By the Morning Light_Smoke and Mirrors

  By the Morning Light

  By

  Melissa Giorgio

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including written, electronic, recording, or photocopying, without written permission of the author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  By the Morning Light by Melissa Giorgio

  © 2016 by Melissa Giorgio. All rights reserved.

  Published by Melissa Giorgio

  Cover by Rebecca Berto for Berto Designs

  Image of flowers by Merritt Sloan

  Formatted by Polgarus Studio

  The characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Existing brands and businesses are used in a fictitious manner, and the author claims no ownership of or affiliation with trademarked properties. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, and not intended by the author.

  For anyone who has ever wanted to go on an adventure—and did.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  After the Rain Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  It all began with a seemingly innocent suggestion. I was nine and Emile was ten. Even back then we were inseparable, so close the others used to tease us incessantly about it, asking when our wedding was. I never understood that since we were both in love with Michel, the beautiful dark-haired eleven-year-old who ignored us—much to our joint disappointment. Michel was serious, even at eleven, and only cared about training for the Order of the Ayres Knights. Ayres, our city, was ancient and had a castle, an abandoned monastery and all sorts of places for a pair of siblings to wreak havoc.

  That was the other reason why I never understood why they said Emile and I were going to get married. We were brother and sister. Even at nine I knew you didn’t marry your brother. I asked Maman about it, but she told me it was just boys being boys. I was grateful that she, unlike Papa, didn’t suggest I only play with the girls instead. I did, sometimes. Emile would tag along too, even though I knew he didn’t care about dolls and dresses and tea time. But like I said, we were as close as two people could be, and where one went, the other did too. Maman said we should have been twins, with the way Emile and I seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking or feeling. I always thought this was normal, but when I asked our friends if they had this sort of bond with their siblings, they looked at me as if I were crazy. Apparently you were supposed to hate your sibling, or at least mildly tolerate them, but that had never been the case with me and Emile. He’d only been one when I was born, but Papa said he was so enraptured with his new baby sister that he screamed and carried on whenever someone tried to take him from my side.

  “They could hear you screaming from the next farm over. More than once they asked if we were murdering you,” Papa would recall fondly as Emile’s face reddened. Did his embarrassment deter him from playing with me?

  Never.

  During the weekdays we rose early, tended to the chickens, and ate breakfast with our parents. Then Emile and I would grab our satchels, kiss our parents goodbye, and follow the dirt path to school. We lived on the outskirts of Ayres, which was fine by me. We had a big field for farming, a barn with animals, and farmhands to help Maman and Papa. Everyone living in the center of Ayres was squished together. They had cobblestone paths instead of dirt ones and the view outside their bedroom window was of the house next door. My view was breathtaking and spectacular and Emile would tease me for spending hours in my window seat, just gazing at Ayres and the land beyond it. But for all his teasing, he’d end up joining me and we’d stare at the castle where the Knights trained and the shops and homes that were stacked closely together like the jagged spikes on a dragon’s spine. The city sat on a huge cliff that stood sentinel over the Adrianna Ocean, and beyond that was the rest of the world.

  Emile and I spent hours discussing what was beyond the sea to the east and the plains to the west—the other cities and the people, and Emile was convinced there were dragons out there, even though Michel told him that was stupid since everyone knew the dragons were extinct. Emile had gone quiet at that, and I knew Michel had hurt his feelings. But he was right about the dragons. They were gone, although the magic wasn’t.

  Magic had almost ripped this world apart. Back when nearly everyone had it, the stronger ones had become obsessed with power. They discovered they could steal it from the weaker, which is what they did until that, too, wasn’t enough. So they looked to the dragons. Dragons were ancient, immortal creatures brimming with magic, and the magicians had to have a taste of that power. But killing a dragon was no simple feat, and everyone who challenged them was felled.

  They had found a way to defeat them, though. The exact method had been lost, so claimed our teachers, but Emile and I knew they were lying. The Knights had purged all records of magic from the libraries of Ayres after the old wars had ended and the dragons were all killed. If the magicians hadn’t sought more power, the Knights claimed, the world would have remained peaceful. But because of their selfish intentions, non-magical innocents had been caught up in the bloodshed and paid for it with their lives. “Magic is evil,” the Knights had proclaimed. “Magic has no place in this world. If you are caught practicing magic, you will be tried and put to death.”

  You would think after years of death, the people would balk at the idea of more unnecessary killings, but I suppose they were frightened. The dragons may have died out, but the magicians were still out there. They had no place in Ayres, a city that was rapidly expanding and modernizing with the passing of each year. The Knights—self-appointed keepers of peace—hunted mercilessly for anyone who had even a spark of magic. Those who showed no signs of repent were executed. Those who begged for forgiveness were exiled.

  Those who returned after being banished were not only killed, but made an example of. Their bodies hung from the gates leading into the main city as a gruesome reminder of what the Knights were capable of. No matter how hard a person tried to hide their magical talents, the Knights always found them.

