Red as Flame

Chapter 1 The red priests are coming to Raine. All night, the terrifying knowledge had haunted my sleep. I dreamed of fire—how could I not—and woke restlessly in the dark with the prickle of imagined flames racing over my skin. Worse yet, the king had commanded me to accompany him to Portknowe to meet the ship bearing the leader of the priests, Warder Galtus Celcio. No one knew precisely why the warder was coming, or why he’d demanded a meeting with Lord Raine. Was the warder’s visit the precursor to an invasion? Stars knew the red priests had brought their fearsome fire sorcery to bear upon their closer neighbors, charring and conquering without mercy. I’d believed—naively, it seemed—that the island kingdom of Raine was safe from the priests of the Twin Gods. I turned beneath the covers, my mind whirling with dread, until Trisk, the cat, mewed with sleepy impatience from her place by my feet. With a sigh, I rose and went to my window seat. Settling on the cushions, I pushed the curtains aside, though the sun was still hours from rising. My hair stuck to the back of my neck with sweat, curling tendrils escaping from my braid. Outside the castle wall, the quarter moon rode low over the black trees of the Darkwood. I leaned my forehead against the glass, trying to absorb its coolness. I desperately wished Thorne was there with me—the Dark Elf guardian of the forest, and the keeper of my heart. Yearning for him twisted in my chest with every breath I took. Unfortunately, he was not in the mortal world at all, but across the gateway in the realm of Elfhame, tending to my sister, Neeve. He wouldn’t return before I had to depart Castle Raine for Portknowe. This is your fault. My little voice, ever-present goad and critic, spoke the knowledge I’d been trying hard to deny. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the sight of the evergreens, the scattering of stars faded by the moon. I hated to admit it, but the truth was a hard stone in my belly. It was my fault. The leader of the red priests was coming in answer to my newly awakened fire sorcery. It was the only explanation. In the past, Thorne had explained that magic could seek out other magic. Indeed, it was part of his duties to make sure the Darkwood and its secrets were well warded against such arcane searching. But until very recently, I’d no knowledge of my own power, let alone how to shield and contain it. For anyone looking for such things, as the red priests were known to do, my magic must have blazed like a bonfire in the sorcerous ether. And so. In three days, Galtus Celcio would arrive in Portknowe. And the king, my mother, and I would be there to meet him. “Lady Rose.” The soft voice woke me, and I blinked in the light of morning, my neck sore from sleeping awkwardly propped up in my window seat. My maid, Sorche, stood before me with a cup of tea and a worried expression. “Oh.” I sat up, grimacing, and gratefully accepted the tea. “Good morning.” Though, of course, it wasn’t. “The king would like you to attend him and the queen at breakfast,” she said. “Which dress would you like to wear?” “Something bright, I suppose.” It was a vain hope that the color of my gown would lighten my mood, but I could try. And it never hurt to face Mama with a bit of extra armor, even though I knew I’d never fully win her approval. Sorche went to my wardrobe and picked out a pale yellow dress edged with green brocade. I quickly finished my tea, then let her lace me up. I settled at my dressing table and began undoing my braid. Facing the king and my mother alone wasn’t an enticing prospect, especially without Neeve and Kian beside me. I missed my companions acutely, but my sister was in the realm of the Dark Elves, and Kian had left for Fiorland only a few days before. “Is it only to be the three of us at breakfast?” I asked. “I believe so.” My maid picked up the silver-handled hairbrush and began taming my red hair. I let out a breath and tried not to wince as she brushed out the tangles. Despite being constrained in a braid all night, the frizzy curls always got loose. Not for the first time, I considered chopping it all off and wearing a cap. But princesses did not do such things. Neeve would, if her hair was as much of an untamed riot as mine was. But my stepsister was blessed with a silky fall of hair as black as a raven’s wing. In the Nightshade Court of Elfhame, she’d taken to braiding it intricately as the elves did—a style that looked elegant on her, and foolish on me. Luckily, Sorche didn’t attempt such an elaborate coiffure. Instead, she simply twisted and coiled my hair up, securing it with ties and hairpins until I looked presentable. At least for the next hour or so, until the curls began escaping again. “Your crown?” she asked, lifting the golden circlet the king had given me on my seventeenth birthday. “At breakfast?” I frowned. “I think the king would like to see you wear it,” she said. “Very well.” With a sigh, I let her place it upon my head. Sorche knew the mood of the castle better than I, having served there for almost a decade—despite the fact she was barely a handful of years older than I. I’d only been in Raine five years. Long enough to discover its secrets, but not enough time to fully understand all the swirling undercurrents. To please my mother, I swiped a bit of color across my lips and cheeks, then stood. It was time to face the king and queen. “Thank you,” I said to Sorche. She smiled and bobbed her head. “It’s a pleasure, Lady Rose.” “Just Rose,” I