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  He steps away in the nick of time. I can breathe again.

  He speaks to the room as much as to me as he says, “You shouldn’t need anyone’s permission to defend yourself.”

  I don’t know how to answer. I have no choice. The rules are there so I don’t accidentally hurt anyone. The rules are there so I don’t bond with the wrong elf and give him access to the power of the storm before the Elven Command allows it. Although, after what Mai told me today, that isn’t true after all.

  The weight of Baelen’s gaze lifts as he turns to Jordan. “The only reason you let me into the Storm Vault today is because I have the power to command you, isn’t it?”

  She gives him a stiff nod, her lips compressed into an unhappy line. She seems to remember her sword and slides it back into its scabbard.

  He continues to Jordan. “Even the Elven Command can’t give you orders—is that also correct?”

  “Yes, Commander Rath. Only you and the Princess can command me.”

  “And what’s the punishment for disobeying me?”

  “That would be treason, Commander. Punishable by death.”

  He pauses. “Then… I command you to train the Princess. Each day. In this room.”

  He turns in a circle, speaking to the entire Storm Command. “Each one of you will train the Princess in the skills she needs. But not one of you will speak a word of it.”

  Elise’s jaw hits the floor so hard I’m sure I hear it crack. “But…”

  “You too, spellcaster. Not one word.”

  Jordan’s sword is suddenly nowhere to be seen. A grin breaks across her face. She appraises Baelen with a rare expression of admiration. “It will be my pleasure, Commander Rath.”

  I’m suddenly not sure what I’ve got myself into.

  5. Marbella Mercy

  When we return to my quarters, Elise is more agitated than I’ve ever seen her. She draws me to the meeting room at the end of the living rooms on the second floor and seals the room tight against listening ears.

  “Princess, forgive me, but I need to know what I don’t know.”

  Every bone in my body wants to pace the floor, but I draw a chair across the floor to face the glass paneling looking out over the forest and the river beyond it.

  I sit. “I knew Baelen Rath when we were teenagers.”

  She nods. “I know the story. You used to climb the cliffs together behind Rath land. Your mother was a servant in their House. Apparently there was a dare about who could climb highest.”

  That was the story I told everyone. A child’s account that they would accept. Close enough to the truth to be believed.

  I push away the images in my memory as I say, “The Storm found me there. It knocked Baelen down and he hit his head on the rocks. It was my fault because I dared him to climb in the first place.”

  The beautiful green forest slips from view as I drop my head into my hands, scrubbing at my eyes. “I don’t want him to be a champion.”

  “Because you don’t like him?”

  “Because I don’t want him to get hurt again because of me.”

  There’s silence beside me. When I look up, a ghost of a smile plays around Elise’s mouth. “That sounds a bit like the opposite of not liking him.”

  I swallow my embarrassment and try to cover what I just said. “Actually, it’s more like not wanting him to get killed. He’s the last Rath. I can’t have that on my head.”

  “I see.” She peers at me and, for a moment, I’m afraid she’ll see through me to what lies beneath: a feeling that I’ve never forgotten, snatched moments that I’ve kept wrapped up inside my heart.

  She says, “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

  “I know. But… he doesn’t seem to know the rules. I don’t know what he’ll do next.”

  Given the fact that he wasn’t aware of the rule about touching me, I wonder if he knows any of the rules. Even if he deliberately avoided me all these years, he had to have heard other elves gossiping about the marriage protocols at some stage. Even the order of events on my wedding night is public knowledge.

  Elise leans forward. This is the moment when, in another life, she would have taken my hands in hers—an act of comfort I can’t experience.

  “I’ve been doing some research on the potential champions. The identity of the final males is kept under strict secrecy so it’s guesswork. Some I believe are obvious: Simon from the House of Splendor and Eli from the House of Elder. The others are hard to guess, but it was easy with Commander Rath because he’s the only possible champion from his House.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “After the storm, it took him a year to recover. He didn’t just suffer a head wound. His spine was damaged too.”

  I gasp. I knew about the wound to his head because it was visible, but nobody ever told me about his spine. I clench my hands in my lap as sadness washes over me.

  She continues, “The spellcasters did what they could but they were worried he might not walk again. He proved them all wrong.”

  I blink away the tears in my eyes but they keep coming.

  Elise reaches for me but drops her hand. She keeps speaking as if she knows that what I really need right now is for her to distract me from my thoughts.

  “He spent three years at military training. For the first year, the males in the other Houses saw him as a target: an injured Rath, vulnerable for the first time. It was their chance to assert dominance. But Baelen Rath had a surprising ally.”

  She’s smiling at me and I don’t know why. “Who?”

  “Your brother.”

  “My brother made it into military training?” For as long as I could remember, my brother, Macsen, had wanted to join military training but males from minor Houses had to work twice as hard to make it in.

  “Apparently they became quite a formidable team and over time, they gathered other males from minor Houses to join them. Baelen Rath is said to have created his own loyal army there, many of whom now serve under him in the elven army.”

  “I know that my marriage protocols aren’t exactly taught at military training, but still… there would have been talk wouldn’t there?”

