“I’m tired of living in this fucking cave as if I’m the evil one,” Leif said, red rising up his neck. “It’s time we take back what’s rightfully ours, what the gods themselves gave us!”
“No,” Marai snarled, and a pulse of magic shot through the cavern. Lightning snaked and crackled, creating a stunned silence in the room. Magic sparked in Marai’s hands. It was the first true sign of power she’d seen in weeks. The jasper ring vibrated in her clenched fist. “I am Queen Meallán’s descendant. The ring presented itself to me. I’m the one who can wield it, therefore it’s my decision what to do with its power.”
Raife stepped in front of Thora protectively, but she still peeked around him, gaping. Kadiatu covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide as saucers. Leif and Aresti lowered into fighting stance, ready to combat Marai if needed. Keshel’s face remained blank. He didn’t move a muscle. The silence was heavy, saturated with fear and confusion and fury.
Marai didn’t want this responsibility. She didn’t want to be a descendant of queens. She’d never craved power, but now it was at her fingertips, and the idea frightened her.
“Even if we chose to use the ring,” began Raife in his calm tone, “there are only seven of us and thousands of them. Our magic is no match for their numbers. There’s no way we could ever succeed. And Marai’s right–she’s the one with the power here. Not us. It’s her choice.”
Marai glanced at him and he gave her a nod of support.
“I’ve done terrible things; things I’m not proud of,” she said, her voice a low growl. “As you stated, Leif, I was a mercenary and a pirate. I don’t regret most of the lives I’ve taken. Most were crooked, horrible people. I’ve done my part to rid Astye of those villains, and there are plenty of wicked rulers who deserve death, such as King Rayghast of Tacorn. But not all humans deserve such a fate. Not every human is an enemy.”
“But those who don’t hate us, fear us. Are you saying that we can merely wipe away hundreds of years of prejudice?” Leif said. “That we can be friends with them?”
“No,” Marai admitted. “They’d have no qualms about killing us. Their fear and misunderstanding runs deep. As does yours, apparently.”
“What about other oppressed magical folk?” asked Aresti. “They’d join us. They have to hate the way things are as much as we do.”
“Have you met a werewolf before? A vampire?” Marai asked, causing Aresti to scowl and turn away. Marai’s mind briefly flashed to Nosficio, that ancient, deadly vampire. He hadn’t seemed too concerned about humans. He was too busy drinking their blood to care. But he did seem interested in Marai and her magic. “We don’t know what they’d do, what they want. Vampires are loners. They don’t often interact with others. And werewolves stick to their packs. They’d all be caught up, as well, if we went to war with humans.”
Keshel finally stepped forward. “If we begin this war, the cycle will go on and on, as Marai said. Humans populate quickly. Magical folk don’t breed the same way; this was our problem before. Humans outnumber us, and always will. They’ll continue breeding and rise up again.”
“What will you do with the ring?” came Kadiatu’s soft voice from behind Marai.
“Nothing. At least for now.”
Leif stomped outside, Aresti at his heels. Thora, visibly shaken, went back to her jars and herbs.
Keshel turned to Marai. “My question isn’t about the ring. What will you do with your own powers, Marai?”
She stared back at him, trying to keep her face from revealing the turmoil inside. “I don’t know how much power I have.”
“It’s immense, Marai,” Keshel said quietly. “I don’t foresee you being able to keep it contained forever. You’re going to use it . . . you have to decide how and for what reason.” He grabbed the green leather-bound volume and disappeared down the tunnel back to his cot.
Marai rushed outside, unable to take the confines of the cave any longer. She ran past Leif and Aresti, who were having a heated conversation. Marai ran to the cliff wall where the long weathered rope hung. She climbed all the way up. It required every ounce of her strength to make it to the top, but her body was resilient once again after days of rigorous training. After she pulled herself up over the ledge, she stood, panting, hands burning from the rough rope through her gloves. Marai wiped the sweat from her brow and paced.
No one would follow her up here.
Marai hated that she’d been put in this situation. She wasn’t a leader. She had power, but knew not how to wield it. Why had she been given this responsibility?
Whatever I decide will affect them, too . . .
Magic throbbed within her, wanting release along with her frustration.
She let go, feeling the sparks travel down her arms and out through her fingertips. A rightness settled over her. White strands of lightning snapped in the air all around her, unhinged and wild . . . She’d been born with lightning at her heels and in her veins. An agrestal storm cloud bloomed in the sky.
Marai let the magic loose until that pent-up need, anger, and confusion subsided. She took several long, deep breaths, inhaling the bone dryness of the Badlands. There was nothing and no one around for miles and miles. Ehle was the least consequential of the Nine Kingdoms, with the sparsest population. Most of Ehle was covered in the red desert, uninhabitable except for those desperate and resourceful enough to survive. Marai was alone up on that plateau. Alone, even amongst the other fae. Alone, with the weight of responsibility heavy upon her shoulders.
Ruen, she thought, dropping to her knees. Her fingers dug into the copper dirt. What should I do?
Chapter 6
Marai
Leif and Aresti didn’t say a further word about the ring. Marai supposed Keshel, Raife, or both, spoke to them in private. She was appreciative, but knew it was only a matter of time before someone brought it up again.
Two more weeks passed. The fae celebrated Ostara, the holiday honoring Lirr and the welcoming of spring. As they did each year, the fae lined their entryway with flowers from Kadiatu’s garden, mimicking the path of blooms Lirr supposedly left in her wake whenever she stepped foot on soil. They left the goddess offerings of desert fruits and fish in baskets by the river next to blazing candles of green flame, created by Leif. Thora waved incense around the cave and chanted in the language of the gods, cleansing away the dark of winter, ushering in the light.
“Did you know that ancient fae is also the language of the gods?” Keshel asked Marai as they listened to Thora’s melodic voice fill the cave.
“No, I didn’t,” said Marai. She’d been a child the last time she heard ancient fae spoken by her father. The language was lost to her, as it was for the others, except for the few holiday chants.
“Curious, isn’t it?” Keshel pondered. “Humans despise us for our magic, but why would Lirr have given her own language to us if not out of love?”
Her lessons with Keshel were stressful. Marai’s magic didn’t want to be controlled. The lightning was feral and yearned to be released, to stretch for miles. Keshel had been correct—her power was immense, but it was dangerous to everyone around her. More than once Marai had almost turned Keshel to ashes, but he’d been quick to put up his shield. Her lightning crashed against it in a bright explosion, ricocheting off, unable to penetrate his barrier.
Keshel had given Marai specific breathing and mind-shaping exercises. He instructed her to imagine her magic as a living thing, part of her physical body, something that must be shaped and honed. She was to visualize her magic flexing and shifting like any normal muscle. It was boring, tedious work. Merely standing there breathing and visualizing was more exhausting than fighting in a battle.
Eventually, though, Marai got the hang of it.
Lightning climbed up the high canyon walls; slunk like a lynx over the water. With a mere thought, Marai directed it, and the strands of white light turned, creating a circle of crackling power around Keshel. Then she reeled it all back inside, as easy as sucking in air.
Trying to catch her off-guard, Keshel threw a ball of blazing fire at Marai. With the flex of her hands, an invisible shield erected around her. The fireball exploded against the barrier, then burnt out, scattering cinders into the red dirt.
“Excellent work,” Keshel said, giving Marai one of his rare smiles. “I don’t think anyone else could’ve mastered their magic faster. Including me.”
“I still don’t have complete control.”
