Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Eighteen

Seated on a bench nearby, Leirie studied the two females taking turns at the target. Runa, her long coppery hair bound into a tightly braided crown, right above the high neckline of her black dress. And Nadia, the princess’s guard, who’d seemed surprised to see Leirie in her room this morning when she showed up to escort Runa for the day.

Leirie assumed Runa would want someone to talk to after what happened to the male last night, so she stopped by. She was wrong in that regard, but the princess let her come along to the garrison to “blow off steam.”

They had a decent enough time at dinner the night before, when Runa was starting to open up a little towards the end, speaking of everything she missed from home. Leirie was surprised to hear of the many celebrations and parties they hosted throughout the year. She had always been led to believe Calaechia was some gloomy wasteland, but by the way Runa spoke of it, it sounded like the opposite.

After dinner, on their way to Runa’s room, they spotted the male being carried out of the east wing. Most of his body was blanketed, but the shroud had slipped enough to see his eyes…

Neither of them said a word to each other, and when the princess made it into her room, she slammed the door before Leirie could even say good night.

Runa’s grunt was audible as she tossed the knife at the target before her, and it struck with such speed, Leirie would have questioned whether she was a transitioned fae or not. If she couldn’t smell the mortality on her, that is.

Leirie’s sense of smell had been off all day. Even from yards away, she could pick up on the subtle scents of the flowers, as if they were right under her nose. It was amazing, but it also had its cons. Like when they’d passed the infirmary on the way to the garrison. The air had been thick with what she imagined was the stench of infection.

And blood , she thought, her eyes fluttering with the memory. So much blood .

“Damn it,” the princess grumbled after her next throw.

Leirie frowned at that, thinking it was an excellent shot, right where the neck would be, had it been a real person.

“Grip it like this, girra .” Nadia flicked the blade around in her fingers, angling it so that the princess had a better view.

“I think I know how to hold a knife. I’ve been doing this since I was five. ” Runa hurled another, striking below the first spot.

Five? That was incredible. Fynn mentioned how they’d been trained at a young age with weaponry of all types. He never said how young though.

Leirie perked up in her seat. “I thought that was a great shot, Runa!” she cheered loudly.

In unison, their heads swiveled towards her.

Many of those training near their vicinity turned to look too. Some that were even in the middle of a duel.

Runa had given her permission to stop calling her by her title, since she thought it was obnoxious with Leirie being close in age, though she probably meant when there weren’t so many people around.

“Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly, tucking beneath the shawl as a breeze slipped past. Her reaction to the elements now was more out of habit than to actually protect her from the cold.

Runa snagged another blade from the pile on the nearest table. “Shouldn’t you be with my father and brother? I thought you were their designated guide on all things Thesia.”

Is that how Fynn saw her? Could she really blame him if he did? She was training as an ambassador. It was a position of diplomacy and professionalism, but all she could think about when she was around him was the way his dark eyes glittered when he smiled.

“Fynn said he had some stuff to take care of today.” He didn’t really say exactly what he had to take care of, though she guessed it was important, considering he was a prince.

Runa’s brows lifted as she readied the next blade, her lips cracking into a smile. “ Fynn , huh?”

Her mouth flopped open when she realized she’d done it again. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax. You can call him bastard for all I care,” Runa huffed, sending the next knife flying, only for it to strike right by the others. “ Stupid fucking— It’s this gods-damn dress. If I was in my leathers, I wouldn’t be missing these shots.”

Nadia only shook her head. “It’s not the dress. It’s your finger placement.”

As the two started arguing—something they did a lot of—Leirie peered past them, to where two males were making their way over.

One she immediately recognized as General Castmont. The other, though… it took her a bit longer to realize who he was, as it had been over a year since she’d seen him last. He still had the same shoulder length, strawberry-blond hair, though. The streaks of blond were a brighter hue from exposure to the sun, which he clearly got quite a bit of, because his skin was a nicely tanned complexion, just a few shades darker than the fair skin of his uncle beside him.

“Blaine?” Leirie called, her voice a mix between shock and amusement as she rose from the bench.

He grinned when their gazes locked, the bright blue of his Castmont eyes crinkling from a broadened, twinkling smile. “Leirie,” he returned cheerfully, crossing the distance between them in just a few steps—he’d gotten a bit taller since they last saw each other. And beneath the steel and leather of his attire, she could tell he put on more brawn. He still had those pretty angles to his face as he did at nineteen, despite the gained muscle.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he drew closer. Leirie choked on a squeal when she was hoisted from the ground and into the tight squeeze of his arms.

