"Do you hear that?"

From his post beside her, Melvin tapped his heel to the beat of the music emanating from the string quartet. The players had started up again only moments before, and it did nothing to improve Abel's mood. Though Melvin's left boot moved in time with the dancers, he kept his watchful gaze trained on Sebastian who had been twirling in far-too-close of an embrace with the supposed princess of Rainier.

A princess that hadn't existed until it had been convenient to have one.

Abel half-wondered if Queen Davina hadn't made up that little shocker of an announcement: a hidden daughter, a secret Salvera heir. Abel had been there that day, coercing her way to the front of the crowd to hear the proclamation in hopes of finding Sebastian. And she had found him, she supposed, but he had looked sorely different to her. In fact, he had somehow looked far more at ease by Queen Davina's side than her own so-called daughter had. More at ease than he'd ever appeared on a boat, at least.

However, she couldn't deny Astrid shared shockingly similar features with the queen.

Melvin's boot stopped tapping as the song changed tempo. Abel frowned across the dance floor where Sebastian stood, now alone, though a few guests lingered close by, hoping to catch another impromptu performance. A hot feeling tore through her. Not anger, precisely. Something more poignant. Sharper. Envy. Jealous over the fact that Abel had missed the most exciting thing to have happened on this night thus far. All her life she had dreamed of magic, of the myths and fables of older realms, and now her only friend in the entire realm had erupted in flames at a royal ball, and she had been weighed down in a guard's uniform, unable to push her way through the crowd fast enough.

Why must the elemental gods and goddesses be so unfair?

Her skin itched beneath the cool, heavy armor. Abel huffed and then grimaced as the shrill sound she had heard just seconds earlier intensified.

Melvin glanced at her when she winced and bunched her shoulders up around her ears. He immediately shifted his stance. "What is it?"

"You don't hear that?"

She cocked her head, trying to follow the fissure of the un-godly sound. She took a step closer to it, the shrieking coming from...beneath the ice? It sounded as if a thousand prisoners were trapped under there, screaming, and Sebastian was caught up in the midst of it.

Something popped.

Her hawk's eyes—as Sebastian often called them—turned automatically to the smoldering swan ice sculpture. But it was now just a puddle, and the cracking noise was not coming from that.

Crack, snap, pop.

Abel's hand jumped to her shoulder, searching for the curve of her bow, but it came up empty. Instead her fingers scrabbled against the hard scales of her chest plate. She swore, remembering General Lyons had confiscated her weapons and had refused to give her any others until further notice.

"Melvin, something isn't right."

But Melvin was already halfway across the glass-like ice that was suddenly splintering into pieces.

One of the outrageously dressed guests screamed as the icy floor popped again, sending sharp fragments of it flying across the square.

The frivolous evening descended into chaos in a matter of seconds.

Abel pushed past fleeing dancers to go after Melvin, but being unaccustomed to the armor's bulk, it slowed her down. Growling at herself, she urged her legs faster. She had half-a-thought to shuck off all the added weight, stripping down to her underclothes. It would probably scandalize the older guests in attendance, but she'd be able to move, at least. As if he were beside her, she heard Sebastian's calculations of how much time it would take to ditch the guard's armor—five seconds to unlatch the chest straps, though add an extra second and a half due to the overlapping scales.

Her progress stopped entirely when a strong grip fisted into her elbow and swung her around.

Captain Matthias Soiree, the captain of the royal guard, glared at her. They were almost at eye-level with one another.

"What did you know of this?" His voice was low amidst the shouts and cries and snaps of ice, but Abel heard every intonation of the accusation all the same.

She gritted her teeth at him. "Let me go!"

"You claimed to have heard it before anything happened!"

Abel scowled and twisted her arm from his grip, but he held fast. How had the daft brute even heard her conversation with Melvin? He'd been cursing after a much-too pleased princess only seconds earlier. The two of them struggled, Abel craning to catch a glimpse of Sebastian, hoping Melvin had made it to him. She swung out an arm to punch the captain, but he grabbed her fist, throwing it back at her. She felt useless without her bow, and was just about to resort to kneeing him straight in the groin when a new sound forced both Abel and the insufferable captain to freeze.

This time, Abel knew she wasn't the only one who had heard it.

A guttural scream broke through all the other chaotic sounds right before an unfathomable flash of light seared against her eyelids.