  This was all before my time. There were no bodies hanging from the gates. Criminals were tried before a judge and jury, and if found guilty, they were jailed. Even the murderers. The Knights still existed, but they were mostly made up of youths who helped the police with petty crimes. Michel, who wasn’t a Knight yet but was going to take the test the moment he turned eighteen, claimed they still hunted and executed magic users, but it’d been hundreds of years since they’d caught someone.

  The magic was dead in Ayres, or at least I hoped so. I didn’t want to stare at a rotting body when Maman sent me into the main city for errands.

  And yet… A world without magic. That seemed rather sad and I had to agree with Emile: I’d like to see a dragon, at least once. But I never spoke this aloud, for fear Michel would overhear and cal
l me stupid, too.

  “Claudette.” I blinked, visions of dragons and magicians and rotting corpses fading away. Emile stood next to me, his hands on his hips. “Claudette, I’ve been calling you for five whole minutes. Why didn’t you answer me?”

  I knew Emile was exaggerating. He’d probably been sitting in his room and called my name twice, and when I didn’t answer, he’d gotten up to find me.

  “I was thinking.”

  He cocked his head sideways like a little bird. Emile and I shared the same shoulder-length dirty-blond hair, made lighter in the summer from all the hours we spent exploring the main city, that we usually wore tied back in a tail. All the boys wore their hair long, which Papa complained about, but Papa complained about a lot of things and no one ever listened to him. Today Emile’s hair was loose, and it spilled over his shoulder, catching the light pouring in from my open window and turning the strands into the color of liquid gold. His light-brown eyes—also the same shade as mine—twinkled mischievously as he asked, “Thinking about what?”

  “Magic,” I answered honestly, because I always told Emile the truth, no matter what. If you couldn’t tell the person who was the other half of your soul what you were really thinking and feeling, then who could you tell?

  Emile nodded, biting his lip. If I’d told anyone else—namely Michel—that, I’d be hauled in front of the Knights and made to explain myself. I’d get a warning; too many of those and my parents and I would be looking for a new village to make our home. At least, that’s what the rumors claimed. I hadn’t actually heard of anyone being evicted, but neither Emile nor I wanted to be the first.

  He followed my gaze out into the main city. “Let’s go exploring.”

  Grinning widely, I hopped off the windowsill. “Race you to the dog!”

  I flew down the stairs, laughing as Emile sputtered behind me in indignation as he struggled to catch up. But he wouldn’t. I was always faster, and as I left the house and tore down the path, kicking up dust clouds every time my boots hit the ground, Emile’s protests grew fainter and fainter until they faded away to nothing.

  The smell of salt was heavy in the air as I crested a hill. The dog was actually a cairn—a stone monument built by our ancestors long ago which, after years of being eroded by the salt, resembled a pup with pointy ears. It came into view, and it felt like I’d sprouted wings on my back as I descended the hill, my feet barely touching the ground. Slapping a hand against the dog’s smooth stones, I shouted, “First!”

  A minute later Emile’s head appeared over the hill. He wasn’t even trying at this point as he walked slowly toward me. Dancing impatiently, I cried, “Hurry up!” which only caused him to go slower. Folding my arms over my chest, I glowered at Emile until he started laughing. Hopping the last few feet, he slapped the base of the stone monument. “Second!”

  We sat down for a moment to catch our breath, although I was the only one who was breathing hard. It was midday, the sun’s rays relentless as we sat in the open field. There was a small breeze strong enough to cause the tall green grass to sway back and forth in lazy strokes, but it did little to cool me. I grabbed the collar of my shirt, trying in vain to fan myself with it.

  Emile tipped his head back, the strands of his hair shining brightly. “Where do you want to go?” Whoever reached the dog first was allowed to choose where to explore. Ayres was a city full of endless wonders. We each had our favorite places, and I could tell by the way Emile held his breath that he was hoping I’d pick the castle. That’s where Michel would be, training with the other squires.

  Normally, that’s what I’d pick, too. But yesterday… My cheeks burned with shame. I hadn’t even told Emile what’d happened yet, which felt weird since I told him everything. But I was afraid with the way he felt about Michel that he’d end up taking the older boy’s side instead of mine. Even though that wasn’t something that had ever happened before, I knew it would eventually. Just not today.

  “The monastery.” I didn’t even have to look at Emile to imagine the disappointment that clouded his brown eyes, and a sharp stab of guilt pricked me in the stomach. Emile was too good to say anything. If it were the other way around, I’d protest until he gave in and we went where I wanted to go. But if I wanted to go to the monastery…

  Emile heaved himself to his feet, holding out a hand to pull me up next to him. “The monastery it is, then.”