  She shook her head. “Well, apparently not. It’s said that there was an incident when another male mentioned that he thought you would…” She coughs. “Make a good wife. Well, that’s a nice way to put it. Commander Rath apparently took him to task. After that, nobody dared mention you or anything to do with you, including the protocols.”

  “But after that, after military training…?”

  “After he completed his training, Commander Rath disappeared. For three whole years.”

  “What? Where did he go?”

  “Nobody can tell me. But what I know from the brief discussion I had with his advisor is that he’s doing his best to catch Commander Rath up on what he needs to know about the protocols.”

  “Then he doesn’t know any of the rules.”

  “That sums it up, yes.”

  I sigh. “This is dangerous.”

  “That is also true. I agree that you should refresh your defensive skills, but you need to be very careful. Which brings me to the next thing.”

  She stares at me pointedly. “What happened in the Storm Vault this afternoon? I’ve never seen you repel the storm like that. In fact…” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve never heard of any Princess doing that.”

  I shudder. She’s right. As far as I know, Princesses don’t fight back; they simply absorb and control. I don’t know how it happened so I focus on the thing I can control—telling Elise about the storm speaking to me. Mai doesn’t want anyone else to know about it, but I can’t shoulder this secret on my own.

  I say, “The rain spoke to me.”

  Elise’s eyebrows shoot up. We’ve both had a lot of surprises today and I’m hoping this isn’t the one that finally destroys her calm demeanor. “What?”

  “It spoke to me, Elise. But what’s worse is what it told me. It s
aid that my husband is going to be cursed. He’s going to kill me.”

  Her eyes are huge saucers and all the color has left her face. “But… that’s… no… If you die, the storm will be released!”

  “I got so angry at what it told me that I fought back—and the fact that I could fight the storm shook me up too—but I need you to look into this for me. Is a curse even possible? Aren’t there protective spells cast over the protocols? If a curse is possible, could it be the gargoyles? Could it be someone in the elven Houses? Who would gain from my death?”

  “Not an elf! Surely not. No, this can’t be true.”

  I stare at her. “Okay, if there’s anything I need from you right now is that you have to believe me.”

  She lifts her hands. “I do. I believe you. But the only ones who could gain from unleashing the storm would be the gargoyles.”

  I say, “Then maybe that’s why they’re nesting close to the border. They’re preparing for an attack without raising too much suspicion.”

  “That’s the most likely scenario. We have to tell Commander Rath. Oh wait…”

  I shake my head. “We can’t. You’ve taught me enough about spellcasting that I know the curse could be lying dormant in all the champions and will only ignite once my husband is chosen.”

  She nods. “As a champion, he could already carry the curse and if there’s a failsafe built in, it could kill him if he finds out about it.”

  “I need your help.”

  “I’ll do as much research as I can, as much digging as I can. We will stop this. We have to.”

  She leaves me then, racing away to her spell books. I sink into the chair. The distant forest blurs in my field of view. I didn’t tell her my own plan of attack—to fight for myself.

  Nobody can know until the Heartstone Ceremony.

  That way nobody can stop me.

  6. Baelen Rath

  Everyone knows the rules. Nobody’s allowed to touch me...

  Marbella’s rebuke echoes around in my head as I toss and turn in my bed. The room is larger than I’m used to, twice the size of an ordinary bedroom, with a massive desk resting under the wide windows on one side. Maps cover the walls, strategic routes through the mountains. Many of the drawings contain messages hidden in plain sight, some left by my father, some drawn by me. Only Macsen and a handful of trusted soldiers know how to read the secret messages contained in them—locations of gargoyle nests and hidden stores of supplies.

  After meeting Marbella in the War Room, I spent the afternoon preparing the troops for the arrival of the other Houses. As commander of the armed forces, it’s my job to meet each House at the gates and escort them safely inside to their allocated quarters.

  No matter how much I throw myself into my work, I can’t get Marbella’s face out of my mind, the way her damp hair rested across her back, the material sticking to her skin, the little droplets gliding down her neck when she leaned forward… I wanted to reach out, ease the frown from her forehead, but the accusation in her eyes was fierce…

  Where have you been all this time?

  I didn’t abandon her. She doesn’t know how hard I fought against everyone around me, everyone telling me to forget about her, telling me that she was out of my reach, that she’s untouchable now… I never dreamed they meant literally.

  I thump the bed and throw back the blanket with a growl of frustration. Being this close to her is like having a rope stretched between us and it tugs at my chest, pulling me beyond endurance.

  Sleep is not possible. I have to train.

  I pull on a pair of long pants and a shirt made of supple material, easy to move in. As a last thought, I also attach my weapons harness and check the blades that sit neatly inside it. I’m wide awake by the time I head down the corridor of the imposing sandstone building. I’ve trained my body to go without sleep; all it takes is a little fire of anger inside me and I can function for days. I was trained for war from the moment I could walk—whether I wanted to be or not—but since that night on the cliffs, it’s been like something shifted inside me. I can fight longer, stay awake longer, think more clearly during battle, as if everything is crystal clear and sharply focused.

