Castle Swan Media
www.castleswanmedia.com
Princess of Sky, Earth, Fire and Water
Published by Castle Swan Media
1712 Pioneer Avenue, Suite 500
c/o Wyoming Corporate Services
Cheyenne, Wyoming 82001
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright @2019 by Cassandra Finnerty
Excerpt from Princess of Wind and Sea by Cassandra Finnerty
Cover design by Damonza
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2018967595
ISBN 978-1-7324262-0-7 (e-book)
ISBN 978-1-7324262-1-4 (print)
Publisher’s Cataloging-In-Publication Data
(Prepared by The Donohue Group, Inc.)
Names: Finnerty, Cassandra, author.
Title: Princess of Sky, Earth, Fire and Water / Cassandra Finnerty.
Description: Cheyenne, Wyoming : Castle Swan Media, [2019] | Series: [Princess of Nature series] ; [book 1]
Identifiers: ISBN 9781732426214 (print) | ISBN 9781732426207 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Princesses--Fiction. | Nature--Fiction. | Man-woman relationships--Fiction. | Survival--Fiction. | Imaginary places--Fiction. | LCGFT: Fantasy fiction. | Action and adventure fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3606.I5594 P75 2019 (print) | LCC PS3606.I5594 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23
Printed by Kindle Direct Publishing
castleswanmedia.com
To my friends and family.
Cassandra Finnerty
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Through The Woods
Chapter Two: A Day At The Abbey
Chapter Three: Encounter On The Cliff
Chapter Four: Princes In Disguise
Chapter Five: Smoldering Embers
Chapter Six: An Extraordinary Wind
Chapter Seven: Perilous Path
Chapter Eight: Cloud Burst
Chapter Nine: Entanglement
Chapter Ten: Into The Mist
Chapter Eleven: Provoked
Chapter Twelve: Raging Inferno
Chapter Thirteen: Intrigue At The Palace
Chapter Fourteen: Promise In The Garden
Chapter Fifteen: Love Reclaimed
Chapter Sixteen: Dark Encounter
Chapter Seventeen: Under The Cherry Blossom Trees
Chapter Eighteen: Island Of Crystal Waters
Acknowledgments
Book Club Questions
Princess Of Sky, Earth, Fire And Water
Conversation With Cassandra Finnerty
About The Author
CHAPTER ONE
THROUGH THE WOODS
The wind rustled through the forest, sending waves of icy air into its secluded depths. Dried leaves swirled over hard ground in a frenzied and unfettered dance, while unseen dwellers burrowed in confined recesses, searching for sanctuary. In the distance, waves crashed over drumlins that rose above churning waters. Angry swells of liquid foam surged against the rocks, colliding with shadowy, unyielding cliffs. Along the shore, seabirds and scavengers echoed cries of retreat as they stalked their unsuspecting prey.
The passengers spoke in hushed tones as the horses barreled down the desolate road. As they passed the ancient fort, an eerie, misty yellow glow permeated the ruins.
The leaves had fallen off the trees, making the branches look like skeletal witch’s fingers reaching for the carriage. As the gale swept through the woodland, it created a wailing sound, alerting occupants of imminent threats.
Aisling sat across from her parents, and sensed that something was amiss. After receiving a letter earlier in the day, her father had summoned their coachman and outriders to prepare for an unexpected trip. The family fled the estate without their typical array of baggage and liveried guards. Now her parents’ voices were lowered to a whisper.
Lord Bailey’s massive size and commanding presence dominated the interior of the carriage. Aisling watched as he opened a leather pouch and rifled through its contents. She knew from his set jaw and piercing gaze that now was not the time to ask questions. Her mother’s sidelong glances and restless hands were even more alarming.
Aisling hoped she was imagining the serious nature of the situation.
Her father glanced out the window and frowned. He turned to face her. “I suspect that our enemies are near. If anything happens to me, safeguard this key with your life. It unlocks secrets for you alone. Beware that others will try to take it from you.”
He held out his hand, displaying a gold object with a long stem and reinforced chain that glittered in the dark.The bow had an intricate five-fold design, a series of interconnected circles, while the stem contained two vertical bits, each with a small cut-out orb.
Aisling reached for the item. “I will protect it always,” she said. “But what does it mean? What does it open? Who else wants it?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Trust no one,”he insisted. She hid the article in her clothing.
There was a tap on the roof from the driver. Her father leaned out the window to hear the message above the din of the storm. His face was obscured from view, but Aisling sensed a heightened urgency as the carriage sped across the rocky landscape. Lord Bailey scanned the terrain.
“We have unwanted company,” he said, straightening in his seat.
With a quick turn of her head, Aisling noticed two men on horseback galloping beside them, shrouded in black. Despite the pelting rain, she could see that both were armed.
Lord Bailey dislodged the ammunition box and pulled out a pair of custom dueling pistols, handing one to his wife. She tucked the weapon into her fur muff and raised her arms to unclasp an intricate necklace with a large jeweled pendant in shades of luminescent amber, green, red, and blue. She handed it to Aisling.
