Firestars burst in the black sky overhead, sending showers of golden light on top of the awed crowd below. For many invited to the party, this was the first time they'd ever seen such a spectacle. I had seen many before, but the boom and bright lights always drew a gasp of delight from me.

"Papa," I called out when I spied my father talking to the Minister of Finance.

He looked very bored, but then I would be bored too if I had to talk to the old Brownie for any length of time. It didn't matter that I was only six. He never could seem to find a topic of conversation that didn't somehow turn to money or numbers.

"My little Death goddess," Papa said with a delighted smile before scooping me up and setting me on his hip.

Well, at least, I thought he was smiling. I frowned and squinted harder at Papa's face. He was so blurry, and all his features ran together. His tone suggested he was happy to see me, but no matter how I tried, I could not make him out. Not even the Minister was clear. Perhaps something was wrong with my vision. Had a firestar singed my eyes?

"Hasn't she grown?" Papa asked the Minister.

"Yes, yes. But I do believe that is what little elves tend to do. They become big elves."

"I will be as big as Mara one day."

"Perhaps even bigger," Papa said, tapping my nose. "You're already taller than she was at your age. Ah, look. Here she comes with your mother."

I twisted in his arms to get a better look. Two figures parted the crowds. Everyone bowed, and a few inched away as if afraid to touch–or be touched–by the women. But they were just like Papa. Without definition. If only they would get closer...perhaps then–

Cold water sloshed over my face, drawing me out of my deep sleep, and I shot upright with a screech. The Winter Woman, whose name I'd learned was Kuga, set the now empty bucket to the ground and watched me with a neutral expression.

"Was that necessary?" I spluttered, leaning over the small cot to wring out my shift.

"I warned you during our last session that there would be consequences for your tardiness. This is a gentle warning. You do not want to find out what will happen next time."

She spun on her heel and exited the small tent I occupied. Through the thin cloth, I could see the outline of her reed thin figure waiting on the other side. Dressing with haste to keep her from coming back inside, I opted for my old leather trousers and tunic instead of one of the lavish gowns that had been supplied for me. A ripe odor wafted from the top, but I donned it anyway. They could deal with a little stench if they insisted on holding me prisoner.

"You are foolish," Kuga said when I joined her. Her black eyes raked over me from head to toe. "Go back and change."

"No."

The word stuck in my throat, almost choking me. It had been weeks since I left behind the girl whose only concern in life was to stay safe, but from time to time, she broke through. Becoming someone new was not so simple as wanting to be different.

Kuga's stringy hair fluttered in the breeze as she weighed my refusal carefully. Then she shrugged and resumed walking. It was difficult to keep pace with her. Her frail appearance hid a woman of remarkable strength. Discovering that had not been comforting.

"Just like that?" I asked before I could stop myself. She was right. I was foolish. Only someone foolish would want to know why she'd gotten her way.

"No. I decided this was not my place. I do not care if you strut around the encampment without clothes, but the king does. The prince does. Like your tardiness, your refusal to wear what they have provided will have consequences."

Just thinking of the consequences Tievel would come up with was almost enough to send me running back to the tent to change. He had slowly returned to some semblance of his old self in the days since I'd tried to Sing away his immortality, but when he thought no one was watching, bits of the mad prince slipped through.

When he was around me, he wavered between cold indifference and heated jealousy. A simple kindness from a soldier could send him flying into a rage, but he did not care whether I had a warm bed to sleep in and food to eat.

Whatever love I once felt for him was long gone. More than a fortnight marching with the Royal army toward the borders of Araphel had erased any lingering longings I had for the prince. Not only did he take a different elf into his tent every evening, but he had stood aside and allowed his mother to have me publicly whipped for being too flippant. I suppose I couldn't blame him since I had tried to remove his immortality, but for a man who had once claimed to love me, his indifference left me colder than the icy mud clinging to my skin.

My lips shifted upward. Astreia and Yoko would find it hilarious that my beating had been the final straw in my affections for the prince. Not when he attempted to murder me by throwing me overboard, but that he allowed me to be shamed. Remiel would–No. Thinking of him would only make my heart ache, and I refused to consider the reasons for that.

Kuga stopped in front of another tent. This one was three times the size of mine. The only bigger tents in the army encampment belonged to the members of the royal family. I stepped inside with a slight sniff of disdain as I took in her lavish furs and golden furniture, but the disdain melted away as the balmy warm air put out by her small coal-burning stove washed over me, thawing the tips of my fingers and nose.

I settled in my usual spot on the ground and stroked the soft fur beneath me absentmindedly while I waited for her to join me. She flitted from corner to corner of the room, checking for hints that anything was out of place before finally lowering herself across from me. This had become our ritual during my time here.

"Begin," she said, gesturing at me with a skeletal hand.

I lifted both hands, palms facing toward the ceiling, and fought to keep my eyes open while I searched for the threads of power winding through my blood. The first time Kuga caught me closing my eyes to look inward, she hit me upside my head with her fist. She told me it would do me no good to find the power if someone could sneak up on me and kill me before I found it.

After so many sun cycles, finding the magic was much easier. Three separate strands: an argent thread of death, a white thread of ice, and a golden thread of fire. The first two came to me with no effort, but my fear of fire made it difficult to call on the golden thread.

"Good," Kuga said as frost coated my palm, and the low hum of a deadly note rumbled in my throat.

Black eyes locked on the empty palm. My heart rolled in my chest as I waited for her harsh critique, but it never came. Like me, she seemed leery of the fire magic, but she never said why.

For over an hour, we went through the same routine. Calling on my magic and dousing it. A few times I managed a flickering flame, but no more than that.

She walked me through the scales of the Deathsinger songs. Each note was hummed and never truly Sung. I had learned that not all our Songs were linked to death. Some Songs could bring on visions and others guided lost spirits. But all were too dangerous to be Sung by someone as inexperienced as I was.

"Enough."

I curled my fingers into my palms, extinguishing the flame and melting the frost. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I accepted her offer of water and waited for her dismissal. She never kept me longer than a few minutes after our lessons. She only taught me because the king commanded it so he could send me into Araphel.

"Today you will tell me how you came by your magic," she said.

She referred to the ice and fire. The Death magic was in my soul and bones as much as it was in hers.

"I assumed you knew."

"Let's assume that I do not."

"Are you going to tell me how you got your magic?" I asked with a sneer.

Though she did not use her stolen powers often, I had heard tales of the many magics she had at her disposal. The ability to conjure demons and bring down lightning. The power to command another elf to walk into a river and drown if she desired them to die.

"You think you are better than me, but you and I are the same child," Kuga said, her voice holding a rare note of emotion. "I once had but a few strands of white in my raven hair."

I grabbed my long black hair and twisted it to hide the few white strands. "The first was a soldier I killed by accident. I didn't even know I could take his soul and consume his power."

"The first soul I took belonged to my lover. A pixie from Jorridor. He did not like when I said no, and one night, I stood up for myself."

"But you knew what you were doing. You were trained. You could have killed him without taking his soul, and what was your excuse for the next soul? And the next?"

Kuga narrowed her eyes and rose. She pointed to the door and did not speak again until I pushed the tent flap aside.

"The hunger is not always immediate, but it will come. And when it does, you will find you are no better than me, little Deathsinger."