The Curse of Sins, page 21
She reached down deep inside of herself as she staggered to her feet, trying to pour more of her very being into that inner barrier all Visya had to protect themselves from affinities.
Galda had given her explicit orders:
No retaliation.
No affinity use.
Just shielding.
But as that pain turned from physical to something more, something all-consuming that had tears building behind Aya’s eyes, she ground her teeth, her frustration rising.
So easy, it would be so easy to send a lash of her own power at Galda, to get her on the defensive.
That was how Visya fought.
How the Dyminara fought.
They balanced their affinities with their shields. They used them in tandem to build off one another and fuel their fight.
But you’re not training with the Dyminara, that small voice reminded her. You don’t belong there anymore.
Aya let out a grunt as she tried to focus. She might be a member of the Dyminara in title only now, but still…
She should be using her power, should be ensuring she was growing as strong as possible, so she could prepare for what Gianna had in store for her, for what the gods had in store for her. This was more wasted time, more pointless training that would get her nowhere—
Aya’s frustration peaked, and her shield shattered like glass.
She crumbled to the ground, a shout of pain wrenching itself from her throat as agony slammed into her, stealing her breath and pulling a choked, “Fuck,” from her lungs.
Her bones felt like they were snapping, sending her body into a trembling frenzy as tears slipped down her cheeks, and even then, Galda did not stop.
Aya should have known. Galda wouldn’t care if Aya were sent from the Divine themselves; the trainer would rather die than go easy on her. It was her duty, after all, to make sure Aya was prepared.
And this…this was a level of Galda’s power that Aya had not been subjected to before.
Aya reached for the tattered remains of her shield, trying desperately to weave it back into place, but it was no use.
“Get. Up,” Galda ordered, her affinity unrelenting.
Aya tried. Gods, did she try. But she was tired after another sleepless night, and angry, and she couldn’t bury her frustration and reach that calm place that Galda had taught her to settle into in order to control her power.
“I yield,” Aya ground out.
Galda’s power ceased immediately, even as bitter disappointment twisted her features. She gave Aya the space of three ragged breaths before she started in on her.
“How many times have I told you that a tangled mind is a defenseless mind,” she snapped. “Your thoughts, your emotions, they are the essence of you. You allow yours to make you weak!”
The mountain air burned in Aya’s chest as she pushed herself off the ground. “I am not weak,” she snarled through battered breath. “I could have used my power to—”
“I don’t care what your power can do if you can’t protect yourself.” Galda cut her off, authority ringing in every syllable as she stalked toward Aya. “Your shield is stronger than this!”
Aya swallowed her bitter resentment at the truth in Galda’s words. Her shield was stronger than this. At least it had been…before.
Gods, that was the marker for everything, wasn’t it? Before?
When she’d been a better spy.
A better daughter.
A better Visya.
“Using my power is exactly how I will protect myself!” Aya seethed. “The prophecy says it is to rival Evie’s—”
Galda was in her face now, and her thunderous expression was enough to bring Aya up short. “Your enemies will use every single weapon they have against you,” she hissed. “You are naive if you think brawn is how you will defeat them. They will find your weakness and exploit it, and yours has always been your mind. Why do you think I spent godsdamn years teaching you control?”
The word was kindling to Aya’s temper, fourteen years of lessons on how to bury the broken, messy parts of herself bearing down on her shoulders.
The trainer stared at her for a long moment before giving a bitter shake of her head. “A fucking waste of time, if this is all you have to show for it.”
Aya’s hands curled into fists as Galda’s disapproval settled heavily in her gut. She could see the truth in her words as clearly as she could see the anger in Galda’s gaze now. Anytime she had lost control, anytime her shield had slipped, it was because of what was happening inside of her.
Anger. Fear. Doubt. Sadness.
An affinity had always been fueled by the essence of a Visya, and Aya had long learned the essence of herself was turmoil.
That turmoil had only grown worse in Trahir; had only intensified after returning home.
Galda took a step back. “I want you working on reinforcing your shield daily,” she ordered. Aya’s jaw shifted as she bit back the argument bubbling in her throat. The exercise was practically remedial. She should be beyond this.
Some saint.
Galda glared at her, all too familiar with that look on her face, that glint of disagreement in her eye. “Something to say?” she growled, her tone just daring Aya to argue.
Control.
Control.
Control.
“No,” Aya replied, her voice as level as she could manage with the fury burning inside of her.
Galda cocked a brow. “Good. You’re finally learning.”
30
“When I dreamed of becoming a Saj of the Maraciana, I can assure you this was not an exercise I thought I’d gain so much experience in.”
Aidon raised a brow at Natali from where he stood at the far end of the dungeon cell, his arms folded across his chest, back resting against the cold stone wall. He’d selected one of the furthest cells for this meeting—one near where Aya and Will had been held. And though he hoped to look at ease to Natali, he was anything but. The wall was steadying him, keeping his tremors at bay.
“No? Isn’t this what you Saj of the Maraciana do? Study the affinities?”
Natali gave a dismissive wave of their hand. “You know what I meant.”