  The military compound never rests. Guards are posted at every entrance of the sleeping quarters. The armored soldiers tap their fists to their hearts as I pass, greeting me the same way they used to greet my father. “Good evening, Commander Rath.”

  It’s a sharp reminder of the faith they have in me—a reminder that I’m not only here for Marbella. Darkness is creeping into Erawind and I need to get to the heart of it.

  I return the soldiers’ greeting and continue on my way, heading straight to the training room on the eastern side of the compound, relieved to find that I’m alone here.

  I stretch first before I run through a set of warrior’s moves, the kind I can usually lose myself in, but not tonight.

  Her voice keeps repeating inside my mind.

  Where have you been?

  I take my frustration out on a training post that has multiple thick pieces of wood jutting at horizontal angles. Every time my fist hits it, I’m in danger of splitting my knuckles, but over the years I’ve given myself calluses to avoid the worst pain. Beating up a wooden post isn’t nearly as hard as standing close to Marbella and knowing there’s a massive rift between us.

  Thinking about her isn’t helping. Fire billows through my chest, energy that I struggle to keep contained. It’s a pit inside me full of rage like molten lava that wants to destroy everything in my path.

  My fist crashes into the post with a crack, fissures splitting the wood, but I don’t stop. Can’t. With an uppercut, I hit one of the horizontal wooden posts and it cracks right off, flying through the air. My vision turns crimson, as if the fire in my heart has taken over my mind. My left fist follows, slamming into the middle of the training post, traveling straight through it. Wood shatters like glass, exploding outward. Pieces crash up against the wall behind it, while others clatter to the ground.

  I stare at the broken post, my chest heaving, my fists tingling but not in pain. An energy I don’t understand courses through my chest and arms. I bend, pick up one of the broken pieces at my feet, and frown at the burned edges. It’s almost as if a fiery dagger cut through it, not my fist—

  “Baelen.”

  Swinging, my instincts take over as I draw a dagger in one swift movement, ready to pitch it.

  Macsen’s hands fly up in a gesture of surrender. “Whoa, brother. It’s only me.”

  I don’t guard my thoughts from Macsen. “Never creep up on me,” I warn.

  I drop the wooden shard and return the dagger to its holster, my movements deliberately slow to give myself time to calm my breathing.

  “A Rath through and through,” he says with a wry smile. “Attack first, ask questions later.”

  “It didn’t help my father.” The bitter statement is a truth that hurts. Dammit, where did that thought come from?

  Where have you been?

  I have to face my own regrets. Marbella’s question struck right into my heart, but not only because it relates to her. I left my father, my only remaining family. I wasn’t there to watch his back. He was always a mighty warrior to me, invincible. Stronger than me, more skilled at every weapon, every battle strategy, even more adept at hiding in the mountains.

  But that’s because I saw him through a boy’s eyes, literally looked up to him.

  Macsen considers me quietly. Today was the first time he demanded answers from me. Until now, he left me alone with my thoughts, even at my father’s funeral.

  “You asked me where I was, but the more important question is where I wasn’t.” I meet his gaze. “I wasn’t there when my father was killed.”

  His expression falls. His response is quiet. “Neither was I.” After military training, he was posted in the mountains, guarding the border between Rath land and Erador. I waited to find out his posting and then I left, believing that Macsen would take my p
lace, defend the border as fiercely as I would.

  He did. But it wasn’t enough.

  Macsen speaks quietly into the silence, shadows playing across his face in the lamplight. “Nobody was there. We didn’t see it happen. He went into the mountains on routine reconnaissance. He left all his reinforcements behind, said he didn’t need backup. Luckily, he told me what path he was taking or we never would have found him…”

  Macsen stops to peer at me. “We didn’t know where to find you, but you came back the very next day. It was like you somehow knew…”

  He wants to know how I knew that my father was dead. I can’t even begin to explain it to him. It’s not much of an answer, but I say, “I was busy saving other lives. Just not my father’s.”

  Macsen considers me for another moment before he digs into the satchel at his waist. “I came to bring you this. I think you need it.”

  He hands me a thick book with elaborate golden script across its leather cover: Storm Princess.

  Macsen explains, “Gannon brought it to me. He said he couldn’t find you. I took a guess as to where you’d be.” He coughs a sudden laugh. “Judging by the size of that book, you’d better start reading right away or you won’t get through half of it before the ceremony.”

  I run my hand across the cover. There’s no book in the world that will explain Marbella’s thoughts to me. I also don’t need a book to tell me the strongest oath I can make to her. My father made it to my mother and he never broke his vow.

  I grip the spine. “I don’t need this book to know what I have to do.”

  Macsen tilts his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I need her to know that I didn’t abandon her. That I never will.”

  Macsen’s eyes narrow. His gaze flicks to the book and back to me. “Baelen… if you’re thinking of doing what I suspect, please rethink. That’s a death sentence for a champion, brother. She’s not the only one who needs you. Erawind needs you too. You have to remember that.”