Daughter of Retribution (Crescent Queen Book 1)

by Wren Cartwright

  Daughter of Retribution

  Wren Cartwright

  Copyright © 2021 Wren Cartwright All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This book contains sexually explicit material and is only intended for adult readers.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by Bianca Bordianu

  ISBN: 9798703512388

  DEDICATION

  For J, thank you for being there every step of the way. I couldn’t have asked for a better sister.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  CHAPTER 1

  I had given myself three weeks at the new location. Hurrying around the small cottage, I plucked the mostly dried herbs hanging in front of the wide window. Cracks spiderwebbed around the edges, growing larger as they intersected in the center and fracturing the view of the mountains beyond. Decorated with smudges and fingerprints, it was clear that the cottage had not been cleaned in some time, but the dirt did nothing to retract from showcasing the deep golds and purples of the sunset filtering over the trees.

  I had not been in this town long; in fact, I rarely traveled so far north. I had found a tiny cottage available for rent by the day in the small village of Silvaria, nestled into the mountains at the base of the Gwynoan forest. Just straddling the border between the moon kingdom’s old territory and the sun kingdom’s original territory.

  I couldn’t say what had drawn me to the area, other than a pull to breathe the fresh forest air, to watch the sun rise and set over the majestic snow-capped mountains, and to take a break from the pressure of trying to remain invisible in a bustling city. It had been several years since I spent longer than a month in one location, and where I once felt a sense of adventure traveling across kingdoms, I could now feel a soul-deep ache. Unfulfillment. Loneliness.

  The bone-deep weariness that settled into body and mind several seasons ago did not seem to be easing anytime soon.

  I heaved a sigh, taking a moment to steady my breathing, to connect with the packed earth beneath me. I felt a calmness radiate up through the soles of my feet and expand outwards. Several deep breaths later, I was able to feel the pine-scented air fill my lungs, the chilly soil like a balm against my tiring heels, and the ache compressing my chest seemed to have faded away for the time being.

  It was a soothing task for me, gathering and preparing my herbs. One that my fingers had memorized over the years. I made a decent living peddling plants and trinkets in the various places I had visited. I could trade for accommodations and food and would have just enough money to spare on supplies and clothes.

  Swinging my long white braid over my shoulder and out of my face, brushing away the stray hairs with my forearm, I bundled the herbs with lace ribbons and tucked them into my pack. No stranger to fleeing in the middle of the night, I performed a perfunctory ritual daily to replenish and stock my traveling pack in case of emergency. Once everything was settled, my herbs stored away, clothes neatly folded in my bag, and hair carefully brushed out, I settled onto the lone mattress in the corner and closed my eyes.

  "Wake, daughter of mine." A gentle voice whispered into my ear. My eyes snapped open, scanning the empty dreamscape around me. It was blank for once, filled with stars and curling mists and dark depths I could not focus on without feeling dizzy. I briefly considered changing it to something brighter but decided that the deep midnight color soothed me and that she must have made it blank for a reason.

  Seconds ticked by before the spectral form I had conversed with so many nights in the past appeared. The woman’s physique was hazy and wavering, like a gust of wind could ripple through her smokey figure and disband her, scattering her to the elements and the endless space beyond.

  Her midnight hair flowed around her shoulders, blending into a modest dark gown. Her pale skin reflected the brightness of the stars around us. She was beautiful, remaining forever youthful in appearance over the years as I grew, though always spectral.

  I knew little of the woman that haunted my dreams, but I had come to categorize her as a matronly figure due to her gentle warmth and the constant advice and guidance she had given me as the years passed—essentially saving my life, time after time. I didn’t even know her name, if she existed outside of my mind, if I was not slowly going crazy.

  "You must go; they are coming." Her voice blanketed my senses, everywhere and nowhere all at once, reflecting her urgency. I bit down my panic and tried to calm myself. Knowing from past experiences, that panic led to careless mistakes like leaving behind a trail or forgetting something vital.

  I braced myself for the immediate waking I would experience; the feeling of being doused with cold water, every sense and synapse open and screaming with adrenaline. But none came.

  I turned towards the fading apparition in confusion, padding several steps closer on the cool marble beneath me. I noted my gown, a rich violet color that matched my eyes. The woman seemed to take great joy from choosing my clothing in our visits. Always something opposite to what I wore in the waking world. Where I liked fitted pants and blouses, preferring dark colors, she fancied me in flowing dresses and extravagant skirts. I did not mind it; in fact, I relished being a model for her. Watching her eyes light up as I whirled in her creations filled my heart with joy.

  She took several steps forward, her dress swirling lazily around her ankles as she caressed my cheek with a cool willowy hand that I could not feel so much as sense. I felt a deep peace vibrate through my body.

  "I had hoped to give you more time, Aeryn," she murmured. "But alas." She stepped back gracefully.