said, though I knew she would persist in addressing me formally. In the past, I’d been Miss Rose, if that. But now I was of age, and a recognized princess of Raine—although Neeve was the rightful holder of that title. I was just the stepsister. But Neeve isn’t the only girl here with magic, I reminded myself. Since my flames had burst forth, I was no longer second best. I left my rooms and walked alone through the stone-walled corridors of the castle. It was strange. Since the moment I’d arrived in Raine, Neeve and I had gone almost everywhere together. Her absence was a hollowness at my side, an emptiness echoing with every footstep. How was she faring in the Nightshade Court? Were the healers successfully beating back the hereditary Dark Elf sickness that had lodged in her blood? Thorne would tell me, when he returned. And I would have stories of my own, of meeting the leader of the red priests and returning unscathed to Castle Raine. I clung to the thought, despite the fear squeezing my lungs at the reminder of what lay ahead. First, however, there was breakfast. I descended the staircase leading from the private rooms of the castle to the main floor, where the dining room was located. The guard before the door gave me a half bow. “Lord Raine is expecting you,” he said, waving for me to enter. I lifted my chin and went into the room, where the king was already seated at the end of the long table. My mother sat at his right hand, with the gruff captain of the guard, Sir Durum, across from her. At least I had company, though Sir Durum wasn’t a particularly warm ally. Above all else, he served his king. “Your majesties.” I halted at the far end of the table and gave them my best court curtsey. “Come, darling.” Mama beckoned me to the chair at her side. “We must discuss our departure tomorrow.” Although still very beautiful, my mother looked drawn. Her fair skin seemed almost translucent, a far cry from my own coppery complexion, and her smile, though as gracious as ever, had a brittle quality visible to those who knew her well. Which meant only I could see it. When I was thirteen, she’d married King Tobin of Raine after only a short acquaintance, then announced we would be moving to the kingdom of Raine. I’d been shocked, and very unhappy to leave the sunlit streets of Parnese for the cloudy skies of Raine. But I’d had no choice in the matter. Now I was of age, but still had few choices of my own. The most important ones, though, I would battle fiercely for. Including the fact that I’d pledged my love to Thorne, the Galadhir of the Darkwood. The king and Mama didn’t know about that yet. They still believed me a pawn upon the chessboard of the kingdom, a bit piece that could be moved and married to advantage. But pawns didn’t possess power, let alone untamed fire sorcery. I would make my own choices, whether the rulers liked it or not. I settled beside my mother, and one of the waiting servants brought me a tray filled with pastries. I picked out one of the huge sweet-rolls the cook was known for, and nodded when another servant offered me tea. “We depart for Portknowe after breakfast tomorrow morning,” Lord Raine said, giving me a stern look. I hastily took a sip of tea to wash down my bite of sticky pastry and the lump in my throat caused by his words. “I’ll be ready,” I said after a moment. As ready as I could be, I supposed, despite a sudden, overpowering urge to run away into the Darkwood. I’d already spent days wandering lost in an enchanted forest, however, and wasn’t terribly thrilled at the thought of repeating the experience. Besides, the king would send his soldiers after me and haul me back to the castle, where I’d have even less standing than I did now. There was no escape from the journey looming ahead. “How long will we be in Portknowe?” my mother asked, a slight tremble in her voice. Like me, she was coming to the port town under duress. Both of us were justified in our fear. After all, we’d seen her friend Ser Pietro incinerated before our eyes by the very man the king insisted we must go meet. Warder Galtus Celcio. The leader of the red priests had also pursued us through the harborside alleys of Parnese, attempting to stop us from fleeing the city. My recollection, hazy as it was, featured a huge fireball flung at our little rowboat as we battled the waves to escape. At the time, I hadn’t understood how I’d managed to seize control of that pulsing flame and thrust it deep beneath the sea. But two days ago—how had it been so short a time?—Mistress Ainya, the herbwife, had determined that I had the unheard-of ability to siphon magic from sources outside myself. She’d also taught me the mirror shield, both to hide my sorcery and to keep my power from questing outward. I’d driven myself hard, practicing that spell, though now I was nearly out of time. “May I go to Mistress Ainya’s today?” I asked, twisting my napkin between my fingers. The linen slipped over the stub of pinky on my left hand and polished the wine-red garnet ring on my right, the depths shimmering with captured stars. It was a reminder of the vows I’d almost made, and the weight of the connection binding me to the Nightshade Court of the Dark Elves. “You may visit the herbwife, with a guard,” the king said. “Don’t stay long.” I bowed my head, which wasn’t the same thing as agreeing. I’d take however much time I needed at the herbwife’s cottage, and not a moment less. The more magical training I could stuff into my brain before facing Galtus Celcio, the better.