Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Two

“Now show me…a dove.” Moira roved the cobbled training grounds, where Surina and Leirie stood in the center of the wide circle. Their instructor’s glowing blue eyes studied each of their weary movements. The silken fabric of her muted gray robes billowed atop the stone, giving her the appearance of a drifting spirit.

Surina pouted, not daring to complain aloud about the difficulty of such a task. Moira would find ways to make it worse, like she had upon them arriving late this morning.

Sweat trickled past her furrowed brows and along her cheeks as Surina glanced between the massive blob of water she held over her friend’s equally worried face. The two of them had been hovering water for more than an hour now, and Surina was well past fatigued.

Stilling her target with one hand, she used the other to carefully mold and twist the sphere into the requested shape, until...

Perfect .

“A dove, princess,” the raven-haired female stated flatly, changing her course to head straight for the middle of the ring, eyeing Surina’s creation. With warm, tawny fingers clasped behind her back in a tempered show of indifference, she frowned. “That looks like a mouse.”

“Close enough,” Surina mumbled, but a sheepish grin replaced that defiance when Moira’s head snapped in her direction, the slits of her pupils sending a wash of dread through Surina. Not because Surina was afraid of her, but because that meant additional training was sure to follow.

Apart from her instructor’s water magic, and the slitted pupils shrouded in glowing waves of blue, Moira never manifested any of her shifting abilities. She was a water dragon, appointed as the court healer of the palace, though somehow she’d gotten stuck as Surina’s affinity trainer along the way. As the only dragon within the palace—and all of Thesia, most likely—many stayed clear of her. Which is why Galen always seemed to stand as far away from the training circle as possible, but not too far that Surina was out of sight.

“ Close enough is not good enough ,” Moira began, nodding for the two of them to release their tethered hold of the element, allowing their instructor to take control before the water could crash over their heads. She didn’t even have to lift a finger to do so.

Grabbing hold with only her mind, the two spheres blended into one.

“Master the intricacies of your affinities, and you will gain dominion over your magic. Then, you can impose your will on the elements around you. Relying on physical conduits, like your hands or a staff, will only limit your true potential.”

While Surina wasn’t called out directly, she knew Moira’s patience with her magic had been wearing thin as of late, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Moira had been in over her head when taking her as a pupil.

Most Thesians with an aptitude for magic were brought to the White Keep at a young age, to train within the garrison—though it was typically a way to ensure they were seen, and could then be matched for marriage, usually to someone of higher birth, or even nobility, as magic was just as desired as status or titles. One affinity was an honor, and two was almost unheard of, but four …

Moira insisted on training Surina herself, far from the eyes of the public. Cyril agreed, unsurprisingly, wanting to keep her gifts a secret from others—apart from those closest to them. It took an entire year of convincing Cyril to let Leirie join the private lessons.

After seconds of them gawking at the shifting blob, it eventually split into smaller pieces, dozens of shimmering orbs catching the light from the afternoon sun. Upon closer inspection, they furled little sets of wings, until the remainder of the spheres shaped into completed birds—doves.

Impressed by that alone, their mouths spread wide when every flitting bird froze over in a layer of crunching ice, then shattering into puffs of glinting crystals.

“Beautiful,” Leirie whispered, smiling when the cool flurries stirred between them, until they were swept away with the next brisk gust of wind.

“Lady Windspire, you may take a break by the water,” Moira offered from over her shoulder, already heading towards the curve of the training grounds, to where a leather satchel awaited on the earth.

With a hum of approval, Leirie’s mouth curled down into an apologetic frown when she glanced at Surina, though she practically skipped away from whatever torture was about to ensue.

“Come.” The healer nudged her chin in the direction of an empty field of grass, tossing the satchel over her shoulder when Surina quietly slipped in place beside her.

From the corner of her vision, Surina tried to get a reading on her instructor, but Moira was incredibly skilled at keeping her features impassive. Even her eyes held the same neutrality, along with however many years of wisdom went beyond her false appearance of youth.

Surina wasn’t brave enough to ask how old the dragon was, but based on her elemental prowess, it had to be centuries. The only time she saw some semblance of emotion was when she spoke rarely of her sister—a storm dragon, who left quite the lasting impression. Literally. Twined into her instructor’s lengthy braid was a broad strip of ivory that stood stark against the jet-black strands. A much-needed lesson , Moira said she’d received from her sister when she was young and arrogant.

Stopping before the wide field of plush green grass, Moira dumped the contents of the satchel before them: a twig, a sealed jar with a clear liquid sloshing about, a feather, and a rock.

The instructor meticulously placed each item in an orderly row before stepping back to allow a view. “For the ceremony of your Awakening, though yours will be a private affair, you will offer a display of your skill before the crowns of Thesia, as well as the temple priests. Regardless of how many affinities the divines have blessed you with, you will exhibit all . Collectively.”

