Page 2 of Ties of Shadow

I couldn’t quit just yet. I wouldn’t quit. The soil beneath me was cracked and blackened. Too dry for anything to grow. Carefully notlooking back toward the pines, I trudged to the south, curling under the village, downhill. Maybe I could still find something untouched by magic. Resigning myself to the search, I trudged on, hoping for just a few more ingredients to soften the blow of Father’s disappointment.

Chapter two

Marked

“Aelia, you’re late. Though the seers did say you would be.” Chef didn’t spare me a glance as she took my basket. “Wandi, get over here. Stop admiring your mark, girl. It’s not going to fade.” Chef called to the washer at the sink as she rifled through my finds. Tossing the lot into the water basin, Chef heaved the now-empty basket back into my arms, finally taking in my filthy, oily—and likely horrifying—appearance. “Caught in the storm, aye? Bad luck. Even worse luck was your disappointing find.” She gestured to the soiled plants. “Wandi, salvage what you can.” The girl, perhaps a few years younger than my eighteen, pulled some water from the basin and wrapped tendrils around the leaves and roots. She was careful to flash me the light tan star-shaped mark on her wrist, her hand rubbing it periodically as she worked. Though her cheeks were bunched by her beaming smile, I recoiled.

That was a bond mark. Someone out there had a matching mark on them too—marking their potential to soulbond. If they met again, the mark would expand in various designs, and the bond would knit them together. Forever. Trapped.

Howawful.

Wandi beamed at me when she noticed me staring. I tried to smile back, but I suspect it looked more like a grimace by the way she winced and turned away to manipulate the water around the herbs. Chef eyed me, shaking her head slightly. We had disagreed over the marks before.

She sighed, then tilted her head for me to follow her. “Were there no racerbristles?”

Turning away from the doomed servant, I wiped my hands on a towel. “I found the bush from last time, but it was dead. Brittle. I don’t think it could withstand all these storms.” I withheld my thoughts that, though the Shade was bad, the heat was worse for the plants. Prince Leon’s magic made it hard for anything to grow in the castle gardens—so close to his fire. Racerbristles were uncommon in the wild and only bloomed every few weeks. Unfortunately, their roots, leaves,andflowers were components of the only healing potion able to keep the queen alive. The gardeners and washers worked under the canvas awnings day in and day out to keep the few bushes we did have alive—barely. But the cultivated racerbristles weren’t enough, so I searched endlessly for more. The bushes preferred the edges of the forest and moist, windless air—hard to find when the canopies were charred crisps and the air heated by flames.

Chef grimaced. “The healer and king will not be pleased to hear this news. The queen fades even now.”

I ducked my head, feeling the weight of the queen’s dependence on herbal cures and my efforts to obtain them.

Noting my guilt, she patted my shoulder, then casually brushed away the crumbs she’d accidentally left behind. “Maybe we’ll have you look on the other side of the mountain…”

“Yes, Chef,” I murmured.

She sighed heavily as her curls wrapped around her round, weathered face. Chef’s worry lined her features for a moment longer before she stiffened and regarded me again. “Go now, Aelia. Get cleaned up. Don’t be late for dinner. Prince Leon is honoring the Mastersons tonight before their bonding ball.”

“Yes, Chef.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled as she batted at me with a towel. She hated it when I deferred so much to her, given my station. I smiled back and raced to my room. Pulling the tacky clothes off, I filled the tub with hot water—a luxury thanks to the lesser washers and inferni employed by the castle. I scrubbed at the oily shadows until my skin was pink and raw and my white hair had returned to its natural snowy shade. The water had turned as gray as the storm as I stepped out. I considered my soiled clothes and tossed the lot into the tub. A good soaking would be useful for the stains I would have to try to get out myself.

By night, I was Lady Aelia, a noblewoman; by day, Aelia, the magicless—and therefore useless—working woman. I’d save this mess for later when I had more time since I had no maids to assist me.

