Chapter 29
Captain Yang
It’s the hardest thing I have ever done, but I control myself. As the day continues, I say nothing. I don’t breathe a word of what transpired between Castor and myself.
.…
I tell myself it’s because I am biding my time, waiting until the General is alone so I can tell him without Castor or the Princess present.
As the day comes to a close, and the Princess is taken back to the Palace, Castor with her, I still find myself unable to breathe a word.
Everything I want to say is stuck in my throat. It’s as if Castor has tied my words to a rock and lodged it in my chest with whatever strange power he possesses.
Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe his words are starting to affect me. His veiled warning about Garl.
Though Garl is the kind of man who will do whatever it takes, I tell myself Castor is overstating things. Garl is no monster. In fact, he’s a hero. Just as my father was.
My father….
As soon as I think of him, I feel a cold sweat slicking across my brow.
Of all the things that can undo me, thinking of him is the worst.
Though he died long ago, my relationship to his memory is just as complex as my relationship with the man had been when he had lived.
He was a strong and truly uncompromising man, and he single-handedly taught me how to be the best Royal Army sorcerer I could be. In fact, he demanded it. He was a sorcerer himself, and he had learned the art like no one else could. His ability to purge his emotions was second to none. Even toward me, his only son, he had never shown a gram of compassion, let alone love. Emotion would only get in the way of training.
Though perhaps I had not understood that fact as a child, I understand it now. I’m not bitter toward him, because there’s nothing to blame him for. Without his insistence, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. And considering the destiny that awaits me, protecting the Savior herself, I must thank him.
Yet still, I can’t deny that merely thinking of him sends tense shivers darting through my back and arms.
No matter how unsettling the memory of him is, however, I will not renounce him. I will never do that.
There’s nothing to renounce. He was a hero.
A hero, I tell myself firmly as I walk through the square.
Castor is trying to undermine me. At every turn, he says something that he knows will rile me. There’s no actual truth behind his words.
.…
As I think that, I think of Garl. And more to the point, Yin’s reaction to him. The palpable, undeniable fear. I see it everytime his name is mentioned. This morning, after her accident with the fan, I saw fear washing through her as Garl stood by her side, his eyes narrowing in interest….
I break off my thoughts, shaking my head to chase them away.
I continue to walk determinedly through the square.
Night settled in hours ago, and torches have been lit, casting their bright, flickering glow over the cobbles before me.
As the wind catches a lamp close by me, I hear the flames crackle and spark. Unlike water, which washes around any obstacles thrown in its path, the fire bends with the wind, but it protests, growing brighter and crackling harder.
Just like Yin.
Yin.
I am no longer going to deny she’s at the center of this. She is the key to finding out what Castor really wants.
I am determined to find out what that is. That’s why I’m walking quickly and surely toward her room.
In fact, it’s becoming an old habit. I have gone to see her in her tiny cell at least once a day since she arrived. Yet somehow it feels like it’s been longer than that. Despite the fact I haven’t even known her for a week, it feels as if I’ve known her my whole life. Perhaps it’s her intensity, or maybe it’s because her arrival has coincided with the complete upheaval of everything I know.
Or maybe it’s something I can’t even fathom yet.
But the point is, as I reach her door and close my hand into a fist, getting ready to knock, it feels… right.
Though we could very well get into another argument – as I seem to do little else when she is around – I still can’t deny the desire to see her. Staring into her flaming personality feels like the greatest act of courage I’ve ever experienced.
As I think that, I squish my face up in contempt. I must be tired, I assure myself, then I lean forward and knock.
She doesn’t answer. This time, rather than just opening the door, I knock again. I don’t want to find her half-dressed.
However, after I knock multiple times, I soon realize she isn’t going to say anything. So, with a rattling sigh, I open the door a crack.
My cheeks flushing red at what I might find, I soon realize she is fully dressed. She’s also standing in the center of her tiny room, practicing with the burnt remains of her fan.
She doesn’t look up as the door swings open and I take a tentative step into the room. In fact, she continues to practice as if I’m not there at all. With concentration plastering her face, her lips drawn thin against her teeth, she moves the fan in great arcs around her.
