The lightning boomed again, distracting her immediate thought, just the way she liked it. Why can't I have this one little thing? Ivory sighed. Why can't I?
She moved from the window frame; that ovate thing. Stepping onto the sleek, dark grounds, queer, and found her thoughts rampant. She hated this. Hated every part of it—the weakness it caused, which she hated the most.
The library chill pressed with an intensity, like a cold wrapper. She shivered, moistened her tongue, and moved. She sought a distraction. For now, her fingers trailed the edges of elastic wood. Good wood. Equal to the weight it held now. Books upon books. She looked up, saw not the end. It annoyed her. But she knew. A command, and she would float to it. Casted things. She did not. Ivory turned away, led a path between mountainous shelves, and countless books.
Worthless knowledge, she thought. Compared to the oral history, at least.
Lightning fell, she heard the sound, and the foremost thought vanished. She was empty again. No mentation to go on about. That was good. A proper mitigation. A corner called to her, and she took it into a large section. There, nothing but a sole table, surrounded by path-leading shelves, remained. A lonely thing. She turned away, touching wood while in motion. Where was she going? Ivory didn't know. But she chose to move. The only choice she could make now. They had condemned her.
Ivory recalled the stance of Mother, arms folded, eyes piercing in that cold quality of theirs. She was a cold storm, unlike Father. He was the mad storm, ever brewing. They had stood in a chamber, a glass ceiling above, somewhere at the peak of the Valor Castle. All except the glass was black, and the froststones were hidden within the masonry. Rainfall was muffled, like steps splattering mud.
Father was the first to speak. "We learned something from the deadEyes."
"What?" She held the trembling.
Mother followed. "He is a darkCrown."
Ivory was stunned. What mistsense was that? Since when were darkCrowns casters? Symbolic science revealed that the effect of force in the body changed the hair color. The more force, the brighter the hair. Yes, he was dark-haired, but that could just as easily be falsified. She tried to rebut, but Father spoke over her.
"Do not argue with this. Multiple deadEyes have confirmed it."
"Since when were they prescient?" Ivory knew the stupidity in her words. The hard frown on Mother's face said it all.
They shared a look—Father at least; Mother did not leave Ivory's face. "All brightCrowns are afforded the simple knowledge of symbols. How to mold one's force. How to control it. How to grow with it," Father said. "But he lacks them all. He bashes through the symbols. That, I suppose, is the intense force as the source of the arrogance. Understandable. He has yet to learn the horror the symbols can often pose."
"Maybe that would kill him," Mother added. "And we know he promised you something."
Ivory felt caught. Danger present. She tried calmness; it failed her. They couldn't know what was promised. deadEyes were intelligent, cognizant monsters, but they weren't prophetic. This she told herself. Even then, they still watched her, learning her responses. She did the same with them.
"What do you mean by that?" Ivory placed both hands on her stomach, one atop the other. She saw Mother note this. She knew Ivory was anxious.
There was a brief silence. Argon broke it. "The deadEyes state the possibility of an offer is more than seventy percent."
"Reason?"
"No individual would risk such without a desperate need. A want for something. Given your nature, you would not accept unless something was proposed," Argon said. "That was what they said."
Ivory found a flaw. "But as you said, he would have asked me first to do something. I could have just as easily refused, hence never receiving any offer."
"Unless he is intelligent enough to render the offer first before asking. Something tantalizing enough." Mother watched now. "He has high force, which equates to a higher intellect."
"Sometimes." Argon stepped forward, a stray lamplight screening white across his face. "These games you play are odd. There is no reason to hide this. You dance around the question. You say possibilities when you know the actual thing…"
There was warmth in his tone. Ivory noted that and knew the storm was close. "I do not know anything," she said. "I do not know what he wants. Who he is. What he can do."
"But you know his offer."
Ivory met Mother's gaze—metal black, hard with a chilling attribute. She was regal now. Above her head, the half-circle oredite crown floated, shimmering in the dim white. In black, an elegant gown of layered fabrics. The top of the dress fit with a metallic silver bodice, carved in a sharp, linear pattern like armor. The sleeves matched the bodice—sleek, silver, mirroring the environment light. Over the gown, she wore pale; a flowing outer robe draped over the shoulders down to the ground. It parted on the front, revealing a darker, textured skirt underneath, moving like soft waves. Simply majestic. Valor.
Ivory knew she was lost in that divinity and tried to return. Mother forced it. "Won't you speak? Or do you need an Excubitor from Domestic Flagellate?"
She wanted to torture me? Ivory hid within. Should I just say it? There must be a reason Mother is telling me this. Father scowled. "What mistsense is this? What were you promised, Ivory Valor?" His tone was cold.
The storm came.
"I… I… I…"
Mother's eyes narrowed. "A fearful highHeir?" There was a scoff in her words. "What a highness you would make."
Ivory was silent. Argon rubbed his jaw, anger in his eyes. "What were you promised? What were you promised to betray your clan?"
She perked. "Never!" Ivory declaimed. "I have never done anything against the clan. I am to rule someday, why would I ever do that?"
"Then speak your truth."
"I cannot."
Argon's eyes flickered, and her finger was gone. Ivory looked down. Palm, five fingers once on each hand, now there were four. The middle ones were gone. She regarded him, fearful. "What?"
"You are now in solitary. Alone. Ever guarded by Nail," he said. "She is your shadow and will always exist with you. You are not to return to your lab. You are not to talk to anyone. You are not to build anything or leave the castle. Only remain."
"For how long?" she managed.
"Until you decide to speak the words that were offered to you."
Ivory, back in the library, sighed, observed her four fingers, and looked above. The plafond was dark stone, sleek with the spiral patterns of the clan. Religious lines were written on them. There was a need to read them... so she did.
"In the beginning was the song, and the song was with god—"
"And god was the song. And from it came the world." A new voice sounded.
She turned and beheld a new face. A familiar jawline, sharp eyes, dressed in white robes. A scholarly air to him. Kabel? "What?"
"I am an Aspirant," he said simply.
"That explains nothing."
He smirked. "I don't need to explain anything. I am an Aspirant."
"So the laws don't apply to you?"
"As I said." He shrugged. "I am an Aspirant."
Ivory hid it, but she was glad. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought to read." He passed her, reaching for a book.
"You can just command it."
"And miss the movement of my body?" He looked flabbergasted. "Do you know the sweetness of motion? The heat of it? It warms the body, and I bet it can warm that coldness, too."
"Coldness?"
"You feel cold." He picked a green-backed book and opened it.
He was right, but she denied it. "How would you know?"
"So I was correct?" He smiled. "Now that is what I call an Improvement."
"Of what?" Ivory wanted to move closer, but the laws still bound her.
"My appraisal of the frost princess." He flipped through the book. "Who knows, I might just start repeating your own thoughts back to you."
I would love to see you try.
He smiled. "Yes, I will very much try."
She froze. "What?"
"What?"
"How did you—" Ivory knitted her brows. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Read my thoughts?" She felt exposed.
"Come on, princess. Even a deadEye drunk in moss can guess certain follow-up thoughts. You are a prideful person. It stands to reason that you would invite my challenge."
She calmed. "Smart," she said mockingly.
He nodded and closed the book. "That's not good."
"What isn't?"