Veiled in Shadow

Chapter One

Everything changes today. And though my magic makes me a master of the past, all I desire right now is to know my future.

I stand barefoot on the silver beach, sand shifting beneath me as the tide rolls in, my hand on the sun-warmed hull of my small sailboat. It's naked, the sails removed and carefully stored away from the elements since no one dares take it out in my absence.

"I'll miss you," I murmur, running my hand down its side. This boat was my mother's before it was mine, and every plank, nail, ridge, and bump is familiar under my palm. Tears sting at my eyes. If only Mother were here now. I focus my powers and sink into my memories, sifting through crystal-clear moments until I find the one I seek.

Small waves lap at my toes, my hand clutched safely in my mother's as we stand in the shade of her sailboat. A vision of chrona larks circle us. She leans close, her long reddish-blond hair swinging as sunlight sparkles off her silver crown. Her features back then are so much like mine now. Except her eyes. They're the same blue as the Orshan sea and filled with love and tenderness as she whispers, "There now, my little spy. Can you see what happened on this very beach one fortnight ago?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and reach into my core where my magic lives. It's always there, a steady warmth that snaps and pops when I turn my attention to it, like tossing a log on a fire. I imagine a lasso of power unfurling from inside, burning brightly, just as Father taught me. When it feels strong and ready, I open my eyes and track the birds above, looking for one I might harness to fly my thoughts back in time so I can be Mother's little spy. A small lark swoops close, riding the sea air effortlessly. The wind ruffles her charcoal-tipped wings, her long tail fluttering behind her. I hesitate for a split second and with a sharp chirp, she soars out of reach.

"It's impossible." My lower lip trembles.

Mother hugs me tightly to her side. I run my fingers over her brooch, the one Father got her with the rare blue pearl nestled in a bed of white-gold feathers. Its familiar shape and textures soothe me. "Trust yourself above all else and anything becomes possible. Try again."

I stare into the skies once more, watching the chrona larks circle. I reach deep into my center again and repeat the process, stretching my power until I can use it to catch a chrona lark that swoops close.

"I've got it," I breathe, my heart racing at the fragile connection with the winged creature. There's a sharp tug behind my navel, and my consciousness is pulled away into the stream of time . . .

"Pardon me, Highness?" A tentative voice pierces my thoughts. I'm thrust back into the present, still on the beach, my mother long gone from this world. I grip her pearl-and-feather brooch tightly in one hand, desperate to keep her with me. But the calm I'd been seeking evaporates, leaving behind a gritty churning of nerves and fear.

My handmaiden, Ayala, stands on the stone path where I left my shoes and crown. The humidity has teased fine brown curls from the severe bun at the base of her neck. They riot around her tanned face like sea foam frothing on the beach. "I'm sorry to bother, but the King's Hand sent me to collect you. He said you'd be here. It's nearly time."

Shaking sand from the light silk skirt of my new gown, I trudge back to Ayala. I'm both annoyed and impressed that Elias knew where to find me. As the king's advisor, he makes it his business to know everything, but I hate that I'm so predictable. I slip my feet into butter-soft leather slippers. Ayala places the silver crown, shaped like many twisted feathers, on my head. She tucks a wayward hair into place for me.

"I had to visit the beach one last time. I'm not sure when I'll be back." The idea of leaving the seaside is difficult to accept. Most of my time not engaged in royal activities is spent near the water. And while Valmyrra, the kingdom that's to become my new home, is said to be beautiful, it's located between two soaring mountains. Far from the sea and everything I've ever known.

Ayala's expression softens. "Where's Gerard? It's not safe for you to wander alone."

The safety reminder grates. "He'll find me eventually. He always does." Gerard's been my personal guard since Mother passed and is accustomed to my slipping away. "Shall we?"

I start up the rocky path. The newly constructed train platform where I should be waiting patiently is on the other side of this dune. And beyond that, our capital city of Palmada, our seat of power in Orsho, rises like a layered cake, the palace sitting at the top, shining in the sun.