  "If you head to the west side of the Gwynoan forest, you will find allies. They can keep you safe, but you must hurry." She urged, her form flickering with the tail end of her speech.

  Something about the visit felt different, dire. She had never made such a direct request before, never told me to seek anyone for help. "Will I see you again?" I whispered with furrowed brows. “Wait! I don’t even know your name,” I said desperately, trying to control my breathing.

  The woman just smiled, before her form shuddered once, twice, then flickered out altogether. Then in the blank space surrounding me, I heard a whisper.

  "I didn’t hear you! Who am I meeting?” My voice echoed around me, but I received no response.

  Just silence.

  Several seconds later, I flew awake with a startled gasp and a hand on my chest to slow my breathing, then immediately threw myself into action. I grabbed my satchel containing my essential belongings and necessary survival supplies. The last thing I wanted to do was run into the people chasing me. They fol
lowed me relentlessly, year after year. Always saying nothing, always armed, and always willing to kill anyone in their way.

  The woman in my dreams had been a crucial part in staying alive. She seemed distressed when I was in danger of being found by the hunters, and a lack of knowledge didn’t equate to a lack of trust. The spirit had been my only steady companion for a very long time.

  I felt a brief pang of loss, sadness that I may never see my caring guide again and hoped beyond all hope that things were not about to change for the worse.

  CHAPTER 2

  I stood at the edge of the Gwynoan forest, gazing into the shadowed depths within. The dark clouds above had cast a pall over the day, preventing me from seeing the many twists and turns that lay ahead.

  I sighed, heaving my pack onto my shoulder, and taking several steps over the boundary line and into the forest. Every instinct I had screamed at me to turn back, that I would run into one of the many otherworldly creatures dwelling in its abyss. I recalled stories of the ethereal dryads that lived in the trees and would rip the hearts from any dangers to the flora or fauna. The naiads that dwelled in the depths of the multiple rivers, looking for unsuspecting victims. The townspeople theorized that the forest god himself could be found in this primordial wood, never seen by a mere mortal.

  I bit my lip, strongly doubting that I would run upon the forest god. Rumors were that he had not left his home in the apex of the tree of life for thousands of years, and no-one had seen the tree of life and lived. Magic had long since abandoned the Sun Kingdom, leaving behind stories and myths of creatures overseas, in pockets of abandoned land, in melancholy forests such as these. Creatures that had withdrawn from making their presence known, waiting for something. No one knew what.

  The air was different in the forest; a low charge slithered over my senses, invigorating my nerves. I frowned, pulling my chest-length hair into a hasty braid to prevent it from snagging on one of the many branches surrounding me and secured it with one of my lace bands. The trees towered over me, intimidating and large, barely filtering in the dim, cloudy light from above. I had hoped for a path, but once I had entered the space, I realized how foolish that was. This was an enchanted wild place; I would stumble upon nothing man-made here except bones.

  Several hours passed as I trekked through the forest. I felt a flash of ire for the woman from my dreams, wishing she had told me where I would find this group, who I was to be meeting, what to expect. I quickly pushed it away, shame filling its place. Despite my many years on the run, I tried to remember that I was lucky to have seen so many things, to have a confidant in my corner, remain free, and do what I love most.

  Maybe this group can help me get my story out, I wondered. Not for the first time, I had thought about approaching my pursuers, explaining that they had the wrong person. I kicked a branch from out of my path, and my leather shoes caught on the edge. I winced, examining it for any tears. They were already severely worn from my many off-path trips to gather supplies. I only replaced them once they began falling apart. The same went for my baggy trousers and dark blouse.

  I pondered my situation once more. If they wanted me dead, I would be. I could only assume they wanted me alive; that didn’t extend to those around me, though. Early on, I had learned that relying on the kindness of strangers to shelter me would be their downfall. It had been a very solitary living since.

  I batted low-hanging branches out of my path, all while avoiding the numerous tree roots, sticks, and rocks littering the forest floor. Another bush of stinging nettles whipped across my right ankle, leaving angry red marks behind. I hissed out a curse, ignoring the burning sensation, and kept trekking onward.

  "Stupid journey... dumb stinging nettles... no path..." I muttered under my breath, scowling as I stopped next to a tree to lean on the cool rough bark. Just a small stop to collect my breath, I bargained. For several minutes I inhaled the brisk midday air, admiring the heavy cloud cover above the towering trees. The forest floor was silent aside from the nature soundtrack of chirping birds, the scurrying of tiny woodland creatures, and the rushing of water nearby. I hefted my pack onto my aching shoulders, wet my dry mouth, and winced. I’d been traveling for some time; perhaps I ought to stop at the river to refill my canteen.

