Rebel Spring

“Would you say you’re more accomplished than the average witch?”

Domitia brightened at the question. “Oh, yes, your grace! I have the ability to access not only fire magic, but some water as well. These elements are complete opposites that often cancel each other out. They rarely appear within the same witch. I am very blessed to have this ability.”

“Show me your water magic,” Lucia said.

The witch wiped the sweat from her brow and moved across the room to get a goblet, which she filled with water from a nearby pitcher. She brought it back and placed it down on the table next to the lit candle.

“Watch,” she said, again scrunching her face as she studied the water.

Lucia observed over the witch’s shoulder to see, after a time, the water slowly begin to swirl. She waited, but the witch gave her a triumphant glance.

“Disappointing.”

The witch looked at her with shock. “Disappointing? My magic has taken me years to master to this level.”

“Your mastery is questionable.” Lucia sighed. “I’m afraid, from what I’ve seen here, you don’t know nearly enough to be able to help me. But I do appreciate your visit.”

Alarm lit in the woman’s gaze much quicker than she could light a candle. “Apologies, your grace, that I’ve disappointed you. I want to help you as much as I can. It’s all I care about.”

“Of course it is,” Lucia murmured. “You must know my father’s penchant for ending the lives of accused witches who serve no purpose to him.”

“And yet his own daughter is one.” Domitia’s cheeks then began to flame. “Oh—apologies again. I don’t mean any offense. Please forgive me!”

Was this the sort of power her father favored so much? The ability to incite fear in someone by uttering a few simple words? Lucia was disturbed to realize it was a curiously pleasant sensation.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” Lucia said more gently.

Domitia wrung her hands. “I—I’m not. Of course, I’ve heard troubling stories about the king, and the prince as well, but I’ve been assured that you are kind and gracious. A true princess in every sense of the word.”

“I certainly have tried to be in the past.” Lucia trailed her fingers over the table the practice candles were set upon. “But lately, I must admit, I’ve become increasingly worried.”

“Worried, your grace?”

Oh—how was she to put into words how she felt? It was difficult to wrap her mind around it fully, but she couldn’t ignore the truth of it. “I have something within me that . . . hungers. I can only explain it as a caged beast. I didn’t feel it when I was asleep, but now that I’m awake I find it impossible to ignore.”

“I don’t understand, princess. A beast within you? What does this mean?”

“They tell me it’s not evil. It doesn’t feel evil, really. But there is a darkness taking hold,” Lucia said, and as she spoke she realized just how true her words were, “as if the night itself wraps me in an embrace that grows tighter every moment.”

Domitia’s gaze filled with understanding. She nodded. “What you’re feeling is perfectly normal for one able to harness any part of elementia. But don’t worry. Without blood sacrifice, our powers can’t be any more destructive than what I’ve shown you here today.” She leaned over to blow out the candle she’d lit earlier. “Now it’s your turn. Try to light this candle and we’ll take it from there. All right?”

The dark beast within her rolled over at Domitia’s dismissal of her previous words of warning. For that was what they were—a warning.

“Certainly,” Lucia said.

All ten wicks caught fire at once, the flames rising high into the air to lick the ceiling. The witch gasped and staggered back, drawing a shaking hand to her mouth.

“But—but, princess. I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Lucia couldn’t help but smile at the terrified confusion on the woman’s face. “No, I don’t suppose you have.”

Domitia’s wide eyes reflected the flickering fire. “And you do this with no effort at all. . . . Incredible . . .”

“Oh, there’s effort, I assure you. It’s a muscle inside me that begs to be flexed. Answer me this question. It’s a question I’ve posed to several people so far, yet my dead mother’s opinion still lingers as if her ghost now haunts me. Is this magic I wield evil?”

“Evil?” Domitia repeated, her voice shaking. “I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.” Lucia thrust her hands out toward the witch, summoning air magic. It wrapped itself around the woman and slammed her up and back against the wall, pinning her there like a butterfly on a board.

Domitia gasped. “What are you doing?”

It was an excellent question. What was Lucia doing?

Whatever it was . . . it felt good.

The fire blazed behind her—so hot that sweat dripped down her back. Too hot. She needed something cold to balance it. Fire and water were opposites. The witch herself had said they often canceled each other out.

Lucia wanted to know if this was true. She glanced at the goblet of water the witch had used. A focused thought drew the water from its container, and it traveled through the air until level with where Lucia stood.

She studied it, cocking her head, and she thought of home. Of Limeros.