The first leg of the ride lasts for about five hours before we finally stop at a small pond along the way to water the horses and eat a quick lunch of dried meat and nuts from our satchels.

We’ll reach Emscroft Forest just as the day turns to dusk. I can start to make out the edges of it and the darkness that wraps around the tree trunks, an endless depth of gloom stretching behind it. My hair raises on end from looking at it. I can’t imagine how I’ll react when we’re actually riding through it. When Callahan announced we’d be making camp before we reached it, relief flooded my system.

Aeris was lucky when it came to dangerous creatures. Kelpies lurk in the ocean, but unless in a boat, they usually lived too deep to pose any real threat to swimmers. Sometimes, a rogue mist hound crossed from the southern parts of Rokos into the countryside, wiping out half of an unsuspecting village before help arrived. My family was fortunate to be removed enough from such creatures in our remote area along the coast. My skin crawls with the realization we could come face to face with something in those woods tomorrow. 

My legs nearly buckle underneath me when I dismount Yago. I have to balance a hand on his side for a few seconds before I trust them to work correctly. Sweat drips down my neck, dampening the collar of my cloak.

Gods, I’m out of shape. 

I groan as I reach my hands down to my toes and stretch my legs. A quick glance around tells me none of the guards seem to be in as much pain as I am. Lucky bastards.

“It’ll get better after a few days,” Callahan says, approaching on my right. His wavy hair is slightly tousled from the wind, but otherwise, he looks almost refreshed. Like he could ride for days and still fight a bear after. And win.

It annoys me to no end. “That’s very comforting, coming from you. You haven’t even broken a sweat.”

That damned left eyebrow lifts again, annoying me further. “To be fair, I’ve had a lot more opportunity to practice than you have lately.”

I shoot him a glare. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. Are you always this astute?”

A corner of his mouth tilts like he’s stifling a chuckle. I want to slap it off his pretty face.

“Are you always this crabby?”

“You would be too if you’d just spent two years locked away in a cell and then were forced to ride for days on end against your will.” 

His smile drops. “So that’s how long you were in there, then? Two years?”

A stray strand of hair falls in my face and I blow it away with a puff of air. “Yes. Two years, 19 days, and a hand full of hours before your King Osric so graciously decided to save me from my cage.”

He brings a hand to his face and rubs it down the side of his stubbled jaw. My eyes track the movement against my will. “It’s a wonder you didn’t go mad.”

“Who says I didn’t?” I say, throwing him a wicked smile that would have most people sprinting in the other direction. 

Instead, he looks at the cuffs on my wrists, unbothered. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to want to keep those on for as long as you can. It’s going to be really unpleasant adjusting to your magic again.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I’ve lived with my magic my whole life. I’m pretty positive two years isn’t going to set me back that badly.”

“Maybe, but calemarine is a tricky mineral to work with. Too much, and it absorbs every drop of magic and leaves you with nothing. Too little and even an unskilled wielder can bust out of its hold.”

What he’s saying makes sense. In the cell, my magic was nonexistent, almost as if I had never possessed it in the first place. The loss was almost unbearable. Twenty-two years I had lived with my magic, perfecting it, practicing it every day until I could light a candle two houses away in a room I’d never been in with my eyes closed. 

Papa had always told me my magic was like a wild animal. If left untrained, it would lash out unexpectedly, a dangerous beast that would bite when cornered. 

My magic manifested on my 7th birthday when I accidentally spit flames trying to blow out my birthday candles. Right away, papa made sure I practiced daily to tame it early on. It started with easy tricks like lighting lanterns or coaxing out weak sparks, exercises designed to release any pent-up magic in my system to avoid major catastrophes before I knew how to wield it properly. 

I think about the time when I was about 10 years old, and papa had gone off on one of his traveling expeditions for a week and a half. Mama never paid much attention to Elyna or me, always caught up in trying to swindle the market people for an extra bundle of grain with her good looks. So, I took the opportunity to rest from my training. They always had me dripping in sweat anyway, with my brain feeling like a pile of mushy oatmeal. I figured a few days without practicing wouldn’t do too much harm. I deserved a break.

By the time papa returned, I was a walking fireball of pent-up rage. One smart comment from Elyna while we were playing tag in the backyard and I exploded, accidentally burning down mama’s tool shed and scorching the ends of Elyna’s hair into burnt crisps. 

Papa rebuilt the shed and Elyna’s hair grew back eventually, but I never let myself go without practicing for longer than a day or so after that.

Later, when I could control it better, we moved on to harder stunts; lighting a wet wick, creating arcs of continuous silver flame, breathing fire without singeing off my eyebrows.

Even after papa passed, I still practiced every day, not wanting the tolerance I’d built up to fade away.

And then suddenly, when I stepped into that dungeon, my magic vanished. Years of hard work and patience gone in the blink of an eye. I didn’t even have time to say goodbye properly, had no idea why the one constant in my life besides Elyna had left me.

I look down at my cuffs.

It was easier in the cell when I couldn’t detect a trace of where it’d gone. I was able to forget for short periods of time, offering reprieves from the incessant thought loop in my head.

But with these, I can feel something there. Like it’s locked away in a room and I’ve just forgotten which key opens the door.