The party stuttered to a stunned halt. Even the breeze itself held its breath as the fires in the cauldrons extinguished, one by one, with a foreboding hiss. Like the sudden flash had sucked all other light to fuel it.

Captain Matthias, limbs frozen, dropped her arm. "Solar flare," he swore. "Astrid."

The emptiness of the noise settled thickly around the two figures remaining on the shattered floor.

Astrid stood with one hand pressed to Sebastian's abdomen, the other stretched out above her head, fingers splayed towards the sky. A golden, shimmering orb hovered over them like a shield she had conjured from the stars themselves. Blood, as crimson as wine, seeped around the outskirts of the magical shield, the body it slipped from cut nearly cleanly in two from chest to navel.

"By the Scribes," Abel muttered.

It wasn't until she pushed past a stunned Matthias that she noticed the spilled blood was not, in fact, red. Like it had been a mere trick of the light, the blood shimmered now, like a puddle of silver mercury poured over the dead female warrior. Because this body had once been warrior, clad in thick fighting leathers, knives strapped at her waist, muscled arms and legs now limp in death, her head covered in a moss-colored wrap to conceal her features. As Abel stared at the body, brain whirring to figure out from who or what the silver substance bled, Abel heard the others and realized they could see it, too. Part of her was thankful she hadn't imagined it like the cracking sounds that had only sounded in her own ears, but a smaller part of her shivered in fear at what this could mean.

Whispers erupted around the courtyard.

"Elvish kin from Galandréal," the more senior guests gasped, those who had been alive prior to the Purge to remember such things.

Shocked cries followed these hushed memories. Queen Davina called for her Iced Guards, and then the constantly stoic, blond brute beside Abel nearly fell to his knees.

That was, perhaps, more shocking than anything else.

"An Elder," Mathias hissed. "Astrid murdered an Elder."

O O O

"Do not leave him," a voice cooed in her mind. "It is not yet safe, child."

Astrid shook her head, forcing the voice away, a voice that sounded very much like the words she had heard from her mother's Monverta. The reminder sent a clawed hand down Astrid's spine. She gritted her teeth and kept walking through the gawking crowd. They parted around her as if she were a famed priestess or a luminescent deity, Light herself, maybe. She didn't risk turning around to check on Sebastian because she knew if she saw that open, innocent expression of his—the wonder in his gaze as she'd pulled the threads of fire from him—she would heed that voice and return.

So, she held her head high and forged her path through the gathered dancers.

Honestly, it had only been a bit of magic. Not even enough to wind her, though her cuff had squeezed in response to her pull on those hot elemental threads. It had even cut off her circulation. A warning. A threat.

It hurt you. I saw your pain.

Astrid grimaced against the words Sebastian had said, an emotion tearing through her that she couldn't quite name but knew she didn't much like nor had the time for. It took everything in her to not reach for the cuff, her prison she did not have a key to unlock, to not give into the feeling of weakness her mother wished upon her.

But Sebastian had seen it.

She hated that he had. Most of all, she hated that she had let him.

For her entire life, she had trained with the Iced Guards of Rainier, weakness forced out of every sinew, muscle, and emotion. Being the secret heir to her mother's kingdom, let alone a girl touched by the elements, had forced her to hone the forty-six muscles of her face, learning each and every minute expression that gave away anything more than what was absolutely necessary. Astrid knew her mask that was to be worn, but this bumbling, know-it-all fisherboy seemed to be just gangly enough to slip underneath it.

Okay, so Sebastian didn't really resemble a beanpole, but she preferred her analogy all the same. It made her feel better about the flush that had threatened her neck as she had run her hand over his chest, anyway.

You're a fool, she berated herself. Don't you dare turn around.

But what if he caught himself on fire? Again?

Nonsense. Despite his sporadic tantrum, he had shown remarkable control over the elements. The fire hadn't even left an ashy mark on him.

"It is not yet safe, child. Turn, now!"

Astrid growled, turning her neck to offer a quick glance behind her, and smacked directly into the shoulder blade of a much taller guest.

One of her metal spikes dislodged from her braided hair and slipped sideways.

This was why it never paid to listen to her inner voices.

"My apologies," Astrid muttered, inclining her head.

