I spin and lunge to one side, then to another, dodging Amira’s spells each time. She’s initially amused by my moves, almost lazy in the way she shoots at me. But a few moments in, she begins to get frustrated. I feel the next blast of air full on, my teeth knocking together so hard that, for a moment, I think I’ve broken one. I sit on the floor, clutching my throbbing head.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” Amira’s voice is quiet. Furious.
“Tire you out?”
My sarcasm infuriates Amira even more. “Your biggest problem has always been defense. You need to learn to protect yourself if you ever hope to do any real damage to your enemy.”
“If you told me how to protect myself, maybe I could!” I have a hard time believing that focusing on a single word will do anything.
“I already told you. Focus on the word protect. I don’t control your thoughts, princess—you do. Now come on. We don’t have much time left before our session ends.”
I want to walk out of the storage room and quit. Instead, I think about Juhi’s challenge—the strange, hopeful look in her eyes when she issued it. I think about the Sky Warrior who murdered my parents—a woman who was a hundred times more brutal than Amira ever could be. I grit my teeth and rise to my feet again.
10GUL
“Don’t you bathe?” Amira wrinkles her nose when I enter the training room one evening. “You’d think you were rolling in dung, not simply making cakes out of it.”
I say nothing in response. Nearly two weeks have passed since Amira replaced Juhi during our training sessions. Thirteen consecutive days during which I’ve learned to tolerate some of her taunts—when I’m not thinking of ways to sink a dagger into her eye. It took ten evenings of going to Juhi’s quarters and repeatedly knocking on her door before a frustrated Uma Didi (who sleeps in a room nearby) admitted that Juhi wasn’t in Javeribad at all. Neither was Kali—and that probably explains the sullen expression on Amira’s face. She hates being left behind.
“I hope you’ll do better accessing your magic this time,” Amira says now. “You haven’t progressed a bit since our first lesson.”
“If you told me how to access my magic, then maybe I could make some progress,” I bite out, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
She sends a gust of air my way, knocking me off my feet. “Haven’t you been listening to me? Magic is a mental game. And I’ve already told you several times before to use your mind. Look out, now! You’ll be fighting fire next.”
She’s not joking. I barely have time to raise my shield before she sends an arrow of flames in my direction. My shield, made entirely of metal, makes things even worse, marking my skin with burns.
“Concentrate on protecting yourself!” she instructs. “Use your mind, princess!”
If I were a princess, I would have replaced you a long time ago, I think. But since I’m not, I bite my tongue and continue dodging, sometimes managing to throw a dagger, which Amira flicks away with another blast of air, once throwing my shield at her, which, after her initial surprise, makes her roar with fury.
“You think this is a joke?” She sends even more flaming arrows my way. “You think you’ll survive a battle with Raja Lohar, the most powerful magus in Ambar, with this sort of nonsense?”
I’m barely able to register her words. After a long day, exhaustion has begun creeping in, and the more I dodge her, the more my anger diminishes. I close my eyes for a second and breathe deeply.
“Protect!” Amira shouts. “Protect yourself, fool!”
Fool. The word brings back an old memory I’d forgotten. I was six years old and playing with a group of children in a village. I followed them everywhere, even climbed a tall mango tree with them. On a dare, they all jumped down as one, some magically floating to the ground, others finding their balance without any magic, like cats. I stayed up on my branch, terrified. Unlike my playmates, I had no experience jumping out of trees. And my magic had failed me far too many times in the past. I didn’t expect it to cushion my fall.
“Jump!” the kids shouted. “Jump, fool!”
I didn’t. By the time my mother finally came to the tree to fetch me, I was in tears.
“Jump, my girl,” Ma said. “I will catch you.”
After a long time, I jumped, right into Ma’s strong arms. However, to my surprise, when Ma let go, I floated in the air for several moments before gently landing on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” I told Ma, feeling embarrassed. “The other kids were right. I am a fool.”
“You are not. You were simply nervous,” Ma said, her voice fierce. “You have magic in you, daughter, and it is strong. Always remember that—even when I am not there to protect you.”
Ma is not here now, in this training room. But her words sink in, slowing my movements, an odd calm falling over me. It’s similar to what I felt when my mind split for the first time and slid into Agni’s, only clearer and more intentional. As if I just understood how to open my eyes underwater. The birthmark on my right arm grows warm. There is no burning sensation this time, only heat. Power.
Protect. The word sinks in, even though my limbs are screaming for a break, an instant of relief. Protect yourself.
When Amira sends a ball of flame morphing into an armored leopard, I hold up my hands. Her spell hits my hands, glows for a split second before turning blue. The flames ricochet back at Amira, who instantly douses them with water.
For a long moment, we both stare at each other. Then Amira’s mouth hardens, and she gives me a nod. “Again.”
Wood shrapnel turning into arrows that shoot my way.
Protect. The