Though she lacks the same quality of fluidity she had this morning, her moves are still powerful and direct.
I find myself being drawn in as I watch her, almost forgetting why I’m here.
Then, as she furls the fan around in a great arc, her body moving in perfect time with it, I see her shoot me a terse glance. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to let yourself into ladies rooms just to stand there and watch them?”
I splutter, taking a light step back, but not actually leaving the room.
“Do you want anything?” She rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop practicing. Every move is strong, directed, concentrated. I can see how much she’s been practicing; her once rough moves are now more polished, and yet, paradoxically, freer. It’s harder to predict what she’ll do next, and it is almost thrilling to watch her.
Realizing I need to say something, I clear my throat. “We need to finish our conversation,” I manage.
“What conversation?”
“You need to tell me everything about Castor,” I say as I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe.
There are no guards standing outside, thankfully, so I don’t have an audience. Considering it’s impossible to break out of a room like this, there’s no longer any point in having soldiers watching her when she’s locked inside.
Yin doesn’t answer. She turns on the spot and continues practicing until she reaches the wall a meter from her, then she turns again, and practices in the other direction.
“What is he planning? If you know, you need to tell me,” I say quickly.
“You heard him. I’m no longer his apprentice, and he doesn’t plan to see me again. He is training the Princess now, whatever that means. That leaves me with you,” she says, her words gruff.
My cheeks redden at the word “you,” but I hide it as I send a burst of practically invisible magic to take the heat away.
As I rely on the magic, I remember how cool and calming it is. How numbing.
It lets me take a step back and assess the situation for what it is.
Yin is clearly not going to tell me anything about Castor, not unless I compel her to. Fighting her just isn’t going to work. So the only option left is to make her trust me.
“Believe it or not, I’m on your side,” I say as I let my arms loosen and drop to my sides. I look at her directly, never blinking, fixing my attention only on her face as she twists and turns and practices before me.
“Really? Then you won’t mind if I leave and go back to my home and take Castor with me?” she quips.
“I can’t do that. But if you let me, I can help you. Maybe one day I can convince Garl to let you go. Before that happens, I need you to trust me,” I put a lot of effort into saying the word trust. As I do, I try to make it sound as genuine as I can.
I pretend my words are as cl
ear and transport as glass. They hide nothing but my true intent.
As I do this, my magic builds. But rather than channeling it into a shot and smashing it against the wall, I push it into my words. Into the exact way I say them, how I look at her as I will her to believe me.
She stares at me as she continues to practice, and I soon realize her moves become all the sharper and stronger, as if she’s trying to beat the very air before her.
I have to get her attention. I have to garner her trust. I need to know what Castor is up to. If she doesn’t know, then I still need to know everything she does. Every last scrap of information about that man.
With the cool, reassuring numbness of my magic rushing through my veins, my left wrist buzzing as my Arak device practically vibrates, it’s easy to pluck up the courage to walk all the way into the room and right up to her.
Without any space to practice, she stops. Though I can tell she wants to continue, taking the excuse to whack me on the head with her fan, she doesn’t.
Yet neither does she step backward. She tips her head and stares into my eyes. “You want me to trust you? How? You don’t even trust yourself.”
I try to control my expression, as I redouble my efforts to look genuine, but I can’t stop my brow from crumpling. “You can trust me,” I emphasize can with a sharp breath of air, and I smile as I gaze at her.
It’s a trick that should work on anyone.
It does not work on her.
She snorts. “You are so fake, you know that, right? I can see through this act. I might have fallen for it once, but the more I get to know you, the more I can recognize it. You think I can’t feel you using magic? All the force concentrating on your heart – I can sense it. I know it’s there, and I know what you’re using it for. But trust me, I’m never going to trust you,” she moves her mouth wide around her words, her voice clipped and clear.
I press my teeth together, swallowing hard behind them. “You can trust me,” I say again, but this time my voice wavers.
