Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (30 page)

Realizing I need to
say something, I clear my throat
. “We
need to finish our conversation,” I manage.

“What
conversation?”

“You need to tell me
everything about Castor,” I say as I cross my arms and lean against
the doorframe.

There are no guards standing outside, thankfully, so
I don't have an audience. Considering it's impossible to break out
of a room like this, there's no longer any point in having soldiers
watching her when she's locked inside.

Yin doesn't answer.
She turns on the spot and continues
practicing until she reaches the wall a meter from her,
then she turns again, and practices in the other
direction.

“What is he planning?
If you know, you need to tell me,” I say quickly.

“You heard him. I'm
no longer his apprentice, and he doesn't plan to see me again. He
is training the Princess now, whatever that means. That leaves me
with you,” she says, her words gruff.

My cheeks redden at
the word “
you,” but I hide it as I send a
burst of practically invisible magic to take the heat
away.

As I rely on the magic, I remember how cool and
calming it is. How numbing.

It lets me take a step back and assess the situation
for what it is.

Yin is clearly not going to tell me anything about
Castor, not unless I compel her to. Fighting her just isn't going
to work. So the only option left is to make her trust me.

“Believe it or not,
I'm on your side,” I say as I let my arms loosen and drop to my
sides. I look at her directly, never blinking, fixing my attention
only on her face as she twists and turns and practices before
me.

“Really? Then you
won't mind if I leave and go back to my home and take Castor with
me?” she quips.

“I can't do that. But
if you let me, I can help you. Maybe one day I can convince Garl to
let you go. Before that happens, I need you to trust me,” I put a
lot of effort into saying the word trust. As I do, I try to make it
sound as genuine as I can.

I
preten
d my words are as clear and
transport as glass. They hide nothing but my true
intent.

As I do this, my
magic builds. But rather than
channeling
it into a shot and smashing it against the wall, I push it into my
words. Into the exact way I say them, how I look at her as I will
her to believe me.

She stares at me as she continues to practice, and I
soon realize her moves become all the sharper and stronger, as if
she's trying to beat the very air before her.

I have to get her attention. I have to garner her
trust. I need to know what Castor is up to. If she doesn't know,
then I still need to know everything she does. Every last scrap of
information about that man.

With the cool, reassuring numbness of my magic
rushing through my veins, my left wrist buzzing as my Arak device
practically vibrates, it's easy to pluck up the courage to walk all
the way into the room and right up to her.

Without any space to practice, she stops. Though I
can tell she wants to continue, taking the excuse to whack me on
the head with her fan, she doesn't.

Yet neither does she
step backwards. She tips her head and stares into my
eyes
. “You want me to trust you? How? You
don't even trust yourself.”

I try to control my
expression, as I redouble my efforts to look genuine, but I can't
stop my brow from crumpling
. “You can
trust me,” I emphasize
can
with a sharp breath of air,
and I smile as I gaze at her.

It's a trick that should work on anyone.

It does not work on her.

She
snorts
. “You are so fake, you know that,
right? I can see through this act. I might have fallen for it once,
but the more I get to know you, the more I can recognize it. You
think I can't feel you using magic? All the force concentrating on
your heart—I can sense it. I know it's there, and I know what
you're using it for. But trust me, I'm never going to trust you,”
she moves her mouth wide around her words, her voice clipped and
clear.

I press my teeth
together, swallowing hard behind them
.
“You can trust me,” I say again, but this time my voice
wavers.

She snorts again. Though there’s more than a meter of
space behind her, and she could easily take a step back, she
doesn't. She stares up into my eyes, making it clear she is not
even remotely intimidated.

“You really are fake.
Tell me, does anyone actually fall for that?”

I
stiffen
. “I am not fake,” I say, unable
to stop myself.

She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. We're so
close, her elbows almost brush up against my sides.

I don't move back.

“Yes, you are,” she
says directly. “You have more walls set up around your emotion and
true feelings than there are in the entire Kingdom. Tell me, when
was the last time you actually felt something?” she unhooks one arm
to slam it on her chest, the fabric rumpling at her move. “And you
weren't ashamed at letting that emotion in?”

“I'm not ashamed,” I
say through clenched teeth, rapidly losing control of the
situation.

“I read about you in
the library. Well, not you specifically, but the way Royal Army
sorcerers are trained,” she says Royal Army like it's an insult,
“and it's horrible. Why would you do that to yourself? Why would
you let yourself become a soulless weapon for the army?”

“You have no idea
what you're talking about,” I snap back.

“I wish I didn't. I
wish I was still up in my village, blissfully unaware that people
like you exist,” the skin around her eyes tightens as she mentions
her village, and it's obvious how sad it makes her feel. But she
doesn't try to hide it. She stares up at me, letting everything
show.

Yet as I glare down
at her, I try to keep everything back. As I feel my control
slipping, I
utilize every trick I know to
bring it back. I build emotional walls as fast as I can, trying to
push the cold touch of magic through my veins and forcing it to
drive out every feeling as it washes through my heart.

We are total opposites.

A fact I don't have
time to appreciate as I snarl
, “you are
naive. A dumb girl from a village, who's never seen the world, and
now hides behind her ignorance, fighting everybody who comes
near.”

“Well this dumb girl
from a village is smart enough to know you are only trying to
manipulate her. You want me to trust you so I tell you everything
about Castor. Well it is never going to happen.”

“You have an
obligation to your kingdom,” I begin, heat rising so fast on my
cheeks that no matter how much magic I pour through them, I can’t
chill them.

My anger is bubbling away, and I can't stop it.