Aidon sighed as he stood up straight. He shook out his arms, facing the Saj head on. “Right. Well, let’s thank the gods that you do have this experience. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”
Natali snorted. “I didn’t take you for one of the devout, Your Majesty.” There was enough sarcasm in their retort that Aidon didn’t bother to answer. He merely gestured to the space between them.
“Well? Are you going to instruct me?”
The Saj’s lips shifted as they surveyed him, their face pinched in concentration. “Always so eager for action,” they muttered, mostly to themselves. They began to pace a steady line, back and forth, their thumb smoothing across their chin. Aidon watched them, his weight shifting between his feet in anticipation. “After you left the Maraciana last week, I started reviewing my notes on the tonic.”
“You’ve been studying it?” Aidon interjected, his brows raising in surprise. Natali cut him a glance.
“Of course. As you said, it is my duty as a Saj of the Maraciana to study power. And the tonic, while not affinity-borne, is a means of power. It has the ability to repress an affinity. To keep it hidden. Even to control the uncontrollable, for a time. But as we both know, there are ways of rendering the tonic ineffective.” They shot him a knowing glance, and Aidon swallowed. He swore he could feel the vibrations of his knife ramming into Aya’s chest just then, could hear the sickly squelch of her skin and tissue and blood as he cut through it.
“Make your point,” Aidon ordered.
Natali shrugged. “Until we saw such a thing, we did not know that the tonic could be rendered ineffective in such a way. That inner power would work differently than what we present outwardly, enough so that it could override the tonic entirely.”
Aidon frowned. “But Aya’s power is supposedly limitless. Or at least close to it. It’s completely different from Incend affinity.” He wasn’t naive to how affinities worked. He’d had to be knowledgeable to train the Visya in his forces. Aidon knew Visya affinity resided in an inner well, the depth of which was rumored to be determined by the gods.
Natali gave another shrug. “Perhaps. Or perhaps your power is reacting in a similar fashion. Not limitless,” they said, holding up their hand as Aidon went to argue. “But perhaps by burying it for so long, by masking it, your affinity has begun to work against the tonic in a similar fashion.”
“And how will you prove this?”
“Have you taken the tonic today?” Natali asked with a cock of their head. Aidon nodded. “Excellent.” They took a step back, leaving plenty of room between the two of them. “Call your flame forward.”
Aidon just blinked at the Saj. He could feel his face burning, that discomfort itching in his very veins as he said, “I can’t. I just told you I took the tonic this morning. Besides, I’ve never called it forward intentionally before.” The Saj frowned, and Aidon looked away from them as he continued. “When I used it to save myself and Aya and Will from the attackers, it was instinct.”
“You know how the affinities work,” Natali argued curtly. “You spent years commanding Visya warriors in your uncle’s armies, did you not?”
He had, but that was different. Knowing and doing weren’t the same. But Natali, it seemed, would not be swayed. “Do not let your fear render you foolish, Your Majesty.”
Aidon’s gaze cut to them, his frustration beginning to build. “This is not fear. The tonic—”
“Yes, it is,” Natali interrupted, their voice clipped. “Call your power forward.”
“I can’t—”
“Now!”
“How?”
Aidon felt frustration rip through him, his shout searing his throat as he flung his arms wide. Natali raised their brows, their gaze fixed on his right hand. “Like that.”
Aidon followed their gaze, his throat growing dry as he took in the fire flickering in his palm. Gods, he hadn’t even felt it. But now, he could feel his skin tingling as something in him stirred, no, not stirred, flared like the first embers of a roaring fire.
He looked back at the Saj, his breath heaving, but Natali was frowning in concentration, their gaze fixed on the Incend flame. “Good. Now call it back.”
He…couldn’t. It was as though he’d torn something open inside of him, and he couldn’t get that flow of something to stop. Aidon dropped his hand, and the fire simply ebbed slightly, but flames flung from his hand as he tried to shake the fire off of him.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
A searing pain ripped through his hand, and Aidon flipped his palm, watching the skin blister before his eyes. Gods. It was burning him. His own flame was burning him.
“Godsdammit!” he seethed as he shook his palm again, his eyes stinging with the pain. Natali was in front of him in an instant, their hand a vise grip on his forearm, as if they hadn’t a care in the world about the fire that nearly grazed their fingers.
“Cut it off,” they ordered again, their amber eyes locked on his. “Like a sword to sinew.”
It was just the visual he needed.
Aidon sliced that imaginary sword across his very chest, imagining that inner inferno flowing out of him cutting in half and falling deep within wherever the tonic smothered it.
The fire vanished.
Natali let out a heavy breath, their grip falling from his arm, and Aidon staggered backward, his back slamming into the stone wall. He felt light-headed, his limbs trembling. His legs buckled, but he managed to catch his footing before he fell.
“What the hells,” he panted. He was vaguely aware of the sweat dripping from his temples, his shirt clinging to his damp chest. He cradled his hand to his chest, the skin raw and blistered and reeking of that particular smell of charred flesh.
