“Can ... can the pooling of energy be anonymous?”
Anonymous?Isla was getting irritated. “I suppose so. Why?”
Maren’s expression became more intense than usual. “Promise me,” she said. “If I tell you, promise that you won’t tell anyone.”
Isla frowned. She was her ruler. She didn’t have to make promises in exchange for information. Still, she saw the fierceness in Maren’s face and nodded. “I won’t tell anyone but the king.”
Maren considered. She closed her eyes. “I will show you,” she said.
She took her to a field of craters. They were holes in the isle like stars had fallen from the sky and left their marks. Someone stood in one of the craters’ center.
Streams of silver shot from their hands in glittering ribbons. They whipped against the sides of the crater, piercing the rock, slicing through it like butter. Creatures formed from the sparks, and they slithered, jumped, flew around the crater, contained only by its perimeter. It was a dazzling display of power.
It was Cinder.
Isla’s mouth had dropped open watching. Cinder wielded power like a master. Her stances, the liquidous movements of her arms—everything was so natural, as if she’d been alive for many multiples of her actual age.
She jumped down into the crater, and the little girl whipped around. A smile transformed her features. “Isla!”
“Who was your teacher?” she asked in lieu of greeting. “Are they still living?”
Cinder regarded her strangely. “Teacher?” She looked to Maren, who had carefully made her way down one of the crater’s edges. Maren only shrugged a shoulder.
“Who taught you to wield this way?” Isla shook her head in disbelief. “I was told there weren’t any Starling masters left. How many can wield like you? You must have started training before you could walk! You must practice every moment.”
Cinder laughed. “No, not really.” She shrugged. “I’m just good at it, I guess.”
I guess?
Isla looked to Maren, who seemed wary. She stepped to the opposite side of the crater, away from Cinder, and Isla followed. “When she was two years old, I heard her laughing in a room all alone. I came in to find her playing with a perfect ball of sparks. One she had created herself.”
Isla’s brows came together. “But that ... that shouldn’t be possible, should it? Someone who isn’t a ruler being that powerful?”
“It is certainly unusual. She is the best wielder on the isle.” She lowered her voice. “And she is the only reason any of us survived the fire that destroyed our homes.”
Cinder was laughing as she created an animal with a crown of antlers out of sparks. It hopped on its haunches, jumping around her in a circle. Isla understood now. “That’s why you’ve never let her leave,” she said. “You don’t want anyone else to know.”
Maren nodded. “She is more a sister to me than a cousin. Having any family relation is rare for Starlings. She is my responsibility. She is everything to me.”
Cinder blasted over, propelled by Starling energy shooting out of both of her palms. “Your turn, Isla! The crater is so plain and boring. Paint it with flowers!”
Maren gave her a look. “She is our ruler, Cinder. You do not command her.”
“It’s all right,” Isla said, smiling. She raised her hand, and flowers bloomed across the ground.
“Pretty! Make a beast next! Make one like I do, but out of plants and sticks and stuff!”
Her expression faltered, just a little. “I—I don’t think I can, Cinder.”
Cinder frowned. “Why not?”
“I’m only now learning to wield. I’m not a master. Not yet.” Cinder tilted her head, her dark hair falling across her forehead. “You can’t fully wield power?” A little crease appeared between her brows. “But ... it’s so easy.”
“Cinder.”
“Especially for a ruler. Right?”
“Cinder.”