It struck her as odd when the obstacle before her offered no response, not even so much as a flinch, like Astrid had been nothing more than a leaf against the fortress walls. For a short breath, Astrid thought it was Matthias—the stiff shoulders, the hip-width stance, the lack of a soul's emotionality—but then she retreated a step to get a better look.

The brick had a woman's figure.

Definitely not Matthias, then, unless he had gotten into the habit of wearing gowns, which would be the most interesting thing about him, truth be told.

Astrid blinked, narrowing her eyes as she raked them over the broad form. It wasn't so much of a gown that covered the stranger's muscles, but a dark emerald robe made of rich enough material, but it frayed at the hems, the worn thread browning, like a forest drying out in the winter. A farmer's wife, most likely, Astrid scoffed. It certainly wasn't her problem if a pauper had snuck into the festivities. Something like pity sent her turning away without another word; it would explain why the female hadn't reacted to the newly-named princess of Rainier, not to mention the Elementi who had just sent a fireball into the elaborate ice sculpture. The poor woman feared getting discovered and escorted out.

"Someone should enjoy this nonsense," Astrid muttered to herself.

A thick scent of upturned soil overrode Astrid's senses as she brushed past the farmer's wife. It was so strong that it sent all thoughts of finding Sebastian out of her mind. At least momentarily. Because she knew that tangy, fresh scent. That thread. Someone was pulling on Earth's elemental thread, but that couldn't be possible—

Astrid sought out the invisible thread, her heart pounding, the earthen spring scent coalescing into a faint path that stretched, unnoticed, a few centimeters from the ground. She held her breath, catching the smell into a taste on her tongue to help her focus on it. Her cuff burned.

The elemental thread had not yet reached Sebastian, nor did it seem to originate from him. So, if it was neither one of them calling upon Earth, then...who?

Beneath her feet, the icy glass of the floor groaned and heaved, like a giant troll beast was awakening from hibernation. With a menacing crackle, fractures splintered underneath the dancers' feet, a spider's web waiting to trap its prey. It hadn't yet been noticed by the dancers. Astrid shifted her weight, feeling out the strength of the ice, her cuff smoldering against her skin so hotly she was surprised it wasn't aflame. The earthen thread pulled taut over the ground just as the point of a blade pressed into her spine.

"I would not move if I were you, girl."

It was a melodic voice despite the threat and the knife at her back. Astrid stiffened but huffed out a quick breath. An opponent with a weapon she could handle, but then the scent of soil overwhelmed her again, nearly choking her. An opponent with a weapon, yes, but one with magic...Astrid stilled her nerves, hands reaching out for a thread—any thread—and her cuff squeezed.

The ice exploded in front of her. It didn't go unnoticed this time. Guests closest to the impact screamed as small slivers of the floor pelted into the air and then onto the party itself. More shocking were the thick, twining roots, which shot up from the cracking ice. They wrapped around Astrid's wrists and pulled taut, stopping her attempt to gather an elemental thread to use in defense. 

Astrid clenched her teeth. 

Her captor held calm through it all, breaths even. When Astrid turned her attention to the crackling floor, she caught the end of a frayed, emerald cloak. "You," Astrid said, her fingertips already tingling from the loss of circulation. It was the farmer's wife. "Who are you?"

It was the cadence and pitch of the dry laugh that solidified her realization of who her captor was: she was a woman, though she felt as tall as any man against Astrid's back. The pauper. Scrambling guests hardly seemed to notice them at all.

"I have no quarrel with you, child."

Child. That word sent Astrid's pulse rocketing. It sounded like the eerie voice of her mother's Monverta. Astrid swallowed to steady herself.

"The blade says otherwise."

"Precautions," the woman replied. "To harm you has been forbidden." Astrid felt the knife fall from her back. "We seek the other."

Sebastian?

Astrid glared, feeling strangely protective.

This woman had a strange way of speaking, a formality bred from a royal court older than Rainier itself. Astrid felt the blade prick her skin through her dress, her brain tearing itself apart to form a plan while her eyes sought out Sebastian. But chaos ran rampant around them as the ice continued to fracture and rich Halorians pushed each other in a haste to escape.

Why did no one see their new princess and potential saviour being held at knifepoint?

Of all the times to go unnoticed...

"You're working with a light Elementi," Astrid accused. "The Fae. It's why my guards have not seen you yet."

