminare to give me a room to study in private. They are the highest magicians out here, those who possess the Fulminare degree. At least nine years of intense magical training. Not many managed to get that title, and those who did, were in charge of everything around here, from taking care of the students to enforcing king’s law in the capital. They answered to us, but when I was a student here, I always felt like they had their own society, their own rules and practices. A different culture for those who possess the gift of magical energy in their blood. They terrify me to this day.
Now I’m thinking… Having them as allies would help enormously, but would they put their lives on the line for the crown princess? Would they disobey their king? Or would they join the revolution? I wonder if I havent walked right into their den. Maybe that’s why Demus seemed so calm when he passed through the barrier.
The barrier’s role is to test the mind of the passerby. To check its deepest thoughts and strengths, to see if they were worthy of entering the sacred ground. When I received my Apricus degree the struggle to pass the barrier vanished. Until then, it was a daily punishment, to prove my worth to the mages residing here.
The Fulminare leads us through the halls, with high ceilings, chandeliers swirling above, with countless candles, statues, glass cages with old mechanisms and enchanted objects inside. Every wall had at least one shelf with torn books. We pass numerous atheneums, storage rooms, auditoriums. There is this distinct smell of lightning and chamomile that puts anyone in dizzy state, except for those with magic. Demus coughs into his fist, but shows no other signs of discomfort. It would be fun to see him choking on the very essence that scared his colleague so.
A grieving woman is so much more dangerous when she possesses Nature’s blessing. It’s certain.
When I enter the room the Fulminare lended, memories started to come back. Things I wish I’d forgotten. Like the tables filled with scrolls on herbology, enchantments… The shelves with tomes on cosmos and healing. In the corner I see the runes practice board. Humans managed to master that art only recently, without consequences on health. The Fae used it before we even walked the earth.
“You’ll wait here,” I order Demus. He seems irritated. I guess it’s a good sign.
I open the book on elemental warfare and practice hand choreography. My wrists hurt as I pull them into different angles. Usually, only 5th to 9th years are allowed to check these. But I can be very persuasive with my big doe eyes, pleasantly asking for more knowledge. Even if the Fulminare sensed something, he was in no position to stop me. I graduated and could consider this my re-application to the Academy. To finish what I had started all those years ago.
I stand in a defense position, my right leg forward, left behind, my back straight, my chest puffed. I keep the balance, as I summon water around my hands. It’s gentle and welcoming, and I smile. This position is better to conjure weapons, if only I knew how to use them. A knife is easy enough: stab whatever is too close. Still, I could hurt myself before actually inflicting damage to the enemy. I shake my head.
Concentrate!
Step forward, hand pushing air.
I sit on the ground, drawing runes on virgin canvas; once it’s full I try again and again, until the spell of temporary invisibility works. The small wooden statue before me disappears. I’m so tired.
I try to imitate the book’s choreography, as I slip my hand toward my face and visualize the object I desire most. A cup of hot tea with jasmine. I close my eyes, trying so hard my head hurts. And then, the cup of tea appears in front of me, levitating. I grab it and hiss. It’s truly hot. The thing about magic is that everything is connected, like a hive mind. Magic works in mysterious ways, but most of it is really simple. Somebody in the world just had an idea to make a cup of tea. They boiled water and poured it in the cup, where the tea infused. Then, I conjured it. It all happens in a matter of seconds, so, in a way, I play with the fabric of reality and time for a cup of hot beverage. I’ve never done this for myself before, now I ask myself why. There is so much possibilities and power at the palm of my hands, and I never dared to taste more than I could swallow.
Discipline. Authority. Control. My mantra, the words I live by every day. Within the stone Academy walls these words are mere whispers, the images of my past shattered with every spell I learn again. Most of the runes, I’ve seen before. I just forgot.
As I sip tea, I draw runes with my right hand. Line here and there, and the spell is out. A barrier is around me, it’s invisible but I feel it.
“Poke your weapon here,” I point my finger beside me. Demus comes closer and unsheathes his weapon, and with no hesitation he slides it where I point. The weapon doesn’t pass the threshold. “Good.”
Without a word, he returns to his place. Like a dog he waits for orders and I must admit, it feels somewhat empowering. I feel the fear subside. I feel I am doing something right. And that strength offers me energy to work more.
