Then there was the Wall—a towering slab of steel-reinforced stone surrounding the palace on all sides, patrolled by guards day and night. The only way to the palace was through the Wall, and the only way through the Wall was up the palace road, a wide marble path bordered by grass and the white rock of the mountain. The guards on the Wall controlled the magical wards, and their combined defenses shielded the palace from any attack.
Asterin counted herself extremely lucky that her chambers were just high enough to peek over the Wall. She loosened her braid and let her hair whisk into the flurry of the wind. While she already missed the sharp bite of winter, she couldn’t help but love the way spring seemed to breathe life into Axaris. Her city spread out before her, every district a precious treasure trove, winking and twinkling vibrantly in the afternoon sunshine, teasing at the riches hidden within the sprawl of winding streets. Thick plumes of multicolored smoke puffed into the sky from terracotta chimneys and the white columns of the manufacturing district, tingeing the horizon with the purple of twilight. She held up the firestone against the sky, fitting it into the outline of the sun, and pondered in silence.
At last, she hopped off the sill and flopped onto the bed. She threw an arm over her eyes and moaned, “I’m sore all over. My arms, my legs, my neck. Everything hurts.”
“I do really hope it’s only from fighting,” Luna said.
Her neck swiveled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A nonchalant shrug. “I’m just concerned about your well-being. I mean, you haven’t requested any contraceptive tonics. It wouldn’t be fit to have a seventeen-year-old princess carrying an heir already—”
Asterin let out an indignant squawk, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. “Luna!”
“I’m only saying!” Luna exclaimed.
Asterin might have harbored a minuscule infatuation with her Guardian, and sure, sometimes she got sidetracked when they sparred, but she’d seen him shirtless before, and anyway, it wasn’t like she had started frothing at the mouth or anything. She had self-control, thank you very much. She never thought about his perfectly sculpted body. Ever.
Well, maybe once.
Or twice.
She groaned, collapsing back onto the bed and burrowing beneath the duvet, face hot, poking her head out only when a knock sounded from the door.
Luna straightened, dusting plaster from her hands. “I’ll get it.” Moments later, she returned with a garment bag. “Your new dress.”
That perked Asterin up enough to crawl out of her makeshift cave. Luna helped her first into her corset and petticoats and then into the gown, lacing up the back while Asterin ran a hand down the taffeta skirt. “It’s gorgeous,” she said. Thousands of tiny crystals had been sewn onto the bodice, sparkling like fresh morning dewdrops.
Luna made a tsk sound, pinching the back collar. “It’s a little too big around the bust. We’ll have to arrange an appointment with the seamstress.”
“Or I could just eat a lot of cake,” Asterin reasoned. Her lips pursed critically, and she motioned for Luna to unlace it. Somehow, though the dress itself was spectacular, it just didn’t look quite right on her. “Or you could! Although you’d have to eat a lot more cake than me. I bet you would look much better in it, anyway.” She shimmied out of the dress and handed it to Luna.
Luna laughed, disappearing into the closet to hang it up. “I think not.” She returned with a bathrobe, tossing it at Asterin’s head. “Imagine the fits the other court ladies would throw if they saw me wearing all those diamonds—me, a commoner! A nobody, without a single drop of noble blood in my body. They complain enough as it is that I’m your lady-in-waiting.”
Asterin scoffed. “I haven’t a care in the world for who you descend from, be it the King of Ibreseos or a troll.”
Luna perched on the bedpost across from her and laughed again. Sweet laughter, so familiar that Asterin had to smile along. “A troll, really?” Her best friend reached forward to tuck a lock of hair behind Asterin’s ear. Blue eyes the shade of cornflowers in late bloom searched her face. “Are you thinking about us again?”
“Maybe.” Luna knew her all too well. More often than she cared to admit, Asterin wondered how things might have been. Luna was more of a princess than Asterin could ever be—charming, pretty, and courteous. She was the heiress Queen Priscilla had always dreamed of. Not the sword-wielding, quick-tempered daughter she had ended up with instead, prone to dredging up trouble whether she sought it or not.
Luna sighed, heading for the bathroom. The rush of running water carried into the bedchamber, the sweet scent of winterberry and evergreen oils wafting out on curls of steam. When Asterin drifted through the door, Luna was crouched over the claw-foot tub.
Her friend glanced up. “I might not be as docile as a mindless royal,” she said, “but I’m no leader. And my magic is pathetically weak compared to yours. This kingdom needs a fighter to rule. A powerful fighter. Someone like you.”
Asterin boosted herself up onto the porcelain countertop, shoulders slouched. “I can barely even control my powers, Luna, and they’re all I have.”
Luna snorted. “What happened to beating the pulp out of guards during training?”
“Yeah, well, I get an earful from my mother every time she sees me so much as carrying Amoux,” said Asterin, turning her stare up to the ceiling. “You know … sometimes I almost feel like my mother would rather have me dead than on the throne.”
Luna clucked, dipping her fingers in the water to test the temperature. “Don’t say such things. She may be hard on you, but she’s still your mother. She loves you in her own way. And besides,” she added, shooting Asterin a sidelong look, the corner of her mouth twisted slyly upward. “She ought to die eventually.”
Once the bath had filled, Luna departed to run some errands. Asterin slipped out of her robe and stood before the mirror. Her eyes slid down the curve of her neck and hips, arms and thighs toned and taut from years of training. Her fingers brushed across smooth, unmarked expanses of skin she knew had once been scattered with scars—at least, until she’d learned to heal them, though perhaps a little too well. So many years of sparring, and not a scratch to show for it.
She eased herself into the bath, her sore muscles sighing in relief at the hot water. She plonked the firestone into the tub’s depths and watched it sink. Never had she displayed any potential in fire. It was well known that possessing two fundamentals usually allowed a wielder to unlock the two secondary elements connecting them—for example, water and earth were connected by ice and wind. So theoretically, if she did possess fire, the final affinity in the fundamental trinity, through practice and patience, she might be able to harness the power of all nine elements.