She snorts again. Though there’s more than a meter of space behind her, and she could easily take a step back, she doesn’t. She stares up into my eyes, making it clear she is not even remotely intimidated.
“You really are fake. Tell me, does anyone actually fall for that?”
I stiffen. “I am not fake,” I say, unable to stop myself.
She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. We’re so close, her elbows almost brush up against my sides.
I don’t move back.
“Yes, you are,” she says directly. “You have more walls set up around your emotion and true feelings than there are in the entire Kingdom. Tell me, when was the last time you actually felt something?” she unhooks one arm to slam it on her chest, the fabric rumpling at her move. “And you weren’t ashamed at letting that emotion in?”
“I’m not ashamed,” I say through clenched teeth, rapidly losing control of the situation.
“I read about you in the library. Well, not you specifically, but the way Royal Army sorcerers are trained,” she says Royal Army like it’s an insult, “and it’s horrible. Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you let yourself become a soulless weapon for the army?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I snap back.
“I wish I didn’t. I wish I was still up in my village, blissfully unaware that people like you exist,” the skin around her eyes tightens as she mentions her village, and it’s obvious how sad it makes her feel. But she doesn’t try to hide it. She stares up at me, letting everything show.
Yet as I glare down at her, I try to keep everything back. As I feel my control slipping, I utilize every trick I know to bring it back. I build emotional walls as fast as I can, trying to push the cold touch of magic through my veins and forcing it to drive out every feeling as it washes through my heart.
We are total opposites.
A fact I don’t have time to appreciate as I snarl, “you are naive. A dumb girl from a village, who’s never seen the world, and now hides behind her ignorance, fighting everybody who comes near.”
“Well, this dumb girl from a village is smart enough to know you are only trying to manipulate her. You want me to trust you so I tell you everything about Castor. Well, it is never going to happen.”
“You have an obligation to your kingdom,” I begin, heat rising so fast on my cheeks that no matter how much magic I pour through them, I can’t chill them.
My anger is bubbling away, and I can’t stop it.
“And you have an obligation to yourself. You’ve given away the true source of your power, just to please your generals. And in the deal, you’ve given up your heart and soul too. You might think I’m dumb, Yang, but I have never met somebody who has sacrificed so much for so little. You may think you’re just being loyal, but you’re being blind. You’re letting yourself become a tool. You have a heart for a reason, you know that, right? You feel for a reason. This,” she drives her thumb into the center of her chest, pushing her fingers down to where her heart is, “helps you to know what to do, and it helps you stop doing what you shouldn’t.”
“I—” I begin.
She speaks right over me, “you want to know something about Castor? Okay, I’ll tell you. He always taught me that the most important source of power is your morals. That’s the real connection between you and the spirit of magic you summon. The true espre of any Arak device. And you, you’ve given up your morals. You’re happy to numbly follow somebody else’s orders, never thinking for yourself whether what you’re doing is right or wrong. So don’t you think you can intimidate me, because you can never be as powerful as I am.”
I want to shout at her. Hell, I even want to strike out. The anger burning in my belly tells me to do something, and as it rears its ugly head, it has the face of my father.
Yet something holds me back, and that something is curiosity.
As it mollifies me, what Castor told me earlier today ignites in my mind.
He warned me that if I am to become a guardian of the Savior, I have to connect to my magic.
He told me to connect to the espre of my Arak device – the true soul of my magic.
Maybe Yin can sense my confusion, because her eyebrows crumple close over her flashing eyes. “What? I’m finally getting through to you?”
“What are you talking about?” I force myself to say. As I speak, I don’t control my emotions; they weave through my tone, contorting the words, making my fragility and confusion obvious.
“What? You actually care?”
“What did Castor teach you about the espre of magic? Did he ever teach you any rituals?” I add, latching onto my curiosity with everything I have. The more I invest in it, the more my open fragility is less important.
Yin crumples her brow and goes back to crossing her arms. “Are you playing with me again?”
“You’re smart enough to know when I’m manipulating you. So you should be smart enough to know that I’m not doing that now. So just… tell me, what did he teach you about the true soul of magic?”