“And you have an
obligation to yourself. You've given away the true source of your
power, just to please your generals. And in the deal, you've given
up your heart and soul too. You might think I'm dumb, Yang, but I
have never met somebody who has sacrificed so much for so little.
You may think you're just being loyal, but you're being blind.
You're letting yourself become a tool. You have a heart for a
reason, you know that, right? You feel for a reason. This,” she
drives her thumb into the center of her chest, pushing her fingers
down to where her heart is, “helps you to know what to do, and it
helps you stop doing what you shouldn't.”

“I—” I
begin.

She speaks right over
me
, “you want to know something about
Castor? Okay, I'll tell you. He always taught me that the most
important source of power is your morals. That's the real
connection between you and the spirit of magic you summon. The true
espre of any Arak device. And you, you've given up your morals.
You're happy to numbly follow somebody else's orders, never
thinking for yourself whether what you're doing is right or wrong.
So don't you think you can intimidate me, because you can never be
as powerful as I am.”

I want to shout at her. Hell, I even want to strike
out. The anger burning in my belly tells me to do something, and as
it rears its ugly head, it has the face of my father.

Yet something holds me back, and that something is
curiosity.

As it mollifies me, what Castor told me earlier today
ignites in my mind.

He warned me that if I am to become a guardian of the
Savior, I have to connect to my magic.

He told me to connect
to the
espre of my Arak device—the true
soul of my magic.

Maybe Yin can sense
my confusion, because her eyebrows crumple close over her flashing
eyes
. “What? I'm finally getting through
to you?”

“What are you talking
about?” I force myself to say. As I speak, I don't control my
emotions; they weave through my tone, contorting the words, making
my fragility and confusion obvious.

“What? You actually
care?”

“What did Castor
teach you about the espre of magic? Did he ever teach you any
rituals?” I add, latching onto my curiosity with everything I have.
The more I invest in it, the more my open fragility is less
important.

Yin crumples her brow
and goes back to crossing her arms
. “Are
you playing with me again?”

“You're smart enough
to know when I'm manipulating you. So you should be smart enough to
know that I'm not doing that now. So just . . . tell me,
what did he teach you about the true soul of magic?”

She shakes her head a
little
. “Why do you care? You're blindly
loyal to your Royal Family and generals. Why would what a dumb
village girl says matter to you?”

“It shouldn't. I
don't want it to matter to me,” I say, incapable of being anything
but honest. I can't hide my words nor my true intentions; what I'm
really feeling burns through. “Believe me, I want nothing more than
to dismiss you and your words completely. But I don't have that
luxury,” my voice becomes croaky, “please, tell me.”

She stares at me warily, but the longer she does, the
more her confusion lifts.

“Is there some kind
of ritual to reconnect to the spirit of my Arak device. Yin? Is
there some way to strengthen my link?” I indicate the Arak device
on my left wrist, “to the true espre of my magic?” I shouldn't be
so honest. It goes against everything I've ever been taught,
everything my father taught me. You purge your emotions, and if you
can't, you hide them, locking them up behind every wall you
can.

They will lead only to ruin.

I can't follow my curiosity and hold them back at the
same time; I don't have the attention required, nor the
control.

“You give in,” she
says quietly.

“Please, I'm being
honest with you. If you know anything, tell me,” I say
quickly.

“I am telling you. If
you want to reconnect to your power, you give in to it. It will
show you. The spirit,” her voice becomes far-off, and she gets an
almost otherworldly look in her eyes, “within the magic, your Arak
device, will show you the way.” She looks up at me and locks her
gaze on mine. There is still a distinctly otherworldly quality to
it, and it sparks my curiosity even more.

As do her words.

“What do you mean? Is
there some ritual I have to follow? Some set of moves? Does it
require a sacrifice? Do I need any ritual objects?”

She laughs, but
whereas once her snorts were clearly derisive, now she seems to be
amused. Maybe it's the first time I've ever seen Yin simply amused.
Unable to stop from smiling, she shakes her head
. “How would any of that help you? It would just distract
you. There is nothing special. You just give in. Go find the great
spirit, and be willing to listen to what she says. She will show
the way back to water.”

Now it’s my turn to
stare at her in confusion
. “Be willing to
listen to what she says, what does that mean?”

She laughs
again
. “You really have no idea, do you?
Haven't you ever tried to summon Gaea before?”

“. . . No.
People can’t summon Gaea,” I point out carefully.

She starts to laugh
again, then her eyes grow wide, and for a second it looks as if she
has let something slip. As if she's made an unintended error. Then
I watch her grit her teeth and push a breath through them. When
she’s done, I watch her force another laugh as if she's trying to
hide her odd reaction altogether
.
“. . . To reconnect to your element, you must become
immersed in it. You must trust it. Push yourself right into it, and
be confident it will protect you. Gaea will guide your way. Give
yourself up to her. Don’t control yourself, let her move through
you. Don’t be afraid to relinquish the control you think you have,”
she distractedly sweeps a hand up her arm, “and just give in to
your Arak device completely. It will protect you. When I was young,
there was a terrible storm in our village,” she takes a slow
breath, and it’s clear she’s about to share something unsettling.
She doesn’t stop though. Yin never holds herself back. With another
breath, she continues. “I was young, I was terrified, and I was
trapped out in the mountains. And, well . . . I
climbed as high as I could. I didn’t understand the lightning would
be attracted to higher ground,” she laughs uncomfortably, “and I
got struck. I still remember it, the power flashing through me.”
She brings up her left hand and stares at her Arak device
distractedly. “I was too young to use magic to protect myself. It
didn’t matter though, because my Arak band protected me any way.
The spirit within it, the espre, the true and unbreakable
connection to Gaea. I gave myself up to it, and it kept me
safe.”