Queen Aspirant: Keeper Cycle, #1

By Mariah Galamore

What is a queen without a crown? A rebel. 

 

Both exalted and reviled, Rosalyn Morrigan's life has never been simple. She was born both the daughter of an Arch-general of the Empire and a hostage of a conquered nation hated for its ties to a magic that once corrupted the world. Rose joins five other hostages in navigating a dangerous life as an uncrowned sovereign. She acts like the perfect Imperial Court lady by the light of day. In the shadows, she works with an infamous figure called Foxglove and their organization, the Garden, aiming to free the five conquered lands from the Empire of Eladon.  

 

During high-stakes heists, rescue missions, and strange celestial events, Rose and her fellow hostage Antony travel across the Empire. Whispers of magic returning follow at their heels as it is clear that more is happening in the Empire than just political intrigue. Rose must take on the responsibility of her title, Queen Aspirant of Aspara, and the strange power within her that allows her to manipulate time. Juggling the light and the shadows, as well as the past, present, and future, Rose hopes her efforts will be enough to free her mother's ancestral home from the grips of Eladon. What can one hostage do in a world boiling over with political intrigue, murderous cultists, awakening magic, and cryptic gods? Only time will tell. 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mariah Galamore
• Release date: Oct 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223809517

Book preview

Mariah Galamore

Queen Aspirant

Keeper Cycle One

Copyright © 2023 by Mariah Galamore

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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For my Dad and Grandma Margret.

I wish I had finished this in time.

Contents

Map

I. PART ONE

1. Dearest Padma

2. Prologue

3. Purple Carnation

4. Daffodils

5. Blue Iris

6. Purple Hyacinth

7. Yellow Poppy

8. Hibiscus

9. White Chrysanthemum

10. Asphodel and Orange Lily

11. Spider Lily

12. Buttercup

13. Forget-me-not

14. Antony’s Interlude

15. Juliana’s Interlude

16. Rue’s Interlude

II. PART TWO

17. My love

18. Tansy

19. Pink Carnation

20. Lobelia and Lavender

21. Foxglove and Lemon Blossoms

22. Thistle and Bluebells

23. Black Tulips and Nettle

24. Angel’s Trumpet

25. Sunflower

26. Yellow Nasturtium and Viscaria

27. Amsonia, Gladiolus, and Black Roses

28. Blackthorn

29. Phoenix Flower

30. Dear Ascended Keeper

III. APPENDIX

31. Months

32. Power Structures

33. Seven Founding Families

34. Glossary

35. Character List

Author’s Note

About the Author

Map

I

Part One

The burden I left you is great- L

1

Dearest Padma

Ido not know when this letter will find you as I am writing during a brief moment of sound mind. But, you must know that I have found them too late to do anything. You can guess the dire consequences of my being too late to nip it in the bud. Indeed, Void has latched onto its carrier. It seeks succor even now, and there is little to be done to ameliorate the situation immediately.

I am afraid I found it when I was—not my best self.

I took great pains to delay its growth by impacting its host directly. My methods were regrettably extreme. With a clearer mind, I can see it would not be what you would have chosen to do. The look on your face the last time we saw each other said enough about your feelings on the matter. Of course, I am deeply sorry to continue failing you.

However, despite my terrible efforts, neither the host nor the void will likely die. It has grown too strong of an anchor to leave quietly, but my methods have bought us precious time. Despite the dark stain it leaves on me, I take cold comfort in that.

Pads, I fear what I might do in the future. I must ensure my worst nightmares do not come to fruition, but I have little control over myself these days. The centuries have rolled on, leaving my true self further and further behind. I know it has been you that I have hurt the most in this. As time passes, we can only hope that Lucina’s disciples show themselves and that our daughter will appear again, as promised.

Regarding your last correspondence, I would not worry about the others choosing this plane to infiltrate. As far as I can discern from the texts Simeon gifted us, they are territorial and dislike playing in the same vicinity. They would rip each other apart before posing a threat to anyone else. I admit this is a tenuous comfort, but the Void is more than enough to rail against.

A point of interest I think you should investigate is a strange force building in the White Stag’s crossing path. Perhaps it has something to do with one of the pillars— though they are proving well hidden even to my eyes. I will leave that inquiry to someone of more sound morals and mind than I am. We both know I cannot be trusted.

I miss and love you dearly.

Yours indeed, for only a moment—

Zephyr

2

Prologue

—the He’cate family shall faithfully keep this knowledge until the world is ready to practice all magics again be it wild, divine, or deep. Wild magic will return, and we will be there to meet it. We humbly leave this solemn duty to you, dear descendant.

26 Blood Moon, 1527 A.A.

The Docks, Port Loyal

Firestone Territory, Eladon

It was a perfect storm, really. Aspara had always known this time would come, but Rose thought they probably expected more dignity when it did. Anyone familiar with scared people and politics would come to that same conclusion. Magi geodes powered the world—and Aspara had a lot of them. Tension had been inevitable. The Empire was simply the first to act.

