The Triumphant Return

by N M Zoltack

  Honestly, if Edmund were Tatum, he would not wish to give up his own profession to make even his love's dreams come true. Perhaps that was why Dudley had wed and not Edmund, but Edmund had fought for years to be accepted, to become a knight. Tatum had become an alchemist even though history was against her. Female alchemists had been cursed to follow a dark path that always led to death, either of their victims or themselves, but most often both.

  Although he had never met another female alchemist before, Edmund had also never met another quite like his future sister. She wasn't deceitful at all, and she wasn't ambitious. Tatum used her potion-making skills to help as many as possible. Yes, she charged for her efforts, but Edmund knew she also gave away freely if one needed her help and could not pay.

  But to have her on a mission such as this… As much as it would be nice to have a companion for this dangerous venture, he did not want that person to be her.

  “I don’t think you can help,” he said after a moment.

  Tatum brushed back her long brown locks. From somewhere on her person, her hand moving too quickly to be seen, she secured a potion and whipped it at him.

  Edmund sidestepped the vial, and it landed in the pond, floating.

  “I apologize,” he said hastily. “I do not mean to offend. It is merely that I don’t want to see you, my sister, hurt.”

  “It is too late for that,” she retorted. “I’m hurt you see me in that light and not as a friend.”

  Edmund sucked in a breath. He actually saw her as more than a sister, as more than a friend, but he could not dare say that aloud. He shouldn’t even be thinking such thoughts.

  “I can’t see you that closely,” he murmured. “In fact…” He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and forced himself to finish the thought. “Maybe I shouldn’t see you at all.”

  Tatum’s expression fell, twisting into despair and sorrow. “I don’t understand,” she cried out.

  She rushed away.

  “Please don’t hate me,” he called after her, but there was no wind, his words most likely did not reach her ears.

  Hating himself, Edmund retrieved the potion. The green liquid held black specks within it, but he did not know what it was for. Still, he placed the vial within his belt and continued on.

  Soon enough, Edmund noticed the footprints of those in armor. The barracks wasn’t nearby, and he knew without a doubt no knights had been sent this way. Finally. The Vincanans.

  Swiftly, he followed the trail, but despite this small victory, he couldn’t see or hear anything by the vile fiends. He would have to get even closer to them.

  Yes, this was far too dangerous for the likes of the sweet and gentle Tatum. Then again, she had been most fierce and quite capable when they had ventured the perils of Stokeford Swamp together.

  All he could do was hope for two things—for his spying mission to be a success and for Tatum to forgive him.

  4

  Cateline Locke

  The former Princess Vivian Rivera never liked birds, but here she was, pretending to be a Vincana and on Zola Isle. The entire small landmass was home mostly to birds. There just simply wasn’t enough vegetation here to support other life forms, so birds and birds alone were the only animals to flourish there. At least the birds could survive on fish or whatever else they could fly and find.

  But they were not the only inhabitants. Two small villages dotted the island, and Vivian and the Vincanans marched to the direct center of the two. She knew the others wished to gain fighters to their side. The Vincanans were sailing around to the other islands. They hoped to at least convince the islanders to not partake in the war between Vincana and Tenoch. Their first desire, though, was to see if any persons would fight alongside the Vincanans. This was the second island they had gone to, and Vivian, as much as she enjoyed seeing more of the world, wished more than anything that she could return home.

  Ulric Cooper had the best intentions at heart when he had secreted her away from the castle once her brother Prince Noll had been discovered murdered. Was the vile, cruel person responsible uncovered yet? Vivian hoped so, but so little news from the castle reached her out here.

  Her friend Caelia Buca had been sent on a ship set on a course for Zola, but it quickly became apparent that despite reaching another destination first, Vivian and the others had arrived first. Her stomach twisted in dismay. Will the inhabitants here side against Tenoch? She feared the worst. For so long, Vivian had taken her father's authority and might as universal, as global. He had been the only king to unite all of Dragoona under one rule, all land masses together. He had termed the entire kingdom Tenoch Proper, after the largest continent on Dragoona, the one that housed his castle.

  A cluster approached the Vincanans from the east, a smaller one from the west. Not one of the persons looked pleased. Most had painted on their cheeks and foreheads. Where did the pain come from? Vivian hadn't seen a berry bush or any bushes for that matter.

