Over the next few weeks, I practiced and practiced. Usually, it was late at night, when I was sure everyone, including Papa was asleep. I couldn't bear to think about how disappointed he would be in me if he caught me practicing my magic after I promised not to. I couldn't help it, especially after seeing that fire user terrorize that poor mother and her children in the bathhouse. I couldn't take any more of it, knowing I could help. As the days went on, my control over water got stronger. I learned that at night, my call to my magic was the strongest. I knew I was nowhere near as good as people who had trained since birth, but I was still proud of my progress, and I no longer felt helpless.

Soon, my self-taught lessons were put on hold as the king's arrival drew closer. He was now set to arrive in just a few days, and while there was a pliable fear that fell over the tribe, there was also a nervousness too, and an eagerness to prove. Why anyone wanted to prove anything to that tyrant, or impress him in anyway was beyond me, but I found myself heeding calls who needed a young able body to help ready their houses, like they expected the king to personally pay them a visit. I hated to admit it, but as the day arrived, I couldn't help but feel nervous too. I didn't want to impress him. I actually didn't even want him to look twice at me, but I couldn't help but wonder about what would happen if I was discovered. the dread settled into a pit in my stomach.

The day arrived, and papa and I, along with all the other villagers, were lined up outside the camp's wooden walls. Today was a particularly stifling day, so few chose to wrap scarves around their heads to keep the sun off. It was just too hot for that extra layer of protection. I was one of those who neglected her scarf. Khalie and I had braided each other's hair, so my black locks were tightly bound behind my head, the braid falling down my back. Of course, a few loose curls escaped and framed my face, causing me to brush them away in annoyance every few minutes. There was no talking. The only noise was the shuffling of feet through the sand.

For a time, nothing happened. All of us stood there, looking out into the endless sea of sand, waiting. Of course the king would make us wait in this heat. I almost rolled my eyes, but the guards were watching us too closely. After what felt like hours, a hazy black line appeared on the horizon. Before shapes took form, I heard the pounding of many hooves on sand. Soon enough, the hazy line came into focus to reveal a formation of red and black clad soldiers, led by the king.

I had never seen the king before, except in works of art, but he looked exactly as I imagined. He had the bulky look of a man who had once been in top physical shape, but had since let himself go. His armor, which was also red and black but accented in gold, did well to hide his sagging form. His hair was dark, brown or black I couldn't tell, but it was streaked with grey, and so was his beard, which ended in a neat little point below his chin. He sat tall upon his horse, a great white beauty, as he slowly approached. To his right was a smaller figure, a boy who could hardly be older than me. He too wore black and red armor trimmed in gold, and looked like a miniature version of the man beside him, but without the beard. This must be his son and crowned prince. To the king's left was another man, this one even broader than the king himself, except that I could tell this man was still in his prime and he was all muscle. Unlike the king and prince, this man wore his full armor, including his helmet, which obscured his face from me. His armor was almost all red, like the color of blood, with very little black. I didn't need to see the red sash tied on his upper arm to know he was a fire user.

As the approaching entourage got closer, I got tenser. This was it. I wanted to turn my face and hide, but I knew that would only draw more attention, not less. Beside me, papa took my hand and squeezed it tight. I squeezed back, letting a small bit of my tension fade. The king had finally reached us, and as one, we all dropped to pour knees and bowed. The sand was blistering hot against my hands and forehead as I pressed myself as low as I could go, but we were not to move until the king told us to do so.

"His Majesty, Eamon Valkra, King of Valkyra," a herald with a shrill voice announced to the silence.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before the king's deep voice bid us to rise. As I did so, I was careful to keep my eyes down, avoiding any and all eye contact. Hopefully I was less noticeable this way. Many of the villagers were doing the same. I heard the clink of reigns jingling and then a sole set of hooves plodding through the sand. A shadow crossed over me, and I dared a glance up through my eyelashes.

The king was passing by me slowly, going down the line to survey everyone from the tribe. Luckily, he barely spared a glance for me before continuing onward. As soon as his horse moved out of the way, I looked at the rest of his arrival party. The prince and the man in red remained in the front, followed closely by about 30 soldiers in red and black armor, all sitting atop horses of various shades and colors. Most had the red sash of the fire users on their arms, but here and there I saw the green for earth users and the yellow for air users sprinkled in. Behind the lines of mounted soldiers were about 50 more people on foot. None of these people had on armor, so I could only assume they were some sort of servants, made to cook meals and set up tents. They all wore plain, yet fine clothes, worn from traveling. There was no way to determine if any were magic users or which magic they disciplined in.

The king made his way back up the line, this time calling out greeting to familiar guards. I lowered my eyes again, hoping he would again pass me by. I was not so lucky this time. He stopped directly in front of me. "Step forward," he boomed in his deep voice that sent a chill down my spine.

