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Well, he was the Prince, so I am sure it wasn’t that hard.
He was quite the opposite of me with my green dress that had dirt smeared down the front, a ripped hem, and shoes that had holes in both toes. I wasn’t even sure I knew a cobbler. Mother would be displeased, but she was always displeased. At least my dress matched the tangle of long dark curls and smattering of freckles that covered my face. Batian and I barely resembled brother and sister. We were two sides of a coin, night and day.
Everything about me dark, everything about him light. Well, except for his eyes. His eyes were so dark they were more black than brown. It was the only thing he inherited from our father, the Ramal of Okivo. Everything else about him was from our mother.
I, however, was my father’s daughter. I inherited nothing from the Queen. She was tall and elegant; I was short and, as she loved to put it, ‘disastrous’. Oh, a mother’s love.
“No one’s going to assassinate me, Batian,” I grumbled, ignoring his outstretched hand and pushing myself to my feet. “They’d have to know I exist to want to kill me.”
I rolled my eyes before straightening my skirts, not that anything could be done to the large streak of dirt that was there.
I sure hoped that would come out when I washed it next.
“They know you exist.” Batian was still smiling, even as he gave the usual sigh I always got with that argument. Even the Boy gave a rough exhale.
“Correct,” I lifted a finger, “but they do think I am weak and sickly.”
I made sure to drop my shoulders and give a little cough. Apparently, when someone loses their magic it turns them into an invalid.
Or so says Mother.
“Hence the need to protect you from assassination attempts.” Batian leaned down to look me straight on like I was a child, closing the nearly foot-and-a-half height difference between us.
“Maybe that’s why I come out here, to learn how not to be sick and weak. Because you know I’m not.”
I gave him my biggest grin and punched him in the stomach. He gasped and doubled over, which only made me smile more. Usually, he stopped me before I did that.
“Who’s the weak one now?” I tried to punch him again. This time, he was ready. He wrapped his hand around my wrist easily as he pulled me to one side and went to the other.
“If I answer that honestly, are you going to punch me again?” His voice groaned above my ear. Well, guess I hit him a little hard that time.
It was hard not to be proud of myself.
“Actually, don’t answer that,” he said when he caught sight of my grin. “You are a Requisite without a Catalyst, Elara. You need protecting.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but one look from him, and I knew it wasn’t an argument worth fighting. He was playing the part of a prince now. The smile was smaller, but his eyes had narrowed and somehow dipped to the shade of ink spreading over the whites.
“You have a guard for a reason, Elara.” His gaze suddenly darted from me, and my stomach dropped. Here it came. “You know better than to let her out here, Boy.” He stepped away, clearly intending to lead us back inside.
“Don’t get mad at him. It was my idea. I just like seeing the magic.” It wasn’t a lie. Even saying it took me right back to the edge, my focus drifting down to all the magic pairs as they trained. Except all the training had stopped. The courtyard had gone quiet. They were all staring up at us, jaws dropped as they looked not at me… but him.
Of course it was him. I wasn’t exactly lying when I said no one knew I existed.
Batian, aware he had been noticed, was now waving and smiling at them all, sending sparks of white light into the air with each wave of his hand.
Silly Crowned Prince.
Although, the power of the Ramal, lðt, would always be my favorite. It was only in the royal line, taken from the Fae by the first Ramal after he worked with the Goddess to exterminate them. The brilliant light that Batian and our father shared was so pretty. Sometimes, I wondered if I would have the same. Or if I would be able to harness ice and water like Mother.
Better not to guess.
Better not to think about it. That cavity in my chest was opening again.
“Time to go,” Batian hissed through his teeth, already leading us back to the door.
I stepped closer to my guard, hopeful that maybe we could turn into one black blob as we were escorted back the way we came. Careful to play my part, I dropped my shoulders and let out a little cough. The Boy shook his head and gave another disapproving exhale.
That one was probably deserved, though. I may punch Batian in the gut from time to time, but the Boy was the only one who knew just how not ‘weak’ I was.
