Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 14

Kindra drew a lot more attention now than she had the first time she’d walked through the castle corridors. As if her performance in the throne room wasn’t enough to get people talking, her stalking alongside Emeline in her nerushmyr and half-smeared makeup had people stopping in their tracks.

But she didn’t balk. She held her head as high as Emeline did and took their slack-jawed stares in stride. Sala hurried along behind them. The Healer had been posted outside Kindra’s doors when they’d left, and Kindra had invited her to come along, in case of any training accidents. A small group of guards—Emeline’s, she assumed, since she hadn’t heard anything about her own yet—also kept close by, though not within range of hearing their conversation if they spoke quietly.

“So, obviously this floor is where the royal family, as well as the highest-ranked officials, reside,” Emeline said, dutifully playing the role of tour guide, “Courtiers and other guests stay on the second floor. Typically only the nobility closest to the crown stays for long periods in the castle. That, or the ones who visit from other cities. Most courtiers prefer to reside in their own residences in the noble district, popping in for a few days at a time or simply taking a carriage back and forth.”

They turned a corner, and Emeline pointed to a heavily decorated set of doors along one wall. “Each floor has access to the Great Library, which takes up space on all four floors of the castle.”

Kindra gaped. “How many books are in there?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? Thousands? Millions? All I know is there’s a massive fireplace, huge windows, and the comfiest sofas. I spend most of the winter days curled up in there. ”

“That sounds nice,” Kindra sighed, and in the back of her mind, she felt the small joy of having something to look forward to.

They arrived at a large staircase and made their way down it, all the way to the ground floor. “The first floor holds the throne room, as well as the main kitchens, ballroom, dining room, parlors, and council rooms. There’s also access to the inner courtyards, and the catacombs.”

“Catacombs?”

Emeline nodded. “Yep. Miles of ‘em, stretched out beneath the castle and all of Wendrith. It’s where the Annalindis family is buried. And there are several escape routes that cut down through the cliff sides and out to sea as well.”

Escape routes. Kindra took that information and stored it away, though she had no idea how she’d navigate that labyrinth if she was desperately trying to flee the kingdom at the same time. Emeline gave her a pointed look. She knew exactly what she was telling her.

The ground floor of the castle was much more crowded than the higher levels. Down here, people had to part to make way for them, dipping their heads in acknowledgment as they did. Kindra heard some of their whispers: cursebreaker and savior were the words she could pick out most often. Neither made her feel very good.

I won’t be saving anybody but myself, she wanted to retort.

Emeline kept her voice low as they walked through the crowded hallways. “You’re basically royalty now, even though you’re not yet married, so you don’t have to acknowledge or entertain anyone or anything. They are obligated to do so with you, but that doesn’t mean they’ll always do it kindly. You’re not an Annalindis by blood, and you’re also not noble-born, so they can be as blatant about their dislike of you as they want, so long as they do it with a smile and a bow.”

As if on cue, a pair of almost identical young women gave Kindra a once-over, their pale silver eyes resting a beat too long on her face. As she and Emeline passed them, their sneers twisted into tight-lipped smiles, and they gave what could barely be considered a bow. The moment they thought they were out of earshot, their hisses— “Did you see her cosmetics?” and “So messy”—floated down the corridor.

Emeline clicked her tongue. “The Halis twins have never been known for their discretion or class, despite the station of their birth.” Her voice was louder than it needed to be and somewhere behind them came an enraged gasp.

Emeline flashed Kindra a satisfied smirk, and she laughed. “They’ll have to say much worse to get under my skin, anyway.”

Emeline’s smile faded, and she gave a beleaguered sigh. “And they will, once they figure that out.”

Kindra didn’t doubt that.

Finally, they came upon a large set of doors that opened up to the castle gardens. Kindra hadn’t seen them yet; her balcony overlooked the sprawling streets of Wendrith instead.

Even in the chilled grip of autumn, the gardens were still beautiful. Instead of lush greens, it was a sea of reds, oranges and yellows, many of the trees and bushes already shedding their leaves. Seating areas and benches were spread about, as well as an array of statues. At the center stood a huge fountain, sporting a depiction of Cyrie and her sister, Cylina, the goddess of the moon, locked in the heat of battle. Cyrie was carved out of white stone and gold, while the stone Cylina was crafted from was deep black with veins of silver. It was the first sign of a deity other than those worshipped by Firefuries.

Kindra paused as they walked by it, studying it further.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Emeline said, stopping as well.

“Yes,” Kindra replied, “though it’s an interesting part of the deities’ history to put on a giant fountain.”

“Is it really?” Emeline tilted her head. “The Day the Sky Split—when Cyrie and Cylina fought for who would rule the skies. And Cyrie came out on top, in the end. We spend more hours a day with the sun than in true darkness with the moon. Fitting, I think, to have it in the middle of the Annalindis family’s garden.”

“A reminder of Cyrie’s strength,” Kindra murmured. By extension, it was a reminder of the Annalindis’s strength as well.

“And of her mercy. Cyrie could have taken all the skies for herself, but didn’t, instead giving her sister almost half. Almost. Cyrie kept just a little bit more for herself, as a token of her victory, and a reminder to Cylina.”

“I always wondered what made her do that,” Kindra mused. “The books I read growing up never really said.”

Emeline shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure. Some say it was out of love for her sister. All siblings fight nastily, only to turn around and be best friends again the next day. Some historians believe this was a case of that. Except it wasn’t two mortal sisters; it was two goddesses who controlled aspects of our world, and their fights had major consequences, no matter how easily they were forgotten by the deities themselves. Others say it was because Cyrie recognized the important balance the world had through her and Cylina sharing the skies, and in the end she knew not to upset that.”

“Not upset it too much, at least.”