  "Why have you come here?" a tall man from the cluster asked. His paint was red and orange, his nose entirely white, the rest of his skin a golden brown. He wore no shirt, but his pants were made from feathers, his headdress as well. Whoever he was, he was the only one to wear such a piece on his head, so he must be a leader of some kind, perhaps of the entire isle as none from the other group wore one.

  “We are here to see if you would—” Valentina Claudius, a Vincana with a half-shaved head, the rest of her long hair always fixed in a tight braid, started.

  The man spat. The wad landed near Valentina’s foot.

  “We will do nothing for you or anyone,” he said.

  Valentina bristled but deferred to Cicero Tulius, who asked, “Do you know who we are?”

  “Does it matter?” the man asked. His slow words contained power. People listened when he spoke.

  “It should,” Cicero said. “We are Vincanans. Do you know that war has started—”

  “War. Bah.” The man waved his arm down, disgust twisting his features. “Why do we care who fights? Who lives or dies in places so far removed from us?”

  “Tenoch has abandoned you, hasn’t it?” Domitia Valerius asks, the nostrils of her large nose flaring slightly. She grinned, revealing her long teeth.

  “We need more food,” he grumbled. “None has been coming from Tenoch in some time.”

  Vivian closed her eyes and held as still as a statue. The people here were not the happiest to see them, and it was clear why. Previously, the ship had sailed to Xalac Island. The people had fled before their arrival, and where they had gone remained a mystery. Both Zola and Xalac had needed aid. Had either reached out and been denied? Or had they suffered in silence? The entire point of her father uniting the lands was to help the world as a whole to flourish and thrive, but the king had grown in size to the point that near the end of his life, he had hardly left his room. He never felt the castle walls. The king hadn't seen to the needs of all of his people.

  If Vivian ever made it back to Atlan Castle, she would convince Rosalynne to go out and see the people, all of them. It was necessary to ensure the kingdom truly thrived, and not just the castle at that.

  The people behind the man in the headdress began to grumble, as did the smaller group, and Vivian’s heart sank. Missing people, hungry people… Would the failure of her father help to spell doom for his progeny? For all of Tenoch Proper? Was it too late to reverse the damage already done?

  5

  Queen Sabine Grantham

  The Ruling Queen of Tenoch Proper—did she remain the Queen of Tenoch Proper and all of Dragoona or only Tenoch? Sabine Grantham wasn’t entirely certain, and that only served to sour her mood all the more.

  If there was one feeling she did not like to experience, it was fear. That time when the Vincanans had managed to breach the castle, and she and Rosalynne had decided not to flee… Yes, then, Sabine had felt fear, the bitter taste in her mouth, her body freezing, her hands trembling, her nerves nearly enough to cause her to be sick.


  Had the younger queen even been frightened? Rosalynne’s mask had been flawless. As much as Sabine hated to admit it, Rosalynne might be handling the war better than Sabine was.

  But surely that was only because Sabine’s sleep as of late was terrible, simply dreadful. In fact, she should be resting this very moment as the moon was already beginning to descend in the sky, but Sabine couldn’t bring herself to walk the short distance to her bed. The stars twinkled, so very far removed from all of the strife, turmoil, and deceit far below.

  The world was splintering. Changes were coming, terrible, sweeping ones, and Sabine did not know how to stop the approaching tide.

  There was only one simple truth to face.

  Tenoch Proper was dying.

  Would this have happened if the king had not died? This thought plagued her at length, far more than she cared to admit. Jankin Rivera had not been a good man. He had not even been a decent king, yet he had done something many had thought impossible and without a battle. All he had done was slip into the castle and kill the royal family—the Lis.

  But he was dead, and whether his presence on the throne would have prevented the war was not something she could be certain of either way. Who knew how long the Vincanans had been planning to attack Tenoch and Atlan. They might have been looking for an excuse, and Rufus Vitus dying within Atlan Castle certainly qualified.

  Knowing Jankin, he wouldn’t have had the Vincanans over, so Rufus would still be alive, but if they hated being ruled over so much, the Vincanans might still have launched an attack, perhaps even if unprovoked.