“This was given to your father and is very special. But you, my dear, are most beloved. Always remember that.”
As Aisling looked from one face to the other, her father said, “Hide in the blanket box. No matter what happens, do not come out until we know that it’s safe.”
Her heart was pounding as she scrambled into the storage compartment.
Wedged between wool blankets and layers of clothing, Aisling struggled to draw breath. She could hear the muffled voice of the driver urging the horses forward. The carriage picked up speed, moving at a frenzied pace. Then there was a roar of thunder and Aisling was slammed into the edge of the box. She could feel her feet rise above her, and braced herself as the carriage rolled. There was a sickening sound of splintering wood.
Then everything went dark.
Aisling awoke and fought back an emerging panic as the confined space overwhelmed her. She tried to regain some sense of control. Her head ached behind one eye and there was a pounding in her ears. She was nauseous and lying in something wet.
The conversation with her parents came into focus. With a feeling of sickening dread, she remembered the chase. She forced herself to remain still. There were voices she did not recognize, followed by a scraping sound. The murmurs grew closer. She waited.
Aisling moved her hand to feel the edge of the necklace. Despite her throbbing headache, a sense of calm came over her as she held her mother’s treasure. She hid in the cramped compartment and forced herself to think about happy moments: sailing lessons on her seventh birthday, traveling with their merchant fleet to ports in Rouen and Seville, serving as the ship’s assistant as the crew unl
oaded inventories of wine, grain, marble, and wool.
I wonder if we’ll be safe, she thought. This felt like more than a coincidence—the hurried trip, the transfer of the key, her mother’s pendant. Why would someone want to hurt us?
She shivered.
To combat her confinement, she imagined resting in her large bedroom above the garden, overlooking the lofty oaks and willows. The wooden bridge with its surrounding waterfalls and fountains bordered the sculpted terraces and exotic flowers. Calm breezes floated through arched Georgian windows, pushing out the billowing, deep blue curtains. Next to her bed was a mahogany table with delicate inlay, holding a crystal bowl filled with deep fuchsia peonies and branches from her East Kingdom cherry blossom tree. The soft blankets were scented with jasmine. As she hugged her imaginary silk pillows, cold water seeped into the box. Her reverie ended.
It was time to escape.
Aisling groped for her key and necklace and found they were still secured in her clothing. She exhaled a deep breath. Aside from the steady stream of rain and occasional thunder, there were no other sounds. She wondered how long she had been in the carriage. As she pushed to open the chest, something blocked her exit. Aisling tried again with both hands. When that didn’t work, she bent her knees and kicked.
She emerged into total darkness. The carriage had turned on its side and lay in mud. Dirt and water covered the pale blue velvet seats and polished bog oak flooring. There was a window in the roof, but it was too small for an exit. After inspecting the damage, Aisling reviewed her options. The only possible passage was through the side door, which was now above her.
She reached out her hand to explore the interior. “Mother, Father, are you all right? Where are you?”
Something sharp pierced her palm and she grimaced, pulling back. Her hand throbbing and sticky, she felt her way up the side of the carriage and located the second door. Aisling stood up and pushed on the handle. It was stuck. She grabbed the inside wall and stepped on top of the blanket box, arching to reach the roof.
With repeated shoves, the door came ajar and then slammed open. Aisling balanced herself on the box and extended her arm, the rain soaking her sleeve. She crawled out, searching for her mother and father, but saw unending darkness.
A flash of lightning illuminated the landscape. Aisling perched on top of the overturned carriage and scanned the immediate area. Wreckage lay next to the road, balanced on the edge of a deep ravine. With every movement she made, the vehicle rocked and creaked.
She climbed to the other side and peered at her aching hand. Fragments of glass lay embedded in her skin. Aisling lowered herself to the ground and pressed her palm into her forehead to ease the throbbing behind her eye. She clutched the side of the carriage and stared at the road.
Pools of water had congregated in the deep grooves, washing away traces of other riders. She explored all sides of the crash and then made her way to the edge of the ravine. There were no signs of the outriders, the driver, or her parents. Even the horses were gone.
She crept to the edge of the cliff and looked into the murky ravine. Cascades of water echoed as they tumbled down the abyss.
If I try to navigate the terrain myself and fall, it could be many hours before someone finds me. There was one rational solution: retrace the path and get help. “Uncle, I need you,” she murmured.
Without a torch or moonlight for guidance, tracking was difficult. The road was covered with mud and deep pools of water.
Aisling plodded through the thick silt. Tree branches had been ripped from the forest and the winds continued their assault on all those who dared to pass. She tore a piece of cloth from her dress and bandaged her hand.
She started to run, and kept on running.
A half mile later, she approached the bend in the road. Ahead of her was the ancient fortress, with remnants of the castle and outlying stone barriers. It was familiar ground.
When she was six years old, Aisling had been afraid of the dark. Her father insisted it was a weakness that she needed to overcome. If she were interested in sailing, and commanding ships, it was important to be comfortable in all situations, including thunderstorms, typhoons, and twilight. His exacting tone echoed in her memory. “Confront and vanquish your fears now, or they will conquer you.” To prove his point, he rode out with Aisling on a moonless night in the middle of a storm and left her here, at the ancient fort.