It's known as the Winged City for the mystical chrona larks that were once plentiful here. The birds provide the monarchy and our high court the fullest form of our magic-the Sight that keeps the realm safe from treachery. But now the larks are gone, and because of this, our powers wane. And I'm the answer to fixing both problems.

"The entire city's come to see you off." Ayala puffs behind me as we climb. "It's quite exhilarating."

I laugh. "They're here to see the train, not me, but it's a pretty thought." Everyone wants to witness the lavish wedding train my betrothed, Prince Marc of Valmyrra, commissioned for our wedding journey. It's said to be the most expensive, enchanted train ever created.

As we summit the dune, the lower levels of Palmada come into view. I pause to take it all in. Pennants with the navy-and-silver Orsho crest snap in the cool sea breeze that flows from the coast. Children race among the adults, faces sticky with honeyfrost fruit juice, expressions wild with sugar and mischief. The air smells of roasted fish, fresh popped corn, and toffee. Vendors sell their wares along the road, and families browse the stalls. A fierce sense of pride flows through me, chased by a shot of fear. This is what I must protect, at all costs. My people's safety and security are the most important things I can offer them as their princess.

"There you are." Elias descends the stairs of the open-air train station, his white robe a stark contrast to his copper skin, his brown eyes narrowed and trying to pin me in place. My father's advisor is only four years my senior but carries himself as a much older, crankier man. "Late is better than never, I suppose."

"I thought you'd be pleased; I know how you appreciate an entrance." Elias and I are regularly at odds. While everyone else thinks him a great asset to court, his easy ascent to Father's side soon after arriving in Orsho many years ago has always bothered me. That and how often he contradicts my own counsel to the king. He's constantly whispering in Father's ear. While he acts as though it's in service to the crown, I'm never quite sure where his interests begin and end.

"I appreciate when people make my life easier rather than more difficult." Elias offers his arm and guides me to the station. The guard stationed at the base salutes as we approach. "I'm already keeping a close watch over the king today. Please don't make me split my attention."

We climb the stairs, emerging onto a platform buzzing with activity. Nobles, courtiers, and other dignitaries mill about, each clutching a cream envelope with their name inked on the front in shimmering black script. Inside are three things: a miniature portrait of a handsome royal couple, a train ticket, and an invitation to the wedding of the century.

My wedding.

The air is thick with excitement, and I wish I shared everyone's unfettered joy. But there's too much hanging in the balance-my kingdom, my family, my heart, my life. For a moment I fantasize about rushing back to the beach, climbing aboard my sailboat, and letting the sea take me away.

Instead, I take a deep breath, calming my nerves and allowing the mask I wear as princess to settle into place. No matter what fears and burdens I carry, they're mine alone. My people won't know.

Elias speaks in hushed tones to the herald standing nearby. A horn blast splits the air, and the crowd falls still. "Princess Delana has arrived for her wedding journey. Honor and Sight."

The assembled drop into deep curtsies and bows, responding as one, "Honor and Sight."

My gaze drifts across the platform until I see the one person with an unbowed head standing underneath an Orshan banner. Father's posture and clothing are impeccable, regal. All as a king should be. Yet his eyes are glazed, as if staring inward. Disappointment is a bitter pill on my tongue. It's cruel that the only magic we can wield without the presence of the chrona lark allows my father to constantly relive his own past rather than focus on the present. On me and our kingdom.

Perhaps I should go to him and be his dutiful daughter. But I can't face his detached demeanor. Not now, when I need a father more than ever. When I'm missing Mother so much.

"Rise and enjoy the day." At my words, the respectful silence is broken. Normal chatter resumes.

The scratch of stiff cloth drags against my arm as Ayala sidles next to me, her breathing labored from the climb. She has a habit of standing quite close, and I feel her deep inhale and exhale as if they're my own. "Your staff and ladies are this way, Highness."

I follow her to the large royal blue marquee positioned in the front center of the platform and step into the shade, a welcome relief from the blazing coastal sun.

