spell appeared in my mind.
The Prince’s windows faced west, and the view of the river suggested his quarters enjoyed a top-floor location. Behind my closed eyes, the vision faded, leaving me free to launch into the next song. This time I didn’t weave the Prince’s image into the song, but only the rebounded images of his living quarters. This would show me who else resided in the Prince’s suite.
The rebound came much quicker this time, probably because I’d already located the Prince. A face appeared, with a square jaw, deep-set eyes, and a shaved head. His shoulders looked like he was strong enough to pull a wagon. I recognized him as the Prince’s scribe; the crier at dinner.
His unsmiling face faded into another, this one tanned like leather and with black eyes filled with malice. The rebound brought the tang of magic with it, and because of that, I knew this man was also a magician.
The image winked away as quickly as it came. My shoulders shook with oncoming exhaustion, but I thought I had strength to sing one more spell.
This time, I wove a motivation charm into the song before sending it to the Prince. While I waited, my legs felt shaky and fire bursts popped in my peripheral vision, forming into the shapes of people. I closed my eyes to keep myself from trying to recognize them, knowing they weren’t real.
My breath left my body in a slow hiss, and I felt so, so tired. Finally, the magic I’d sung filtered back, with only a feeling, not a full-blown conversation as had happened in the past. People most often revealed their true reason for doing things to those closest to them.
But I was surprised to find the Prince didn’t have advisors who knew every detail of his life. Or even one trusted friend. He must have a true motivation for being here in Umon, for filling his compound with hundreds of girls—and I didn’t think it was to find a bride. The feeling I received from my spell-song ran deeper than that, maybe along the lines of proving himself. I also felt a strong tie to Nyth, which might indicate that his motivation was connected to his family. I knew he would feel no obligation to his people, for they feared royalty above all. Their kings had used magic against them for years, and those who stayed in Nyth were those who could not afford to leave. Or those who supported the harsh treatment of hardworking villagers.
This Prince held his motivations close, but I felt it had something to do with his father . . .
The vertigo returned in full force, and I moaned at the tightness radiating through my muscles, at the rising nausea. I would have to find out why Olive submitted my application another time.
I stumbled back to my room, those fiery shapes of people following me, and fell into bed.
#
I didn’t pry my eyes open until midmorning. Even then, I felt spent before I entered the courtyard, where I discovered I couldn’t see beyond the red-tiled roofs of the compound.
The outdoor area settled some of the disquiet raging inside me. I loved wide-open spaces and miles of greenery. The plant life in Umon differed from Iskadar, and the foliage here in the compound was different still. Leafy palms and whiskery ferns lined one wall of the courtyard. A breeze whispered down from above, and the storm from last night had blown itself out. The bleak sunshine that remained was enough to relieve some of my nerves.
I looked up from my place at the table as Helena joined me. “Echo, we need to begin preparations for your outing with His Majesty.”
“Outing?” The word caught in my throat, making it sound like, “Awwtghn?”
Helena simply dragged me inside and began ordering Greta and Lucia about what my makeup should look like, what color of silk I should wear, and how my hair should be pinned.
“Silliness, these appointments,” she breathed as she helped Greta. “As if the people here expect such formalities.” She pointed a pin at me. “He should be establishing his own protocols.
The Prince’s windows faced west, and the view of the river suggested his quarters enjoyed a top-floor location. Behind my closed eyes, the vision faded, leaving me free to launch into the next song. This time I didn’t weave the Prince’s image into the song, but only the rebounded images of his living quarters. This would show me who else resided in the Prince’s suite.
The rebound came much quicker this time, probably because I’d already located the Prince. A face appeared, with a square jaw, deep-set eyes, and a shaved head. His shoulders looked like he was strong enough to pull a wagon. I recognized him as the Prince’s scribe; the crier at dinner.
His unsmiling face faded into another, this one tanned like leather and with black eyes filled with malice. The rebound brought the tang of magic with it, and because of that, I knew this man was also a magician.
The image winked away as quickly as it came. My shoulders shook with oncoming exhaustion, but I thought I had strength to sing one more spell.
This time, I wove a motivation charm into the song before sending it to the Prince. While I waited, my legs felt shaky and fire bursts popped in my peripheral vision, forming into the shapes of people. I closed my eyes to keep myself from trying to recognize them, knowing they weren’t real.
My breath left my body in a slow hiss, and I felt so, so tired. Finally, the magic I’d sung filtered back, with only a feeling, not a full-blown conversation as had happened in the past. People most often revealed their true reason for doing things to those closest to them.
But I was surprised to find the Prince didn’t have advisors who knew every detail of his life. Or even one trusted friend. He must have a true motivation for being here in Umon, for filling his compound with hundreds of girls—and I didn’t think it was to find a bride. The feeling I received from my spell-song ran deeper than that, maybe along the lines of proving himself. I also felt a strong tie to Nyth, which might indicate that his motivation was connected to his family. I knew he would feel no obligation to his people, for they feared royalty above all. Their kings had used magic against them for years, and those who stayed in Nyth were those who could not afford to leave. Or those who supported the harsh treatment of hardworking villagers.
This Prince held his motivations close, but I felt it had something to do with his father . . .
The vertigo returned in full force, and I moaned at the tightness radiating through my muscles, at the rising nausea. I would have to find out why Olive submitted my application another time.
I stumbled back to my room, those fiery shapes of people following me, and fell into bed.
#
I didn’t pry my eyes open until midmorning. Even then, I felt spent before I entered the courtyard, where I discovered I couldn’t see beyond the red-tiled roofs of the compound.
The outdoor area settled some of the disquiet raging inside me. I loved wide-open spaces and miles of greenery. The plant life in Umon differed from Iskadar, and the foliage here in the compound was different still. Leafy palms and whiskery ferns lined one wall of the courtyard. A breeze whispered down from above, and the storm from last night had blown itself out. The bleak sunshine that remained was enough to relieve some of my nerves.
I looked up from my place at the table as Helena joined me. “Echo, we need to begin preparations for your outing with His Majesty.”
“Outing?” The word caught in my throat, making it sound like, “Awwtghn?”
Helena simply dragged me inside and began ordering Greta and Lucia about what my makeup should look like, what color of silk I should wear, and how my hair should be pinned.
“Silliness, these appointments,” she breathed as she helped Greta. “As if the people here expect such formalities.” She pointed a pin at me. “He should be establishing his own protocols.
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