Alone.
She had already learned how to gauge direction. This would be a test of her skills. The ruins were bordered by deep forest and ravines on one side, and steep cliffs on the other.
“Find your way back home before dawn,” he said.
As he rode off into the distance, Aisling fought an instinct to run after him. But she held back. She wanted to be the commander of her own fleet, and so she vowed to meet the challenge, no matter how difficult.
When she was abandoned that night, Aisling knew the sea lay west of the ruins. Her house was several miles to the north. She needed to walk down the cliff paths or try to retrace her father’s tracks. Years earlier, she had opted for the less risky route, navigating by a compass and fresh imprints on the road.
She had arrived before dawn, limping on her sprained ankle, her rain-soaked dress plastered to her body, but feeling victorious nonetheless. Her father glanced up from his paperwork as she entered the house. Her mother pressed her lips together and looked out the window. She declared the episode nonsense and lamented the ruined gown.
Tonight, however, Aisling had other plans. There was no room for error.
She stood before the desolate structure and looked to the sea beyond, recalling her Uncle Maológ’s sailing stories. Together they would map out make-believe journeys to far-off lands, discussing the route, navigating the weather, and arriving at the quays to exchange precious goods. Uncle always used to say he had the sea in his blood. He prided himself on his ability to navigate and was much sought after as a shipping expert. But as much as he loved the sea, Maológ also had a keen interest in the ancient forts embedded in the craggy cliffs and undulating valleys.
One night he told Aisling about a hidden pathway from the fort to the water. It was a shortcut but dangerous to navigate. The Celts built it to protect their Irish ground from sea invaders. Aisling walked through the rings of entrenched stone and castle remnants, searching for the path to safety.
She cut across the edge of the crag. Where was it? After several minutes of futile searching, she realized the passageway might start from inside the castle. She ran back to the ruins and rushed inside the structure.
As she groped her way along the cold stones, she squinted at the ground. The moon cast fragments of light that illuminated a faded walkway. She followed it to the edge of the cliff, then pushed back some tall weeds and discovered a treacherous incline down to the water. Holding onto the first boulder, she studied the rocks below and descended into darkness.
As the clock struck nine, Maológ sat in the salon, his large, muddy boots and masculine form out of harmony with the delicate furnishings. Lush carpets of blue and white silk anchored the room. Chairs and chaises in pale green and blue damask and velvet were positioned from one end to the other. The ormolu chandeliers with their tallow candles illuminated the gleaming wood of the mahogany desks and pianoforte. In the corner was a handpainted screen with gold leaf cherry blossoms, framed with a brocade border.
Large portraits paid homage to various ancestors, many of whom had made their living from the sea. Although he disliked the feeling that they were all watching him from their eerie likenesses on the wall, Maológ felt a sense of pride that these men and women had overcome many barriers and hardships to build the family’s social position over the generations. Wars, invasions, famine. Losses at sea.They had endured it all.
As he poured a dram of whiskey, reminiscence turned to mystification. He swallowed the smooth amber liquid and thought about his brother, Michael and dear sister-in law, Colleen. Upon Maológ’s arrival, Galen, t
he butler, had informed him of their hurried departure a few hours earlier. They had taken Aisling with them.
Most of the time, he was informed of their whereabouts. The mystery was more notable because their merchant fleet was about to embark on a voyage. Maológ was a captain for one of their ships, and his brother relied on him. When was the last time he heard of an unexpected trip? It was so long ago, he couldn’t recall.
The spirits did nothing to quell the chill that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He drank the last few drops of molten therapy and wondered if Michael would send him a note.
Aisling ran along the beach, scanning the landscape for familiar objects or people. The area was deserted. As she turned inland and crossed the farmland and orchard toward home, she could see the estate. Candlelight illuminated the front windows, creating a soft glow. She spied her uncle’s horse and sprinted headlong down the stone path, urging her shaky legs forward.
The sentries at the front gate recognized her from a distance. Her gown was spattered with blood from her hand and head injuries.
“Lady Aisling,” said one. “Are you all right?”
She took a deep breath and eyed the guard. “Please let my uncle know I’m here. It’s urgent.” She headed across the small stone bridge leading up to the gardens.
A loud banging echoed throughout the cavernous hall and brought Galen hurrying to the front door. A few moments later, Maológ burst out of the entryway, sprinting down the massive stone steps.
With one look at Aisling, he turned pale. “Are you hurt? Where are your parents?”
“I think they’re both dead,” she replied, and fell into his arms.
Maológ embraced Aisling and swept her up the stairs. She was weak from running and still bleeding from her wounds. As he ascended, he shouted to his sentinel. “Roust two dozen men. Tell them to be prepared to ride. Wake the stable boys. We need horses saddled and ready to go.” There was a flurry of activity and shouting as the staff mobilized. He set Aisling on the chaise.
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