  The hike to the river was short but arduous. After having a third nettle bush whip across my ankle, resulting in a subsequent sprawl across the bed of dead leaves along the forest floor, I stumbled upon the small oasis. I had always been relatively clumsy, but goddess, I was going through it. The river turned out to be rapids, deep and fast-moving, with several sections composed entirely of crashing waves and spray. I was not deterred; my thirst had grown too desperate to find something slower moving.

  I heard a distinct rustling around twenty paces away. Cocking my head to the side as if it would help me hear better, I settled in a low crouch and listened. Perhaps it's a naiad, I pondered, stifling a snort. If it were, I doubted they would make an appearance. They liked to remain unseen, cautious observers from the depths.

  Though I heard no other noise, I remained wary and heavily on guard. I resumed my task of shrugging off my pack and sighed with relief as I stretched my aching muscles. I knelt in the rocky inlet, dipped my hands into the refreshing waters to rinse the dirt, and cupped large handfuls to drop over pale arms, washing away the sweat from my journey.

  It was then that I heard a branch crack, only five paces away. My head whipped around, my long braid smacking against my neck with the movement. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, accelerating when I saw I wasn't alone.

  My jaw dropped. Ten feet away, leaning against a rough tree trunk, stood the most otherworldly man I had ever seen.

  He remained silent during his perusal over my form, and I felt my cheeks flush, then inwardly cursed for showing a reaction. So instead, I jutted my chin forwards and did the same.

  He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His hair was just long enough to cascade over his ears, silvery blonde waves. His silver eyes swirled with several threads of slate and smoke, practically glowing with menace. His cheekbones were high and dirt-smudged, his body lean and willowy, with long slender fingers. The clothing that remained was ragged and torn. Despite the dirt, the wrecked clothes, and the thin form, he was the most beautiful, ethereal man I'd ever seen.

  Then he opened his mouth.

  "Fancy a closer look?" His full mouth turned up on one side, a hint of a smirk showing.

  I stiffened, confused by his attitude. He may have been on the lean side, but he was still a man alone in a magical wood. Better to have caution. I stood my ground, refusing to be cowed.

  "No thank you," I retorted, gathering my things without any sudden movements.

  "Can't let you do that, love," he remarked, stepping away from the tree and stretching to his full height. He was around two heads taller than me. His voice was deep and lilting, with a strange accent that I couldn’t place.

  I tilted my head back to meet his assessing gaze. "I don't know you; you don't know me. Why can't I be on my way?" I challenged. Inside, I started panicking. This is how people disappear. My eyes shifted to the distance between us, a scant few feet. I never thought I'd meet my end by a dirty homeless man in the woods, but here we are, I thought bitterly.

  "So defensive," he purred.

  I reached slowly into my pocket, using the pack hanging off my arm to hide my motions until I was able to slide my knife free of its sheath. My favorite weapon, a sharp double-edged dagger, with gold inlaid into the ivory handle and various designs engraved into the steel. My most priceless belonging, something I always kept on my person.

  I assumed a defensive stance, raising the knife so he could easily view it and grounding my feet on the rocky riverbed.

  Instead of backing away or looking frightened, he let out a low sensual laugh. It skittered along my senses, and his predatorial glare sent wariness down my spine. The rushing of the rapids filled my ears, drowning out the crunch of his footsteps as he ap
proached.

  "Come," he indicated a hand in the direction behind him. His cocky and confident demeanor was so at odds with his appearance that it was almost comical.

  "No," I scoffed, gripping the knife even tighter. My knuckles were white with tension, and I could tell there would be an imprint of the carvings left behind on my palm.

  He sighed, as though exasperated with my hesitancy, one pale brow cocking ever so slightly. "Alright, I'm sorry for scaring you. But in all honesty, I could see your aura from a mile away. Do you really think it's safe here?"

  I frowned. "See my aura?"

  He groaned. "Oh, please don't tell me I have to explain it to you." He stroked his temples, the picture of impatience. "Come with me, and I can tell you. I have friends at my camp, and we have wards enabled that will dull your aura. Don't you realize you're in danger here?"

  "Yeah," I scoffed, "from you." Come back to my camp; I mocked him in my head. Like I was a naive child!

  His jaw tightened. "They're going to come for you. And you need to be somewhere safe."

  For the second time in the past five minutes, my jaw dropped.

  "How do you-"

  He cut me off impatiently. "Come, love. Time is of the essence," he growled. All pretense of civility fell, and his features sharpened. "Do you want to die? I can leave you here. Do you really think you could escape in this heavily wooded area? Because let me tell you, I have lived for a long time, and I don't intend to be captured anytime soon, especially not due to your stupidity.”

  I bristled, sheathing my dagger but remaining alert for any further movements. We stood at an impasse for several seconds before he nodded briskly and turned on his heel.

  I fidgeted with my dagger, running through his words rapidly and weighing my options. Is he who the woman sent me to find? How can I trust him? Does it matter, if I can finally get answers?