Royalty Fantasy Boxset: Ember Dragon Daughter & Hasley Fateless (Fated Tales Series 1 & 1.5) (The Fated Tales Series: YA Royalty Fantasy)

by Rebecca K. Sampson

  Looking at the Queen, Ember felt a warmth in her chest expand outward. She felt comfort, home, the elixir of life itself. She lifted a hand to the woman and then paused. Her hand, her skin, her entire body had a soft purple glow. Different from the Blessing, the purple spark-like fireworks surrounded a woman at the moment Mutrien blessed them with a child and different from Aaleia’s Fating of golden sparks. This was subtler, but still, an awareness that could not be denied. And Karwyn was feeling it too. Her own skin glowed the same hue, and her stoic face grew a slow smile. A blessing of a different kind, a mother and daughter coming together after sixteen years apart.

  Ember felt tears roll down her face. Her mother. This was her mother. It was an earth-shattering certainty that both broke her heart and finally sealed it into one piece.

  The guards and servants around them began to cheer at their reunion. Ember couldn't hear them.

  “It’s you,” Ember said.

  “It’s me,” the Queen answered. She stepped toward Ember, her black and silver dress sashaying with her. Ember walked forward as well and their bodies meet in the middle for the best hug Ember had ever received. She dropped her cheek onto Karwyn’s shoulder, inhaling her cinnamon scent. Karwyn dropped her head on top of Embers and whispered, “You don’t belong here.”

  As if jolting awake from a dream, Ember tensed.

  “What?” she whispered back.

  “You should leave,” the Queen responded. Ember pulled back, watching as her mother did the same. Her sleek black hair was pulled into a tight lifeless chignon. She shared with her the same quiet smile before stepping back to Jedoriah’s side. They stood still next to each other, the main palace doors behind them.

  Ember’s heart stumbled in her chest, a wild beating of horse hooves. Her palms began to sweat, and the breath caught in her throat.

  Karwyn blinked, and her mouth transformed into a bright pearly smile, her emotions changing in a blink. She turned around and walked briskly through the entryway. The queen called back, “Let’s come inside.”

  Ember couldn’t move. She felt trapped. You should leave. You should leave. You should leave. Cindrea brought an arm around Ember’s shoulders and guided her into the castle behind Jedoriah and their gaggle of guards. Ember barely noticed the movement. She didn’t hear the bustle of the servants overjoyed at the viewing of this reunion. Ember couldn't see through the tears welling and spilling rampantly from her eyes. A world underwater, it almost seemed preferable.

  At the destruction of her life, she found no hope to stay calm. Her sobs became desperate gulps of air, her blood tingling her insides and numb pricks of skin all across her body. You don’t belong here.

  Seven

  The View Beyond

  “Jedoriah!” Cindrea called, forgetting formality in her attempt to get help. The Knight turned, seeing Ember panicking in the hall. The queen walked on, her shoes clicking across the grey stone floor. Either unaware or uncaring, she did not turn to see the commotion.

  The servants, however, cluttered the space behind Ember. Their whispers caused her more heartache.

  “Poor dear, what a shock!”

  “Reunited after so long, no wonder she is crying.”

  “Did you see that glow? What a moment.”

  Ember tried to drown them out, to keep their prying thoughts from escalating into her subconscious and latching there. It must have looked like a pretty picture. An overwhelmed Princess and her mother reunited after sixteen years. Ember felt more abandonment now than she ever had before.

  Jedoriah called for the guards to go down the hall. Amir came up from behind Ember and Cindrea, sweeping Ember into his arms. He rushed her to the room mentioned. Her breathing escalated, and she felt a tingling in her bones.

  “Can’t breathe,” she wheezed, her chest pulsing at the effort. Amir ran faster down the hall.

  Reaching his intended destination, Ember was swept into the small infirmary. Five beds lined the room, impractical small beds that would barely fit a child. There was a couch and several cabinets that an old man was rifling through, seeming to organize papers. Amir carried her passed the sofa, depositing her on the closest bed.

  “What is going on?” The new man asked, addressing Jedoriah and Amir. His eyes turned to the bed, finding Ember curled tightly into herself, body shaking. His long purple coat looked new, a shimmer in it that spoke of his status as the physician for the royal family.

