Magic Under Stone

“I can throw fire at one if you can handle the other two.”

“No. There are three of them. They have weapons, and they’re fast.”

“So what do we do?” I hissed.

“Surrender. For now.” Her eyes darted to the woods. “I don’t think we’re alone.”

I didn’t dare follow her gaze to see if there really was someone watching us, for fear of alerting Rowan and his friends.

“I hope you’re right. What if the king wants us dead?”

“There are worse things than death.” She shook her head, even now with an infuriating air of serenity. “But I don’t think any of that will happen.”

As I lifted my hands in concession, I wished I had Annalie’s fearlessness toward death. It seemed like it would make life a great deal easier.

TELMIRRA

Without speech, Ifra quickly became a shadow. Word swept through the castle that he was Belin’s silent guardian. Theories varied as to whether it was so he couldn’t betray Belin’s secrets, or so he couldn’t betray Belin himself, but of course no one spoke to him directly anymore.

During the day, Ifra managed to distract himself with the routine of the court. The waking days were hardly dull. The sumptuous suppers were full of unfamiliar foods, even fresh citrus and raw salads that seemed an unimaginable luxury near the end of winter. Balls happened almost every night, with bouquets of fresh flowers and dozens of musicians providing a backdrop to the fairy women with their long hair and gossamer gowns shining by glowing magic lights. Belin liked Ifra to stay close, but not too close. Belin didn’t seem to really want anyone too close. Whenever he could slip away from the palace to his old home and lock himself away, he did so.

At night, Ifra wandered the lonely halls, unable to sleep. How long would it be before Belin asked him to perform some task? What about when Belin married Violet? How could Ifra endure even that event? He couldn’t console Violet. He barely even saw her. The ladies of court pulled her to and fro, presumably teaching her what a queen needed to know. Whenever he saw her, she reminded him of a small animal being slowly pecked to death by crows.

One morning, after a sleepless night, he staggered outside, dreaming of escaping into the woods and never returning. He was such a failure of a jinn. For all the kindness of Arkat and Hami, who had treated him like a son, and the excitement of kissing Violet, maybe his tutor was right all along. He was better off without ever tasting love.

Even now, it tore him up to think so. It took a long time to get his heart to slow to a normal rhythm. And even then, he couldn’t seem to empty his mind of anger.

Anger had never come easily to Ifra, but it made him want to seek comfort. It finally led him to the stables. The old wooden door swung loudly on its hinges as he entered, announcing him to a pair of curious stablehands. Ifra recognized the boy who had brought him his horse before, but it was a woman who approached him. She was broad-shouldered and freckled, dressed like the boy, with pants tucked into mud-crusted boots, her hair pulled back in a messy knot. “Hello, sir.”

“It’s the jinn,” the boy said.

“Ah.” She smiled. “Well, you know, I’m so removed from court gossip.”

Ifra waved his hands a little. The woman looked confused, and the boy said softly, “They said the king made it so he can’t talk to anyone.”

“Oh.” She looked as if she’d been struck. “No. I didn’t know. Why?”

“Well, I certainly don’t know,” the boy said.

The woman frowned enough that the barest beginning of wrinkles appeared around her mouth. Ifra made the motion of brushing a horse.

“You don’t have anything better to do than brush a horse?” the woman asked him, now lifting an eyebrow.

Ifra shook his head.

She started to walk, and he followed. “Do you want to take him riding, or are you just looking for something to lose yourself in?”

He nodded.

“Lose yourself?” she confirmed. Her voice, in contrast to her rugged appearance, was really rather sweet and soft.

He nodded again. He thought she was being remarkably patient with all this stupid nodding, but she kept looking at him, and she seemed upset. “I don’t understand how the king could forbid you from speaking. What a horrible way to treat another person, I don’t care how much trouble he went to find you.” Rows of stabled horses looked at her rather placidly as she ranted.

Do you know the king? Ifra wanted to ask. She seemed unusually indignant about it for a woman who worked in the stables. Had Belin-

No sooner had he thought this than he noticed a little carved bear hanging from a leather thong around her neck. He recognized the same bear form Belin had been carving in his work room. He pointed at it, mouthing Belin’s name.

Her fingers flew to cover it. “Oh-yes. He made it for me.”

Tell me more. He motioned outward from his mouth.

“It’s nothing,” she said, trying to sound curt, but he heard heartbreak there. “I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you. Everyone knows the gossip, but it’s long stale now. When I was young, the king, that is to say, Belin and I- well, he loved horses and spent a lot of time here in the stables and we… Of course his father didn’t approve of the match. And even then-well, Belin’s ambitions came between us.”

Why? he mouthed, for lack of being able to ask better questions.

“Oh… well…” She looked around as if making sure no one would catch her talking. “Belin just-he never had Tamin’s charisma or Ilsin’s talents. Belin does have talents of his own, but… he’s good with animals and plants. Making things. Not people. His family and the court just didn’t value him, and it tore him up. He really wanted his share of the accolades his brothers receive. I can’t entirely blame him, but those ambitions of his… they don’t take him to the best place, I think. So that was that.” She sighed, clearly done with the topic. “Do you know how to brush a horse?”

Ifra knew how to brush horses back home, but he let her show him the fairy grooming tools. His mind was no longer on the horse, however. It was naive to think he could persuade Belin to step down from the throne and go back to his horses and a girl in muddy boots, but such an insight into Belin’s character was a treasure.

But what good were insights when he couldn’t speak? He kept circling back to that trouble. Belin had given him such hope earlier, and then shut him up again. It was almost impossible to reason with someone who would choose to silence anyone who said the slightest thing he didn’t like.

Ifra felt almost as if he had become the embodiment of Belin’s own conscience, so that when Belin ordered Ifra around, he was really just shouting at himself. Maybe all jinn felt this way when they were bound to one master for life-maybe it was their lot in life to reflect some aspect of their master. Of course, there were no other jinn around to ask.

Another night, Ifra wandered to the Hall of Oak and Ash. A guard paced outside, but when Ifra motioned that he wanted to go inside, the guard cracked open the door for him. “It’s always been a tradition that when our people are in need of wisdom, they may sit beneath the ancient trees when the court isn’t in session, but it’s been a long time since anyone came.”

Ifra lifted his brows, wondering why.

The guard didn’t quite understand. “You can go in. I don’t think it matters if you aren’t one of us.” He paused. “Watch out for ghosts. Some say it’s haunted. They bury the old kings beneath the trees.”

Ifra’s heart beat a little faster.

It was a cloudy night, and the trees blocked much of the feeble light coming in through the windows. Even the keen night vision of a jinn was nearly useless. Yet, Ifra heard the trees rustle and sigh in an imperceptible wind, as if they were speaking to one another. Ifra didn’t feel any wiser. In fact, he felt considerably unnerved. He recalled