“Why have you not stopped it?” one demanded. “Do it now, before it hits the city.”
He held up a hand, not bothering to answer, and kept his focus trained on the city wall. Every time lightning flashed, he could see the faint shimmer of his barrier. He was confident it would hold, but he would not know how much effort it would take until he felt the first bolt.
He clenched his fist around the Stormheart as the first wall of clouds touched the edge of the city. Power surged in the air moments before five bolts of skyfire rent open the sky.
They struck simultaneously, like five cobras sinking their teeth into their would-be charmer. The blue-white light fragmented against the barrier, filling the night with a bright blaze. His magic rippled under the blows, but stretched taut and whole immediately after. The soldiers behind him went silent.
And then … oh, then came one of his favorite parts.
A high, furious screech carried on the wind. Thunder rumbled, and the heavens rained down wrath upon the land. More skyfire bolts than a dozen men could count struck with a shattering boom, and the night exploded with light as they were repelled.
Cassius grinned despite the effort and held firm, baiting the storm to come closer.
Close enough that he could reach its heart.
Against darkened skies
And darker souls,
A Stormling stands.
Amidst thunderous cries
And raining coals,
Raise Stormling hands.
—A Stormling Stands: Verses of Old
4
Aurora had not realized an arm could bleed so much. The first few hours had been … alarming. Feeling woozy and fatigued, she still couldn’t quite believe that she’d purposely taken a knife to the arm. When the physician treated her, Rora’s tongue had been loosened by pain, and she told her mother in no uncertain terms that she loathed Cassius. Her mother made her drink a tea steeped with herbs that dulled the pain and clouded her thoughts. She slept some, but woke from a nightmare about storms and knives and blood that could not be staunched, and weddings that could not be stopped.
The world had gone dark while she slept, and her mother stood framed in the flashing light of the open window. Rora shifted in her bed, whimpering when she put too much weight on her arm. The queen turned, an expression almost like pride on her face. “Come and see,” her mother said. “It is … astonishing.”
Aurora slid from her bed, her bandaged arm hanging at her side. As she reached the window, there was an explosion of light, as if all the stars in the sky had broken open above their heads.
Rora’s mouth gaped. Overhead a skyfire storm had swallowed the sky from horizon to horizon. The thunder was so constant it sounded like the growl of a predator. Normally, the queen hurried Rora into the storm shelters beneath the palace well before a storm’s arrival.
A cry caught in Rora’s throat when light ripped across the sky. But the streaks of cold fire never reached the city. Instead, they collided with a nearly invisible shield, then fragmented, breaking off into dozens of smaller veins that moved over the barrier as if searching for a gap, before finally disappearing in the dark sky. With so many bolts of lightning striking at the same time, the whole sky burned like a silver sun when the skyfire spread over the invisible shield.
“How? Who?” she breathed.
“Your Cassius. We chose well. He is powerful.”
Rora returned her gaze to the sky. The epicenter of the storm was nearing the palace. As she watched, something dark and ugly rose inside her. It had teeth and claws, and bitterness coated its tongue. The feeling was so potent, so consuming that it took a moment for her to give it a name.
Jealousy.
For years, she had done everything her mother had asked, given up everything that made her who she was because it was safer that way. Because her queen required it. She’d thrown herself into her studies with rigor, wanting to prove that she was worth more than her magic-barren body. She had committed her mother’s every instruction to memory, believing that to rule was about more than magic—it took leadership and intelligence and compassion and strength. She cultivated those qualities in herself as best she could in her relative isolation—like a plant trying to grow in the dark.
And still … it was Cassius Locke her mother admired. Already Aurora could picture how her future would unfold. After the wedding, after her secret was spilled … she would be pushed aside by Cassius and her mother both. And the queen would finally have the heir she always should have had.
The darkest part of the storm began to stretch over the palace, and Rora saw the faint shimmer of the barrier disappear. That bitter envy reared up again, clawing through her veins. Then a single light flared, so blisteringly bright that she cried out, covering her eyes. All the power of the storm pummeled a single spot high on the dome, and then like a doused flame, the world went dark and still, and the storm raged no more.
Her mother murmured more praise, but Rora spun back toward her bed. The bile of jealousy and anger was beginning to drain away, but in its place Rora felt … ashamed and sad. Maybe she should just accept what was coming. Marry Cassius, let him rule Pavan, and she would continue her life in the same fashion as recent years—locked away somewhere with only her books for company.
A maid came to check her bandages, and the queen stopped her before she left to make a quiet request. Then her mother sat down beside the bed, looking pleased.
Rora felt bad for her earlier bitterness, but one thing was becoming clear … she wanted adventure and exploration, not more isolation. She wanted to feel like she was … more, not less.
“He is more than I had hoped for,” her mother said.
Aurora could not stop her derisive scoff. “As long as he refrains from throwing knives.”
“You mean, as long as you do not move into the knife’s path.”
“I had no choice! He would have expected me to take over storm duties. I did what I must.”
Her mother hushed her, brushing fingers through her hair. “I know you did. You always do. I wish that we did not have to make such hard choices. I wish that as a woman, especially an ungifted one, you did not have to fight for every bit of space this world gives you. But we do.” She touched Rora’s bandaged arm. “And the skies know my girl is a fighter. Our world is brutal, but you are brave enough to face it. I know you are.”
Nothing about this situation felt brave to Rora. It felt like giving up.
“I don’t trust him,” she whispered.