Page 3 of Elemental Affections

Brint’s head reared back. “Hold on.”

“—in calling off this sham of an engagement.”

Rarely had she seen Brint truly surprised. He paused, mouth agape, as her words registered. He gave her an appraising look, eyebrows drawing together in thought. His lips curled in a half-sneer.

“Agree to it, Brint, or I’ll share your infidelities with the Moroes.” She gave him a sweet, false smile. Charming Brint Avenor stepping out on his betrothed? Meh. It wasn’t condoned, but the aristocratic circles he pranced around in lived on such gossip. But disloyalty amongst prominent Graelynd family businesses? That simply wasn’t done.

“You’d break your mother’s heart.”

True, but she couldn’t think about that. Caring more for her parents’ wants than her own was what had led to Anadae’s current predicament in the first place. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

“You’re full of moxie today.” His brows went up, a condescending smile on his face. “Fine, you have a deal.” He gave her a pat on the arm before sauntering past and disappearing down the hall.

Amazed that her gambit had worked, Anadae stood transfixed, watching his retreating back. She shook her head, then hurried to her room, the scholarship form clutched in her hands.

She laid the form on her desk, the half-finished essay taunting her. She stared at her hand, focusing inward until she could feel the slight hum beneath her skin, radiating out from her center. A soft, constant whisper of magic.

A flare of golden light danced across her fingertips. It came to her—not instantly, not yet—but it would, and not only when her blood was up. Let Brint think that she’d choke on the test, was suited for nothing but a life of making him look good. Let him think that he was the stronger magic user. More practiced, yes, Anadae would admit to that. Fortunate for her that being out of practice and being forgotten had not yet become the same thing.

You’ll regret it, Ana. You’ll regret it forever.The voice crept up from memory. Not Brint’s but Ez—no, no thinking abouthim.Not now. But perhaps with time.

Because regret, yes, but forever? No. That would change.

Dipping her pen into the inkwell on her desk, Anadae began to write.

Chapter 2

Three Months Later

Layinghispalmflatagainst the damp earth, Ezzyn Sor’vahl slowly exhaled against the smolder stick in his other hand. The burning tip flared a bright, white-hot orange in response. A crackle of energy ran through his fingers as he called on his magic, converting a line of power within the smolder stick into a lick of flame. Collecting the heat into his palm, he then pushed the fire into the sodden dirt.

The stench of rot burned in his nose. He ignored it, feeding more power into the spellwork already laid across the section of ground. One of so many poisoned acres. The once-verdant lands of Rhell now bore a ragged line of scarred ground spreading from the northern border down toward the heart of the kingdom. An eerie trail of blight tracing the ley line to Rhell’s wellspring, unerring. Undying, despite so much effort and lives spent fighting the poison. Every delay Rhellian cleansing efforts bought came at a cost. If they managed to halt the forward progress, the blight grew outward instead. The scar, once only so wide as Ezzyn’s arms outstretched, now spread several paces across. Dozens, in some areas, until Rhell’s mages were forced to compromise. The poison could be slowed, but never stopped.

Five years had passed since the war—and Ezzyn would call it that even if the Alliance of the Empyrean Territories claimed that theconflicthad never been made official—between Rhell and the Eyllic Empire to the east was declared over. Ended on paper if less so in practice, for Rhell continued to suffer. Ezzyn feared that the deadened line marking his homeland’s destruction would spread until entire swathes of green were lost, the damage irrevocable. The poison would reach the wellspring, and magic in Rhell would die.

And who else would care? For now, Eylle’s poison sought only Rhell’s wellspring, whatever foul magic fueled it going inert if it was taken too far from the ley line. At least, that was the theory. Only the head mages at Sylveren University had tested it, the keepers of the Valley being the only leaders brave enough to allow the poison to be brought across their borders. A vial of contaminated soil exposed to the Valley had turned into sterile but harmless dirt. Some of the strongest mages in the world had tried their hand at cleansing it, but the poison defied all efforts. For the rest of the Alliance, it became an intriguing intellectual problem, an exercise in humanitarian aid.

Eylle had chosen Rhell both for their shared border and its diminutive size. The perfect testing ground for this magicked poison and the emperor’s quest to eliminate the rest of the world’s wellsprings save his own. The width of the Great Sea protected the Valley of Sylveren, and so long as the Valley was safe, Graelynd wouldn’t overly burden itself expending resources to solve another’s problem. Serving as a basin for the Valley’s strong wellspring had its perks. The Radiant Isles were as close to the Eyllic capital as Rhell was, only from the south, but they had the Everflow’s Eye as guardian. Eylle wasn’t about to risk its navy to the maelstrom between it and the Radiant Isles.

That left only Rhell. The warring was over, but the poison remained.

In his darker moments, Ezzyn feared the loss of his homeland was inevitable. Eylle refused all entreaties for help. To the emperor, closing his borders and weathering trade sanctions in silencewaspeace. As the years dragged on and the poison showed no signs of deteriorating, foreign interests in Rhell’s predicament waned. The Rhellian people were dogged in their pursuit of a solution, but the most anyone had been able to accomplish was a slowing of the spread. Not true containment, nothing close to a cure.

That knowledge, steeped in so much fear, drove Ezzyn. Had him digging his fingers into the corrupted soil, sweat beading on his brow as he reached for more fire. If he could just find the right amount, the right touch, the right blend of spells, then it must work. The Eternal Flame cleansed all in the end. No reason that shouldn’t hold true here, too, so long as he had the strength.

“Ez.”

His focus was such that the outer world faded away. He ignored the fatigue in his limbs; the strain in his chest where his magic gathered; the sting creeping up his hand, across his wrist, spreading up his forearm. All went unheeded.

Until the world pressed back. A hand took him by the shoulder, gave him a shake. A voice, deep and familiar, called his name, growing sharper with insistence.

“Ezzyn! You stubborn bastard,listento me.”

His concentration broken, Ezzyn whipped around, a snarl on his lips. “Get the fuck off—”

Jeron Sor’vahl, his eldest brother, glared at him.

Ezzyn forced himself to relax. “What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the Assembly.”

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