Page 21 of A Song of Shadow and Starlight

"Years!?" I exclaim, and he frowns.

"I know you're used to getting whatever you want at the snap of your fingers, Princess, but even you have to exercise your magic, if you want to master it."

"Well, I'm not like you, Tronovian! I'm not used to any of this. I didn't grow up with magic. I didn't go to a special school or have anyone there to acknowledge my power." I leap to my aching feet. "I'm done for tonight."

Atlas blocks my path when I try to walk by, closing the distance between us. He peers down at me; his leather and sulfur scent is distracting. I wish I could push him in the river to wash the smell off his skin. "You said you're not a quitter."

I grit my teeth. "I'm not."

"Then prove it."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." He shakes his head, a seriousness in his eyes. "You hate yourself and blame me for what you're feeling.

The sting of his words sends a surge of fury through my bones and my eyes well with tears. How dare he? Who does he think he is, calling me a quitter and accusing me of self-hatred. I am the Princess of Midori, and I won’t tolerate being spoken to in that manner. Shoving him out of my way, I stomp past him. “I’m done.”

"Where are you going?"

I ignore him and slap branches out of my way until I’ve gone twenty or thirty feet from the campsite and plop down on the ground, leaning my back against a tree. Tears slip down my cheeks. I hate crying. I’m not normally a crier but this is overwhelming. I’m collapsing and I don’t know what to do to save myself. My heart aches. My soul is crushed. Everything in my life is shattered and even my identity has been stripped from me. If what they say is true, about me, about my parents, about Bas… that means everything I was taught, everything I believe, is a lie. I’m not sure I can survive that much heartache at once.

I don't need to see him to sense him watching me. I wipe my face, refusing to let him see me cry. "Spying Tronovian?"

Atlas rounds the tree I'm leaning against and stands in front of me. "You shouldn't wander off by yourself."

"I'm not by myself. I'm in clear view of the camp." I look over my shoulder, spotting the others at the campfire roasting their dinner. "I just need space."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that."

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" I spring to my feet, hands balled and ready to fight. "What do you want from me, Atlas?"

His face softens, but his stance is unyielding. "You've never been pushed to your limits, therefore you doubt yourself and sell yourself short." He takes a small step toward me, forcing me to tilt my chin up to look at him. "You could be a powerful queen, if you gave yourself a chance."

After a moment of gazing into his green eyes, I realize he means it. He believes in me, even though he shouldn't. He shouldn't be trying to teach me to wield my magic because when I return to Midori, I'll be forced to use it against him and his people.

"I'm afraid," I admit.

"Of what?"

My bottom lip trembles as I whisper, "Everything."

Eight

Ican'tsleepandit's Atlas Harland's fault.

He just had to kidnap me and turn my perfect life upside down. I was happy in Midori, even if I was living a lie. But out here, I have no answers to the countless questions shuffling in my restless mind, and now, thanks to that Tronovian brute, I can't close my eyes to get some sleep.

I can feel my power hum beneath my skin, taunting me, teasing me, but I still can't seem to access it the way I should. Despite the magical pull within, there is something externally that is drawing me.

I lie flat on my back and look around the crumbling arches and cracked walls of what was once the most impressive temple in Dalerin. Finn told me it's been abandoned for centuries, and the green underbrush and empty buildings confirm that story. Before the scholarly brother fell asleep, I asked him who was worshipped in this temple, and he smiled and said, "Enver Sol, the Father of Light."

Maybe that's why I feel compelled to explore the ancient city. It's his magic that flows through my veins. It's wanting to reconnect with its true master.

Frustrated that my curiosity is getting the better of me, I slip out of my sleeping bag and quietly tiptoe up the wide stone steps inside the heart of what remains of the enormous temple. If there had been a ceiling, it's long gone now. I stare up at the clear, starry night sky, wondering where Enver Sol is at this very moment. Did he stand where I'm standing? Did he explore this city when it was in pristine condition? Is he watching me from wherever he is now?

There's a certain reverence and respect this place demands and deserves. I sense a pull, a call for me to proceed deeper inside, and a peace washes over me. I wonder what this place must have looked like when it was first built, when it was at its peak in popularity.

The further I go, the more difficult it is to determine if I'm inside or outside. Entire walls are gone, ceilings are nothing more than piles of rubble on the cracked tile floor. Vines rebelliously defy man's creation and spread up columns and wrap around what used to be windows. I place my hand on one of the walls with raised reliefs depicting a story I can't translate or decipher. But then my eyes find an image of a man with sun beams arched around his head. Even though the carved stone has had years of neglect, I know this must be Enver Sol. I run my fingers over his likeness and feel a surge of energy zing through me like lightning striking a tree.

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