Princess of Fire (The Light-Bringer Trilogy, #2)

Eleven

Cal looked down at Matias as she secured her sword at her waist.

He was sleeping on his stomach, his dark hair was brushing the tips of his ears and a few locks fell below his brows. He looked peaceful.

Cal kissed him on the cheek and left.

"At least you didn't sleep in," said Akaljot, who stood by the front door. "Your mother loved to do that."

"Is Lucas not joining us?" Cal asked as she fasted the clasp of her cloak.

"Lucas and Lance have a mission later today. I'm letting him sleep in," said Akaljot. "Let's go."

They left the flat and headed to the stables. They saddled their horses and rode to a clearing north of Soturi. Cal dismounted and fastened the reins to a low tree branch. She stood in front of Akaljot, who had cleared a boulder of snow and sat upon it.

"You can summon light. Do it," he said.

Cal held out a hand and willed a ball of light into existence.

Akaljot raised his brows. "It's a start. Now summon fire."

"I can't," she blurted.

Akaljot cocked his head to the side. "You can. I believe you can."

She didn't want to touch the ashes that remained. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"There's nothing there. Just ashes."

He leaned forward a little. "I can't help you unless you can summon fire for me."

"I can't," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't summon fire."

Akaljot sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Keep trying. We'll work on your light today."

He stood up. "Your magic is a part of you. You are one of the very rare few who can wield two forms of magic—light and fire in your case. This means that you have two very different wells of magic."

I'm not touching the fire well, she thought.

Akaljot held up his palm, a decent-sized ball of light resting in it. "Make a ball of light. Then expand it as big as you can." The ball of light grew to the size of a boulder and it winked out. "Use your well, and pull up the light magic."

Cal looked down down at her hands and pulled light out of the well, thread by thread.

"That's it," said Akaljot. "Keep going."

The light grew from a coin to a grape. From a grape to and orange. Sweat beaded Cal's brow.

"I can't hold it," she said as the light dimmed and shrunk.

He shook his head. "Keep going. We need to build your endurance."

The thread snapped and the light went out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hold it—" she started.

"It's okay, Cal," he said. "I'm proud of you for getting that far."

"Thank you," was all she said.

He motioned for her to sit next to him on the boulder. "I have a few things I want to discuss."

She sat next to him and took the water skin he held out.

"First is your marriage to Matias. You two must decide which house name you will go with. House Gomez or House Pyro? However, as my daughter, I would like to put forth my own name—Bjorndottir. It's just something to think about."

Cal considered this. "And the second?"

"I think that you have the same fear I did several centuries ago."

Cal blanched. "What fear is that?"

"Pyrophobia. Fear of fire."

Cal swallowed. "What makes you say that?"

"You looked uncomfortable at dinner last night, for one. You had a look of fear in your eyes every time you saw a candle flame. I can't say that I blame you for possibly being pyrophobic. Being trapped in iron for several months with fire magic will do something to a person."

A horse whinnied, interrupting them. A messenger halted a few feet before them, his cheeks red from the cold.

"Commander," he said, "we have a situation."

Akaljot got to his feet. "What's wrong?"

The messenger's next words made Cal's stomach drop. "Scout Lance Erickson found bodies. Lots of them."