Page 3 of Of Nine So Bold

The orcs shared a wary glance, saying nothing. Still confused, Harran apparently believed I was speaking to him, and thus the old man’s head shook, his wide, watery eyes never leaving me. “N-no, Your Majesty.”

My lips curled into a smile, willing to indulge him, even though it was the orcs to whom I truly wished to make my point. “Because they say that, once upon a time, the termapplewas a generic word used to describe any number of things. Tomatoes. Cucumbers. Even nuts. And thus countless stories were filled with them, because anapplecould be anything. Yet, over time, languages changed. Those other objects fell away, being labeled with different words instead. But the term itself remained, drawing down until it applied predominantly to this little fruit, the one found in countless realms—both existing and now destroyed.”

I pinned the orcs with a pointed glance. Their eyes narrowed again, distrustful of where I might be going with this.

“Fascinating, Your Majesty.”

I didn’t bother to acknowledge Harran’s obsequious response. “But the important part of this—” I chuckled, “—thisstoryis that all the incredible energy of meaning and intent didn’t disappear when languages changed. That power wasn’t reduced simply because it was used to describe fewer fruits or nuts or what-have-you. Quite the opposite. Because the power of story and words can neveractuallybe erased. Be rid of one word, life will only find another to describe the thing at hand. Kill one prophet, another only arises. Sometimes years later, yes, but story…” I made an admiring noise. “Story is power. Story finds a way to survive.”

A low rumble of displeasure came from the orcs. They didn’t like the idea ofanythingsurviving.

They were fools.

“Therefore,” I continued, “even as the other objectsbehindthose stories became known by the words we use now, the word itselfwithinthose stories didn’t change. And thus the power of apples only grew. This little fruit became everything from the food of the gods, bestowing immortality, to a carrier of the knowledge of good and so-called evil. All that power, and all of it focused right here, until the energy became pure. Concentrated. Refined by the pressures of meaning. Honed by surviving the test of time. Almost…” Satisfaction curled my lips. “Like a diamond.”

The questions faded from the orcs’ expressions, and cold hunger took their place. Here was a magic equal to some of the strongest in this world, but it was a magic that could be consumed, unlike a simplejewel.

Thoughtfully, I turned the fruit around in my hand, admiring how its blood-red skin glistened in the morning light. “It hardly matters whether the Nine are real, if they are warriors who believe they’ll save the world or if they’re the cause of its destruction just as Alaric claimed. The truth is, I killed that girlwith an apple once.” My smile turned cruel. “This time, I’ll do something worse.”

2

NIKO

The world swam in and out of focus like a fish darting beneath the surface of a murky lake. A flash of yellowed grass beside a brown swath of dirt. Of blue sky with white puffs and a bright glare. I reached for my magic only for the darkness to take everything away again, and through it all, words reached me in a blur, barely making sense.

”—you long enough. Why the hell did you?—”

“—made the best time we could. The others fought back and?—”

My confusion grew. Others?

Jumbled memories rose. Roan returning with Gwyneira after the monster he’d hidden inside himself kidnapped her. Ozias revealing he was a monster too. Both of them had been lying to us this entire time, and even after they admitted the truth, nature still whispered to me that somethingmorewas off about Roan, something he hadn’t revealed.

Rage bubbled up in me, the feeling weird and echo-y amid the heavy cobwebs gripping my mind. I’d been furious at them for their lies. Furious that Roan wasstillhiding something too. I’d beensofurious, in fact, that I stormed off into the forest likean idiot, only to realize too late that it’d beenmyselfI was mad at as much as anything.

All this time, I’d known Ozias and Roan were hiding something, even if I hadn’t known what. But I never said anything because I trusted they wouldn’t endanger us or our treluria, Gwyneira. Moreover, I’d lashed out atherin my anger.

And that was the worst part of all.

A groan tried to escape my lips, but I couldn’t make a sound. I’d tried to return to her. I’d wanted to tell her how sorry I was for my behavior. But my foolishness had left me vulnerable.

And then the Aneirans had attacked.

“—following you then?”

Someone made a disgusted, negating noise. “We took care of that. They don’t stand a chance of catching up now.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, especially since something about the needling, contemptuous voice who spoke the words seemed familiar, and not in a good way.

More memories swirled past. The Aneirans… they hadn’t been like any others I’d ever encountered. Somehow, they’d been able to hide themselves from my magic. Suppress my powers too, all without ever laying a hand on me.

My heart raced. With effort, I tried to force my eyes fully open.

Brown wood lay directly in front of me, smashed against my cheek and side. When I tried to move, something restrained my arms and legs, biting like little teeth on my flesh and holding me in place. My eyes were the only thing I could move without pain, and even that took effort.

Slats of wood were beside me. The upper curve of a wheel too.

A cart. I was tied up and lying in the back of a cart. I could smell the horses now, even if I couldn’t feel them with my powers. My magic was still gone like it had been after theAneirans attacked, my affinity to nature as dead to me as a limb gone entirely numb. But maybe if I?—

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