She shakes her head a little. “Why do you care? You’re blindly loyal to your Royal Family and generals. Why would what a dumb village girl says matter to you?”
“It shouldn’t. I don’t want it to matter to me,” I say, incapable of being anything but honest. I can’t hide my words nor my true intentions; what I’m really feeling burns through. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to dismiss you and your words completely. But I don’t have that luxury,” my voice becomes croaky, “please, tell me.”
She stares at me warily, but the longer she does, the more her confusion lifts.
“Is there some kind of ritual to reconnect with the spirit of my Arak device. Yin? Is there some way to strengthen my link?” I indicate the Arak device on my left wrist, “to the true espre of my magic?” I shouldn’t be so honest. It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught, everything my father taught me. You purge your emotions, and if you can’
t, you hide them, locking them up behind every wall you can.
They will lead only to ruin.
I can’t follow my curiosity and hold them back at the same time; I don’t have the attention required, nor the control.
“You give in,” she says quietly.
“Please, I’m being honest with you. If you know anything, tell me,” I say quickly.
“I am telling you. If you want to reconnect to your power, you give in to it. It will show you. The spirit,” her voice becomes far-off, and she gets an almost otherworldly look in her eyes, “within the magic, your Arak device, will show you the way.” She looks up at me and locks her gaze on mine. There is still a distinctly otherworldly quality to it, and it sparks my curiosity even more.
As do her words.
“What do you mean? Is there some ritual I have to follow? Some set of moves? Does it require a sacrifice? Do I need any ritual objects?”
She laughs, but whereas once her snorts were clearly derisive, now she seems to be amused. Maybe it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Yin simply amused. Unable to stop from smiling, she shakes her head. “How would any of that help you? It would just distract you. There is nothing special. You just give in. Go find the great spirit, and be willing to listen to what she says. She will show the way back to water.”
Now it’s my turn to stare at her in confusion. “Be willing to listen to what she says, what does that mean?”
She laughs again. “You really have no idea, do you? Haven’t you ever tried to summon Gaea before?”
“. . . No. People can’t summon Gaea,” I point out carefully.
She starts to laugh again, then her eyes grow wide, and for a second it looks as if she has let something slip. As if she’s made an unintended error. Then I watch her grit her teeth and push a breath through them. When she’s done, I watch her force another laugh as if she’s trying to hide her odd reaction altogether. “. . . To reconnect to your element, you must become immersed in it. You must trust it. Push yourself right into it, and be confident it will protect you. Gaea will guide your way. Give yourself up to her. Don’t control yourself, let her move through you. Don’t be afraid to relinquish the control you think you have,” she distractedly sweeps a hand up her arm, “and just give in to your Arak device completely. It will protect you. When I was young, there was a terrible storm in our village,” she takes a slow breath, and it’s clear she’s about to share something unsettling. She doesn’t stop, though. Yin never holds herself back. With another breath, she continues. “I was young, I was terrified, and I was trapped out in the mountains. And, well… I climbed as high as I could. I didn’t understand the lightning would be attracted to higher ground,” she laughs uncomfortably, “and I got struck. I still remember it, the power flashing through me.” She brings up her left hand and stares at her Arak device distractedly. “I was too young to use magic to protect myself. It didn’t matter, though, because my Arak band protected me anyway. The spirit within it, the espre, the true and unbreakable connection to Gaea. I gave myself up to it, and it kept me safe.”
A shiver crosses over my skin at her story, and it, more than anything, vanquishes the last of my anger.
In its place, more curiosity burns. “You almost died?” I ask with a dry throat.
“Almost,” she nods in agreement, “but I didn’t. It was up to the Arak device. In that moment, it got to decide whether I lived or died.”
My mouth is now completely dry, and I have no idea what my expression looks like. Maybe I don’t care. “How am I meant to do that? Do I have to go out and stand under a thunderstorm or plunge into a fire, and wait to see if my Arak band will protect me without my will to force its magic?”
