Page 47 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

In my mind’s eye, I watch the animal’s celestial spark flare and grow, transforming from a tiny light blinking in and out to a bright, burning flame. I open my eyes and see with awe that the creature is changing. Rather than being overloaded by my magic, it’s soaking it up, like a flower blooming in sunlight.

Its skeletal frame thickens and fills out, its ribs disappearing beneath a layer of glossy fur. The gray seeps out of its coat, replaced by a deep russet shade, and the tattered tail expands…and splits. What looked like just a mass of matted fur I can now see is four individual tails, moving in tandem as the animal flicks and shakes them out, getting to its feet.

It experimentally licks its paw a few times, then pads over to me. Speechless, I reach my hand through the bars, knowing instinctively that it’s safe. The animal dips its nose to my palm, a kind of thanks, I think. It’s grateful because I healed it—or mostly healed it, anyway. I see then that while the cut around its neck is little less inflamed, the wound is still there.

It seems there are limits to my magic. I can’t make serious injuries disappear or close wounds; I’d need viatic power for that. All the same, though,Idid this—touched that dwindling flame and brought it fully to life again. The creature was dying, and now it’s not. I’m breathless at the idea of it, knowing that I could save something so precious with my power.

It was my fear getting in the way with Fairon. Looking back, I can see why I ended up destroying the plants at the Lyceum. They were just sunflowers, for gods’ sakes—with nothing more wrong with them than being slightly thirsty. Of course my magic was too much for them to bear.

But something large and complex is a different matter, especially an animal with such a weak celestial spark that it’s a matter of days before its flame goes out entirely. A being like that can absorb my magic without being overwhelmed by it. In fact, it was hungry for it—and my magic responded to that need, rushing in to fill the gap.

And I think the same was happening with Fairon too. If I hadn’t panicked, worried that I was overwhelming him, I might have actually managed to cure him. But instead, I cut the flow of magic off abruptly, which just caused him more pain.

So what do I do now?

I look at the barracks around me, turning over the route out of here in my mind. I could escape the way I’d planned. Or…I could stay.

Now, without the tinge of paranoia tainting my thoughts, I hear what Leon told me in my dream with fresh ears.

He told me he was willing to help kill my aunt even if I broke the vow. And I believe him.

I let the weight of it settle on me. He’d dishonor himself—cutting himself off from all his friends and family—just to uphold his promise to me. Not even in return for keeping his brother alive. It’s insane. Too large a sacrifice to comprehend in this moment alone.

But that tracks with who Leon is, doesn’t it? No one could accuse him of not going all in. He decides what he wants to do and jumps, consequences be damned. That’s terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

But even if he embraces that kind of recklessness for himself, he won’t have it for me. He’s encouraged me to save myself over everything else. If I ever wanted proof that he genuinely cares about my safety, rather than just seeing me as a means to an end, then this is it. Once, he refused to break a vow for me, betraying me in order to uphold it. Now, it seems, everything is different. Is this his way of showing me he’s learned from how he hurt me?

Yes, the news of this betrothal was a blow—it felt like just another lie among so many. But he’d suggested there was an explanation. After all he’s done for me, up to and including sneaking me the key to help me escape, I could at least hear him out.

I withdraw my hand from the cage, giving the fox-like animal what I hope is a reassuring look.

“I’m going to help you,” I say. “I’ll come back and find a way to set you free.”

The animal huffs a sound that I think is acceptance before settling back down on the floor of its cell.

I stand, skirting back around the black pit, and steal away to my room. Once inside, I lock the door behind me, sliding the key under my mattress.

I’m almost sure now I can help Fairon. But I need to be given the opportunity to first. I failed with the crown prince once before, but I won’t again.

Tomorrow, I’ll take the test and prove to Respen that nothing—not his paranoia or wily fae tricks—can stop me.

In the cold, hard light of day, the reality of my decision starts to sink in. I don’t regret staying, but when a guard comes to bring me breakfast in my room, I find my appetite, at least, has decided to run off. I can’t do more than pick at the food. Finally, I give up and change my clothes. Someone has at least thought to give me a set of fighting gear.

My escort from yesterday arrives. They say nothing about the missing key, and I assume the one under my mattress must be a copy. As long as they don’t have a reason to suggest I broke the rules, I don’t really care. I just focus on keeping what little food I did eat down as they lead me up a flight of stairs.

We come into a large arena that reminds me a little of the training room at Vastamae. Except this room is round. There are seats from which to watch the action just like at the Lyceum, but these are raised ten feet above me. I feel like an insect under a magnifying glass, straining my neck to see the faces of the fae looking down on me.

There’s more of them than I expected. Respen’s there, of course, along with some other fae lords and ladies and a number of guards we met on the island yesterday. Velrir sits smugly on Respen’s right, while Leon’s unit is arranged to the king’s left. Tira sits with them, pale and drawn. At least she’s safe. I try to give her a reassuring nod before I turn my eyes at last to Leon.

Even from this distance, I can see he’s furious. He was counting on me leaving last night, and now I’m doing two of his least favorite things: ignoring his instructions and putting myself in danger.

Of course, I could probably still walk away now if I wanted to. I examine the stone arena, taking in the large trapdoor in the floor. I suspect, given the low ceiling I noticed last night, that this room is positioned right above the pit chamber, which explains the trapdoor.

Are they going to watch me fight whatever’s in the pit? How would that prove I’m capable of helping Fairon?

I run through scenarios in my head, ignoring the heat of Leon’s glare. I’m staying whether he likes it or not. I won’t force dishonor on anyone today, including myself.

“Princess Morgana,” Respen says, his voice echoing through the arena. “You have kindly agreed to undergo a test of your powers.”

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