Of course, the Crimson Isles’ open longing for wild magic to return had not endeared them to the Empire any more than their near monopoly on geodes had to the rest of the world. Aspara’s mystical infatuation for all magic alike had not been well-received, especially not by those who occupied the lands that were once polluted by corrupted wild magic a millennia ago. That left a scar that had yet to heal. Though the land had begun to flourish again, and the horrors of the blighted days were only scary stories told to naughty children, that kind of devastation permeated for generations.

War had come to Aspara, and they had lost.

Relief hummed in the air of Port Loyal now that the Asparans had been brought to heel. It was like boiling water that had been taken from the fire and left to release soft curls of steam as things calmed. The atmosphere was not quite cool and was on the verge of boiling again. Dangerous times were still afoot. That was especially true for the one Eladon was gathered there to see that day.

From the Eladonian commoners to the Emperor and Empress themselves, the majority of the populace had dressed for a celebration. Eladon had come prepared to rub its victory in a captured monarch’s face. It was a rare event at this time of peace for the continent of Samora that had lasted nearly fifty years.

Rose was one among thousands, but she was dressed for piety rather than celebration. She stood hidden within the retinue of the religious contingent accompanying the Imperial Court. She wore humble garb, donning the white robes of a Bright Brother novice. She had even taken on the opaque veils characteristic of a novice during their year of sworn silence. The veils covered her face and hair alike, so her tension was obscured to the joyous people around her.

A loud cheer went through the crowd as the Dawn Richards finally finished docking. Soldiers and sailors poured from the vessel, cheering as they disembarked. They had returned home from the war victorious, with a captured queen as their bounty. Why would they not celebrate the unprecedented windfall bound to come after such a feat? It made her feel nauseous the longer the display went on.

Rose stood on a dais’s edge, close to the Imperial family. She had a good view of their faces as they waited stoically for the rebellious queen to make her appearance. They were trying to appear bored, though she had enough practice reading imperial faces to see their excitement mirrored their people.

In her position, Rose had a good view of the lone figure of Valerina when she appeared near the ship’s railing. She felt a gasp get caught in her throat at the sight. She saw the queen moments before the rest of the crowd seemed to. It was as though they had slipped into a liminal space between what was and what would be.

The queen stood with her head held high despite the circumstances. It was like fire danced around her shoulders as the wind caught in her hair. Queen Valerina’s relative privacy was over quickly as she became visible with a flash of color on the Dawn Richard’s deck. Her vibrant hair had caught the sunlight, unmistakable for anyone else other than an Asparan Queen. Indeed, the woman’s fairy lights were unusually bright, even for her exalted position.

The raucous music reached a crescendo as if to increase the drama of the queen’s mysterious appearance while she took in the land that held her hostage. Her shoulders were squared as she looked down at the crowd, and her long hair was caught tangling hopelessly in the wind. This motion sent sparks of colored light dancing across the water and in the surrounding air around her. The lights flickered in and out of existence, placidly unaware of the stir it caused in the crowd.

An Asparan’s hair was said to be the color of the sunset captured from the first day they drew breath. Though it was always mainly red, it could have pinks, blues, oranges, or even metallic colors like gold, bronze, or silver. These colors mixed in between the crimson strands. If that was not strange enough, sparks of multicolored light called fairy lights rebounded and danced in the surrounding air when the light fell upon their crown.

Asparan hair mimicked the strange lights that still hung over the Crimson Isles at sunset and sunrise, even a thousand years after the Fae had disappeared. It was beautiful, but to common Eladonian wisdom, evil in its beauty. It reeked of magic and corruption waiting for the unwary soul who stood too close. Despite the fear it caused, the strands of the queen’s hair whirled in the wind. The strange colors flashed in the sunlight, defiant.

The robed acolytes on the dais let out wondering and fearful exclamations at the sudden riot of color. They acted as though they had never seen Asparan hair before. Rose recognized that their shock was feigned. After all, the two nations had not always been at war. It was unlikely they had never seen an Asparan before. Though she would grant them that no one would catch an Asparan in the Empire, certainly not willingly flaunting their strange hair during the conflict.

Queen Valerina stood alone for a few breathless moments before they grabbed her. She was remarkably stoic as they brought her onto the docks. Rose did not know if they were mocking or trying to dignify her by putting her in golden chains. Horribly impractical as they were, they clearly did not anticipate trouble using the soft metal. It was more a symbol than actual restraint. The Asparan navy was in shambles, and their land forces were stymied from a direct assault. There would be no rescue. Either way, Rose doubted the chains were comfortable to wear. Valerina walked barefoot, and her blood tinged the edges of her dirty gown. Even so, she was regal.

When they reached the dais, a guard threw Valerina into the dirt. She lay there before the Emperor’s entourage for an indeterminable moment before he began to speak. Rose did not bother to listen to the Emperor’s eloquent and arduous speech. She only had eyes for the queen. Silently, she joined a small crowd of novices moving forward to the crouched figure. The Emperor had beckoned them to enfold Valerina into their ranks.