Tapping my lips, I stood before the wardrobe and reached for one of my nicer gowns. The green would look fine with my hair. It’s not like anyone looked at me anyhow. I pulled out my mother’s necklace, with its curling, sweeping rays of the sun. It looked pretty against the shining fabric, though the slight glow was soon too overpowered by the castle’s luz lamps to be appreciated. It was still a small comfort if I had to celebrate a soulbond.

Soulbonds were a highly valuable cage that romantics honored, seers tried to matchmake, and all the other girls dreamed about. I knew better. A soulbond had ruined my father, killing him as decidedly as my mother, even though he was still here, walking and breathing. Poor Wandi. Given the details and distinctness of the unnatural mark, she would undoubtedly find her match soon. She must have seen himand touched him in order to trigger the magic…or rather, the curse. Couples could work their way out of the relationship, of course, if it didn’t suit them. But the seers all claimed that bonds were the mark of one’s true love and everlasting happiness.

Right. My father. The beacon of joy.

I struggled with the ties on my dress and swept up my white hair in the only style I could quickly do myself so I wouldn’t arrive late or be embarrassed. King Harold, the regent, technically, let me and my father stay in the castle since we were useful to his queen, but as I had no magic of my own, I was a source of judgment and derision to both him and my father. The nobles always had the strongest magic. Except for me. So, I was in no man’s land—too noble to be out in the city, too weak to deserve a lady’s maid.

Slipping into my shoes, I dashed down the corridor, arriving as King Harold entered the hallway. I dipped into a curtsy, ignoring his scowl, and gracefully, meticulously minced into the room toward my seat. King Harold was announced amid trumpeting fanfare a few moments later, and we stood until he waved for us to take our seats. The room fell into murmurs, polite laughter, and warm remarks, all of which roared to a cheer when Prince Leon entered the room.

King Harold threw out his arms, greeted his son in a back-beating embrace, then pulled back to regard him. “Oh, my boy, what a wonderful display today. You are an asset to our nation and our lands! Keeping that filth away from us—a true hero!” The king turned Leon toward us, grasping him in a sideways embrace.

“The prince and king lead the nation with light and hope!” the table guests chorused.

King Harold continued, “Day in, day out, light or dark, you defend our great city and these very walls. Your magic is immense, and you useit for your people like a true leader. Prosperity requires sacrifice, which you demonstrate daily to our people.”

Prince Leon dipped his head and beamed at us with a radiant smile. Radiant like his fire. Radiant like my face as I ducked to obscure my blush. It should be illegal for talented people to be attractive—worse yet, he was also powerful and charming. He was dressed in red attire, his sleeves capped with yellow flames that climbed down his arms artistically. His blond hair swept toward the sky in small spikes. The nobles’ daughters rose and flitted to his side, twittering in their pastel way, each speaking the language of eyelashes and coquettish fan-waving fluidly. I rose in greeting, as did the men, but found my seat more quickly than the rest.

He rounded the table, greeting the nobles and congratulating the Mastersons on their match. Lady Marva Keller had a zigzag on her forearm, while Lord Henty Masterson’s mark was on the back of his hand—their skin stained by the curse of the magic. Both looked flushed with excitement and regaled Prince Leon with stories from their courtship and their anticipation of the completed bond tomorrow. The prince moved with such confidence and ease, celebrating them as expected. His gaze caught mine, and his smile brightened a fraction. It was all I could ask for.

The prince and I had been friends since childhood, when Father and I had moved here. We were close in age, but as he grew up, our friendship grew apart. Ours was a subtle friendship, quiet and out of the view of our peers. I didn’t need his public acknowledgment of our closeness. I knew who he had been as a child and the depths of our friendship outside of the court. He had his reputation to preserve, and I didn’t want to tarnish it with my weakness.

“Lady Aelia.” Lord Brynett’s quiet words startled me, and I dropped my fork. I quickly gathered my composure as I turned. “Your father, is he well? He has missed several of the last dinners.”

I glanced toward my father’s seat, empty beside me. “Indeed, my lord, he just needs rest from his studies. He endlessly searches for ways to aid Her Majesty.” The lie was well practiced, and no one ever sought to clarify or seemed bothered by the same answer stated a hundred different ways.

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