“Oh, those tomatoes are looking fabulous!” I exclaimed, bending forward to examine a very robust row of plants, each weighted heavily with fruit.
“Aren’t they, though?” she added, nodding.
Barb was a local mage I paid to keep up a community garden. She used her elemental powers to make our garden the envy of the area. When I spotted this empty lot a year or so ago, I knew it would be the perfect spot. It made people happy and gave them somewhere to gather, which made me happy.
While I knew Barb liked me, she had no idea about who I really was or what I’d been through. What can I say? Being me is a lonely job.
“Let me help you with those,” I said, as I hefted a large tray of seedlings from Barb’s arms. She was on the upside of middle-aged and had a few health issues. Her short auburn curls were held back by a bright yellow bandana, the knot tied in front.
“What do these want to be when they grow up?” I asked.
“Eventually, they will be carrots.” She chuckled.
The beautiful garden held row after row of raised beds—lush and bursting with healthy green foliage. Many of the beds were communal and used by Barb to teach weekly lessons to various age groups.
Barb held her hand up and shifted it to the right. A tingle of magic ran up my arms as a long, narrow furrow appeared in the dark, rich soil of the planter closest to us. She began taking the seedlings from me and setting them in the track one at a time.
When she got to the end of the row, she raised her hand again—this time, moving it from right to left, letting her elemental earth magic cover the roots with soil.
Clapping once, she opened her palms. There, between her hands, floated an orb of crystal clear water about a foot in diameter. She guided it to the soil and, with a smile, flicked it with her finger. The ball of water rolled next to the newly planted seedlings, shrinking as it went along, wetting the soil and giving the plants their first drink in their new home.
“There’s a lot of water in the air today. It’s going to rain later,” she said, squinting at the sky.
Barb was a master elemental, which meant that she had excellent control over all four elements—air, water, fire, and earth. Not all mages had elemental powers; I certainly didn’t. Most elementals had skills in one or two elements; very rarely did one have all four. Even more rare was the ability to have master control over each of them. Barb was special.
“What else can I help you with, while I’m here?” I asked.
She handed me some garden scissors. “Help me cut some flowers for the farmer’s market. I’m going to have some of the mage kids make a delivery after our class.”
“How are the classes going? Last I heard, the water elementals soaked the entire group when it was their turn to demonstrate.” A chuckle slipped from my lips, and I smothered it with a hand.
She sighed in response.
“That good, huh?” A smile still tugged at my cheeks.
“They are… shall we say, stubborn. But they will get it, eventually.” She rubbed the back of her hand on her cheek, smearing just a little bit of garden soil.
“I have no doubt, and I admire your patience,” I said.
“You might not call it patience if you saw me hang them by their belt loops until they promised they would stick to watering plants, not people.”
“Oh, I would have paid to see that.” A picture of kids wriggling from tree branches filled my head as another giggle threatened to burst from my lips.
She huffed. “Their parents didn’t seem to share your sentiment.”
“I’m sure they didn’t.” I patted her on the shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you next time, Barb. Keep up the good work around here.”
“Thanks for stopping by, Iz. See you later.”
Realizing the time, I sprinted through the streets—thankful that my disguise would cover the flush upon my face from running the few miles back.
“Where have you been?” one of my guards, whom I unlovingly referred to as watchers, growled at me as I stepped from the kitchens.
Mother chose them for their callous demeanors. Their job, which they found distasteful, was to follow me around and report back to Mother—although I’d obviously found ways to slip away over the years.
“Cook made me help with the dishes after I accidentally dropped one. He said I was an idiot.” My lips pulled into a frown, as I made a mental note to let the kitchen know that I’d used them as a cover again. My watchers always seemed to get a kick out of the kitchen staff belittling me, the Heir of Splendor.
The watcher smiled cruelly. “It’s taken you this long to work that out?” He turned away. “Come on. Your mother wants to see you.”
Shit.
Chapter Four
My stomach twisted into knots. Mother asking to see me meant only one thing—she was angry.
The watcher led me to the lounge on the sixty-fifth floor, where Mother and her closest courtiers were eating and, no doubt, scheming away at their diabolical plans. The room was lavish, filled with modern-looking sapphire and ivory furniture with dark wood accents. A large monochromatic painting spanned the wall behind Mother depicting a romanesque battle scene in all red.
Father was nowhere in sight, but the Magnate sat in a brown leather wingback chair. Her appearance pristine as always, with her dark hair twisted into an ornate bun at the nape of her neck. A man I didn’t recognize stood before her as I arrived, his profile silhouetted by the large floor to ceiling window behind him.
“Leave,” she said to him. A chill ran down my spine as frigid magic echoed about the room. The man’s body immediately stiffened, and he moved past me toward the door, his movements forced. She turned to me. “Ah, the Heir arrives.”
Locking down my mental shield, I wasn’t taking any chances today. Even as the familiar, comforting warmth of my magic enveloped me, it did nothing to calm my nerves. “Hello, Magnate. I was told you wanted to see me.”
Her eyes took on a menacing glint. “Can’t a mother ask to see her daughter when she wishes?” Her cold voice dripped with contempt.
“Of course, Mother.”
“I understand you’ve been making friends with some of the cleaning staff.”
My mind reeled. She obviously knew something, but what?
“To what are you referring?” I asked, anxiety bubbling within me. Worry for what this could mean for the staff overtook any fear for myself.
My mother continued, undeterred by my question, “It makes sense, I suppose, that a piece of rubbish like you would enjoy the company of those who are paid to dispose of it.”
A few scattered chuckles sounded off around the room, making my jaw clench. Even though my actual emotional state dripped and oozed with anger, I kept my expression neutral.
“Everybody QUIET,” Mother boomed.
The room went preternaturally silent. The current of magic splitting the air was stronger this time. The taste of ozone rasped against my senses. Not everyone could sense it like I could. As an Heir, I was more sensitive than most.
“I was told you sent a maid home because she was ‘emotionally distressed’ over a personal matter. As a direct result of that, Priscilla’s room was left unmade.” She gestured to Priscilla, who straightened at her side.