Rose placed herself at the front of the congregation. She was one of two women to bend down and wrap a hand around the queen’s bound wrists. Then, together, she and the other novice helped the queen to a closed carriage. The novices around them prayed as they swayed incense in their wake to purify their path.

Valerina leaned gingerly into them. She only allowed herself to grimace when she was forced to climb into the carriage. However, it was apparent she was in pain. Rose guessed there must be hidden wounds beneath her clothing.

As she had meticulously planned, there was only enough room for one novice to sit across from the queen. And, as expected, the other girl was more than happy to accede the role to Rose rather than be trapped in a small space with a person widely viewed as evil incarnate. Meekly, she lowered herself into the seat across from the queen. She placed her hands in her lap in a prayer position, dropping her head to complete the image of piety for those watching as the door swung shut. There was a protracted silence as the carriage jolted. Then, creakily, they began their journey to the capital.

Her heart throbbed when she looked up to take in what she could see of the queen’s expression through the veil. Valerina’s face had crumpled in resignation. She had drawn her hands up to cover her face as she wept silently. She was not only the stoic and dignified queen Rose had always heard about. The one who had walked to her captors with her head held high to save her nation from more bloodshed. She was a person, too— a scared person. She looked more and more like a scared twenty-year-old woman than a symbol of evil or defiance. This woman had been tormented and captured by her enemies, far more than an empty symbol.

Your plan— Rose broke the silence, though not a vow. Her voice was barely audible over the creaking sounds from the carriage as she continued, —your plan is good.

What did you say? Valerina was shaken.

It’s a good plan. Your servitude as a symbol and a hostage will enable you to mediate the damage as an ambassador for Aspara, Rose explained. It will work well enough for a time. It might be long enough for Aspara to get back on its feet before it can rise again.

Valerina’s blue-green eyes widened in alarm. She moved her bound wrists to her chest and stared in uncomprehending silence.

How do you know about this— Valerina asked. Her heavy accent was more apparent now that she was emotional. Does he—

Rose shook her head. You will blindside them, your majesty, she promised. "Just as you’ve planned it. Queen Gloria of Falora, the dual rulers of Felexia, the king of Dayula, and the lesser heads of state have heard your pleas. They will come to your aid. Your bargain will be struck, and the hostage tradition will begin."

Tradition? Valerina asked, a quiver in her voice.

Others will join you, Rose confirmed. Surely, you did not think Eladon was done with its warmongering? They have had their first taste of blood and victory and will gorge themselves upon it. It will not be long before they desire it again.

How do you know this? she demanded. Why do you speak as though this is a fact?

It is a fact, Rose promised. "It will be. It must be."

I don’t understand what you mean, young woman, Valerina admitted. She stiffened when Rose knelt on the rocking surface of the carriage floor. She shocked her further when Rose reached out and cupped her hands reverently. Rose bowed her forehead to the golden chains encircling the queen’s wrists.

Take heart, Queen Valerina, Rose whispered, almost a prayer. Because more than sorrow awaits you in the pit of vipers. Love and a family are not out of your reach yet, and you will have a daughter to take up your mantle. I swear, she will see Aspara freed.She closed her eyes when one of the queen’s hands pulled away from her grasp. It gently rested on Rose’s veiled head.

Who…who are you? Valerina asked.

Slowly, allowing Rose time to pull back, Valerina plucked at the veil and lifted it. She gasped as the fabric gave way to sunset-blushed curls that sent lights rebounding around the carriage. Rose lifted her face to reveal blue-green eyes and a smattering of freckles kissing her cheeks. Her freckles were just like those resting lovingly on Valerina’s face.

I swore once I would not look upon my mother’s face again until I was sure I could win back her lands, Rose clasped her mother’s hand as she looked upward at a sight unseen for many years.

When I could free us from these chains, I knew I would come here and tell you it would be done. I would swear it to you. It has taken me far longer than I ever wished. I think it may finally be within reach, but my heart weakens. I needed to see you to harden myself to the task.

Valerina gasped and touched Rose’s cheek as her eyes swept fervently across a strikingly familiar face despite having never seen it before. Her mouth opened and closed as she stared, unsure what to say.

My…my, she gasped, and her hands cupped Rose’s cheeks reverently.

Tears welled in Rose’s eyes at the softness of her mother’s touch. She melted a little when Valerina gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

I am afraid, mama, Rose admitted, almost against her will. What if I fail after everything we have done and sacrificed? I will bring shame to you and myself if I fail.

You’re here, dear child, Valerina said. How…how can you be—

She had no chance to explain before Valerina’s eyes took on a familiar haunted cast. Simultaneously, the pattern on Rose’s shoulder warmed. From the look on her mother’s face, she guessed the mark on her mother’s shoulder was reacting similarly.

They were suddenly in an echoing space together that Rose recognized. They were the same people but different here. Instead of wearing a soiled gown and golden manacles, Valerina sat on a throne wearing the gauzy sapphire finery of an Asparan Queen. Her hair was in an elaborate style piled on her head as she looked down at Rose with wonder.

