She was quiet for many long moments. “They were so fast. They built the structure in a day, and it took another day to fill it,” she told me. “It didn’t look like a man, not at first. It just looked like a cage of sapling and wood. And then they filled it, tying my people inside the structure. He made sure I could see my parents. And they stuffed the empty places with grasses and hay. When night came, they lit it on fire. The people—my people, my family—struggled so much, so hard, that the structure moved, filled with hundreds of screams. And then it fell like a man to his knees. And so they called it the Night the Three-Faced God Walked.”
She pushed a tear off her face. “When it fell, it shook the ground, and something within me broke. And water came in, so much water that the island flooded and pulled Rian and me away with it. And we survived, because the water was part of me. The water was me.” She sniffed. “My gift—it comes from anger. And hate. But yours doesn’t,” she said, and she looked around us.
Circling our feet, sand was building in small mounds, like an infinitesimally small desert. “I did that?” I asked.
She nodded, wiping another tear. “You’re incredibly powerful, Shalia. Your power begins with your love for people,” she said. “That’s where your greatest strength lies.”
I frowned. “But I didn’t—before, I could feel threads, like it was a fabric I had to tug on to get it to obey me.”
She nodded. “That’s common. It helps you focus; as you grow stronger, you may still have a sense of the threads existing—they’re the energy of the natural world—but you may not have to manipulate them to use your power.”
“But how do I grow stronger? I have to love people more?”
She shook her head. “No. You have to hold on to it,” she said, her voice rough. She leaned her head on mine, and I wished I could take away the things she had suffered. “Soon it will be easier, but when it’s difficult to control, you have to hold that emotion within you. Remember it and treasure it, and it will open your power.”
“But what can my power even do?” I asked her. “I don’t really understand.”
“Anything that is of the earth will do your bidding. In my experience, I can’t make water manifest where there is no water, like in the desert. But usually there’s water somewhere, and earth’s presence is endless. Her shoulders lifted. “We’re in a palace of rock; there couldn’t be a better place to try something.”
“Can I grow things?” I asked, suddenly wanting to see ilayi blooms in this foreign land.
She tilted her head. “In a way—if the seed is there, you can give it soil and the right conditions to grow, but you can’t grow something out of nothing. And it would be better if you had a fire element to give it heat, and a water element to nourish the soil. The elements are at their most powerful when they work together.”
Disappointment filled my chest.
“But remember,” she said. “Many things come from the earth. Metals, minerals, crystals, to name a few.”
I thought of the gold that Rian had stolen, killing ten men to do it. When did ten—or even one—become the number of lives my brother felt comfortable taking? I wished for the precious metal, curling my hand into a tight fist, willing it to be full of the gold he needed.
With a sigh, I let go, opening my hand.
“Nothing happened,” I told her, showing her my empty palm.
She just looked at me, patient. “Don’t focus on the earth. Focus first on yourself, on that emotion.”
“On love,” I repeated, the words rough.
She nodded.
I thought of Rian on my wedding day, my fear and confusion and joy as I saw him in front of me, the first of my family to give me a gift, to give me his hopes for my future. Even when it was a future he wouldn’t choose for me. He was the first to put a thread around my neck, and the gold in the foreign coins had a soft shine before the full sun rose.
I felt invisible threads now at my fingertips. Just like the ones my family had given me, these connected me to something greater. I felt it as little pieces of things—flecks, really—pulled up from the soil in the cliffs below, from other rocks, from all around me, rolling and jumping into my hand.
When I opened my eyes, I held a tiny chunk of gold.
My heart pounded as I showed it to Kata, and she nodded, smiling at me. “You see?” she said.
“Show me more,” I asked.
Kata guided my practice for a while longer, including bending a silver hair comb, but we soon heard a noise behind us. Without a word, Kata kissed my cheek and walked back into the fog. In seconds, I couldn’t see her.
“Shalia?” Kairos called.
I came toward him until I could see him in the fog, still heavy but clearing. He squinted, looking through the fog with a wry smile.
“So many curious secrets, sister,” he said. I opened my mouth, but he shook his head. “I don’t need to know.”
He offered me his arm, and I took it. “Where are we going?”
“To meet your new guard,” he said, glancing around. “If you can see them.”
He ushered me out of the chamber and up a staircase. In a sort of courtyard around the central tower, more than twenty men were lined up in the hazy glow of the fog.
“These men have all volunteered to create the Saepia, the Queen’s Guard,” I heard Galen say, and I turned to see him walking toward me, his hands behind his back, making his shoulders seem broader still.
Shoulders that had sheltered me not even an hour ago. Saved me. The thought made me mute as he came closer and stopped several feet away.
He looked me over for a stark moment. “You’re not injured,” he said.
I nodded, my mouth dry. “Just shaken,” I managed to say.
“Which brings us to your new guard,” Kairos said.
“Yes,” Galen said, clearing his throat. “As I said, these men have volunteered. They are some of my best soldiers.”
His eyes, lush and vibrant green, met mine. I hadn’t realized his eyes were just as green as Calix’s—maybe more so. They were brighter, somehow, such a strange contrast to his carved-rock face.
Galen didn’t seem to register my curiosity; he turned away from me and gestured two men forward. They didn’t look like the rest; one was thinner, smaller, with a shifty look to him that reminded me of the way that Kairos slid around things, and the other was utterly massive. They wore the same black uniform, but theirs were looser, less fitted. The taller one came to me first. His hair was blond and longer than the rest of his fellows, tied back by a leather string. Two swords hung on his hips, and he had a long, broad weapon strapped to his back that looked as deadly as it did heavy, with a wicked, notched curve like a scimitar, but different.
He knelt to me. “My queen.”
“This is Zeph,” Galen said, gesturing to the large man.
He stayed kneeling, and the second came forward. He was shorter, and he wore a leather breastplate over his uniform that was lined with small knives, and a sword on his back like Zeph.
“This is Theron. These two will be your personal guards. These are men I have trained myself, and I would trust them with my life,” Galen said. “Which is the only way I will trust them with yours.”
I glanced at Galen at such words, but he didn’t look at me. “Please don’t kneel to me,” I told them. “I don’t like it.”
They shared a glance but stood. “We’ll be with you night and day, my queen,” Zeph promised me. “We do not take today’s insult to your person lightly.”