"They have not seen me because they see only what they wish to," the woman replied.

Astrid twisted her wrists at her sides, hidden by the cape still attached to her neck by a dagger. Her dagger.

"What would I see, then?" Astrid asked.

"Myths come back to reclaim what once was ours."

Astrid faltered, her wrists stilling against the bondage of the roots. A myth. It was then that she remembered the solar flare attached to her thigh. It was her turn to grin, for she was a myth herself, and it was about time she took revenge.

"Let her go!"

After being ignored, it was shocking when Sebastian disrupted their invisible bubble. He seemed sorely out of place, his dark curls flopping haphazardly across his forehead and his hands weaponless, unless the book clutched in his grasp could account for anything. Astrid nearly snorted. Trust Sebastian to bring a novel to a knife fight. He looked from Astrid, to the tall woman at her back, to the book in his hand, and his cheeks flushed as if he just realized himself how ridiculous he looked.

The woman released a breath, her tone one of reverence. "Carissénas. He lives."

Well, Astrid had had enough of this nonsense. Sure, the woman had trapped her hands, but she had forgotten about her feet. "Fisherboy, turn around."

"Huh?"

On cue, Sebastian spun around as if expecting to see a fireball descending, and Astrid moved. She jumped as far as the roots would allow her, kicking out with her right leg, aiming the impact exactly on the correct spot of her left thigh.

Her captor let out a rush of words in a musical language Astrid did not recognize, most likely mocking how idiotic Astrid looked kicking herself. But the mockery was short lived as Astrid's kick connected and loosened the hidden solar flare. It clattered to the torn-apart ground, and with a victorious cry, Astrid clutched her eyes shut, turned her head, and smashed her foot onto it.

Light exploded around them.

The flare sucked in the lights from the cauldrons, lanterns, and torches that decorated the courtyard, dousing the square into blackness. Complete darkness if it hadn't been for the shock of light that erupted from the device. Astrid only had a second to hope Sebastian had remained facing the other direction before the roots holding her wrists collapsed and fell lifeless to the ground, unanchored and dead. Not wasting a moment, Astrid leapt into the air, twisted around in her free-fall, and thrust her foot directly into her stunned, unfocused, and probably half-blinded captor's shoulder.

A crack, not from the ice this time, resounded in the space between them as the woman grunted and staggered backwards. One hand clutched at her eyes, the other still held her weapon. Astrid followed her retreat, tearing the cape from her shoulders and tossing the knife that had secured it into her dominant hand. She whipped the cloak at the woman's ankles, and the pauper stumbled on it. Her heel caught on a tipped cauldron. Just to drive home the point, Astrid threw her short dagger; it struck directly into the soft spot between the woman's shoulder and neck. When the earthen woman fell, Astrid was already on her, bringing a foot down on her wrist just as she had done the solar flare. 

Her captor's weapon fell from her grasp. It hadn't been a mere knife the woman had placed to her back, but a gleaming sword. In a single motion, Astrid retrieved the blade, swung it over her head in a practiced arc, and brought it down.

It tore through the woman's torso as if she were nothing more than rotted lard.

"Re—d—eem—" the woman gurgled.

Astrid hardly heeded her dying words, for she was already moving once more.

Adrenaline singing in her veins, head spinning with it, limbs strengthened by it, Astrid ran to Sebastian. He was on his knees, his spine facing her, but he looked up as she raced into him. She grabbed him around the middle to halt herself, shoving her palm into his stomach. His wide eyes fell upon the bloodied sword in her grasp, but Astrid pulled him close and grabbed onto the threads of light emanating from the dying solar flare.

She felt Sebastian's power boil under her palm, rising to meet her own. Her cuff pulsed with a trapped cry, and she yanked.

The glowing threads gathered to her hands so swiftly that they collided into a jumbled, golden orb that vibrated with heat. With a strangled scream, Astrid threw her hand up and wrenched the threads up and around them.

A shield.

Because someone had made Astrid and the faux pauper invisible. And if they were still out there, she was not about to let herself be imprisoned again.

Sebastian's abdominal muscles shuddered beneath her fingers. "The blood," Sebastian hushed, "It's not red."

The shield did not stop the woman's silvery blood from staining their boots.

_ _ _

Ohhhh, the Elvish folk and Fae have joined in on this fun. Now things are REALLY going to get interesting!

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