Rose still knelt before her mother, but she had changed in appearance, too. She wore the silver circlet of the aspirant monarch on her brow. It dripped with sapphires that trembled against her skin and at her temples. When she glanced down at herself, she saw she wore a white gown embroidered with an Asparan sunrise. Gold, pink, red, and orange irregular glass shards accented the dress, glittering in the grand hall’s light.

The glass was familiar. It was a gasp at dawn.

In this space, there were no lies, no artifice. The room itself was held within the Asparan Monarch’s Promise mark. Here, the chosen of the Crimson Isles sought the counsel of their forebears. Rose did not need to look around to know that there was an expanding spiral of previous monarchs sitting within the echoing space. They sat in their mirroring thrones, slumbering peacefully until their counsel was most needed. Someday, some aspect of Rose would sit there offering the wisdom she had–if she did not fail her people. Eventually, she would Ascend when, for so long, all she could do was aspire.

That means I must no longer be by your side for you to come so far. You have awakened her—Aethra? Valerina asked.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat. So her mother had known about that? Even this far in the past, she had known more about the strange destiny Rose had found herself shackled and blessed by than she could ever guess. A fate she had not known about until a short while ago.

Yes, I have.

Valerina nodded, bowing her head with a relieved smile playing on her lips. She stroked Rose’s cheekbones reverently.

So, this gamble works, after all? Valerina checked, lifting her head again with a determined expression. We are successful?

Yes, the room echoed around them with a congregation of voices, sure and strong in their confidence.

Then, I must leave the rest to you, Valerina whispered. For I know you will be successful where I fall short. Such is our promise as Ve’nisa. You are the next after me, are you not?

Valerina touched the aspirant circlet resting on Rose’s forehead with a fond smile, then playfully tapped her daughter’s nose—for both the first and last time. Rose lowered her head into Valerina’s lap with a guttural sob as she clutched at her skirts.

The queen gently stroked her head in the quiet moment between them. They were two queens on the precipice of something scary but necessary. The decades separated them, but they were together at that moment. When Rose pulled back, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead, heart, and lips in a formal salute.

Ve’nisa ve inay nan, she whispered, a vow typically given at the coronation of an Asparan monarch between the aspirant and the sitting monarch.

Na Inay ve Asin’ev, her mother finally said to her. This completed a ritual that had not yet begun but was long overdue to be finished.

Protector, you have kept your promise.

And to you, I give the promise that I have kept.

3

Purple Carnation

Add purple carnations to any mix in which to confound or throw one’s adversaries off balance. Beware, these blooms act as an ideal catalyst, but never as a base. Precious descendants, capricious in nature, these purple flowers—

Her evening started as many nights had gone before in her years of service for House Morrigan. Throughout the night, Elia Luciel took turns watching from the balcony and resting with the other maids. With their duties completed, the invisible helpers of the aristocracy traded gossip over food. Gossip was a servant’s greatest currency—what you withheld and what you said carried further than the servants’ wings, and they all knew it. Even knowing this, it was hard to listen to how they talked about the Asparan hostage. However, there was no avoiding it, given it was a common topic with recent events.

Elia’s palms ached from clenching her hands into fists hidden in the folds of her dress. But she could not show her partiality. She was an old hand at this; she could not afford to make such a simple mistake. That would risk her hard-won positioning among this group. It had taken several years of feigned resentment and passivity to lower their guards enough for her to hear the unfiltered truth about her friend.

So, instead of fighting back, she listened as a few of the nastier butlers and maids loudly whispered about the details of her friend’s recent abuses. It was the usual topic after the yearly tithe ceremony for the Asparan hostage. That did not mean that Elia wanted to hear about it again.

Typically, tithes lasted from noon till dawn the next day of the appointed ceremony. Unfortunately, the fish and produce tributes from Aspara had been small for a third year. As punishment for her people’s strained resources, Kol had subjected Lady Rosalyn Morrigan to three full days of torment instead of one. It had been the longest tithe Elia had watched a hostage endure since she had started attending when Rose had taken the mantle of the Asparan hostage from her mother seven years prior.

They had finally returned with the Court two days ago, but Rose was still recovering from being tied up under the unforgiving sun of the Asparan archipelago for three days. As such, it was hard for the gossip to reconcile the abrupt shifts in her status from a wretch to a noble lady again. The drama of the affair was whispered about even though Elia had done her best to obscure the evidence of the wounds Rose received during the ordeal. That, too, was to be expected of the vipers at Court. They never let go of a scandal until something more exciting happened to distract them.

They had done their best to limit her exposure to ridicule, and so from only observation, the watchers would not know about Rose’s hours soaking in fragrant bathwater to banish the scent of rotting vegetables and blood. They could not see that Lady Morrigan’s wrists were raw because the elaborate puffy sleeves of her silver gown covered them. And most would not realize that her tulle skirts, which sparkled with glimmering crystal, puffed out around her to create a protective bubble to ward off close contact with others. On the outside, there was only the image of the sweet but careful lady Rosalyn Morrigan, not the hostage.

