Look Beyond What You See
Magic Eyes

Dear Sister Kyla,

Thank you for your warnings of what was to come. Indeed Grandmother and Grandfather did arrange a marriage for me, and I write you now from my new chambers in a new house. I do not know where this mansion is situated; I shall rely on my fiancé, Dmitri, to put a return address on this letter and mail it to you. He is nice enough, though I am not entirely certain I am pleased to be wed within a year.

My new home has its charms and faults. There is an entire roof garden to which Dmitri and I have access through ladders in our suites, which are across the hall from each other at present. I wish you could see the garden. You would love it. The mansion also boasts plenty of secret passageways, the majority of which I have yet to explore, and the most wonderful library I have ever seen. The books all seem as though they were specially made and printed for royalty, such is the artwork on their covers and the gold leaf on their pages.

But my rooms in particular are too fancy, like they think I’m a princess or something. I was chastised this morning for opening my windows to air them out. They had a fire burning on the hearth! In June! Can you imagine? I was appalled. And then they will not let me wear anything less formal than what we wore for birthday dinners at Grandmother’s chateau, and I am not expected to ask any questions about how this marriage was arranged or why it is happening or how they know my parents or even where I’m living. It’s irritating, to say the least, but I cannot complain. My situation is better than yours, at least.

I wish you could visit, or that I could visit you. No one is willing to discuss that, either. Oh well. Know that I miss you desperately and love you with all the strength of a sister’s heart, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Your Loving Sister,

Aerys

By the time I’ve put the finishing touches on the letter, my chambers are oppressively stuffy. The maids closed the windows and lit a fire again, despite my wishes. Grumbling under my breath, I address the letter to Kyla and tuck it into the wide sleeve of my gown, then snatch a shawl from my armoire before furtively scaling the ladder to the roof. Dmitri and I more or less agreed to meet in that garden tonight after sunset, through a few brief whispers at the dinner table exchanged while passing dishes of food. I’m hoping he can help me get this letter to my sister, but more important at present is getting out of those chambers and into a space where I can pretend I’m free.

The cool air of the night is like ice water on a hot day to my soul. I breathe deeply as I climb silently out of the mansion and re-immerse myself in the magical world of the roof garden. Fireflies flash between the plants and compete with the stars to illuminate the night. It’s beautiful and mystical and makes me feel at home. Stress melts away from me and I spread my shawl on the ground and then lie on it, looking up at the stars. This is where I’m meant to be.

“Sooner than I expected to see you, Aerys. Did you miss me so much?” Dmitri teases, emerging from some other corner of the garden and nearly scaring me out of my skin.

“Not at all,” I reply stiffly, displeased by the interruption. He ignores that and lies down on my shawl next to me without so much as a ‘by-your-leave.’

“How did your test go? Madame Alouette seemed quite flustered,” he remarks, no doubt trying to start a conversation. I suppose I’ll indulge him.

“I knew the material better than she did,” I snort. “It was hardly even a test.”

“I expected as much,” he chuckled. “Madame Alouette was one of my first tutors. Judging by the reports we were sent, it’s a marvel to me that my mother saw fit to put her in charge of your testing at all.”

“At least the location of the testing was enjoyable.”

“You liked the library, then?”

“I love it.”

“Did your etiquette lessons also take place there?”

“If they can be construed as such. Mostly your mother just told me what she expects of me and I said ‘Yes, Ma’am’ a lot. Nothing I cannot handle. I shall simply stop asking non-superficial questions of anyone except you and ask none at all in public if I can avoid it and all will be well.” I sigh heavily and survey the stars, wishing that the answers to my questions would be written among them. “I suppose it should come as no surprise. I was regularly slapped for questioning authority at home.”

“And you found other ways to answer your questions there, did you not?”

“Generally speaking, when I knew that there were questions to be asked.”

“And what have you found here to answer questions thus far?”

“Aside from you? I found a most intriguing shelf of books in the library.”

“Really? And what, may I ask, has captured your interest?” I can feel his eyes on me, but I dare not turn to meet his gaze. I’m afraid of the expressions I might replace there.

“Oh, just some books of genealogy and mythology and the like. Whimsical things,” I reply dismissively. We’ll determine how valuable this replace actually is by his reaction.

“They still have that shelf visible?! And they actually took you to the library...and left you unattended, too, no doubt....” So it is a valuable replace. I’ll have to return to it later...alone.

“For a short time, while Madame Alouette ran to fetch your mother and inform her of my genius.”

“How much did you read?” His tone is urgent, nervous. I still won’t look at him.

“I didn’t get to read anything. Finding the shelf took some time. I had just tried to pick up a book when I heard your mother coming back to the library.”

“Tried to pick up a book?”