My blood tingles, and I start feeling claustrophobic. My flames are here, inside somewhere, but I can’t reach them. Can’t reach them, yet I can feel them begging me to unlock the door and let them out. They’re being stifled, smothered behind a heavy door that was closed without my permission.

I need these cuffs off. Now.

Panic rises from the bottom of my stomach and crawls up my stomach. My breathing quickens and I struggle to draw a full breath. A pounding starts in my head. My magic screams at me, bellowing, telling me it’s time, time to–

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I snap from my trance. I look up and find Callahan, his face lowered slightly so he’s looking directly into my eyes. 

“Okay, take a deep breath.” I do as he says, my lungs still not working properly yet. “Good. One more.” 

I inhale again and let it out slowly, the panic melting away with it. The buzzing in my head subsides until it’s just a dull twinge behind my eyes. 

“Alright, now I’m going to touch your wrist, okay? Don’t freak out, I just think you snagged your fingers on your cuff.”

I look down and see my hand wrapped around my left wrist. A sharp pain throbs in my index finger. Slowly, I flip my wrist over and see that it’s wedged under the edge of the cuff as if trying to snap it in two.

At the base of where my finger disappears under the cuff, a small hairline fracture snakes halfway up.

Callahan gently takes my wrist and pulls it closer to his face, a deep frown pulling at his mouth. His eyebrows are furrowed above slightly widened eyes.

“Impossible,” he whispers. He tugs on my hand until my index finger slips free from under the cuff. I flex it, the joint aching a bit. He inspects the cuff again, turning my wrist in a circle, before dropping it. I tuck my wrist behind my back.

“Wait here,” he says and walks towards where the guards wait together.

I wait until he’s far enough away before looking at the cuff again. The crack is tiny, not nearly big enough to break in half, but enough to make me wonder how I could have done it.

Cal’s reaction was genuine, I read the shock on his face. Maybe these are a faulty pair of cuffs?

I shake my head inwardly and draw my eyebrows together. No, that’s definitely not it. I can’t imagine the Captain of King Osric’s guard would be foolish enough to not ensure that the cuffs work properly.

Out of curiosity, I reach for my magic, tapping a mental finger around the barrier to feel for faults. As far as I can tell, nothing is out of place. 

Confusion muddles my brain. I heard my magic yelling to be let out, I know I did. But how could it have done so underneath a wall of calemarine?

I’m still heavy in thought when Cal walks back over and holds out a small tin to me. “Here. It’s a salve to help with your finger. Archie says it’ll work for your sore muscles, too.”

I take it and open the lid, an aroma of pine and lemon escaping. I scoop out a little bit and rub it over my index finger. 

“Thanks,” I say. The salve cools my skin and the pain is dulled some. “Sorry I freaked out. Two years in a cell will do that to you.”

“No need to apologize. Actually, it’s a good time to bring up something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” I say, arching a brow.

He clears his throat. “With your permission, I’d like to start helping you acclimate back into your magic. We’ll start small and work your tolerance up until you can step back into your full power.”

“Why?”

“The cuffs are going to come off eventually, and I still don’t think you realize how big of an adjustment it’s going to be. Plus, it’d be in your interest to get a handle on it before presenting yourself to the King.”

“Before I present myself? I hope you know that all of this is against my will. If I had any choice in this, I wouldn’t be anywhere near Rokos.”

“I understand that, but the fact is that’s not the reality. You need to learn how to control your magic again, and I’m kind of your only option out here.”

I scoff at him. “I don’t understand what makes you think I want your help. I mastered my magic when I was thirteen years old, there’s nothing you can teach me I don’t already know. I don’t need your guidance.”

“That wasn’t my intention. You didn’t even know what calemarine was until I met you. How are you supposed to navigate the effects if you don’t understand what it is?”

“You don’t even know me. We met two days ago. Do you understand how little that is to me compared to the past two years?”

His face reddens slightly, the most unruffled I’ve seen him. It makes me want to push even harder.

“I’m sure I’ll navigate the side effects just fine, no thanks to you. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Then the cuffs stay on until you agree to train with me.”

“Fine. Present me to your king like the prisoner I am,” I say, throwing his words back in his face.

His mouth snaps shut on a retort that I know he’s holding back from saying. Part of me wishes he’d spit it out so I could unleash the words that are simmering underneath my skin.

Before I can let one of those words slip, he turns on his heel and whistles to the caravan, signaling that our rest stop is over and it’s time to move on. His shoulders are tight as he walks over to his horse and mounts, kicking his heels into the horse’s haunches and leading the pack, setting a fast pace.

I find Yago and climb up onto the saddle, taking off at the breakneck speed Callahan’s set. My sore muscles bark in pain, but this time, I welcome the pain, hoping it’ll distract me from my thoughts. 

I know I got under his skin, and I thoroughly enjoyed learning what annoys him. 

I ignore the nagging thought in the back of my brain that acknowledges he got under my skin, too.

If Callahan thinks he knows what’s best for me, he’s got another thing coming for him. And I know just where to begin.

Tonight, these cuffs are coming off. And when they do, I’ll be halfway across Aeris before Callahan can do anything about it.