Elia had been worried that Rose would not recover in time for the tedious celebration. She had been nearly catatonic the entire voyage home. However, whatever she had done after locking herself in her chambers for a full day had revived her. Even so, the shadows in Rose’s eyes had remained as she entered the ballroom below Elia to entertain the vipers who gossiped about her.

Since Elia had known her, her friend had returned from her yearly tithe jumpy. She had always said that her skin crawled from others’ touch after the degradation— even from Elia’s. Thankfully, the fairy lights that bounced off Rose’s ancestral hair calmed them both when they had gone through the motions of getting ready that night.

The lights had bobbed peacefully around them as Elia brushed and curled Rose’s hair. They had taken the time to braid Asparan blessing coins and traditional hair ornaments for stability, strength, and peace. Rose did not seem to care for the trouble that this open allegiance to an Asparan tradition caused her, especially so close to the Court being reminded of her heritage. Of course, she would scoff at being called openly rebellious, but Elia knew the truth. Her friend had been born a rebel.

Despite her recent humiliation, Rosalyn Morrigan held the ballroom in the palm of her hand for a brief moment as she began to sing. Elia watched as her calming reach extended across the clusters of nobles dressed in elaborate fashions below her. The thrall even reached up to the professionally dressed servants crowded on the upper balconies. They peered out from hidden nooks and crannies at the dazzling display of nobility and wealth gathered in the ballroom. Rose could command a crowd when she needed to do so for such a compact woman. Her voice rang out in the warning song the Anointer had requested that she sing for the party despite her injuries from the tithe.

"—the betrayer of dreams and possibilities.

O’ watch yourself, my dear,

An unwary step might lead you

to stumble into the dark, here

where only the seed of dusk —

may soothe your broken heart,

but no branch of dawn may grow.

Oh, dear, I wouldn’t go

I warned you

I warned you

about the Faen Immortal

I warned you

I warned you

that he will steal your soul—"

Rose looked remarkably unruffled as she sang with divine influence. But Elia knew she must be on edge. It was plain in how she held her hands over her chest as she sang with the influence of her Magi. The pendant was shaped like an ornate key hung on a slender chain. That night, she was accompanied by a white calla lily blossoming from the apex of the living metal key.

Rose’s unique Magi, gifted from the Fae, was in the class of influence. She could make her pendant’s magical sound audible to her audience, but that was a powerful act of soothing and something she rarely did. That was not what she was after that night. That would be too obvious. However, it also enabled her to sing in a melodic cadence that lulled and soothed the aches and sorrows of her audience. It was a simple affinity but effective. It captivated them so thoroughly that those below did not notice who crept through the surrounding crowd around them.

Elia watched familiar faces appear where they had no business being. They walked sedately beside the blissful attendees on some kind of mission. Her fellow maids beside her were also oblivious as they crowded together on a screened balcony above the ballroom. All the maids around Elia sighed as Rose trilled into a high note and then faded into a silence that sent a reverent hush through the crowd. A pleasant warmth ached in Elia’s chest as though she were being pulled in by a string, even as curiosity about the mission made her heart race faster.

There was no applause as Rose lowered into a curtsy. Her blue-green eyes swept quickly over the assembly. Finally, she turned and formally saluted the Arch-generals’ dais. As was expected, the empty throne held for the Emperor received an even more profound bow. In fact, Rose bent so low that her hair briefly pooled on the floor.

You do your lessons credit, rosebud, the Anointer said, hovering on the edge of mocking as Rose stayed bent over. I had hoped the message had…soaked in. Laughter fluttered through the high and lowborn crowd at the veiled allusion to Rose’s recent humiliation.

I am in your debt, Anointer, Rose said evenly, her eyes on the floor. Her voice was still audible due to some old magics that were woven into the performing dais even after a millennium since the enchantments had been laid there by the Fae.

Elia’s attention drifted to General Morrigan as Anointer Kol added another cutting remark. The general’s smile was clearly pained as he watched his daughter be humiliated in front of the Court. He could say nothing to defend her, or he would risk upsetting the delicate political balancing act he and Rose were required to keep up.

General Morrigan had been Elia’s father figure as much as he had to his blood daughter. Indeed, as with the daughter, Elia could see his mounting tension as the evening progressed. She guessed he was counting down to whatever the Garden was planning for the evening. If he was that nervous, it must be something big.

Nervous herself, Elia tracked Rose as she moved from her slightly raised stage to join the nobles again. Behind her, the musicians moved forward to take her place as the entertainment for the rest of the evening. Before Elia even had time to worry about Rose having to hobble down the steps with her injuries, Antony was ascending them to her.

The two made the maneuver look remarkably relaxed as he swept her into his arms and carried her down the steps. Rose’s face did not show a flicker of unease or surprise as she was deftly placed back onto her feet. However, the calm facade faded when she looked up at Antony. Her face visibly softened. The two smiled at each other as though the whole ballroom had ceased existing.