“Why, yes. It seemed to be a switch or a door handle. The shelf moved with it. A number of the shelves in your library are designed as such.”

“But you didn’t go behind the shelf.”

“No. I didn’t have time.” His aura relaxes at that. “Why so tense, Dmitri? What are you afraid that I have discovered?”

“Why should I be afraid of anything?” he replies, his voice betraying his nervousness. Only now do I turn to face him. He tries rapidly to compose his face, but he cannot hide the guilty expression in his eyes. The image of that book cover again flashes in my mind and I wonder how to breach the subject.

“You know, do you not, which book is the key to that particular shelf?” I probe gently.

“Of course. A book on elementals. The cover no doubt attracted your attention. It’s uncommonly well done.”

“Indeed. I have never before seen cover art that changes before one’s eyes.”

“Beg pardon?” The amber flames of his eyes are dancing with fear and nerves.

“Perhaps I was only hallucinating. But I could swear that the colour of the eyes on the cover of that book changed moment to moment. And at one point...they looked almost exactly like yours.”

“Do you have magic?” he demands roughly. Heat seems to emanate from him. He is dangerous. The question throws me off balance. What?

“Not to my knowledge,” I answer slowly. “But you wouldn’t be asking unless I do, somehow.” He curses under his breath, language I’ve only ever heard my grandfather use before, and I am appalled.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, seeing my expression. “I shouldn’t use such language in front of you. But I had hoped, at least for a little while, that things could be normal, that we could be normal.”

“A far-fetched hope, from all I’ve gathered, and even from what I knew upon meeting you in my grandmother’s chateau.” I leave a few seconds for him to reply and avoid my next words, but he does not take advantage of the opportunity. “So you are an elemental, then. And I presume your parents are, as well, which would explain all of your extraordinary eyes.”

“Yes,” he admits, eyes blazing, “and I suppose I should be grateful that you guessed, since I am forbidden to tell you anything related to the matter.”

“Was I then to live with magical beings all my life, married to one, even, and suspect nothing?” I am supremely insulted by the idea.

“No, but you weren’t meant to replace out until after the wedding.”

“How kind. And I suppose I’ll have to guess about myself, then, too.” He nods, more than a little displeased by the admission. “I would guess that the reason I look like my grandmother and have always been different from the rest of my family is because I have some magic of my own, though I have absolutely no understanding of how to access or control it. No doubt I inherited it from Grandmother and she knew it and told me I was special because of it. I also suspect that my necklace doesn’t work the way she intended it to because of my magic, although if she knew of my magic to start with, she ought to have designed the necklace to accommodate for that.”

“One would think,” Dmitri replies quietly.

“But she never knew of the pranks I pulled or the things I studied on my own time. She was no doubt too wrapped up in her schemes for my older sisters to really recognise me for who I am, and I was always good at acting, too. Living in that chateau for any period of time assures that.”

“I think you’ve pieced it together. Congratulations.” His eyes still burn, intense, captivating.

“And what of your necklace? Designed for what you are, I would guess, though perhaps not exactly.”

“Close enough. But mine is not like yours, entirely. Only the enchantment to ensure felicitous relations between necklace wearers. It is influencing but not controlling.” He pauses for a second while I process this but does not allow me to ask the obvious question. “From what I’ve seen of you thus far, it is unnecessary. I would have reacted to you the same way regardless.”

“So you would have been irritatingly charming and relatively willing to answer my questions even without this?” I ask, touching the chain around his neck lightly with my fingertips, wishing I could break it. His lips curve upwards in a smirk and he catches my wrist in his hands, which feel unnaturally warm. He places my hand on the left side of his chest, where I can feel his heartbeat and something else, something hot that flickers and tickles against my hand.

“You feel it?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“You control fire. It’s your element.” His smirk broadens into a genuine smile.

“That’s right.” He pauses. “How much do you know about elementals?”

“Not much,” I admit. “I wanted to read that book, but...things didn’t work out.”

“But you know each of us can control a single element.”

“Yes. I know that the degree of control varies person to person, based on personal ability, personality, and how much one practises. I know that some knowledge of sorcery can allow one to have pseudo-elemental powers, as my grandmother is able to control shadows to some extent.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Dmitri nods. “She has the eyes of a sorceress whose dominant element is darkness.”

“And I?”

“You’re not like her. Your eyes alone should tell you that. I think that book cover should have showed you what your eyes reveal. You saw a pair of eyes like yours there, didn’t you?” he presses. I think back to the library and the mystical book. I remember seeing grey eyes like his mother’s. I remember the amber eyes like Dmitri’s best of all. But right before Dmitri’s amber was a swirling aquamarine, like water in a lake...

Like my eyes.

“Water,” I whisper. “But how do I--”

“We’ll work on it together.”

***~O~***