Chapter One

 

My brother knows what it’s like to be hunted, an entire existence of vigilance and fear, but my job is to protect him from our enemy. If he is the hunted, I am the hunter.

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This thought dominates my mind as I creep up the side of a boulder. Rough stone provides perfect handholds and my head stays low. The ever-present sun bears down, my leather breastplate drenched with sweat. A calf muscle cramps and I wiggle my toes in my boot, an inconsequential movement, but one my brother could never achieve. Nafi says his impairment does not bother him, therefore, it should not bother me. But it does. I feel unworthy to have been the twin born whole.

Nafi, the crown prince, is critical to the survival of the Realm of Light. Not me, Princess Mika, who cannot even control a shred of magic without disaster ensuing. Since my father’s murder, the best service I can provide our kingdom is to keep my brother safe.

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Three hundred years ago, when the High Mages’ traitorous child, Ixara, cleaved the world in two, one side bathed in eternal light, the other side shrouded in eternal shadow. Since that time, a prophecy has guided our people, warning us to protect the light. Capturing one of the two Dark Princes before their Realm of Shadow overtakes us is paramount. If we don’t, led by Ixara, the brothers’ evil, barbaric ways will spread across the Rift and devour our world.

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When my boot finds a toehold, I hoist myself higher. I peer over the top, seeking any hint of my prey. Across a flat expanse of golden sand, a few stubby trees huddle in an inviting clump. Rivulets of sweat tickle my back, but my eyes remain alert. A quick scan of my surroundings reveals nothing but a landscape of sand dotted with trees amid a maze of boulders. I turn my attention back to the thicket in front of me.

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Eyes narrowed, I wait.

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Hidden among the leaves, sunlight glints off metal, the knife at my quarry’s hip—a reward for my patience. With catlike deftness, I pull an arrow from my quiver and nock it. A figure creeps out from the shelter of branches and crouches behind a maze of briars. After a long pause, he stands.

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Swoosh!

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The arrow flies from my bow straight toward his chest. He hears it too late and lets out a cry of frustration.

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“Got you.” I jump off the boulder and stride to his side.

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“Maybe I let you,” Rafiq says. He picks the soft-tipped arrow off the ground, a sheen of perspiration glowing off his umber skin.

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“We both know that isn’t the case,” I counter. “You enjoy winning too much.”

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“True,” he concedes and hands me back my arrow. “Or your beauty is too distracting, Mika.”

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With a lifted hand, he brushes strands of errant hair off my cheek and all my focus on the combat drill vanishes. An explosion of butterflies fills my core as he lowers his head, eyes on my lips. The kiss is soft at first, but the intensity builds. I almost forget we stand in the middle of the training course. Almost. Until an arrow bounces off my back.

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“At least you would have died happy,” my friend Safiya teases.

 

I shoot her an annoyed glare.

 

“Rafiq would have too,” another voice chimes from the trees.

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Beni steps out, an arrow trained on Rafiq’s back. His golden-flecked eyes twinkle at his triumph over our captain. Rafiq unsheathes the dagger at his waist and offers the handle to Beni to seal the victory. A full head shorter than his opponent, Beni accepts the dagger with a nod. A strong wind gust pulls up sand in swirls that reach my shin. Rafiq studies the horizon.

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“I think a sandstorm is coming. Get back to the Citadel,” he orders. “I’ll alert the rest of the squad and take shelter out here if necessary.”

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While Rafiq finds the rest of our troop, the three of us walk to the fortified city walls of Kamsara. The luminous structure shines pure white in the ever-present sun, protective magic bound deep inside each stone. General Usman assures me the walls keep Nafi safe, but I have learned from my studies that no place is impregnable.

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“Sorry to have interrupted your kissing,” Safiya says, her tightly bound braid wrapping across her shoulder like a black cobra.

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“I’m not,” Beni gloats, turning the captain’s dagger in his hand.

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The thud of boots comes up behind us and we greet Tanan, whose maddening good looks are the envy of every man in Kamsara. With perfect ebony curls bouncing against his tawny forehead, he nods a greeting before slipping his fingers into Safiya’s and they slow to a stroll, sweet whispers passing between them. Beni rolls his eyes at me. Many young women have fallen for Tanan’s charm. Except for me. My heart belongs to Rafiq. I glance over my shoulder to see Tanan’s arm wrapped around my friend. I hope she is careful with her heart. A trail of broken ones lay in Tanan’s wake.