Emeline chuckled. “Right. Anyway, the mercy bit is ironic, considering I doubt this family has ever really shown it to any of their opponents.”

Kindra hummed. “Are there depictions of any other deities besides Cyrie and Scaldor on the castle grounds? A temple? Something that acknowledges them?”

“There’s only a fire temple here on the grounds, but that’s understandable. If you want to go see another elemental temple, you’d have to venture out into the city. There are loads of them in Wendrith. There are even some smaller temples for individual deities, not just ones dedicated to the element as a whole.” She gave Kindra a curious look. “Do you not worship Scaldor and Cyrie?”

“No, I do, at least I think so. But… Harthwin is an Earthwarden village. There was just an earth temple there, and it only had one priestess. The Healer didn’t even have an official House, just her cottage that she lived in and worked out of. My mother’s not a Wielder, so she just followed what the other non-Wielders did, which was worshipping the earth deities. I’ve never even been to a fire temple. I don’t really know what worshipping them actually means.”

Emeline gave a look that was too close to pity for comfort. “Well, we have another stop on the way to the training ground, then.”

The fire temple was, as expected, completely extravagant.

As Kindra made her way up the solid gold steps with Emeline, she thought about the shabby earth temple in Harthwin. It had been little more than rough-cut stone shrouded in green leafy vines, which remained bright and lush year-round thanks to the earth priestess’s magic. With all the Earthwardens there, they could’ve made it more extravagant, could have carved the stone to fine, smooth edges and sharp corners, could have engraved it with the legends of the deities.

But they chose not to. She’d asked her mother about it once when she was younger. Her mother had simply said that’s how they believed the earth deities would most prefer to be worshipped: with the focus not on elaborate presentation, but on the deeds they did in their names. So time was instead put into making sure the village always had a large enough harvest to make it through the winter or ensuring everyone had a solid roof over their heads.

Kindra took in the arched, golden ceilings of the temple. The walls were covered in detailed paintings and stained glass, all showing some moment of Scaldor and Cyrie’s history, and dotted with flaming sconces. The space was filled with worshippers. Fire priests and priestesses were also prevalent, some roaming around to talk with people, while others were seated, their eyes closed in meditation.

But to Kindra, the temple felt anything but holy.

She did not feel Scaldor or Cyrie here—and she was well-acquainted with both. She could feel Scaldor in her rage, her focus when she fought. She could feel Cyrie in her moments of calm when she admired her magic for its beauty instead of its brute power. Where Scaldor was burning flame, Cyrie was soothing warmth. They’d walked beside her for her whole life, had whispered in her ear for as long as she could remember.

But when she reached for them here, in this temple, she found herself grasping at nothing.

It was deeply unsettling. She did not worship the earth deities, but even she could sense them, in a way, at the earth temple in Harthwin, shoddy and run-down as it may have been.

“Pretty amazing first fire temple for you, right?” Emeline whispered. Kindra thought her voice held the tiniest note of sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Kindra replied, spinning in a circle to take it all in. She hoped Emeline thought the weak response was due to awe.

They stayed for a few more minutes, and Kindra was relieved when they finally left .

“What do you think?” Emeline asked as they walked. They were nearing the training grounds now; Kindra could see the large building stretching up just above the tree line, and they were passing more and more guards, donned in nerushmyr like Kindra.

“I think…” Kindra chose her words very carefully. “I think it’s a very… grand tribute to them. To Scaldor and Cyrie, I mean.”

Emeline raised an eyebrow. “Just say it, Kindra. I guarantee you I feel the same way.”

She shrugged. “They put all this wealth into this temple, thinking it would carry favor, when they could have used that gold to help people in need. It just seems like their priorities are skewed.” She paused, then added, “The deities have always cared more about what you do in their name for others than about what you build in tribute to them. At least, that’s what I was taught.”

The Wavebreaker hummed. “I was taught the same.” She clicked her tongue. “Must be a poor person thing.”

Kindra barked a laugh. “Not sure if it’s that or just simply not being born into a royal dynasty.”

Emeline scoffed. “You haven’t met most of the nobles here yet. After you do, you’ll realize it’s not just a royalty thing; it’s a wealthy thing. These people wouldn’t know true discomfort if it slapped them in the face. They’ve never gone hungry; they’ve never felt the fear of not having a roof over their head. Never had to worry about not having thick enough blankets to last through a cold winter night or access to clean water to drink or bathe. They don’t grow their own food; they don’t clean their own houses. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them had people around to wipe the shit from their asses for them.”

She said it all with a smirk on her face, but Kindra saw in her eyes how much she meant it. The anger was wrapped around every word.

“Even though you’re a princess now, you still feel it, don’t you?” Kindra asked.

“I do,” Emeline admitted. “In the way they look at me, the way they speak to me…”

They’d been so lost in conversation that neither of them had noticed they were right outside the training ground now. Kindra stared up at the large stone building. It was shaped like an arena, and she could hear the noise of sparring drifting out of the dozens of open windows and stone archways that decorated the structure.

“I’ve spent my whole life being looked at like some kind of wild creature,” Kindra confessed. “Harthwin made sure we were taken care of because of what I did, but the stares never changed. And when I was coming here, the way the guards—the way Heinrich—it was like that, but worse. I was brought here because of how amazing my abilities are, apparently, but even still, the looks don’t change.”

“But at least they call you cursebreaker at the same time, right?” Emeline joked, but her eyes were gentle, and Kindra knew she understood. If there was one person in this castle who would understand any of what Kindra was experiencing, it was her.

“Hate to think of what they’ll say when I fail to break any curses.”

“Well, I suppose we’d just better make sure you’re ready for whatever they’re going to throw at you, right?” Emeline squeezed her shoulder, then gestured to the training building. “After you.”