I wish I could use fire easily, without burning my fingers in the process. Once the cup is empty, I send it back. For any exterior eye, the cup dissipates into thin air. But for magicians, it simply returned to the person who, as if by coincidence, forgot about the tea they made. A pity, it was really good.
“If I may… Why did you suddenly decide to practice magic again?”
A shiver crawls up my spine. I hold my breath, not knowing the right answer. But the silence is an answer in itself, and hesitation, too. I have to think of something fast.
“I never stopped.” I look at him, while he studies my expression for any sign of deceit. “Ever since I received my degree, I’ve been practicing to keep my hands warm.” I hope that gouges doubt in his mind. His colleague was wrong. He doesn’t have to pray I don’t seek revenge. I’ve already found it. “Why do you ask?”
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“I wanted to see if you could keep yourself alive, if anything were to happen to me.” Such a natural response, I nearly believe it.
“But it won’t come to this, you are the best of the best, right?”
There’s a taint in his eyes when he looks at me once more. This time, his voice is lower, more threatening. “Of course. I was just curious.”
The upcoming days are but a blurry vision. I barely eat, dragging Demus to the Academy, where I train for days on end. He watches from a safe distance, as I stand, legs spread, hands at shoulder level, steadying my stance, for best offensive.
I try out fire with and without gloves. I summon water to ease the burns. I ask for wind, that splatters the papers all around me, I conjure small objects, like necklaces from my room, cups of tea or children’s toys.
I try to imagine the old woman’s ring, the one radiating love, but it doesn’t come. It must be still physically linked to her. But as I summon the old ring she gave me, it appears right on my finger. It fits me perfectly and I try to wrap my head around what she said. It belongs to me, that’s why I do not like it. I didn’t like it because it sent me the feeling of void and eternal damnation in the abyss rather than sunny hope. It had nothing to do with such mythical things as time travel, or else.
I can’t control the way my head turns and my eyes settle on Demus. He barely rests, just like me, barely eats. I survive solely on hope of a safer future for my family and me, while he must live on sole hope we die in a pyre soon. We both see the other as enemies, that I know, but why he hates us so much, I do not. What could have Father done to make people switch from talk to arms? Demus knows Spica is just a kid, and Rigel is just a teenager. What did they do to the country’s people? What did I do to them? If I only knew, I could fix… I know it’s a lie. I wouldn’t be able to fix anything. I have no political stance, no power. I have nothing but my bare fists, mediocre magic and certain homestead abilities like sewing. That won’t get me very far.
I return to my work as soon as I realise I’ve been staring at Demus for far too long. He doesn’t deserve such attention.
I miss the end of Autumnal Equinox, and whenever I cross Father, he ignores me. At first I felt a pang of guilt, but after a few days I grew used to it. He has never been close, he has never been the loving type, so nothing has changed much. The only difference is, in the past I’ve done nothing to make him distant, now, I dug my own grave. Still, it was worth it. In the long run. I’m sure it was.
For five days I’ve trained magic, until my hands were burned and my skin dry. I stopped moisturizing, stopped putting hand creams and taking long baths in salts and oils. My goal was to wake up, train, go to sleep. Auretta noted I’ve lost weight. It didn’t faze me. My mind held only one thought - time. Time was running out, the revolution could strike any moment now. What were they waiting for? West would have known, he would have infiltrated and destroyed them since the start. If only he had not been their first target. Demus knew West was the only thing protecting our family from the terror attacks. That’s why he took the shot. Every time I look at Demus, as I sit on the cold Academy ground, I see the blood he spilled that night. The night I had given myself completely to the man I loved.
On the last day of Mabon I’ve woken up sick. I managed to keep my head clear to call for Auretta, who brought me broth and warm clothes. She coddled me until my energy revived. After that, I asked for Demus, who was to train me in swordsmanship as promised.
It was the first day I’ve washed my hair since last week. Auretta helped me put knight’s leathers and blouse. Their boots were uncomfortable, and the clothes scratched my skin, but I shut my mouth. I could not complain, not in public, not in my chambers, because, in truth, I was never truly alone. I still feel their presence somewhere around.
