A Crown and A Curse

Chapter 29: The Empire Rising

Zora

I crept into my room just as dawn began slipping through the branches of the forest. My face was beet red, though I wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from the hours spent in the snow with Kian. 

It had been scary, unexpected, and by far the happiest moment that I had experienced in a long time. 

"Late night?" Hestia asked, walking in behind me. I jumped, my face still flushed red. 

"Uh, yeah... something like that." 

The young woman smiled knowingly, laying out a tray of bread and tea on the dresser. "It's something out of a storybook, you and his highness, the prince and the beautiful warrior that stole his heart." 

I sat down on the bed, frowning. "We're not part of a storybook, this is war. No one can know about Kian and me, it will only complicate things," I said, "How'd you find out anyway?"

"It's not hard to see, miss... and I may have noticed the two of you leaving together last night," Hestia blushed as she handed me a steaming cup of tea. 

"Please don't tell Prince Kian I know, he's already given me so much and I'd hate to trouble him in vital times such as these." 

"It's okay," I chuckled, "Kian and I both trust you, and besides it isn't anything official yet. I don't even know what we are." 

"We're preparing for war, I'm sure you both have much bigger things to worry about," she frowned.

"Indeed."

Mace frowned at me from across the desk where we sat. Kian had instructed me to meet him and discuss strategy. However, Mace must have taken that to mean he could interrogate me. The morning that had started off so well was growing more taxing by the second. 

"So what exactly are your powers?" He asked for the third time.

I sighed in frustration, "I told you I'm not truly sure. All I know is that they're deadly and dark. I try not to ever use them, but eventually, they build up inside me so much that I can't hold them in anymore. After the blast, I typically get very sick."

Mace rubbed at his beard, a grim expression on his face, "So we may have the greatest weapon in this war, but it's virtually unusable," he huffed.

My face grew heated, as it always did when anyone brought up my lack of control over the magic inside of me, "I'm not unusable, I can fight! I'm very good." 

"That may be true, but you'd be one skilled warrior among many. This doesn't give us any more of a leg up," He leaned over the desk, "Kian may be naive enough to believe we can win this with fear of your powers alone, but if you do not learn to wield them then we will not succeed."

"If you do not believe this revolution can succeed then why fight for it?" I asked, my temper growing with my embarrassment.

"Because in the end, we'll die either way. We can either let our people's only chance for liberation fizzle out as the last of us withers away to old age, because we waited and let our chance pass us by, or we can die out on the battlefield fighting. Our odds are not good, especially since our best weapon has turned out to be only for show," He directed a pointed glare at me, "We need your magic." 

 I couldn't use my powers and that was something Mace could never understand. No one could. I had worked years to suppress them, to fight the echoing voices in my head that told me to hurt and kill. My magic was not the blessing Mace hoped it could be, the power I possessed was unpredictable and it knew only enemies. 

I swallowed, getting up from my seat, "I need to go." and I quickly got up and walked out, slamming the door behind me. 

I began to shiver as I walked deeper and deeper into the caverns. Kian had shown me these routes when he first gave me a tour. They led into unfinished and abandoned sections of what was once intended to be part of the shelter. I felt a drop of rank smelling water fall onto my face and understood why this place was left unfinished. 

As I continued to walk, the small tunnel opened up into a large, open cavern. I wondered if this is where the center of Kian's safe haven was originally supposed to be. It was deep within the earth, safe but stifling.  It was perfect for some practice. I needed isolation because if things went awry, as they probably would, I refused to hurt anyone but myself.  

I forced myself to sit cross-legged on the damp stone floor and I listened through the echoing drops of water for my whispers.