Early the next morning, I wake, gripping Soren’s hand and somehow feeling the density of his emotions as well as my own. I dreamed Soren’s dreams, slamming from tragedy to a warzone of devastation.
His eyes open and he gazes at me with a mixture of gentle affection and concern.
“Being afraid doesn’t need to stop us from doing what’s right,” I whisper.
“What if I do the wrong thing?”
“This desire for freedom for your people isn’t selfish. If it was and I thought you were a bad person, I’d freeze you in your sleep.” I wink at him, not entirely sure what this ability of mine is or means, but intrigued nonetheless.
I win a rare smile that quickly dissolves into the furrows of his remaining uncertainty. “Why did we come all this way to hear about balance and energy to find out Vespertine with his mage powers and infinite knowledge can’t do anything?”
I let out a long, contemplative breath, and a little zing flows through my arms and into my hands. “I think to remind us that we can.”
We spend the day in the cave as the storm rages on outside. Mr. Miyagi aka Vespertine instructs me in accessing and using my power while Soren practices his swordsmanship like a shadow boxer.
“Do you have another one of those?” I ask, pointing to the sword.
“A sword? Indeed. The ravens like shiny things and have gifted me with quite a collection.” Vespertine drifts to the back of the cave and Soren and I follow.
It seems as if the cavern goes on forever, but we stop at a little alcove.
“Ah, my armory. Let’s see.” Vespertine looks me over and passes me a sword with a hilt that glitters like a snowflake in the sun. “Yes, I think this is the one for you. Elven metal—the strongest around.”
It looks like it would weigh a ton, but is lighter than the swords we used to slay demons when I was training with the Police Force and before I was demoted to Peace Officer status. The finely crafted weapon practically hums in my hand and as I step into the broad part of the cave, swiping the air, I feel an electric jolt from within, connecting with the metal.
“That was specially made during the Wicked War for the battle fae.”
“If fae have magic, why do they need weapons?” I ask hardly able to make myself stay still. I feel ready for the fight, much like I did when in training back home.
“Why have one when you can have both? And if I’m not mistaken, your grandmother fought in the Wicked War. Gave her life for the freedom of the Frost Fae in the North Iron.”
I gaze at the blade and my thumb rubs a stone carved into the shape of a snowflake.
“Why don’t you two practice for a little while, see if you can connect your fae power to the sword,” Vespertine suggests.
Soren squares up as though accepting the challenge. A half cocky and half flirtatious smile plays on his lips.
Before Vespertine sweeps away, he says, “Oh, and Soren, keep it fair. No talons.”
His brow rumples and I make my first move...
Much later, both of us are sweaty and exhausted. But he’s a worthy opponent and a good sport, considering I almost blasted him with frosty magic several times.
Vespertine brings us tea and a spongy kind of cake that’s syrupy sweet.
“Is this brown bread?” I ask, hopeful.
“Too pale,” Soren says, eyeing Vespertine. “Not enough ginger or cinnamon.”
“No, it’s a kind of sweet cake common to the fae of the north.”
Soren doesn’t touch it. Instead, he says, “What were you saying about talons? Was that a joke?”
Vespertine’s eyes brighten. “You tell me.”
Seriously, this guy is infuriating, but there’s probably a reason for his peculiar approach. After all, I have the beginnings of access to my fae power and using it has gradually come easier to me all day. In fact, like the training officers when I was at the Magical Management Vocational Academy, Vespertine said I was very enthusiastic. Though this time, it seemed like a compliment rather than a criticism.
“I’m not sure I can tell you,” Soren says after a beat.
“When you’re ready you’ll be able to answer your own questions.”
I’m busy devouring my sweet cake and contemplating making a move on Soren’s since it sits untouched so I’m only half listening.
Vespertine gets my attention when he passes us each a silk cloth with something folded inside. “I don’t want you to have to stay any longer than is necessary, but there are more matters for us to address.”
I open the silk to reveal an etched brass compass. The inside is laid with crimson and pearl. There’s an indentation where each of the four cardinal directions should be marked.
“This compass serves four purposes. To take you where you’d like to go, to bring you to your heart’s greatest desire, to the location of the four missing stones in each of the pockets there,” he says, pointing to recesses where there should be markings for north, south, east, and west, “and to lead you to its owner.”
“Thanks,” I say, turning it over in my hands. The initials ANAV are etched on the back. I run my fingers over them.
“Count Nikolai Alexander Vladikoff,” Vespertine says.
I shake my head, not familiar with the name.
“Also known as the shadow caster, darkening the sun. Commander of the four terrible kings and leader of