“Training,” he said into her hair before plopping her back onto solid stone.

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly realized how inappropriate that probably was. They’d known each other since they were kids, but they weren’t kids anymore.

“I thought you weren’t coming until the Solstice?” At least that’s what she’d heard from Suri, who heard it from Galen.

“Kian has his hands full with all the new recruits, so he sent me to train here instead. Pretty sure he was just sick of me, though.” Blaine tapped the side of her arm. “What about you? I thought you’d be in Cillica by now.”

Runa peered over at her, her brows furrowing with question. “You’re leaving?”

As if he’d just noticed her for the first time, Blaine turned to face the princess.

Leirie nodded, fidgeting with the fabric of her shawl. She didn’t like talking about it. Really, her move to Cillica was meant to be kept quiet, but with General Castmont heading the security for their travels, she guessed that’s how Blaine learned of it. “I’m leaving next week.”

Noticing the unfamiliarity between the three of them, General Castmont spoke up. “Apologies. Princess Runa, this is my nephew, Blaine.” He nodded at Blaine, who maintained a keen glare on the princess, though he didn’t utter a word. “ Blaine ,” came a gruff warning, like he was a toddler who forgot to use his manners.

Heeding his uncle’s shrouded reprimand, Blaine dipped his head in Runa’s direction—not even close to a bow. “Princess,” he muttered.

Soon after, his eyes slid over to Nadia, a goading tilt to his lips. “ Nadia ,” he droned. “How goes my cousin?”

Apart from the crack of her knuckles, Nadia remained completely expressionless as she replied with, “Ask him yourself, little lord.”

Runa snorted a laugh, biting the bottom of her lip to mask her grin.

Blaine hadn’t been permitted to join the Court of the Sun yet, so he wasn’t a lord, or even a knight, like his cousin, Galen. But his brother Kian was a lord, though he spent most of his time at Castmont Keep, maintaining the soldiers there. It functioned similarly to how the garrison did in the palace, only a little smaller.

General Castmont cleared his throat. “Right, well, I only came by to let you know, Princess—” he turned to Runa then, his motions a little rigid, “—it seems your father feels he is remiss, having been so busy with the duties of his king, that he hasn’t had any time for you. He wishes for you to receive training, much like you did in Calaechia.”

She scoffed, curling her arms over her chest. “My father said that?”

“You and Blaine will train alongside one another, under Nadia’s instruction. If you have any objections, I can find you another instructor, though you won’t find one half as skilled as Nadia.” General Castmont spoke the words with such pride, Leirie would think Nadia was just as much his blood as Dahlia. She’d served in his armies long before Dahlia was even born, so it only made sense for him to think of her as a daughter.

Runa glanced down at her nails, simply shrugging her approval. “If you say so.”

“Very well. Starting tomorrow morning, both of you will be under Nadia’s guidance. You will do whatever is asked of you.” That last part seemed to be aimed at Blaine, who shifted angrily on his feet.

A thunderous crash of what sounded like shattering glass bounced around them, echoing off the towering surfaces of the garrison. They all turned towards the direction of the sound, though the walls of the private training grounds blocked most of their view, and the inner lining of trees shrouded the rest of it.

Blaine’s features lit up as he seemed to search desperately for a space between the trees that would allow him a view. “Do you think that was Suri?” he questioned eagerly, a flicker of awe in his eyes—and something else.

Leirie swatted at his chest. It didn’t take a genius to know what that look was.

He only grinned, nudging back at her with his arm. “We’ll have to catch up later. All three of us. Like old times.”

Leirie let out a dry laugh. “Good luck getting Suri in a room with you .”

Besides the fact that Suri and Blaine’s last interaction was of a violent nature—something he absolutely deserved—after Leirie’s screw-up yesterday with her father, she was ordered to be in her room no later than sunset tonight. She deserved as much.

“Blaine,” General Castmont called from behind them, gesturing for his nephew to follow.

With a wink, Blaine was off, matching Runa’s glare before bounding ahead to catch up to his uncle.

“You’re friends with that male?” Runa jerked her chin in his direction.

Her lips flattened into a thin line. “What? He’s sweet when you get to know him.” Leirie wouldn’t pretend Blaine wasn’t a huge flirt, but that had never been a problem for her, since she preferred a male who had eyes for only one. Blaine was not that kind of male, and Suri had found that out the hard way.

