Page 63 of Ruby & Onyx

How could there be prisoners trapped beneath my feet? I can’t begin to comprehend the misery of being deprived of sunlight, much less being the test subject of a power-hungry magician. There’s a darkness to Sir Magis that I hadn’t seen until now. It’s wily and mischievous, greedy and ambitious. A terrible combination.

I hesitantly ask, “What makes a prisoner unlucky enough to be sentenced there?”

The word ‘unlucky’ seems like an understatement.

“The souls captured here are those that are better kept… silent.” He clips the last word, and I’m afraid to know what it could imply. “But the king allows me to use them occasionally as test subjects.”

The bile rising up my throat threatens to overcome me as I spit out the words, “Test subjects? People, you mean? People with families and friends, histories and futures.”

“Yes, people. Have you never contemplated how new spells are created?” A wicked gleam sparks in his eyes, smoldering, and suddenly I don’t want to know more. He continues despite my silence, “We are revolutionizing magic.”

“But at what cost?” I wince as gruesome possibilities flash in my mind.

He’s stoic and unflinching, utterly terrifying. “Everything has a cost, Radya. Invention requires sacrifice.”

A sacrifice that he, himself, does not seem inclined to make, I want to add. But I suck that thought back inside.

“Do you know what happens when we don’t use test subjects?” He tilts his head, waiting only a second for an answer, before continuing, “Did you notice the glow that affects Their Majesties?”

“Yes, but…” I assumed that all royals had glowing skin, having never met any others, but now that seems like a stupid assumption. Why would anyone’s skin naturally glow?

“They’re obsessed with immortality – they begged me for it. They refused to accept that I am not a god, nor can I grant eternal life. But they were persistent. They’d seen my innovation - my ability to achieve magical feats believed to be nearly impossible. So, I did as they asked. I formulated a spell that would grant immortality… or so I thought. But they refused to allow me to test the spell on others first, fearing that someone else might live eternally. The spell failed, and now they are stuck with the radiance,” he explains. “Of course, a little glowing skin isn’t the worst consequence to suffer.”

“What magical feats did you accomplish that made them accept such a risk?” I ask, though every question feels like inching toward the edge of a cliff.

His lips spread into a smile so frightening that I stumble back a step. “That is a story for another time.”

A trace of fear skitters over my spine, and I decide to drop the question. I hope I never hear that story, or whatever it is that evoked that horrifying grin. Fumbling for words that seem reluctant to come forth, I ask, “What other experiments have failed?”

“What happens in that chamber is between me and the subjects.”

“What sort of consequences have these subjects faced?” My voice is rising with every hammering question, and I’m growing increasingly irritated.

“That is none of your concern,” he snaps with a fraying temper. Then, as a half-minded aside, he adds, “Though, Mr. Alexander sure is chatty if you ever happen across him. Regardless, I will be running the experiment to test your spell tomorrow, unless you prefer to test it yourself?”

If I object to the trial, then I could potentially face irreparable bodily damage…or worse. But if I agree…then somebody else might bear that fate in my place. No, I can’t agree to subject anyone else to testing. If anything were to happen to an innocent person, then I would never be able to live with myself. Though fear may hold me tight in its grasp, I will not succumb to cruelty.

My mind is made. “No trials.”

He raises an eyebrow like he can’t fathom my choice. “If you wish, but I cannot be held responsible for any unfortunate outcomes.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

* * *

Gemma returned to the palace that evening with the best news of the day, not that the bar was very high. “Guylita agreed to come to the ball,” she whispers as soon as Viola is out of earshot.

“That’s great!” I can hardly contain my squeals of excitement but force it down for Viola’s sake. Keeping her in the dark is for her own safety. “Did she give any indication that she knows of the prophecy?”

“She remained vague but hinted that she might be able to help. She’s a finicky woman, Guylita. She jumped every time the wind whistled. I’m somewhat surprised she agreed, to be honest.” Her wings flutter nervously behind her.

“Gem, I’ll never be able to repay you. Thank you.” I grab her hand and squeeze it.

Viola returns to the room holding a large garment bag draped over her arms. She stops just past the doorway when her ears perk up. “What are you two whispering about?”

Gemma meets her gaze, and they appear to be speaking through their mental link. Viola taps her foot impatiently and Gemma throws her hands in the air with exasperation.

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