The knights’ swords are heavy. I barely have the strength to lift it up, certainly not fight to the death. Demus’s stride is quick, and even if his sword is a wooden one, he still hits like I am cattle. He is not afraid to inflict pain, and I know he enjoys it.
His eyes are ablaze as he strikes from the right, his hands up in the air. Suddenly, he holds the sword in one hand, balancing its weight perfectly. I have little time to think, and stumble and fall. He shouts Up and I have no choice but to obey.
I step left, he crushes me. I step right, I lose my balance and fall. As I strike in the middle he grabs my sword by the handle, stealing it from me dirtily and smirks. I’m powerless. An urge to use flames to burn his pretty face overwhelms me but he throws the sword at my feet. Confused, I grab it hastily. The man doesn’t bother to shout again, he only jerks his chin up and strikes again, and this time, I manage to hold my ground.
Again!
Again, princess, come on.
Up!
The gardens become our personal training grounds, where other knights come to watch, from time to time. Rigel once came too. I had little time to watch him, as Demus’s didn’t let me rest for a second. He is strong, he is full of energy I lose every day. As days pass he seems to be enjoying our matches and lessons. As for me, with every hit I take, with every bruise, I understand I am weak. There is no time to weep, but not time to train more either.
My coming of age banquet is merely days away. I will not have time to train afterwards. I’ll need to fulfill my promise to the people and help Father with Peregrine and the revolution problem. Maybe, with the metaphorical crown, signed and delivered, I could finally have some weight in these political games.
No, duck, Highness.
Ugh. Seriously, more force here, not here!
Not even once have I dined in the throne room. Maids brought me foods and drinks to my chambers as requested. As I was too tired to undress by myself, I let Auretta handle my bathing and beauties. I had to put myself together before the banquet. I’ve seen the moon rise and prayed to it as much as I could. When I stood naked under the dim lights, as the magonay hair servant braided my hair for the night, I put my arms around myself, clinging closer.
The trees were losing color day by day. In the dark of night, the whole palace turned gloomy. There were little light, birds have not sang as loudly as before, and the cheerful laughters of the maids has completely vanished. There was nothing to do but to train and wait.
The waiting is poison to the soul. Slow and murderous, it crawls into your heart and never lets it go. Under its hold, you are but a wingless bird.
Concentrate, princess.
Up!
I said, get up!
I clang to my body harder, and when Auretta put the nightgown over my head, I let go of the breath I was holding.
The window of my room was closed, curtains covering its opulance. I could no longer watch the tree branches hovering by the glass, or hear the owls. I felt deaf and blind, as if Nature left the moment I used my last drop of magic of the day.
From this point on, it was the same. I woke up, my limbs shaky from training. I went to the gardens and had a delicious breakfast, savoring the meal the best I could as I would not be eating lunch. I trained in both defense and offense. Demus taught me how to handle myself, the positions, the weight, the endurance. It was not enough, but I had the basics. That and magic would have to do.
The same day repeated four times, right until the coming of age banquet. I couldn’t sleep that night, too stimulated by the awaited ceremony. The sheets were too hot for the heated room, so I pushed them from the bed. The feeling of the too hot pillow brought me memories of the Academy, when sleep was mechanical, and not a source of replenishment and enjoyment. Only for a year I could sleep fine, when West and I became very close, and I received my degree.
Suddenly, I was too cold. So, grunting in annoyance, I got up and pulled back the covers.
I twisted under the bedsheets, unable to get a wink of sleep. Something was stirring inside of me, pushing me to get up and put a coat on. I walked out of the room, checking the perimeter. Empty hallway. It was way past midnight. Maybe Demus would meet with his spy again, and maybe I could learn something new. But when I went to the greenhouse, avoiding the guards patrolling the grounds, I found nothing. I stayed for an hour, freezing, unable to force myself to get back. They should meet. They should…
And that’s when I heard a rustle of leaves.
I turned around only to see a squirrel, running from a bush to another. I sighed. There was no one here except for me and the animals inhabitants the gardens, soon to leave for winter. They would hide in their dens, the bears will hibernate, the birds will flee, and deers will stomp on the fresh snow, leaving tiny traces.