Expertly twirling a blade between her fingers, Runa stopped it mid-spiral, jerking the tip of the blade in Blaine’s direction. “I know his type. If you think he’s sweet, then I must be a saint in your eyes.”

“Not particularly,” Leirie grumbled, a wave of heat washing her blood when she remembered who she was talking to.

To her surprise, Runa actually laughed, and not like her usual ridiculing laughs, but a real one. Even Nadia paused to take in the sound. “I knew you could be fun, if you’d stop trying so hard to be daddy’s little girl.”

Leirie rolled her eyes at that, returning to her seat. When the actual sound of thunder rolled in, she squinted at the sky, which had shifted from a cool, autumn blue to a murky gray.

Rain wasn’t expected for at least three more days. Her stare returned to the ground, where she happened to notice Suri, practically being dragged inside the palace by King Ezra.

What was the king doing out in the middle of the day? He only ever did that when there were mortals of high importance visiting. Maybe Leirie had been too quick to dismiss the rumors sweeping through the palace, thinking Suri would have mentioned something as unbelievable as a dalliance with Ezra Nightwood.

By the time they made it into the palace, the two fae had already picked back up where they left off, bickering about Runa’s finger placement on the blades. That was followed by multiple curses in Phaetrian that Runa was oblivious to.

With every rush of wind that thrashed by them for the remainder of their time outside, Leirie learned to hold her breath, so as to not catch the scent of the mortals training nearby. But the sound of their heartbeats in her ears was as clear as her own pulse.

Now, next week couldn’t come soon enough.

◆◆◆

A shudder coursed Surina’s body as a whisk of air whipped her loosened hair against her cheeks. With the crackling ice beneath her boots, she had to agree with Moira, the freezing water below was a fantastic motivator not to fail.

Moira, likely feeling sorry for Surina after the last few days, decided to work on her water affinity. With it being her favorite, she thought it would be an easy day of training. Here she was, though, in the middle of an icy pond. In autumn.

Standing gracefully beside her, Moira was perched on an ice slab of her own, observing every movement.

“Now, step forward without using your hands. You do not need them. It is all your will . Make it so.” Her instructor moved in steady glides, steps turning to ice beneath her ivory robes as she circled Surina from a distance, raven hair unbound. The shocking white strand glittered in rays of the shining sun.

Just ahead, lingering at the edge of the pond, Ezra anxiously paced along the bank. Did he think she would plummet into the water? Thanks for the vote of confidence , she mused, rolling her shoulders to shrug off the obvious lack of faith.

Slowly, Surina breathed in, fishing for the tethers of the water surrounding her while sending a quick prayer to the God of Chance, Tyroch. She thought of the movement of the water, the way it rippled at the surface with the careening winds. She connected with its energy, using her will to command it, and when she stepped from the slab—

Her foot landed on solid ice, the step crunching and sending a thinner glaze of slush around her weight. Now, her other foot. She held her breath once more, this time out of her own lack of faith, as she was about to leave the security of the massive block at the center.

Stepping from the glacier, her lungs expelled all that internal doubt the moment she met a plane of ice. Surina wobbled initially, the bobbing of the floating platforms sending her a little off balance, but all she had to do was put more energy into its hold, making the surface spread wide.

“Very good.” Moira strolled across the water, her hands clasped behind her back as she moved within Surina’s vision.

Show off , she thought.

“Another,” her instructor asked of her.

So she took two steps instead of the one requested. In her hubris, she wagged her brows at Moira—a mistake, in hindsight.

“Well done.” Moira lifted her chin to Surina’s show of arrogance. “Can you do the same under pressure though?” she questioned dryly.

A shattering rupture from behind them almost threw her off. Surina had to step forward just to save herself from falling into the depths below. “What the hell?”

When Surina turned around, the surface she’d been standing on only moments ago was growing, morphing into something larger. A massive glacier formation fractured into chunks as it spread across the pond—heading right for her.

When Surina whipped her head back around, Moira simply nodded in the direction of the bank, towards Ezra.

Without looking back, Surina stepped forward once, twice—at this rate, she wouldn’t make it in time.

Another shift from the middle sent a powerful ripple across the water’s surface, knocking her to her knees. A sharp pain snapped up her thighs from the impact, and that really fucking hurt. Gritting her teeth, Surina wobbled back to her toes, not wanting to wait around for another wave like that.