It was a sight that thrilled and drove grief through Elia’s chest. Nevertheless, she ignored it, watching as Antony extended his arm. Rose accepted his assistance and moved slowly through the crowd. She hid her limp by leaning into Antony and moving at a stately pace. The crowd parted for them as it tended to do around the hostages. The six of them had naturally progressed into a group over the years.

Elia felt herself relax as Rose and Antony re-joined the others. She knew Rose would attempt to integrate with the Court most nights, but there was always some distance immediately following one of the five tithes. Tonight, the captured sovereigns would stick close together.

They would act as though they did not notice that no one else approached them. Even their close acquaintances kept away from them as though they were afraid that association with them would deem them worthy of the same humiliation. The distance would wane in a week until Sudilan and Antony’s tithe occurred at the end of the summer celebration season.

The evening progressed from there with music and dancing. Elia quickly tired of waiting for whatever was supposed to happen. She had given up hope on witnessing the event as the ball neared a close. She was picking through a tray of sad-looking fruit when she finally heard the commotion.

YOU! An angry voice shouted before more screams came from the ballroom below. YOU CREATURE, YOU DARE DEFILE—

With adrenaline singing in her blood, Elia rushed after a flurry of servants. The group packed onto the balconies to see what was happening. After elbowing her way to the rail, Elia gasped at the sight she found.

A hooded figure sat casually on the Emperor’s empty throne. One leg was carelessly draped over the lavish arm of the chair as they lounged. A short sword rested cross-ways in their lap while one gloved hand was lazily held out to the side.

The light caught against the elegant vambraces protecting their forearms and wrists. Even from where she stood, she could tell they were as fine as the stories said and made of living metal. The metal could mend itself, was never tarnished, and was difficult to break. Living metal was customarily left to the highest-ranked warriors in Eladon. Yet there it was on the strange figure’s wrists for all to see, taunting the Empire silently by their mere possession.

The rumor about those vambraces had been too fantastical to believe, even with Rose’s concession of its reality. Elia wished she could see it better. But, unfortunately, she could not tell if they were decorated with elaborate flowers and hummingbirds intertwined with protection, stealth, and speed runes, as the rumor said, the masked figures Magi. They could be the very thing that allowed him to teleport himself in the midst despite the heavy imperial guard presence in the ballroom.

Elia sharply inhaled as she recognized the three brightly colored orbs weighing heavily in the stranger’s hand next. These were blaze balls—weapons that the Empire had ruthlessly used in their wars. The unique powder they used was only produced in a secret cavern in the Sky Palace by old magics left by the Fae. It was not as incendiary as the unrefined oil of Siobhan, but it was close.

How in the world had they gotten ahold of it?

If accurately thrown, three blaze balls could take out the entire ballroom of courtiers! But, of course, that explained why the figure had been left alone on the dais. Instead, a group of nervous guards circled the platform but did not dare approach the eminently casual figure.

The generals stood behind their guards. Their faces were pale with fear or purple with rage. Anointer Kol looked incensed, but his inquisitor kept him from leaping up the stairs while the courtiers were herded against the walls. More guards filed into the room as the figure held the blaze balls. They sat back, watching them all with a faint air of amusement.

How did he get there?!Several people whispered in excited terror, but Elia focused on finding Rose in the crowd.

Thankfully, she was protected under Antony’s arm as he angled himself to keep his body between her and the intruder. They stood alongside the other hostages, Giovanni and Sudilan, who had taken positions to protect the more vulnerable Gloria and Torriel behind them. Gloria could fire a bow, but she was an older woman and was not good in close combat. Torriel had never touched a weapon a day in his life. Elia’s eyes shot toward the throne when the strange figure finally interrupted Kol’s sermon.

I think that is enough, priest. I come here in peace, a soft tenor voice said airily, even as they brandished their weapons. Kol choked on his rage; his pale features purpled further as a vein pulsed visibly on his forehead.

Well, perhaps not peace, the melodic voice conceded with an obvious sneer. Can there truly be peace when your greed is not yet sated? Five countries are not enough for you, Kol? Surely you realize we’ve heard about your plans to continue this quest for dominance? Will it be on Rivalle or Aura this time?

This pronouncement sent a cascade of whispers echoing around the ballroom. Of course, by now, the entire Court knew what Eladon looked like before it launched another conquest. Still, it was not something so openly talked about—more whispered and gossiped about in their private dinners, sewing circles, and training yards.

You know nothing, Arch-general Firestone said coolly. He glared up at the lackadaisical figure.

I know plenty, Antov— but let’s assume I do not for the moment. Do you truthfully deny my claim? the figure taunted, using the general’s name disdainfully.

We do not answer to nameless heathens, Kol hissed again.