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“Safiya should be wary of him before she gets hurt,” I mutter, another gust of wind deadening my words.

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“You should be more wary on the training course. If today had been real, you would be dead,” Beni says. “Being smitten with Mr. Perfect clouds your focus.”

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I recognize the annoyance in his tone, one I have heard since we became friends. At four years old, my father, the late king, promoted his father to grand councilor. Beni and I shared a proclivity for finding trouble, much to our mutual delight, and the mischief making commenced. He played with me in ways my brother never could, running, climbing, and hiding all over the palace. But that did not mean we neglected Nafi. Beni spent hours devising activities my brother could take part in and became our de facto sibling.

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Now, he worries as much about Nafi’s safety as I do, the threat of the two Osthwaite princes ever on our minds. They hate us for our civilized ways, our dedication to the sun god Rhoesis, and most importantly, our magic. Osthwaite soldiers killed my father to steal his magic, not knowing the trait passed directly to Nafi upon his death. They would come for my brother soon enough and we had to be ready.

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“You’re right,” I concede, a begrudging punch to his arm. “Especially since Nafi visits Westgarde today.”

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My brother opened a portal to the outpost at the lip of the Rift this morning for his monthly briefing. I offered to go in his place, but he insists, as crown prince, the duty rests with him. Besides, the sight of him boosts morale for the soldiers stationed in the most dangerous part of our kingdom.

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“Not to mention our patrol is in two days,” Beni adds, his concerned gaze fixed on me. “Rafiq will be with us, but you must be completely focused if we’re going to have any chance of capturing one of the Dark Princes.”

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“I know,” I huff. Beni has never been a fan of Rafiq. My friend finds my boyfriend too much the strutting peacock, especially given Rafiq’s low birth status. Strange, since Beni rarely finds fault with anyone.

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We enter the main city gates, the armor-clad guards closing the gap behind us. Shops line the main road in precise lines, emulating obedient soldiers. Signs dangle from colorful awnings, specifying what each one sells. Doors punctuate the wall at even intervals. The road spirals up in a steady curve around the large hill, which stands sentry in the middle of the flat desert. People walk with purpose all around us, donned in shades of white and beige, to counter the heat. Each honors me with a precise bow before returning to their tasks. Even a small child, in a school’s signature red tunic with a yellow sun in the center, straightens his shoulders after I pass. In Kamsara, we value order as a sign of strength and knowledge.

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“Am I at least allowed to enjoy tonight?” I snark.

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A group steps out of our way, heads bowed in deference. I return a curt nod. Sand encircles our ankles in the angry wind. The citizens around us hurry to their destinations. Though not uncommon, the frequency of sandstorms has increased of late and they leave an annoying mess, dust embedded in every nook and cranny. It will take Irini forever to wash all the granules out of my hair later.

“Mika, of course I want you to enjoy your mother’s birthday feast. But I also want to make sure you are around to celebrate many more.”

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At the pinnacle of the hill, we stride up the stairs of the Citadel, a fortress standing high over the city. Several white towers pierce the sky, jutting up from the palace in the center. Its back wall lines up with a hill on the eastern side and features a sheer drop to the ground far below. Standing at the highest point, Rhoesis Tower soars over the city. The watchtower’s strategic location served my kingdom well since the Rift split the world in half, offering expansive views to deter attackers. These days no one uses the tower. The Citadel walls, a nearly impenetrable stronghold, are high enough to see any approaching enemy.

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My aggravation softens at Beni’s words. He’s spent his life protecting Nafi and me. As we cross to the palace entrance, I bump against his shoulder with mine and he bumps back harder. Smiles break across both our faces. Guards stand at every column of the palace’s front portico. They part to let us through the main entrance. A labyrinth of covered corridors branches off in all directions. We stand in an open atrium, the sweet scent of blood lilies and red acacia floating in the air around the luminous white stone blocks of the palace. The sheltered spot gives us a respite from the blowing sand.

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“The feast starts at seven. Try not to be late,” he teases. Tardiness is a trait I am known for.

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I take one step toward the royal wing before the clang of the alarm bells ring out. Guards move with catlike speed, securing the palace door. A thunderous boom outside lets me know others seal the city gate far below. Soldiers rush from different hallways, heading for their stations. The clack of their boots echoes off the black melanite floor.

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An alarm can mean only one thing. The Westgarde Outpost spotted one of the Osthwaite princes on our side of the Rift.

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Nafi. Is he safe? Beni grabs my hand and we run.