Chapter Text
Cool. Calm. Water to soothe the fire. Water to calm my insides. They were familiar thoughts, and Aelin took a deep breath, raising the cold glass to her lips once more, to sip delicately at the water inside. Cool. Calm.
Aelin looked out the window of the ship, seeing the dark, calm sea all around her. She was currently on her way to Wendlyn, where her parents had sent her for training. But she knew that her mother was also eager for Aelin to be on the ocean—being surrounded by water, her mother had said, would hopefully pull Aelin’s water magic out into the open.
But so far, the ocean had done no such thing. Rather, thought Aelin as she shifted uneasily once again, the ocean was riling up her fire magic. She thought perhaps it was uneasy, being so close to so much water. It only brought up foul memories, of her mother’s crying apologies and water surrounding her body—but no. Aelin would not think of that. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and shifted back into her human form. She didn’t like to stay in her human body, not when it was so weak and dull, but her magic was locked down in this form.
As Aelin gazed out onto the sparkling sea, and the last beams of sunlight slid under the horizon, she wondered if perhaps staying in her human form was best until she got to Wendlyn.
Wendlyn, of course, was the desperate, last-ditch effort of her parents. Aelin was glad for her private stateroom—worthy of a Princess, of course, even on the seas—as she winced in memory of the event that had led to her being sent off.
It really was no surprise. Aelin’s magic had been a problem for years—for her entire life, actually. And for that time, the focus had been on the suppression of her magic, on cooling the fire that danced and writhed within her soul. After all, her mother said, behind closed doors when she thought Aelin couldn’t hear, teaching Aelin to use the immense magic inside her could be seen as an act of war, especially for the nearby nations who insisted she would grow up to be a weapon, despite the lack of evidence for their claims.
Aelin turned her gaze from the soft waves outside to her hands. They were pale, unscarred, which didn’t seem right considering what had happened.
Her magic had been growing more and more unstable in the past few years. And last week, it had exploded.
She had not meant for it to happen, truly, she had not. That was all she could say, afterwards. Aelin had simply been tired, tired and annoyed that Aedion was off with some girl rather than go out riding with her, and it was so silly, so stupid and she hated it. But she had been annoyed and distracted, and just tired enough that her normal stranglehold on her magic had slipped. Such an innocent word, Aelin thought. ‘Slipped’, as though she had merely taken a misstep. But she had lost control, and the stable boy behind her, simply trying to take her horse, had taken the brunt of it.
He had lived. Barely.
She hung her head in her hands at the memory, her stomach twisting in shame. She had done that, had hurt someone with her own magic, and had nearly killed a boy. It was no longer something her parents could ignore. So they had shipped her off to Wendlyn, to train with an expert, far away from the prying eyes of Terrasen’s lords and ladies.
She had expected to feel glad, happy to finally conquer the magic in her rather than locking it away. But she didn’t. Aelin had denied her magic so much that it no longer like hers—or maybe it never had. She could no longer remember. All she knew was that there was a wild, wild thing inside her, and she could not control it.