One last inhale and she was off, sprinting across the pond, her focus molding the water to hold her up. The closer she got, though, the more unsure her steps became. Whether it was from the pending doom, or the fretful movements from the king along the water’s edge, every surface grew more and more fragile.

Surina was maybe twenty yards from land when she tripped on the slush of one of her failed attempts. Throwing her hands out to catch herself, her palms smacked into an icy fissure of her own magic, and it was just enough to keep her over water.

When she looked back at Moira’s conjured hell, it was too late for Surina to move.

But when it rose above her head—barreling down towards her—a column of impenetrable ice collided with it, right before her eyes.

She finally exhaled, the cold turning her breath into a puff of fog, and tiny crystalline flurries swirled into her hair, stinging her flesh. Sprawled along the frozen layer, her skin burned against the seething frost.

Powerful hands grabbed around her shoulders, hoisting her up. Ezra spun her around to face him, nostrils flaring as he scanned her body for injury. “Are you hurt?” Worry furrowed his brows when he brought her palm up between them. “You’re bleeding,” he snarled.

Blood dripped from the pad of her hand, sliding down to soak the fabric of her blouse. She hadn’t even felt the skin open up.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she hissed through the pain, tearing her hand away. Starting to unwind from the sudden burst of adrenaline, the bitterness in her voice wavered.

It was Ezra who had formed the barrier to block Moira’s magic—not that she would have actually hurt her.

“Was that necessary?” Ezra called to her instructor, who was now making her way around the glacial mountain.

Moira only waved him off. “The princess needs to face the consequences of failure. It will only humble her, bring her closer to her gifts. She wasn’t in any danger.”

“She didn’t know that,” he barked back.

Surina rolled her eyes as she turned from the bickering, carefully making her way across the frozen bridge Ezra had crafted to get to her. With her legs shaking through every step, she made for the stone table nearby, needing to sit before they decided to give out. She had to agree with Ezra, though, she’d been pretty damned scared. And Surina knew she shouldn’t take it out on him, but she’d be lying if she said Cyril’s words hadn’t gotten to her earlier.

“There’s bandages in the satchel, Surina.” Moira spoke from the pond, immediately returning to her heated debate with Ezra.

Surina reached into the satchel, something poking her as soon as her fingers grazed the inside lining. From the bag, she pulled out the little twig she’d failed to ignite on multiple occasions.

Even with water, her strongest affinity, she couldn’t get it right, so did anyone really expect her to find her affinity for flame before her Awakening?

Lifting the opposite palm, she glared into the pink scar. One failure after another, and it always seemed to bring her back to that same fucking night.

A phantom chill skittered across her skin then, and it wasn’t from the autumn breeze.

Show them how strong you really are, my moonflower , it spoke into her thoughts.

That stirred more hushed whispers, and they dragged against her mind, desperate to be freed. This time, she didn’t shy from that feeling, nor did she ask the voice to leave her alone. It had been there that night too. If not for that voice, the dragon wouldn’t have even had a chance at her, because she would have been dead before it showed its wretched face.

A sudden pool of energy gathered around her, ushering in a new wave of goosebumps. Power passed through her, and she shuddered against the static tickling her flesh—the tethers to the elements tangling her in their endless webs.

Just a spark , she thought, commanding her will into the twig that was now covered in her own blood.

You need more than that , the silent voice commanded, guiding Surina through her power.

“Surina,” Ezra whispered.

Or she thought it was a whisper, until she opened her eyes to him clutching either side of her shoulders, like earlier, voicing some heated demand. She barely heard his voice, though… barely felt his touch. It was like he was some fading ghost—maybe she was the one fading.

Air swirled around them, ripping her hair free from its braid. A pulse at her chest rumbled and whirred, like a ringing choir in her ears—or perhaps it was the whistling winds. Hot fear struck her blood, and the realization that her magic was losing control hit.

She tried to shut it off. Tried to break the tethers, but that voice wouldn’t let her.

Don’t be afraid of it. It belongs to you, and for you, it will bend . Its empty words nudged her right back in.

Moira had said something similar, that the divines had given Surina the authority in her blood, and it was up to her to command it.

Listening to that haunting voice, she closed herself off to the sight of Ezra.

The strands of the elements stretched all around her again, their tethers forming little pictures in her head. Like a drop of water in an endless pond. The earth taking shape as a solid slab of marble beneath her feet. It was stability…strength. Something she could always lean on.