I obeyed, still keeping my eyes downcast.

"Look at your king as he talks to you," he ordered.

Swallowing my fear, I obeyed.

Looking directly at him, I could see that the part of his hair was wasn't grey was deep, rich brown, like wood when it's wet. His eyes were so dark they appeared to be black, and they had an unforgiving look to them. They were framed by very busy eyebrows. I refused to flinch under his gaze now that he had made me look. I kept my back straight and my head high.

"State your name."

I was glad to hear that my voice sounded confident. "Nakida Margravitz," I said, then as an after-thought added, "Your Majesty."

"Margravitz," he mumbled, stroking his short beard and glancing over at the red clad man. "Does that name sound familiar General Dumont?"

General Dumont removed his helmet to reveal a pale, angular face, soulless dark eyes, slicked back black hair and a frown that looked like it had been permanently etched onto his face. Holding his helmet under one arm, he urged his horse forward, coming to a stop in front of me, next to his king. "Yes," he drawled. "I believe we executed a woman with that surname many years ago."

I tried not to flinch at the casual mention of my mother, and by the look of malice in General Dumont's eyes, he knew exactly what kind of pain he was inflicting. I hated him for it. "Ah yes," the king said, retuning his gaze to me. "I remember her. A spirited woman she was." He smirked down at me. "For your own sake girl, I hope you don't take after her."

The two men continued down the line, chuckling in laughter, and I fell back into place next to my father, cheeks burning with rage and embarrassment and tears threatening my eyes. Already the king had singled me out. He knew I was the daughter or a woman executed for treason. This was no going well.

The king did not single out any more villagers, which made things even worse, but he finally dismissed us back to the village. Climbing back towards the gate, I glance a look over my shoulder to see the King dismounting his horse. Already the servants were bustling around, finding space to set up tents.

Khalie slid beside me, grabbing my arm tightly. "Oh my gods," she breathed. "That was terrifying. The prince is good looking though, isn't he?" I let Khalie rant onward, only listening with half an ear. The whole tribe seem abuzz with the news that the king had singled me out. The only ones who seemed as unnerved with it as me was the few who new my secret. They wore worried frowns and remained silent.

The king marched into our camp after us, his armor clinking, followed silently by the prince and General Dumont.

"Sorry Khalie," I said, cutting her off mid sentence. She didn't seem to notice, only looked at me with concern. "I have to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I didn't give her a chance to respond, I simply removed my arm from her grasp and slipped through the crowd. Whispers and stares followed me as I made my way home, but I kept my gaze straight and didn't look at anyone. Finally, I made it home to find Papa sitting at the table.

"Kida.." he started, standing up and walking towards me, but I shook my head and slipped by him, closing the door to my room. He didn't follow me.

Once I was alone, my cool facade slipped and all the emotions I had been repressing overwhelmed me. Rage, embarrassment, and fear where chief among them. Suddenly, coming home seemed like a horrible idea. I didn't want to be confide by walls. I climbed through the window, landing with a thump of the hard packed ground. I had no real destination in mind, but my feet automatically carried me to my mother's grave.

I hated myself for it, but the traitorous tears I had been holding back finally broke through and rolled down my cheeks. Angrily, I wiped them away with the back of my hand. With the sunlight shining above, the water on my hand sparkled. Just the sight of water calmed me and the tears stopped, some of the emotions ebbing away.

I knew it was risky, but I was suddenly feeling reckless. I didn't want to let the king scare me into not doing what I loved. He didn't own me. He didn't control me. Seizing the magic, I directed it towards the tears on my hand, lifting them in the air. After a few moments of hard concentration, I managed to recreate the symbol Papa had carved onto my mother's grave. Hovering in midair, made of shimmering water was the symbol of a sword and a Rose crowing over each other, sparkling in the sun. For a brief moment, I forgot my troubles. I was caught up in the magic and how it made me feel, and the beauty of what I was able to create. It was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, my good mood did not last very long. A shout ripped through the air, shattering my concentration. The water dropped and splattered on the sand, quickly getting eaten up by the dry ground. Turning around, I realize just how stupid I had been. I hadn't checked to see if I was being watched. I hadn't thought about the risks of what I was going.

Now, a guard was running towards me, his face red as he shouted, but my mind wasn't registering his words. The look on his face told me he had seen everything. He came to a stop in front of my, chest heaving and a triumphant smile in his face. I've settled in my stomach.

"You are under arrest," he proclaimed, gripping my arm right and forcing me to rise. "In the name of King Eamon, you are under arrest for practicing magic that is against the laws. Come with me to face your king and receive justice."

What had I done?