You know, there are better ways to spend a perfectly good Tuesday evening than plummeting to your death from the tallest tower in the Kingdom of Aldermere. I should know – I’ve tried most of them. Drinking ale at the Rusty Sword tavern, for instance. Stealing pies from Madame Whittle’s windowsill. Even mucking out the royal stables would be preferable to watching the ground rush up to meet me at an alarming speed.
But here I am, my sandy hair whipping around my face like an angry cat in a windstorm, trying to decide if I should scream dramatically or maintain some dignity in my final moments. Neither option seems particularly appealing.
I suppose you’re wondering how I, Elenda Florrence, ended up in this rather precarious situation. Well, it all started this morning when I decided to do something stupidly noble, which, if you ask anyone who knows me, is completely out of character. I prefer my heroics to be small and manageable, thank you very much. Like rescuing spiders from boots or saving the last bread roll for someone else. But no, today I had to go and get involved in politics.
The morning had started normally enough. I was going about my usual business of avoiding my actual business – being the daughter of a merchant means having actual responsibilities, which I find terribly inconvenient – when I overheard two of the King’s Guard discussing a planned assassination. Now, normally I’m quite good at minding my own business (stop laughing), but when you hear the words “midnight,” “poison,” and “princess,” it’s rather difficult to pretend you haven’t.
I probably should mention that I was hiding behind a barrel of pickled herrings at the time, trying to avoid my father’s latest marriage prospect. The smell was atrocious, but it beat another afternoon when some lordling told me about his prized horses while staring at my chest.
“The shadow mage arrives tonight,” one guard had whispered, and that’s when my day really started going downhill.
Shadow mages are rare and generally bad news – like finding a spider in your soup, except the spider can kill you with a thought and tends to leak black, oily magic everywhere. They’re also illegal in Aldermere, have been ever since the Shadow Wars fifty years ago. So naturally, hearing about one coming to town piqued my interest more than it should have.
I followed the guards because apparently, I’d left my common sense in my other dress. They led me to the castle’s east wing, where I witnessed something I definitely shouldn’t have: a woman with hair like spilled wine and eyes so blue they seemed to swallow light whole, conducting what appeared to be a very secret and very illegal magical ritual.
That was how I met Isa Enderfen, though at the time, I didn’t know her name – I just knew she was trouble wrapped in a black cloak, with shadows dancing between her fingers like living ink. She was beautiful in the way poisonous flowers are beautiful: absolutely stunning and absolutely deadly.
Our eyes met across the chamber. Her perfect mouth curved into a smile that promised violence, and I did what any sensible person would do – I ran. Unfortunately, I ran up instead of down, because panic does funny things to your sense of direction.
Which brings us back to my current predicament: falling through the air, having just been blasted off the tower by a very angry shadow mage who didn’t appreciate my accidental spying. The ground is getting closer, and I’m starting to think I should have listened to my father about learning proper ladylike pursuits instead of spending my time climbing trees and reading forbidden history books.
“For someone about to die, you’re remarkably calm,” a voice like honey over gravel says beside me. Somehow, Isa is falling right next to me, looking annoyingly graceful about it. The wind isn’t even messing up her hair, which seems deeply unfair.
“I’m screaming on the inside,” I assure her. “It’s more dignified that way.”
“You saw something you shouldn’t have,” she says, as if we’re having a pleasant conversation over tea and not plummeting to our deaths.
“Story of my life,” I reply. “Though usually when people say that, they’re talking about me catching them in compromising positions in the garden, not performing forbidden magic in the castle.”
Black oil begins to seep from her skin, forming twisted patterns in the air around us. “I could save you,” she offers, those impossible blue eyes fixed on mine. “For a price.”
“Let me guess – my eternal soul? My firstborn child? The secret recipe for my aunt’s meat pies?”
“Information,” she says, and the shadows around her writhe like living things. “About the princess.”
Time seems to slow as we fall, and I find myself studying the way the setting sun catches in her dark red hair, the way shadows cling to her like loyal pets. I think about the guards’ conversation, about assassination plots and midnight meetings.
“Here’s the thing,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel, “I have a suspicious nature and trust issues. Also, you just threw me off a tower, which isn’t exactly the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
She laughs, and it sounds like breaking glass. “You’re about to become a very messy stain on the castle courtyard, and you’re still being difficult?”
“It’s part of my charm,” I tell her, though my heart is hammering so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t burst from my chest. The ground is close enough now that I can see individual cobblestones. “But how about a counter-offer?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m listening.”
“Save my life, and I’ll help you find out who’s really trying to kill the princess. Because I’m guessing if you were the assassin, you wouldn’t be asking me for information about her.”
The shadows around her pulse and writhe. For a moment, I think she’s going to let me fall – which, fair enough, I probably deserve for being so mouthy to someone who could kill me with a thought. But then those inky tendrils wrap around my waist, and our descent slows.
“You’re either very clever or very foolish,” Isa says as we float gently down to a secluded corner of the castle gardens.
“I like to think it’s a charming mixture of both.” My legs are shaking as they touch the ground, but I manage to stay standing through sheer stubbornness. “Though right now, I’m leaning toward foolish, making deals with a shadow mage and all.”
“You don’t seem very afraid of me,” she observes, the black magic receding back into her skin like ink being absorbed by parchment.
I laugh, and it’s only slightly hysterical. “Oh, I’m terrified. I just hide it behind inappropriate humor and poor life choices.”
Something flickers across her face – amusement, maybe, or annoyance. It’s gone too quickly for me to tell. “You have until midnight to bring me what I need to know,” she says. “After that, our deal is void, and next time, I won’t catch you.”
“Midnight? That’s hardly fair. I just fell off a tower – I think I deserve at least until breakfast tomorrow.”
“Life isn’t fair,” she says, turning away. The shadows seem to deepen around her, making her edges blur. “Midnight, Elenda Florrence.”
I start to ask how she knows my name, but she’s already gone, melted into the gathering dusk like she was never there. Only a faint trace of oily residue on the grass proves I didn’t imagine the whole thing.
“Well,” I say to no one in particular, “that could have gone worse. I could be dead.” I straightened my dress, which somehow still remains intact despite my impromptu flying lesson. “Right then. Find out who’s trying to kill the princess, avoid getting murdered by a suspiciously attractive shadow mage, and make it home in time for supper. Just another Tuesday in Aldermere.”
I head toward the castle proper, my mind already racing through possibilities. I know every secret passage and hidden door in this place, thanks to a childhood spent avoiding lessons and responsibilities. Now I just have to figure out how to use that knowledge to save a princess, survive until midnight, and maybe, just maybe, figure out why Isa Enderfen, wielder of forbidden magic and thrower of innocent merchants’ daughters off towers, is really here.
As plans go, it’s not my worst. Though given my track record, that’s not saying much.
At least the falling part is over. Probably. I hope.
I really should have stayed in bed this morning.