  Chapter Two

  We approached the monastery, our voices quieting. Once upon a time this building must have been magnificent. I always tried to imagine what it looked like back then, before the old wars had destroyed half of the stone structure, but I couldn’t. Emile said he could see it, though. He would describe how the pilgrims flocked to the building, walking the same path that we did now. How they would ascend the steps and pass the doors covered in elaborate carvings, their faces shining with tears when they realized their journey was over and they could finally rest their weary feet. Only some of the walls remained standing, and with the grass and bushes growing wherever they felt like, it was hard to tell what room was what, but Emile knew exactly where the pilgrims ate and slept. He described everything in such detail that the ruined walls disappeared and I saw the monastery the way Emile did. It must have been a place of breathtaking beauty, and it saddened me that it’d been destroyed in the wars.

  Magic. As curious as I was about it, I also hated it for taking away the good things the world had to offer.

  As if sensing my change of mood, Emile took my hand in his as we mounted the steps. I always held my breath as we crossed the threshold, wishing that the monastery would return to its former glory, at least for the duration of our visit.

  But it never did.

  “Where do you want to go?” Emile asked, his voice hushed. Above us crows streaked across the blue sky, bits of straw and branches for their nests clutched tightly in their beaks.

  I shrugged in response. Now that we were here, I wondered why I’d suggested we come at all. I was thirsty and hungry, and my eyes felt heavy with the dust from the road. Walking through the knee-high grass, I crossed the perimeter and peered out one of the oval-shaped windows. In the distance was Ayres. I could see the castle from here: a giant towering beast where Michel was no doubt sparring with one of the older boys, his face wearing that satisfied smirk it always did. My stomach twisted. Even after what’d happened yesterday, I still wished I’d gone to the castle instead of the dumb, boring monastery.

  “Claudette, what’s wrong?” Emile leaned against the wall, nothing but concern on his face. What would he look like when I told him the truth?

  No. Why did I have to tell him everything? Let him think Michel was perfect. He’d find out the truth someday and then he could feel like I did right now.

  “Nothing.” I brushed past my brother and headed to the right, where more of the building was still intact and passed through a stone archway, the air immediately cooler. The ceiling provided much-needed relief from the sun, and I took a moment to retie my hair before continuing. Emile was by my side, quiet and watchful.

  We walked down the hallway, the grass poking through the cracks in the ground. Emile stopped to pick some purple flowers, which he handed to me. Smiling my thanks, I tucked them behind my ear, their strong scent filling my nose.

  When we passed a wooden door, I paused. “What’s behind there?”

  Emile shrugged. There was no knob, so he pushed against it with his shoulder. The door creaked but didn’t budge. I joined my brother, pressing against the wood with all of my strength. I suddenly had a burning desire to open the door, as if my life depended on it.

  We grunted with the effort until we were rewarded with a loud crack and the door swung open. The ground rose up to meet us as we fell against the stone floor and I struck my elbow hard enough to cause tears to spring to my eyes. But I pushed away the pain as I detangled myself from Emile and jumped to my feet, excited to see what was beyond the door. Maybe we were the first ones in here. Maybe we woul
d discover treasures and riches and—

  “There’s nothing in here,” Emile said from where he still lay on the ground, massaging his knee. As I stepped forward I disturbed a cloud of dust and Emile sneezed.

  Unfortunately, my brother was right. The door opened up to an empty room smaller than my bedroom with a low ceiling and no windows. I sighed in disappointment and sat back down next to Emile. “What do you think they used this for?” I waited for him to tell me one of his elaborate stories.

  “Probably the bathroom.”

  I snorted with laughter. Emile joined in, and soon we were rolling on the dusty floor as our laughter echoed off the walls. The dust caused my brother to sneeze again and again, which only made me laugh even harder.

  But how quickly my laughter turned to tears.

  He noticed immediately. “Claudette, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong!” Emile pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly as I fought to control my sobs.

  “It’s Michel—”

  Emile stiffened noticeably but remained quiet.

  “I told him I wanted to be a Knight, and he laughed at me.” The memory caused my cheeks to burn in shame. “Do you know what he told me, Emile? He said girls are meant to have babies and take care of the men, and when I told him that’s stupid, he got mad and shoved me. So I shoved him right back, and he tripped over his own two feet.” I felt a flash of pride as I remembered the look of surprise on his face when he landed on his backside. The other boys, including Michel’s best friend Gilbert, had started laughing at him, which had made me feel slightly better. And then Gilbert put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a nod of approval as he did so. That made me feel even better. But the twisted look of rage on Michel’s face killed my happiness immediately and I’d scurried out of the castle without looking back.

  Emile didn’t say anything for the longest time, so I pulled away to look at him. Even with the faint sunlight streaming in through the open door, I could easily see how angry he was, and it startled me. Emile was the kindest person I knew. If a bug crawled into my room, Emile would swoop in to rescue it, carrying it outside clutched between his hands. He cried so hard he made himself sick when our old cow died last year and he’d mope for days if Michel was ever short with him. “He feels things more strongly than others,” Maman explained gently when I asked her about it. “He has a kind soul, your brother.”