But there were still more shadows. Always more.
Kell pressed himself against the Basin’s curved wall and raised his hands. A small triangle of sharpened metal glinted on the back of his wrist; when he flexed his hand down it became a point, and Kell sliced his palm across with it, drawing blood. He pressed his hands together, then pulled them apart.
“As Osoro,” he told the blood.
Darken.
The command rang out, echoing through the chamber, and between his palms the air began to thicken and swirl into shadows as thick as smoke. It billowed forth, and in moments the room was engulfed in darkness.
Kell sagged back into the cold stone wall of the room, breathless and dizzy from the force of so much magic. Sweat trickled into his eyes—one blue, the other solid black—as he let the silence of the space settle over him.
“Did you kill them all?”
The voice came from somewhere behind him, not a phantom but flesh and blood, and threaded with amusement.
“I’m not sure,” said Kell. He collapsed the space between his palms, and the veil of darkness dissolved instantly, revealing the room for what it was: an empty stone cylinder clearly designed for meditation, not combat. The sparring forms were scattered, one burning merrily, another shot full of metal lances. The others—bashed, battered, broken—could hardly be called training dummies anymore. He closed his hand into a fist, and the fire on the burning dummy went out.
“Show-off,” muttered Rhy. The prince was leaning in the arched entryway, his amber eyes caught like a cat’s by the torchlight. Kell ran a bloody hand through his copper hair as his brother stepped forward, his boots echoing on the stone floor of the Basin.
Rhy and Kell were not actually brothers, not by blood. One year Rhy’s senior, Kell had been brought to the Arnesian royal family when he was five, with no family and no memory. Indeed, with nothing but a dagger and an all-black eye: the mark of an Antari magician. But Rhy was the closest thing to a brother Kell had ever known. He would give his life for the prince. And—very recently—he had.
Rhy raised a brow at the remains of Kell’s training. “I always thought being an Antari meant you didn’t need to practice, that it all came”—he gestured absently—“naturally.”
“The ability comes naturally,” replied Kell. “The proficiency takes work. Just as I explained during every one of your lessons.”
The prince shrugged. “Who needs magic when you look this good?”
Kell rolled his eyes. A table stood at the mouth of the alcove, littered with containers—some held earth, others sand and oil—and a large bowl of water; he plunged his hands into the latter and splashed his face before his blood could stain the water red.
Rhy passed him a cloth. “Better?”
“Better.”
Neither was referring to the refreshing properties of the water. The truth was, Kell’s blood pulsed with a restless beat, while the thing that coursed within it longed for activity. Something had been roused in him, and it didn’t seem intent on going back to sleep. They both knew Kell’s visits down to the Basin were increasing, both in frequency and length. The practice soothed his nerves and calmed the energy in his blood, but only for a little while. It was like a fever that broke, only to build again.
Rhy was fidgeting now, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and when Kell gave him a once-over, he noticed that the prince had traded his usual red and gold for emerald and grey, fine silk for wool and worn cotton, his gold-buckled boots replaced by a pair of black leather.
“What are you supposed to be?” he asked.
There was a glint of mischief in Rhy’s eyes as he bowed with a flourish. “A commoner, of course.”
Kell shook his head. It was a superficial ruse. Despite the clothing, Rhy’s black hair was glossy and combed, his fingers dotted with rings, his emerald coat clasped with pearlescent buttons. Everything about him registered as royal. “You still look like a prince.”
“Well, obviously,” replied Rhy. “Just because I’m in disguise, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be recognized.”
Kell sighed. “Actually,” he said. “That’s exactly what it means. Or would mean, to anyone but you.” Rhy only smiled, as if it were a compliment. “Do I want to know why you are dressed like that?”
“Ah,” said the prince. “Because we’re going out.”
Kell shook his head. “I’ll pass.” All he wanted was a bath and a drink, both of which were available in the peace of his own chambers.
“Fine,” said Rhy. “I’m going out. And when I’m robbed and left in an alley, you can tell our parents what happened. Don’t forget to include the part where you stayed home instead of ensuring my safety.”
Kell groaned. “Rhy, the last time—”