The Awakening—an annual celebration set on the night of the Solstice to welcome newly changed fae into immortal society. It was also a way to show that they were of marrying age. Fae weren’t permitted to wed until they completed the change in its entirety, though that didn’t stop males from targeting their future brides early on—ones who could give them the strongest brood.

Surina should be grateful her brother insisted on so much privacy, keeping her from being put on display like that, but it was unusual for a girl nearing her transition to not have one or more serious suitors.

Understanding what Moira was beating around the bush to say, Surina began.

Hoping to start off strong, she kept her hands at her sides, and reached for her favorite element first—water, from her Fairlight blood. Her father’s affinity.

Only recently being able to use her will , she still needed immense concentration. Surina visualized the push and pull of the tides she’d read about in books and dreamt of after Leirie’s talks of home. It didn’t take long before the water began to push and pull against the sides of the jar, rising into the air like a silken serpent.

Surina gave herself a few seconds to relish the moment, though Moira only nodded her approval, as was typical. Keeping the water in her hold, she lifted a hand, stirring the air around the plush feather, and it swept into a swirling gust of wind.

With her free hand, she fumbled with the rock initially, only lifting it a few inches before the tether slipped.

“Put it into your command,” Moira stated flatly, clasping her fingers together—the most she would let her irritation show. “The divines have given you the authority in your blood, but it is up to you to command it.”

Gritting her teeth, Surina did just that. Rather than attempt to lift it outright, she welcomed the security of the element, the stability , and she clung to it, hoisting the rock onto a path of orbit around her body.

“Well done.” Moira almost sounded pleased , which was not an easy feat. “Now, the flame,” the healer said casually, as if the last time Surina had summoned fire hadn’t been four years ago.

Surina glanced between the twig and the elements collecting around her, internally rolling her eyes as Moira’s earlier words about limitations caught up. She now had no free hands, and her “will” was rather preoccupied.

What would Moira even know of controlling more than one affinity at a time? Was it even possible? There wasn’t a book tracking lineage in regard to affinities, but Surina would bet tonight’s dessert that there wasn’t a single fae on either side of her family who had more than two.

A gift from the divines, to the Fairlight descendants, reviving lost magic in our blood , Cyril insisted each time she inquired of its origins.

Regardless of the reason, Surina didn’t see a need to control all four at once, yet here she was—glaring at a gods-damn twig, fighting desperately for what she could recall of her fire magic, blindly searching for something warm or summery, or— gods , she didn’t know! If it wasn’t emptiness she found when reaching for the affinity, it was the infernal eyes of the beast who’d marked her, igniting the memories of that night all over again.

A familiar, gentle breeze swept past her skin, soothing the chaotic battle within, and for a moment, her frantic heart stilled—until a creeping chill of a call spoke into her thoughts, silencing the benevolent breeze.

You’re stronger than that, my moonflower.

Accompanying that voiceless hush were chilled nails dragging across her flesh, like a seething phantom was passing through her, rousing the shaded parts of her mind.

Moonflower—it was an eerie pet name the voices had for her. While she was certain she’d conjured them as some form of coping mechanism to survive both the blood-crazed fae and a fire dragon, the voices hadn’t ceased afterward. She’d long since given up trying to block them out.

There were two, she deduced, and neither sounded different than the other, but she knew they weren’t the same. Where one was gentle, with guiding winds of reassurance, the other spoke of her power. It was commanding. Final.

“ Surina .” An actual voice spoke aloud, tinged with alarm, tearing her from the muted fog of her mind.

She gasped, noting the shifting temperaments of the elements around her. The rock had been reduced to bits of sediment, whipping against her flesh as it coasted the snapping winds she’d let rise into a torrent of air. As she released her magic’s hold, a soft thud next to her foot had her twisting to find a jagged sliver of ice. She’d frozen the water in her dazed state—had done all of this , but still no flame?

Moira, who had been the one to break the... whatever that was, cautiously approached her while keeping her words low. Her eyes scanned the interior of the walled training grounds. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I…” Surina started, but her words quickly trailed off the more her mind worked to process the frenzied storm of elements.

What had happened? Was she alright? It was almost like she’d stepped out of her own body for a moment, and her magic assumed control on its own, pressing against the corners of her mind—similar to the events in the garden, before she engulfed the tree in flame.

With a shaky breath, all she could manage was a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just a little drained.”

Moira didn’t seem to believe her, and she folded her arms over her chest, her thin pupils fluctuating when she asked, “Still having nightmares?”