Elia noted the flinty side glances at the Anointer sent by most Arch-generals. While Kol had been amassing power for years, often outweighing the generals by puppeteering the boy Emperor, he seldom stepped into it openly. Under normal circumstances, it would have been the generals who handled the wayward interloper. Not these days.

Oh, surely you’ve guessed, the figure laughed and visibly tapped their blade, which had Foxglove flowers emblazoned on it. The flowers were said to be intertwined with protection and strengthening runes. Elia was not practiced enough to know whether they were earth, sun, or moon runes, but she knew it was an old Fae technique long out of practice using deep magic rather than the divine.

We’ve never met, but I’ve sent you letters for years. You cannot tell me one of them has not tripped across your desk, Anointer.

FOXGLOVE, Kol cursed as the room reacted to the wraith’s name. He had been making himself a nuisance since the early days of the land wars.

Yes, yes, that’s me. Now, let’s get to the interesting part of the evening. Surely you’re wondering why I’m here?

No one expects sense from the corrupted, Kol answered with more dignity than he had shown before.

Elia heard several gasps from below at the charge of corruption. It was well known that Foxglove supported all magic use. And not just the tiny affinity magics born from one’s divine spark of life that all people could perform using their focus Magi but also the old deeper magics. While ambient magic no longer existed, some still practiced with the slower and weaker magic left in the world. It was condemned wholly and entirely by the Bright Brother’s church. Most people doubted the magics even worked anymore—and no one would admit they would like to see if it was true.

Though Elia tried to squint, she could not determine if Foxglove had arrays embroidered on his clothing. She had heard rumors that his clothing had been stitched with old magical patterns meant to make him faster, harder to spot in the dark, and luckier than anyone that reckless should be.

Secretly, Elia had always wondered if Rose had embroidered them for him. She could have used that grimoire she was not supposed to know about to do it for him. That grimoire was hidden in a nook in her friend’s rooms, which had not stayed unused.

Well, I suppose that is why you don’t make much sense being corrupt yourself— Foxglove quipped before they continued. Now, moving on. I was at your little extravaganza on the Crimson Isles. You see, I make it a point to travel to all the tithes, and I could not just lay down when you call me out by name! I am blushing—what was it you called me—oh yes, a faithless son of a whore trying to fill my pockets? That was unkind, to be sure. But then, I thought, do you not understand what I’m doing? While I watched you break that little doll over there, it wouldn’t leave me alone, Foxglove gave his speech with flair. He visibly winked at Rose across the hall even as he disparaged her. He barely paused between speaking, and everyone was too stunned to interrupt.

"So, I thought I would clarify it for you. Let. Them. Go."

Instantly, eyes traveled from Foxglove to the hostages, who stood frozen. The last three words had rung out authoritatively. It was amplified by the room’s acoustics and the old magics. Still, it was as though Foxglove had been taught how to project his voice. It left an impression.

Oh, no, not just those abused puppets you parade around, Foxglove waved them away as though they meant nothing to him. He stood from the throne, and Elia was briefly sidetracked by how short the figure was. It was incongruous with his commanding presence and ringing voice.

Let them go! ALL of them. Every land you have ravaged, every person you have indentured, every crop you have stolen, and every service you have cheapened. LET THEM GO! They were not your lands to take. They were not your people to rule. They are not YOURS!

Elia’s breath caught, and she felt her eyes water. This—this was the figure which had captured their imaginations.

But the courtiers were not as affected as the frozen and hopeful servants on either side of her. Some nobles gave into nervous laughter, and others looked bemused by the speech. The generals wore a variety of expressions. The war hawks Firestone, Graybeard, and Wicken looked angry and dismissive. Arch-general Lucas looked nearly worshipful. Only Garraway and Morrigan wore neutral expressions.

No, Firestone answered Foxglove’s plea.

I would rather die than let them go, Graybeard said.

You may do just that, Foxglove hissed, raising the blaze balls in a warning.

You dare— Kol accused but was soundly cut off by Foxglove stepping forward. The generals moved back as a group, and the guards looked frightened by the unvoiced threat. Elia did not blame them. Dying by the violet blaze was an awful way to go.

Yes, I dare, Foxglove assured them, bringing his sword vertically in front of his face and sweeping to the side in a vow of challenge. Until our lands are free until my people are free, I will be poison in your blood. I will stop this beating heart. I will do it or die bringing you down with me. On magic’s return, I swear it!

Then die— Kol hissed, his hand raised to condemn them all to death by ordering the guards to attack.

Not today! Foxglove flung the orbs at his feet. Smoke exploded upwards instead of a rush of violet fire, obscuring Foxglove’s form.

Elia was pushed into the rail by people trying to flee as chaos reigned below. While the blaze balls were not real, something was happening to the courtiers anyway. Men and women alike yelped and dug their hands into their pockets or sashes. A red liquid, like blood, had begun to stain their clothing. It smeared across their hands as they flung whatever had caused the disturbance on the floor. Elia could not see anything clearly but could tell small black balls in their pockets were oozing with dark liquid.