  “Hello, my name is Jair Doctor, and I can help you. Sit up. It’ll help open your breath,” he said as he approached her.

  Ember did her best to do so, slowly stretching out her scrunched body and trying to slow the heaving of her chest. Jair reached into the cabinet behind her. He pulled out a thick blanket lined with silver on one side and black velvet on the other. He wrapped Ember in the blanket and tucked it around her like a cocoon. It was warm and heavy. Her shaking began to ebb.

  “Now, everyone back up,” the grey-haired doctor instructed. He gestured for Jedoriah, her captain, Wally, and Cindrea to move back. They give her five feet of room.

  “Do you get panic attacks often?” Jair asked.

  “First,” Ember gasped out, “time.” Was that what had happened to her? She shivered, a little more restricted in the weighted blanket. It hugged her and she could feel the ache in her chest calm more, the tingling of her arms and legs subsiding.

  “What did she say to you?” Jedoriah asked, his voice seeming both annoyed and upset over this introduction to the castle.

  “That I don’t belong here,” Ember responded, feeling the sentence like a gaping wound.

  “She should know,” Cindrea answered back, looking to Jedoriah.

  “Clear the room,” the doctor responded immediately.

  Amir and Wally begrudgingly left, indicating they would wait for Ember in the hall. Why didn’t Amir and Wally get to stay? Wally she could understand, he was a regular guard, but why her captain?

  Ember felt lightheaded, unable to question or ask what was happening. She wished she were still in Firetop, laying on her hard bed with her mom's hand knitted quilt on top. She’d tell Hasley she was sick today, have her relay the message to Amlin, and she’d lay there thinking on what a horrible dream she’d had.

  Jedoriah sighed and looked at Ember, his posture stiffening while his arms swung loose for a moment at his sides.

  “Your mother is fateless,” Jedoriah said and adjusted his jacket, flicking off a non-existent piece of fluff. He spoke as if it was only a minor inconvenience to him, as bothersome as a smudge on his shoe.

  “I don’t understand,” Ember responded. How could her sovereign and blessed mother have the fateless plague? Wouldn’t everyone know that the Queen was slowly going insane? How could she have been fated and blessed if she were one of the Fateless?

  “I assure you, she is. Don’t listen to anything she says,” Jedoriah snapped, impatient in his task to share this. He turned and walked back to the door. “Cindrea will help you to your rooms,” he added before the door shut behind him.

  Ember adjusted herself in the small bed, the blanket falling slightly from her chest. This was too much for one day.

  “I assure you, we are providing her with the best care,” Jair said and nodded at her kindly, sympathy shining in his brown eyes.

  “How did this happen?” she whispered, worried for the Queen’s safety. The moment she saw her, she felt a kinship that was unmistakable. Would the fating, when her time came, feel similar? It made her feel guilty, such an instant love for her when she had two moms who cared for her for all her life. Is this why they never seemed to be connected the way Hasley was with her parents?

  The Fateless were killed, like the man in the forest. They were a threat. With little insight into it other than the fact that it wasn't spread through contact, there wasn't much else they could do. How could they stop it? If the Queen had it, was anyone safe? How long had she been sick?

  “Are you familiar with the merfolk conflict?” Cindrea asked.


  Ember nodded. Everyone knew to various degrees a little about the conflict. Although, “conflict” was putting it lightly. The merfolk had kidnapped Karwyn when she was the Dragon Daughter, it had led to the closing of their borders. The citizens rallied to protect the monarchy, but when people had to start changing their purpose and the Fateless began to grow, unrest festered. It still did. No one expected the wall to have no way out.

  Quickly doing the math in her head, Ember realized that was almost seventeen years ago.

  “When Karwyn Dragon Daughter returned, she was fated to Jedoriah and they were blessed. For a time, everything was fine, but those close to her could see that Karwyn was different. It wasn’t until some time had passed and the first cases of the Fateless were made public that we realized what we had done,” Jair answered patiently.

  “And what was that?” Ember was afraid of the answer.