Visya were supposed to have shields that could protect them from affinities.
Yet another thing he had never learned how to do.
“It’s just as I thought,” Natali muttered, their brow furrowed. Aidon waited for the Saj to expand on the topic, but their eyes were darting across the floor, as if they were reading a book he couldn’t see.
“I don’t suppose you’d care to elaborate?” Aidon hissed between clenched teeth. His breath was still sawing in and out of him, his chest heaving with the movement. Gods, this hurt. And not just in his hand, but everywhere. His body felt beaten and bruised, as if the affinity had pulled at the very essence of him when he wielded it.
Natali’s gaze snapped back to him. “Prolonged use of the tonic has rendered it ineffective. I suspect you’ve built a sort of immunity to it. Your power can override it.”
Aidon braced a trembling hand on the wall, forcing himself upright. “Then we increase the dose,” he said through sharp breaths.
Natali pursed their lips, giving a contemplative hum. “We could,” they conceded. “But I imagine you would face the same hurdles eventually.”
He didn’t give a damn about eventually. Hells, he wasn’t even sure they’d make it to eventually if Kakos had their way. Aidon forced himself to breathe, inhaling deeply through his nose before letting out a long breath.
“What aren’t you telling me, Natali?” Because the Saj was hiding something, of that he was sure. He could tell by the way Natali was still watching him, their brow furrowed in concentration as their eyes darted across his face.
They twined their arms behind their back, their head cocked as they considered him. “It’s mere speculation. I cannot sense your power in the same way with the tonic in your system. But”—they inhaled deeply before continuing—“Visya are taught from a young age to control their power. Those that don’t know how to manage their well either become ill or die from improper power use.” They began to pace, their eyes wide as they remained fixed on him. “You, of course, have avoided such effects through the tonic. But I believe that by suppressing your power, it’s become unstable.”
Aidon frowned. “Meaning?”
Natali sighed. “Meaning it very well might kill you.”
Aidon blinked at the Saj, their words taking a moment to register in his mind. When they did, he gave a short laugh. “All the more reason to increase the dosage of the tonic then.”
But Natali was shaking their head, a crease appearing between their silver brows. “I fear if you continue to take the tonic, this will only get worse.”
Something heavy settled in Aidon’s gut as he stared at the Saj. “You want me to stop taking it?”
How would he train? How would he fight when war arrived without his power making itself known?
“With practice, we could perhaps help you build your stamina around it. But if your power continues to grow unruly under the tonic, it may be too late by the time the tonic is rendered completely ineffective.”
“So I risk death either way,” Aidon remarked bitterly as he rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“We all risk death every day, Majesty. That’s what mortality is.”
Aidon couldn’t stop the noise of agitation that burst from his lips. His sword hand curled at his side, as if desperate to snatch the weapon and start swinging.
“Trahir cannot afford more instability,” he muttered. “If continuing to take the tonic is what allows me to fight—”
Natali’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Joining your troops on the battlefield would be foolish,” they snapped. “And you are not a fool, Majesty. Even with the tonic, you risk revealing your power in such a situation.”
Aidon forced air through his nose, trying to steady the pounding of his heart as he held the Saj’s gaze. “You would ask the king to stand by while his people go to war?”
Deceiver. Usurper. Murderer.
Coward.
Natali’s steps were quick as they crossed the cell. They poked his chest, their round face tight with frustration as they hissed, “I would ask the king to be smart in his decisions. Even with the tonic, there is no guarantee that you would not act once again on instinct and call it forward. Revealing that you have broken the one fundamental law of the Divine would be suicide. You think your people are wary of you now? You won’t just be forced to relinquish your throne. You’ll be murdered in the worst possible way!”
“It’s suicide either way!” Aidon straightened, his tall figure towering over Natali. “I’d risk discovery by any overly curious Saj that crosses my path if I stop taking the tonic. And even if I do, aren’t you saying there’s no telling whether my power won’t simply consume me anyway?”
“Yes, but—”
“So it’s death now or death then!”
“It is not,” they retorted. “You are choosing a guaranteed death over the possibility of one. If you train your magic, if you learn, there is a chance—”
“I do not have the luxury of taking such chances!” The words ripped from somewhere deep within him, his eyes burning as frustration and anger warred for his attention.
Duty. Commitment. Responsibility. That’s what he’d always been taught—what had been drilled into his very soul since he was a child. He and Aya had been foolish to talk of making choices for themselves. Aidon would never have that luxury. Not really. Every choice, every decision, was for Trahir.
Always for Trahir.
He sucked in a steadying breath, his hand bracing on the wall beside him. “I will not ask my people to take part in a war I will not fight in,” he said finally. “And I would rather choose a guaranteed death later by continuing to take this tonic until the power consumes me entirely or I show my power on the battlefield, than risk one now and allow my people to fall further into turmoil with Kakos knocking at our door.”
Natali’s lips thinned in clear disagreement, but they remained silent. Aidon cocked his head, his brow furrowing as he stared at the Saj. “Why do you care? Why help me? Why hide Viviane? What’s in this for you?”