Elia was suddenly reminded of Rose teasing Torriel just before they had left for her tithe. The Desmoni man had his inventions thrown across his table to tinker with while the two had their traditional mid-week brunch. The hostage from Desmon was an inventor, and he always had all kinds of bits and bobs around him. Random inventions were strewn across his rooms and in his pockets.

Elia remembered Rose marveling over a small black ball the man had nonchalantly thrown into a cup of unheated water. Then, gleefully, he had explained his work to them. For several years, the mechanism could heat water utilizing the tiniest shaving of a Magi geode as a power source. In addition, the orb could hold tea leaves, cocoa, or honey, perfect for all their beverage needs. Rose had held it cupped in her palms, and Elia had seen the light of mischievous ideas dancing in her eyes.

I have a friend who would be delighted by this, Rose had said as she dropped the ball into her pocket. There are just so many fun possibilities.

Elia was amazed and terrified as she gazed down at the carnage below. The courtiers’ red-soaked clothing and seemingly bloodied hands looked macabre. The hostages were not spared. However, they had received black instead of red dye on their hands and clothes. In Eladon, they would see this as a condemnation and a warning—a threat. Still, Elia had not spent years taking classes with Rose not to know that black in Aspara was a color of unity, and in Felexia, a challenge issued.

With a faint smile on her face, Elia watched the insanity below. Guards waved away the smoke to see that Foxglove was gone. It was as though he had never been there in the first place. The night was not so ordinary after all.

4

Daffodils

—Few flowers may be used more in diametrically opposed formulas than the daffodil. Indeed, these lovelies have been found in both sun and moon arrays since the beginning of magic itself.

While useful in mixes for vexing the vain, or to inspire misfortune in your enemies, we chose to focus on its uses for new beginnings and to inspire change. Using this moon pattern—

4 Aerial Moon, 1551 A.A.

Training grounds, Morrigan Mansion

The Sky City, Imperial Center

Eladon

You’re still weak on that left side, Antony commented dryly.

Their swords clashed, sending a jolt through Rose’s body. She didn’t bother answering Antony’s criticism as she disengaged. She was quick on her feet as she shuffled backward, but he followed her with a grin. He always did.

Spin and dash,

jolt and weave,

they fought under the scorching sun.

Their footwork moved

so in sync

that it was as though they moved as one.

Absently, she repeated the old rhyme in her head. Antony had taught her it when she was first learning how to fight with him. They had been clumsy in those days, but now it was as though they were dancing instead of fighting. In fact, Rose and Antony had done this routine so many times that the fights blended together in a confusing mix in her head. It had never stopped being exhilarating, though. She felt alive in a way she rarely allowed herself.

That is— despite her arm starting to go numb some time ago. Stoutly, she fielded another of Antony’s bone-shattering blows with her sword and the small circular shield she always kept between them. Sweat stuck strands of hair to her neck and face as it fell out of her tight warrior braid. The lights that rebounded off the colorful strands of her hair winked and danced with her. The fairy lights used to be distracting, but Antony was used to ignoring them. Now, he just moved through them with a clear-eyed focus.

Rose could tell he felt cocky. He probably thought he was going to beat her again. She could see it in the slight flourish of his wrist and the lopsided upturn of his mouth. After all, he was used to winning in these one-on-one combats when she did not have something tricky to even the odds.

The sight irritated her more than it should. But she had spent days stewing up in the palace. This was the first time she had been freed from her cage for an unbearable amount of time. First, her tithe, then she had been locked in tedious parties leading up to the summer holidays, and finally, the panic after Foxglove’s stunt at the ball. She had been unable to train with anyone since the incident sent the Court into a tizzy. Luckily, things were settling down with no more Foxglove sightings, but she had a feeling that would be short-lived. She knew it, in fact.

Rose and Antony continued to trade blows back and forth, moving with quick and instinctual movements. The fight was a conversation, a give-and-take that was familiar between them. It was an old argument that she wanted to win for once.

She absorbed a strike with her shield and felt her bones rattle again as she ground her teeth and dug in her feet. Irritation made her impulsive. This time, rather than dance away, Rose leaned into it.

Before Antony could turn her bravado against her, she dipped her consciousness into Aethra. At her mental touch, the slumbering power awakened. Golden light sparked at her fingertips so fast that she was only aware of it from the flash of the heat against the pads of her fingers. Her magi’s alien presence came alive.

Rose felt the key necklace heat against her skin as her index finger traced a familiar rune against her sword hilt, leaving behind faint golden power. It took just a slight touch on time before it unwound, unspooling around her. Time loosened its tenterhooks for a moment as Antony slowed, and Rose’s body felt like she waded through water.

Her mind moved beyond time’s constraints. She could see everything in that suspended moment as her finger hovered over the faintly glowing rune that existed only for that moment between her heartbeats. In this suspension, there was a slight opening from Antony’s surprise that she had moved forward rather than back. He would be too slow to close it when she had all the time in the world to react.

Rose knocked Antony’s sword from its guard position. Her chest tightened in response, and she struggled to breathe