“Ah,” he says again, understanding washing over his face. He presses his hand over his eyes, and exhales. “This is one of Hen’s schemes.”
“Yes, and you absolutely can’t tell anyone about this, Gallus. I’m serious. They could whip me in the square, or lock Fara and me in prison, or . . . or worse!”
“So you do sometimes think of consequences.”
“Of course I do! This wasn’t supposed to go this way. Hen was trying to get me in with the spectators. But we used my mother’s name, and they didn’t check the dates . . .”
Gallus sighs, and I wish I could take the relief on his face as him knowing how to help me, but I know he’s just glad he’s made sense of how a Whisperer is at his level. He leans casually against the rail, his swagger returned with his control of the situation.
“I’m happy to do that for you,” he says, his tone genuine. “Really. Just relax, be elusive if the heirs ask you questions, and this could be a great night for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, which is all I can manage with that kind of advice. But I am grateful he’ll keep my secret, so I hold back any other retorts.
The water laps against the boat. A pair of spotted geese cackle at each other near the shore, and for reasons I don’t understand, Gallus stays by my side.
“You look nice, by the way,” he says.
I force a smile and study my hands. I hope he’s not waiting for a compliment in return, because that’s more than I’m capable of at the moment.
“Sorry I panicked there,” he says, shifting. “It’s just . . . the competition is really stiff for these positions. That goes for me, too. The chances of being chosen . . .”
“You’ll do fine,” I say, sighing. I hate that I know him well enough to know he’s nervous, and even more that I can’t stand to see him that way. “You’re talented and smart. If the heirs are looking for a Firespinner, you’re the best option they have.”
He looks over. I keep my eyes on the bank, but from the corner of my vision I see him smile.
“Thank you,” he says. “You know, I never meant to hurt you. It’s just . . . you knew we had to grow up sometime, right?”
I push back from the rail. “I have to go.”
He nods slowly. “All right. It was good to see you.”
I turn, exhaling. If I survived that, maybe I really will be fine tonight. I’m starting toward the prow and the silver-haired girl when Gallus calls out again.
“Er, Lia?”
I stiffen but look over my shoulder. Standing there in his finest, I can almost remember him framed in the light of the stable door, breathless from running, from his impatience to see me.
“Maybe don’t talk to anyone tonight,” he says.
“That’s very supportive. Thank you.”
“I just mean . . . you know. Too candidly? Don’t tell the princess you thought she’d be more mystical or something.”
He may have a point, but coming from Gallus it only reminds me of the many ways in which he finds me lacking, and my bruised heart aches with believing that maybe he’s right. What a desperate move, his eyes seem to say. How sad she still can’t accept her place. But I’ve already wasted enough time fretting about what Gallus thinks, and I bury the bruise deeper and pretend again there was never anything between us. Today I am a Potionmaker and one of Orkena’s elite, and no condescending Firespinner is going to ruin this night for me.
I square my shoulders and move on.
Gallus is soon shoved from my mind when I notice the others pointing at something I can’t see at the front of the boat. Sometime during that conversation we entered the royal city, for people cluster the riverbanks now in the finest attire I’ve ever seen: gossamer shawls and crowns of red ivy; gold bangles and bright silks dripping with crystal. Shining collars flash from the necks of dogs and cats, and beyond them white-sand estates tower like thunderclouds, their iron balconies framing potted palms and flowering trees. Then we float around a bend, and I’m not the only one who gasps.
It’s like spending your whole life knowing only candlelight, then looking upon your first wildfire. The royal palace is a sprawling giant against the sunset. Pale and tall, its many stone spires are the carved bodies of the gods: Numet’s fiery torch juts above the palace’s center, her eyes windows to the east; her brother Rie, the god of death, guards the west, his great wings folded. The nine lesser gods stand around them, gilded in real jewels. Apos, god of deceit; Rachella, goddess of love. Oka, Valen, and Sabil, gods of judgment, fate, and magic. Talqo, Aquila, and Tyda, goddesses of healing, learning, and patience. Brazen Cybil, goddess of war. Her falcon companion sits upon her gloved hand, wings stretched—his metal feathers are the same ones our soldiers wear on their armor.
Gold shines along the edges of the perimeter wall, and as our boat draws near, the protection spells carved into the wall hum and glow. A square tunnel rumbles open before us. Down a long, narrow passage we float, until we finally emerge within a grand indoor dock glittering with torches. A tiled shaft of porcelain and gold guides us between breathtaking trees with small, ruby-red leaves and brilliant white flowers, to a redwood platform flanked by guards. There are more plants in this entire enclosed dock than I’ve ever seen outside.
I’m so busy trying to take it all in, I don’t notice the wall has slid shut behind us until a loud boom shakes me from my stupor.
The wooden boat did not follow. The spectators are going to a different dock.
Breathe, Zahru, I think as our boat slides to a stop. Now you just need to blend in.
“Welcome to Juvel,” the priest says as the contenders jostle toward the plank. I linger toward the back, grateful even Gallus is too preoccupied to notice I’m here. “This way, please. And be quick about it—someone has us running behind.”
His orange eyes lock on me, and I quickly find a point in the distance to focus on as everyone looks over their shoulders. So much for blending in. But soon we’re moving again, and the contenders are nervously practicing small, complicated tricks that might prove their control and give them an edge. A boy curls a visible ball of wind above his palm; the silver-haired girl freezes her breath into an icy knife. I try not to watch with too much wonder, but aside from my time with Gallus, I don’t often get to see higher magics at work. Anyone at this skill level leaves Atera soon after they master their craft. They are our soldiers and architects, palace entertainers and protectors. I can’t help but find what they do beautiful.
When I catch myself watching Gallus shift a flame from blue to white, I turn my attention to the garden.
“This is how the evening will go,” the priest says as we step between two of the strange trees and into a tall, triangular hallway. “You’ll attend three banquets, one for each heir. As the eldest, Prince Kasta has priority in who he picks, so you will meet with him first. Once he chooses his escort, the rest of you will be taken to meet Prince Jet, and lastly Princess Sakira.”