  “We trapped ourselves inside an infested kingdom. The merfolk infected the future queen, knowing there was nothing we could do,” Jair explained with an exhaled breath.

  For the second time in less than a week, her whole world tumbled down.

  “The queen was the first case? It was given to her on purpose?” Ember whispered. Could this horror be real?

  “That’s the confusing part,” Cindrea answered. “We minimized the staff, minimized her public appearances, and still the Fateless spread. That's how we learned it was not spread by contact. While it spread, it was not to those that have been in immediate contact with her. She was the first, but she is not the carrier. Something else is spreading it.”

  The god's curse, Ember thought. This was a punishment. She felt it in her bones.

  “And you used to serve my mother?” Ember asked Cindrea. She nodded.

  “Then why are you serving me now?”

  “To help you prepare for what is needed of you,” Cindrea said.

  “And the Queen?”

  “She is well taken care of. Guards are with her at all times, and she still has one other lady in waiting,” Cindrea responded. Ember pulled the weighted blanket back up to her shoulders.

  Coming back to her earlier questions, Ember turned back to the doctor.

  “But I thought the fateless didn’t have pairs?”

  “Your mother is a unique case. We believe that since she was the first to contract it and has dragon blood in her veins, then she could have different symptoms,” Jair finished. He pulled out a pad of paper and writing utensil from his desk.

  “Shouldn't the kingdom know about this?” Ember asked, her eyes following the stethoscope on his shirt.

  “That would send everything into disarray. No, that would not do. Only the people in this room and a handful of her guards, of course. With you gone, the continuity of the crown was in question. We couldn’t jeopardize that.”

  “I’m back now,” Ember muttered to herself, still in shock that it was true. She was the Princess. Would that mean this key to the history of the Fateless would soon be public knowledge? Going from no family to having her family be a lie, to then having a royal family, to feeling rejected by them? It was dramatic enough to handle within the span of years, but days and minutes? Ember’s heart ached.

  “Cindrea,” Jair Doctor started, "why don’t you show Embrence Dragon Daughter her rooms?” He then addressed Ember, “And my Princess, once you are settled we’ll need to do a diagnostic of your health. It can wait a few days. I’m sure you are tired. For now, we’ll begin you on an herb cycle to make sure you are getting the proper nutrients. Alright?”

  Ember nodded weakly and unwrapped herself from the blanket, and Cindrea took her hand to help her off the small bed and lead her to the door. Jair walked behind Ember, a hand on her shoulder.

  “It's great to see you again,” he said with a small smile.

  “We’ve met?” She asked, her hand on the door latch.

  “I helped deliver you to this world,” he said, “I’m happy you are in my care again.”

  Ember smiled, a real, albeit a hesitant one, and opened the door to her new life.

  As Cindrea led her down the hall, Ember couldn't help but feel the coldness of the decor. It didn't feel like a home, it looked more like an empty war museum. She knew logically it was a castle and that amount of space was difficult to make personable, but did there need to be portraits of death and destruction across the walls? The homes she shared with her moms always felt lived in, despite the little time they spent in each location.

  When they made it into the wing that led to her tower bedroom, Ember had the sense that the area had been closed for some time. It smelled like musk and stagnation, old air trapped within these doors without the circulation of many lungs. Dusty chandeliers hung from the ceiling with spider-webbed corners as thick as she’d ever seen them. Each painting on the wall was covered with a sheet. Ember itched to see what was beneath them. More death like the outer chambers?

  “We’ll be cleaning up this space, of course,” Cindrea commented as Ember stood in the middle of the large room. It was an entryway, one door in and out. No windows, yet there were torches lit. Did they come to this space before her to light the way? She hadn’t seen any servants on their way to this wing. Around the flames there were no cobwebs. The fire glowed with a blue center. She walked a step closer, compelled.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Cindrea said, “These torches have been lit since the death of Drakul Dragon King.”

  Blood fire then, like at the inn. Lit with diluted dragon’s blood. It was difficult to contain once it spread, but on small torches like these, it could stay lit for centuries - if it went untouched. Ember felt pulled to the flame. Where did they get the blood? Was this the blood of Drakul Dragon King? Given it was lit on his death, she assumed so, but it could be another dragon as well. Blood fire was uncommon, she had no clue where the innkeeper got it, but it’s appearance in the castle wasn’t a surprise. If anyone had access to dragon blood, it would be the home of the first, and only, dragon king.

