Eira pursed her lips. That was true, she supposed. “Well, now you have. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day in the clinic and I should go rest before classes tomorrow.”
“Eira…” Fritz said in that don’t be mad voice unique to him alone.
She halted at the sound. “Tell me one thing.”
“What is it?” Grahm was the one to ask.
“Is this request because of three years ago?” Eira looked them both in the eye. “You’ve told me this much; if it is, I want to know.”
Friz opened his mouth to speak.
Grahm cut him off. “Yes.”
The incident three years ago—her inescapable burden, the crime she could never expunge.
“I thought so. Excuse me, uncles.” Eira departed with a bow of her head.
It stayed bowed as she descended the Tower. Eira walked without direction, eyes on her feet, not paying attention to where they were carrying her. The light shifted as she crossed through a hallway, connecting the Tower to the palace.
…my father…
…how is he…
The whispers followed her throughout the back halls of the castle, snippets of conversations long gone. She paused, listening to a particularly chatty vase just outside the guard offices—some scandalous affair. But the voices were just whispers on the wind, gone almost as soon as she heard them. Eira pushed down her magic, silencing them once more.
“What do you need, sorcerer?” the man stationed at the entrance to the palace guard’s barracks questioned her.
“I’m here to see my aunt. Don’t mind me.”
He gave her a wary look, but let her pass. She’d come here enough that she was reluctantly welcome. Eira went up the main stairway and entered into a giant room. Beds were stacked in bunks, three tall. They were so close together that Eira could barely pass through without brushing her shoulder against someone’s hand or foot hanging off the edges.
On the outer rim, the beds were stacked only two high, and they had curtains hung—a bit of rare privacy for the higher-ranking guards like her aunt.
The curtains were already pulled for the night on her aunt’s bed. Eira knocked on the bedpost anyway. Luckily, her bunkmate wasn’t present.
“Go. Away,” Gwen Charem seethed from behind her bed curtains.
“You said I could always come to you no matter what the time, Auntie.”
The curtains snapped back. “Is that my favorite niece?”
“Goodness, don’t let Rose or Lily hear you say that.” Eira sat on the edge of the bed. Rose and Lily were her younger cousins, the daughters of one of Gwen’s older sisters.
“Those girls are as unbearable as their mother.” Gwen pulled herself upright with a yawn. She slept in her training clothes—always ready.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do and Nia knows it.” Gwen grinned. “And if she doesn’t, I’m confident you won’t be the one to tell her. You know a thing or two about unbearable older siblings.”
The Charem family tree branched out wide from underneath Eira’s grandparents—Orel and Tama. The two had five children over the span of sixteen years and Gwen was the youngest, only twelve years older than Eira. Two of their daughters had married and had kids—Eira’s mother, Reona, and her sister Nia. The eldest daughter, Cass, was unwed and still lived with their parents just outside of Rivend. Fritz, their only son, had yet to have any children.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of an evening visit? Did I get it right? Does it have something to do with Marcus?”
Eira kicked off her shoes, pulling her feet onto the bed and sitting opposite her aunt. “You’ve heard about the tournament, right?”
“Everyone has heard about the tournament.” Gwen grinned. “Are you thinking of becoming a candidate? Trying to beat the trials to win a spot as competitor?”
“Trials?” Eira tilted her head.
“Oops.” Gwen grinned sheepishly. “I forgot announcements weren’t going to be made until tomorrow morning.” Her aunt winked and Eira doubted she’d forgotten at all. Gwen had always been good to her. “Well, do you want to be in the tournament?”
“I…” Eira sighed, the conversation from earlier still turning her magic frigid.
“I think you should know, the Tournament of Five Kingdoms will be held on the Crescent Continent.”
“What?” Eira leaned forward, her voice dropping to an excited whisper. “The tournament will be on Meru?”
Gwen looked a little too smug and proud to have shared that morsel of information. “That’s the word I’ve heard.”
Eira chewed on her bottom lip, picking at a loose seam on the hem of her dress. The competitors would get to go to Meru. Every fantasy she’d ever had about seeing that distant land with her own eyes suddenly had the chance to come true.
“Uncle doesn’t want me to compete,” Eira admitted softly. “Because of three years ago.” When Eira dragged her eyes upward to look at Gwen, she was met with a deep scowl.
“Your uncle needs to remember you’re a woman grown and to mind his business. You paid your time marvelously. That incident is done and over.”
Eira let out a soft laugh. “Yes, but—”
“Three years ago was a grave and horrible mistake. You know that, but Eira, listen, look at me.” Gwen leaned forward, covering Eira’s picking fingers gently with her own. “You think I’ve never hurt anyone by accident before?”
“Hurting someone and killing them are very different,” Eira whispered. Her aunt ignored the remark.
“Listen, when I first got here, I was sparring with another student. I was just older than you were. I was sixteen and stupid and thought I was in control of not just myself but the whole damn world. Sound familiar?” Gwen tilted her head and Eira forced a nod.
She didn’t have the heart to correct her aunt. She hadn’t had an illusion she was in control back then. She hadn’t cared about control. She’d wanted them to hurt, just like they had hurt her—worse. She’d wanted the whole Tower to drown, to blister with her chill, whatever it took.
“In any case, I took it too far. I challenged him to