She looks at me directly then shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. But I don’t think it has to be as dramatic. You just have to… give in. Stop trying to control the device, stop trying to direct its magic to where you want it to go, and find out where it wants to go. Start trying to listen to its voice until its whisper becomes loud enough to hear. Connect,” she taps her own Arak device, “to it. Understand and appreciate that you don’t have any magic of your own. Every scrap of magic you have is a gift from your device.”
I wipe a hand down my mouth, crumpling my brow as I do. “Are you sure there is no ritual?” I ask hopefully.
She laughs again, and this time it is a truly easy move. It’s light, and it’s mirthful. “No. It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. Or, in fact, it’s much simpler. There’s nothing specific you have to do, there is no sacred scroll you have to read, you just have to,” she shrugs again, “reconnect.”
“Reconnect,” I repeat her word, and as I do, my heart sinks. She may think it’s easier than some ritual, but what she has just described is…. It terrifies me.
I’ve lived my life under my father’s rule, and I devoted myself to the army. Every day, I’ve had structure, discipline, a set routine to keep. I’ve known what to do, because somebody has told me what to do.
Now, if Yin is to be believed, there is no specific path I have to follow; I have to make it up myself.
Of all the things that could scare a man, somehow that has the most power over me.
Perhaps Yin can see how apprehensive I’ve become, because she presses her lips into a smile and raises an eyebrow. “It’s not that scary.”
At the term scary, I feel my defenses rise a little. I straighten up.
Laughing again, she takes a step back and raises her hands. “I didn’t mean to suggest you are anything but a brave and loyal soldier to the Kingdom,” she says in a sarcastic voice.
I want to get angry at her taunts, but it’s hard. There’s too much to think about.
Is she right? Is that the only way to reconnect with the spirit of my magic?
Or am I being distracted? Did Castor suggest that to undermine me? To distract me?
I wouldn’t put it past him.
“You know, you’re becoming cold again,” Yin suddenly says, her voice quiet. “You’re putting the walls back up. I can pretty much hear them clunk into place. Well, before you finish, I should probably let you know, that you will never reconnect to the true spirit of your device with those walls in place. You’ll have to give into its espre completely. You will have to feel it flowing through you, just its energy and yours, no barriers, no filters. Magic.”
I feel my cheeks stiffening. “I don’t need a lecture from you about magic.”
“You asked me,” she says pointedly.
“It was clearly a mistake,” I begin saying. Then, as I realize what I’m doing, I stop.
“You’re right, it was a mistake. Someone like you could never reconnect to their magic; you can’t connect to anything,” she concludes with a huff.
“I’m done here,” I turn to the door.
“Hey, don’t let me stop you. And how about next time you want a fight, you go see somebody else.”
I grab the door, my knuckles turning white. “I just wanted information,” I clarify harshly.
“No, you want to be saved,” she says, and as she does… I swear her voice does something.
Maybe it shakes the room, maybe it sends magic spewing out everywhere. Or maybe, what it really does, is something to me.
I half turn over my shoulder. “I don’t need saving from you,” I say, trying to laugh dismissively, because it is a ridiculous thought.
“I’m not saying I am the one who’s going to save you, Captain. I’m just saying that whether you’re willing to accept it or not, you’re looking for something to thaw those icy walls around your heart. You want to stand and face the fire until it melts through your barriers.”
Stand and face the fire.
.…
I jerk back now, and before I can say another word, I slam the door, bolting it behind me.
I stand there, actually panting as I stare at it.
She doesn’t say anything, or perhaps she screams, but I wouldn’t be able to hear her over my beating heart.
/> I take a deep breath, trying to slow my heart, but it won’t work. It keeps charging on as if it’s ready to face the greatest foe in the universe.
But there are no enemies around.
Just the ones within. I bring my hands up, and I stare at them. She is wrong, right? And so is Castor. They are both wrong. They’re both just trying to undermine me.
I am connected to my magic. I know how it feels. Its cool, numbing touch has shepherded me through life.
There’s nothing else to know.
Holding onto that thought with all my might, I turn and I walk away. But nothing, nothing can stop me from turning around and glancing once more at her door.