  Outside the entrance to the stairwell, there were two suits of armor from the Unyielding War. They appeared both clunky and nimble, a metal that was strong yet still somehow breathable. Across the breastplate of one appeared to be the imprint of a large star, its bottom sparkling angle transformed into a sword. It was the emblem of the ruling family of Ashkadance, before the end of the war.

  “There will always be two guards at this door. They’ll be joining us shortly,” Cindrea explained. “There is only one public entrance into this tower. It's a security measure.”

  Ember also thought it made for a good trap.

  They walked single file up the cramped and musky stairwell. It felt cold, solitary. She wondered briefly how they got any furniture up these stairs. They probably had to bring it up in pieces and then build everything in the quarters. That must make renovations frustrating.

  “Every Dragon Daughter has stayed in this tower before they were crowned,” Cindrea explained as they trekked up. She was a good pick for a lady in waiting, understanding the intricacies.

  Knowing that Ember’s biological mother had spent her first twenty years in this room made Ember even more interested to see it. She hoped there would be some clues to who the Queen was before she became fateless. Was she always mean? Unwelcoming? Or was that only to Ember?

  When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Ember was greeted by a long hallway. On each side was six tall doors, with one wide door on the end. The walls a grey brick, the floors a dark wood. There were more paintings, though they too were covered with sheets. She moved forward, glancing back at Cindrea.

  “Why the extra rooms?”

  “For any personal staff you want close by. I'll be here, of course, but you can add anyone else once you determine who you'd like to serve you,” Cindrea responded.

  Ember didn’t see herself utilizing twelve rooms; that seemed excessive to her. She had been alone too long to imagine ever having twelve people she felt safe near. The contrast her life
had taken the past few days was startling. Why would she need more people? Or maybe Amir and Wally would also sleep up here? She felt safe near them, especially after seeing their contempt for Zhieve.

  Ember braced herself as she stood in front of the door to her presumed bedroom, a large door at the end of the hall. Her hand hovered above the handle. She took a deep breath, her fingers curling around the latch. When the heavy door, no doubt made thick for her protection, creaked open, her exhale pushed out of her in a rush.

  It wasn’t just one room, but rather a complete home in this one space. The only thing that was missing was a kitchen. The grey stone walls were painted a cream peach, the red of the floor matching nicely. A soft glow emitted from the room, amplified by the firelight. There was a table to her right, spacious enough to seat six people. A long couch and fireplace were to her left. Past both living spaces was a slide-away door that was left open showing a large bed.

  She walked through that door to see what else lay behind it and found a second fireplace, a large walk-in closet, and another bathroom. Across from the bed was a balcony, Ember couldn't wait to sleep with a view of the stars.

  There were three large rugs beneath the three different main pieces. One beneath the bed, one under the table, and one more under the couch. All three rugs were the same, a shaggy black that matched her hair. In certain angles, it shimmered rainbow hues. The bed itself was also covered in a similar aesthetic to the carpet. There was a large throw fur piece for warmth, but the rest of the bed items were a breezy black silk with silver woven every few strands. Her room was a forest at starlight. Ember didn't think she had ever seen a place that felt immediately like her own.

  “It’s called soul-thread,” Cindrea commented, noticing Ember looking at the sheets. “Not an easy material to come by; it’s very delicate. Few people are able to weave it without ruining the thread, but we have several for the castle.” Cindrea looked at it wistfully.

  The walls held romanticized portraits of Drakul Dragon King with the first Queen of Ashkadance. The paintings in this room were not covered. In fact, it was cleaner than every other part of this wing. No dust on the mantle, no cobwebs in the corner. One showed Queen Kariana riding Drakul in dragon form as it soared over the city. Another with her in an embrace of a man with black as night hair. It was hard to know whether it was the truth or artist rendition, but Drakul’s hair shown with a subtle purple undertone. His hair kissed his jaw, a full and curling beard grazing it.