Seraphina's POV
The fire wouldn't obey.
I stood in the center of the Council arena with my hands stretched out, trying to summon flames that refused to come. Sweat dripped down my back. Around me, fifty rich visitors watched from stone benches, whispering behind jeweled fans and silk handkerchiefs.
"She's broken," someone muttered.
My chest tightened. The magical collar around my neck grew hot—a warning. Behind me, Helena Frost's sharp voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Again, pet. Show them what you can do."
I hated that word. Pet. Like I was a dog performing tricks.
My fingers moved through the hand signs I'd practiced a thousand times. Most mages needed to speak their spells aloud, chanting in the old language. But I couldn't speak. Not anymore. So I'd learned to cast magic with my hands instead, each gesture replacing the words stolen from me ten years ago.
This time, the fire came. It burst from my palms in a column of orange and gold, shooting thirty feet into the air. The visitors gasped. Some clapped. I felt nothing.
Helena's cold fingers gripped my shoulder. "Beautiful, isn't she? Completely silent, completely obedient."
Liar. I wasn't obedient. I just had no choice.
The collar around my throat pulsed with dark magic—Helena's magic. If I tried to run, it would choke me. If I refused to perform, it would burn. I'd learned that lesson years ago, back when I still had hope.
"Can she do lightning?" a fat merchant asked, leaning forward in his seat.
Helena smiled. It never reached her eyes. "Of course. Seraphina, demonstrate."
I wanted to send the lightning straight at Helena's perfect face. Instead, I raised my hands to the sky. My fingers danced through the signs, and thunder cracked. A bolt of white lightning slammed into the practice dummy across the arena, turning it to ash.
More applause. More whispers. More stares at the freak who couldn't talk.
I kept my face blank, but inside, I was screaming. I'd been screaming for ten years, ever since the night men in masks murdered my family and a curse was burned into my throat. The night I became property instead of a person.
My parents had been kind rulers. My brothers had been training to be knights. We'd been happy in our castle, safe behind stone walls and loyal guards.
Then they came.
I was eighteen, hiding in a closet while my family was slaughtered in the throne room. I heard my mother's screams. I heard my father begging for our lives. I heard my brothers fighting and failing.
Then Helena Frost found me.
She dragged me from my hiding spot, forced me to my knees, and placed her hands on my throat. Dark magic burned into my skin like acid. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. Just pain. Endless, silent pain.
"You'll never speak again," Helena had whispered in my ear. "Every royal in your bloodline is dead. Except you. And you belong to the Council now."
That was ten years ago. Sometimes it felt like yesterday.
"Thank you all for attending today's demonstration," Helena announced, pulling me back to the present. "The Council is always happy to showcase our most valuable assets."
Asset. Not mage. Not even slave. Asset.
The visitors filed out, still chattering about my magic. Helena waited until the last one left before yanking the collar's chain, forcing me to stumble forward.
"You were slow with the fire," she hissed. "Embarrassing me in front of potential investors."
She raised her hand, and the collar tightened. I couldn't breathe. Black spots danced across my vision. My knees hit the stone floor.
Just before I passed out, Helena released the spell. Air rushed into my lungs. I gasped silently, tears streaming down my face.
"Better," she said, like she was praising a child. "Now get up. You look pathetic."
I climbed to my feet, legs shaking. My throat burned where the curse lived, pulsing with each heartbeat. A constant reminder of what I'd lost.
Helena circled me slowly, studying me the way someone might study a bug under glass.
"I have news," she said finally. "The Council has decided you're ready for a special assignment."
My stomach dropped. Special assignments usually meant dangerous. Possibly deadly.
I fumbled for the small chalk I kept in my pocket and wrote on the arena floor: What kind?
"The details don't concern you yet." Helena's smile was cold. "But this mission is different from your usual work. Important. The Council has been planning it for months."
I wrote again: When?
"Soon." She turned toward the exit, then paused. "Oh, and Seraphina? Pack your things tonight. We'll be leaving the Citadel tomorrow."
Leaving? I never left the Citadel. Helena kept me locked in my room when I wasn't performing or training. The idea of going outside these walls made my heart race—half fear, half desperate hope.
Where are we going?
But Helena was already walking away, her footsteps echoing through the empty arena.
"Get some rest," she called over her shoulder. "Tomorrow, everything changes."
The door slammed shut behind her, and I was alone.
I sank to the ground, staring at my hands—these hands that could summon fire and lightning but couldn't write the words I needed most: Help me. Please. Someone.
Tomorrow, everything changes. What did that mean?
I pressed my hand against the burn scars on my throat, feeling the curse pulse beneath my skin. Helena had seemed almost excited when she spoke. That terrified me more than anything.
Whatever this mission was, it wasn't going to be good.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember my mother's face, my father's laugh, my brothers' smiles. But ten years had faded them like old paintings. Sometimes I wondered if I'd made them up entirely.
The arena grew darker as evening fell. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
Tomorrow, everything changes.
I didn't know if I'd survive to see what came after.