Then, a feather, swirling and pirouetting in a gentle rhythm of air. She shrugged past each tether, one by one, until… a touch of warmth entered her thoughts in the form of a rising sun. It was faint, but after four years of searching, it was there , so she reached for it, only for it to recoil from her grasp.

Surina drew from the memories of the garden. Having been the last time she connected with fire, she hoped it would be her pathway back. Those memories dragged her under to the darkest moment of her life, and how helpless she’d been against the fae. The molten energy she used to summon fire and save herself. The waves of flame toppling over her— consuming her. And the scorching eyes of the beast, not just from her memories, but from her dreams too.

Ignite damn it! she screamed in her mind.

In seconds, everything slipped away—the winds, the static pressure churning against her flesh, and that curious trail of warmth which danced just out of reach. All of it, gone. Then there was nothing.

She gasped as sound funneled back into her ears, pounding against her eardrums in a sudden shockwave. All the pain from earlier returned, the gash at her palm and the twig she clung to digging into the open wound. Her knees buckled, but Ezra caught her, carefully setting her on the ground.

Kneeling beside her, the king frantically swept hair from her face as he searched for any trace of pain in her features or along her body. “Say something, Surina. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m…” Glancing down at the throbbing in her hand, tears of frustration swelled in her eyes. The twig looked just as before. No scorch marks or embers to indicate flame had touched it.

She chucked the stick at the ground in her fury, and through the blur of her tears, she saw what she’d actually done.

In a large circle from where she knelt, the grass wasn’t the lush, lively green that the enchantments magically permitted. Now, it was a blackened shroud of decay. And the twig—it started to creak and pop, twisting into a slimmed figurine.

Her gasp had Ezra spinning, ready to stop whatever threat she saw.

Moira raced past them, reaching down to grab the shifting stick, and when they all stood from the ground, resting in her palm was some form of sprig creature.

“What is that ?” Surina practically shoved Ezra out of the way to gawk at the thing.

It had dainty brown limbs flecked with tiny leaves, and a face—it had a face . Like a person, with little pointed ears. And its eyes… sparkling bright orbs of green that peered up at Surina, similar to a dragon’s irises, which contained their element within. Only there were no pupils in the vivid stare of the creature before her.

She sucked in air when it moved , wobbling while it rose to its two feet. It stretched a wooden limb towards her, so she did the same, in her bewilderment. “How did I do—” Her index finger was maybe an inch from its little hand when Moira pulled it away, cupping it between her palms.

“Listen to me very carefully, Surina. Ezra will take you inside, and you mustn’t utter a single word about what just happened, do you understand? Not to anyone . Not even to Lady Windspire.”

Still trying to catch glimpses of it as it attempted to wriggle between her instructor’s fingers, Surina tilted her head to get a better look.

“Surina!” Moira snapped, grabbing all of her attention.

When she met Moira’s eyes, they were raging waves of blue, slitted pupils in the center shifting as she awaited Surina’s agreement.

“I don’t even know what happened. How could I ever explain this to anyone? Is it alive?”

It had to be; she saw it move. They all did.

Heavy fabric plopped onto her shoulders and was quickly clasped at her neck. Ezra’s stare followed her with a quiet uncertainty as if, at any moment, she could return to that earlier state.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked softly.

Moira crept around them, rifling through her satchel to grab the glass used to hold water from their last lesson. Placing the creature into the makeshift container, the healer wrapped bandages over the opening, shoving it into her satchel before sharing a look with Ezra.

Something silent was spoken between them before Moira opened her mouth to say, “We’ll meet in the apothecary at dusk. I’ll have more information for you by then.”

They made it sound like this was some sinister gathering. The thing was barely the length of her hand, how threatening was the situation really?

“What’s going on?”

“Let’s get inside,” Ezra murmured into her ear, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to usher her towards the keep. He was lucky she was basically in shock, not having it in her to fight right now.

The chilling aura of that voice grew stronger then, like it was lurking within her very soul—and while it didn’t say anything this time, she could sense its delight. A weighted shroud of excitement dripping with anticipation.

Beneath her cloak, her palm warmed to life the same moment a gentle wind coasted along the back of her neck. Those two sensations in unison swept away the goosebumps of her flesh, shielding her from the numbing claws of that frigid phantom.

While there was relief initially, she wasn’t so sure she wanted it to leave. Really, she wanted answers, and that voice seemed to be the only one willing to give her what she wanted.