Nodding, Surina crossed her arms, too, but more out of anxiousness as she reached to twine the silver chain of her necklace around a finger until Moira put an end to the empty silence.

“That’s enough for today,” the instructor decided, and with that dismissal, Moira began to collect what items remained of the test. Like that stupid twig, untouched by flame.

“But I didn’t really get to attempt my fire aff—”

“We will try again tomorrow,” Moira interrupted, clasping the satchel closed and hauling it over her shoulder. “Besides, I believe you’re to welcome our esteemed guests this evening. Wouldn’t want to be late to that .”

Surina might be misreading, but it seemed like the healer was trying to be funny. “What a scandal that would be,” she only half joked, rolling her eyes. “Do you think Lucius would blame the tardiness on my Thesian upbringing or my female blood?”

The last time the Blackwells visited, there was no end to Lucius’s criticism of females in Thesia, and their lack of propriety and sense of duty. In Calaechia, females were meant to be obedient and meek, expected to produce children until the end of their days. It was part of the reason why Cyril allowed the twins to visit. He felt sorry for their mother, Prilla, who was once a close friend to Surina and Cyril’s mom, before Prilla left Thesia to marry Lucius Blackwell—only the divines knew why.

Moira blew air from her nostrils—a laugh, Surina guessed. “Either way, you will be here tomorrow, on time , or it’ll be rocks you’re holding over your head.”

Chuckling, Surina nodded her compliance, offering a quick farewell before making her way over to Leirie, who was lying by the large pond off to the side of the grounds, muttering in a different language to a flower that must have offended her somehow. Based on the way her finger jabbed into the closed bud, it looked like it was receiving quite the lecture.

“What did that flower ever do to you?” Surina slid in beside her friend, huffing out a sigh as she plopped onto her stomach.

Leirie gave up on the flower, balling the hand she used to poke the flora into a fist to rest her chin on. “Done so soon? I thought Moira would make you suffer a little more than that.”

She looked as tired as Surina felt, even more so now that her magic had run rampant. “I guess she thought tonight would be suffering enough.”

The girls laughed in unison, their eyes finding where Galen offered an incredibly awkward bow to Moira, who didn’t even seem to notice him as she drifted right past.

“Do you think he’s always that weird around females?” Leirie whispered so the male wouldn’t hear from where he stood across the grounds.

“I think Galen is Galen,” Surina concluded, not wanting to discuss any possibility of him having a romantic life outside of his knightly duties. Not that she didn’t think he was handsome, he’s just been her guard for as long as she could remember and had grown to fill somewhat of a brotherly roll—an annoying one at that. Always breathing down her neck, tattling to Cyril every time Surina was even a little bit out of line.

As if he could sense their stares, Galen turned to find the two of them lounging in the grass, and he tossed his arms out as if to say, Well? What are you waiting on?

With a groan, Surina rolled onto her back, searching deep for the strength to lift herself up—though the chill of autumn cooling the sweat in her clothes was starting to be motivation enough.

“So what dress are you wearing tonight?” Leirie grunted as she was the first to climb to her feet.

“Uhhh,” was all that dumped from her mouth. How could she have picked out a dress if she hadn’t even remembered the Blackwells were coming in the first place?

Folding her arms, Leirie glowered as Surina shuffled up from the ground. “You haven’t picked out a dress yet?”

“ Help me? ” Surina pouted. “You know my sense of fashion is dreadful.” Scrunching her face, she pretended to be in immense pain while hopelessly awaiting Leirie’s response.

Leirie rolled her eyes, but a grin spread from ear to ear. “It is dreadful. I’ll help, but only if you let me borrow a bracelet. You have the perfect one for the dress I want to wear.”

“Deal!” Surina quickly agreed—she never wore any of her jewelry anyway, apart from her crescent necklace, and since jewelry was all she ever received when those visiting the Court of the Sun brought gifts as a show of respect, there were piles of unused treasures in her room.

Humans from the north seemed to be the only ones who brought anything interesting—extraordinary trinkets and baubles that their kind crafted using purely science. Though if Surina didn’t know any better, she’d think it was magic. There was even one traveling merchant who’d noted her love of books and left behind handwritten journals of his own adventures throughout the continent of Orlanthe—she prayed he made it back to the home he so lovingly wrote of.

Together, Surina and Leirie made their way over to Galen, her friend humming as she spoke of the many options for her attire tonight, but Surina gradually grew silent. Feeling the return of the frigid drag of ghostly claws down her back, a rush of goosebumps blossomed.

It was unusual for the strange auras of her voices to materialize without Surina doing anything to provoke them—and it was even more unusual for the sensations to linger.

Yet, the chill followed her out, even as she snapped her head around, thinking there would be someone there, watching.

There was no one. Only the unsettling vacancy of the training grounds.