"Princess Delana!" A young woman with deep umber skin in a lemon-yellow dress hurries to greet me, three other courtiers following. Each wears her finest travel attire, complete with delicate lace gloves and pretty floral fans.

I paste a delighted smile on my face, depriving them of any reason to gossip about my lack of enthusiasm. "Hello, Aster. Ladies."

"Can you believe the day is finally here?" Aster speaks louder than necessary, like she's performing for an inattentive audience. She brightens as she waves at someone across the platform, happy to have been caught in discussion with the princess. I am simply a prop to her. To all of them, really.

"Hardly," I say, and the gathered ladies titter like I've told a joke. These women are members of the court because of their connections and wealth. I believe my parents thought they could be my close companions, but I've only known them to be false friends, both petty and cruel. Always behind my back and in secret, of course.

I was ten when I learned the hard truth. My best friend Aster brought several girls to the palace for a tea party. The following day, I used my magic to sink into my memories and relive the happy afternoon from my perspective. I was giddy at the warm rush of budding companionship as we sipped sweetened tea among flowers and butterflies. But I was new to forming friendships, and uncertain. Did the other girls like me as much as I did them?

I ran to the garden where the gathering had taken place. Once there, I harnessed a chrona lark to let my mind fly back and see what happened when I'd excused myself. As if watching a vicious, mean-spirited play, I witnessed Aster poking fun at my expense. My dress was too bright. My hair was too unruly. My stories were a bore. All the girls agreed, their laughter following me back to the present as I released the chrona lark and collapsed in tears.

It turned out Aster, my closest friend, was no true friend at all.

That was when I discovered a new danger of the Sight. When viewing the past for hints of treachery, it's often the littlest cuts that hurt the most. Of course, those girls wouldn't dare make that mistake now. They've learned to be careful. And so have I.

"Isn't Prince Marc dreamy?" A courtier I don't recognize holds the royal portrait from her invitation, waving it in the air. I pluck the parchment from her fingers to keep her from slapping me in the nose with it. The artist captured my wide-set eyes, my ivory skin and many freckles, and my hair that isn't gold or red but somewhere between. It's a good likeness, really. And if the artist did well with my image, is this truly what Prince Marc looks like? Delicate features; light, clear skin; thick, dark hair? I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

"You're lucky to have time alone with the prince before you meet his parents," the woman continues. "I hear they're very protective of their darling boy." As is tradition, the king and queen of Valmyrra won't be on the train with us. Instead, they wait to greet us in a formal ceremony at the end of the journey.

"I hope they like blue," Aster says, and I force my smile not to slip at the slight jab. As a young girl, I believed chrona larks were drawn to the color, since they made their home near the seas and sky. It was all I would wear to please the birds that fed my power. Now I do it as a desperate attempt to lure them back to me.

Besides, I like blue. Why shouldn't I wear what I like?

"Princess." Behind me, a deep voice calls for my attention. I turn to a dark head of silky windswept curls, a man bent on one knee before me. He rises, his movements graceful, warm olive skin flushed from the heat of the day.

I bite my inner cheek to keep from gasping as I see his face. It's him. The man I spied at the fountain last month. The memory warms my cheeks, but I will the thoughts away before I become too flustered. Now is not the time.

"Yes?" I use my most regal voice to cover my disquiet.

"I'm Bastian Hawke, Your Highness," he says, bowing again. "Gerard's successor."

"Bastian?" I try to reconcile the handsome man in front of me with the scrawny orphan I knew when we were young. His voice is deeper but the accent, a unique mix of his Valmyrran roots and his Orshan education, is undeniably familiar. As is the light scar on his temple.

"Does it still hurt?" I hand the boy a cookie I'd pocketed from lunch and sink next to him on the sand. He shakes his head, his fingers wandering over the bandage on his forehead. Gerard says he hasn't spoken since we found him clinging to a rock in the sea, bruised and bloody. But every day since we rescued him, he's returned to the beach like he's waiting for someone. Sadness seeps from him like a weeping wound. I scoot closer so my shoulder presses against his and hug my knees as we keep vigil over the water together.