  Her hands were no longer holding the windowsill. Her fingers had curled into fists that she forced to relax. Her maid had already assisted in changing the queen into her sleep attire, and Sabine figured at the very least, she could lie down.

  Her body, though, betrayed her. The weeks of little sleep and restless nights caught up to her, and her eyes closed of their own will.

  She was floating. No, swimming. In water? No, blood. There was no land in sight, nothing at all. Where there should be sky was only whiteness, and all around her was blood and nothing more.

  Sabina tried to swim, but the blood was too think. She could hardly move her arms and legs, and quickly, she began to sink. Her struggles only made her drown that much quicker, but calming down did not alleviate her situation any either. Her lungs burned, and blood gushed down her throat, filling her entirely. Darkness coated her vision, and pain sized her lungs as she struggled to breathe. Her body sank lower and lower until her entire head was submerged and even her upraised arm.

  When Sabine was next aware, the blood was gone, but her dress, a hideous pale yellow color, was stained with dried, flaking blood. The dark red-brown specks fell away to the ground far below.

  Where was she? On the back of some kind of winged beast. Not a dragon, not a bird of some sort, just a winged creature she could not recognize.

  Without warning, the animal flew upside down. Despite Sabine grabbing onto the mane—why did a winged creature possess a lion’s mane?—she tumbled toward the ground, falling swiftly. Sabine landed had on her back, not on grass or sand or dirt but on glass.

  With a groan, she rolled over. Vials broke beneath her palms and knees, the shards cutting into her, making her bleed. All kinds of bottles and jars, so many vials… all of them filled with herbs and spices and even already concocted potions…

  She reached for one vial that was just simply too far away. Inside was a plant she recognized, the leaves a deep forest green, the tips black, the underside filled with red lines reaching out to the tips.

  Suddenly, the vials caved, and she was falling again, falling into the unknown.

  Sabine woke with a start. Her back, hands, and knees all ached, but she was not cut. The dream had been so vivid, though, and the pain had felt real. That the pain lingered baffled her.

  Swiftly, she eased out of bed and drew a robe around her, pulling the belt tight around her slim waist. At the foot of her bed was a trunk, and she opened it to reveal many vials similar to the ones in her dreams.

  For some time now, she had been trying to learn about potions, how to create them, what their effects might be. It was her hope that she could find one that could have a huge, devastating effect on the Vincanans. Sabine hadn't married the king to become queen and then lose it. No. She would cling to her crown, and she would fight Rosalynne, the Vincanans, and anyone else who dared to rise up against her.

  Even her ghosts.

  6

  Queen Rosalynne Rivera

  The news the maid gave Rosalynne Rivera had turned her life into shambles all over again. Death had visited her life far too many times now between Her father, her brother, the baby, all of the men and women who had died to defend their land and her claim to the crown…

  But to learn that her father had been the one to kill the baby was unforgivable and not merely because her father no longer breathed. A baby was innocent. It shouldn’t have mattered in the least that his wife had committed adultery against him. She was the sinner, Aldith Rivera with her dull, lifeless blond hair and green eyes. Aldith had died, too, giving birth to the baby Bates.

  Rosalynne was so devastated that she couldn’t eat, and she had difficulty staying asleep. Nightmares plagued her, and she wished she could change the events of the past. She’d been in the room sleeping when her father had entered and smothered the baby to death in his sleep. If she had been awake, her father wouldn’t have killed the babe.

  Or he might have just waited for another opportunity to present itself.

  The thought churned Rosalynne’s stomach all the more. Her father’s rage against Aldith was unspeakably cruel. Rosalynne had preceded over far too many of her father’s executions in his stead, and if Aldith hadn’t died during childbirth, then her father would have had another one held—for the queen. Would the king have left the castle to attend for once?

  Rosalynne had hated the executions. She knew that punishment was necessary at times, but to take one’s life… The crime would have to be positively horrific for Rosalynne to implement that particular order.

  A knock at the door had Rosalynne closing her eyes. Duties begged for her attention, but she was so torn apart that she fled to her room every chance she could.

  “Come in,” she called, her voice soft. She lacked the energy to speak loudly.

  Wilfrid Frye opened the door. Her guard gave her a look of compassion. Although she trusted him with her life entirely, she had not told him or anyone else about the devastating news.

  A part of Rosalynne wished she remained ignorant. No, it was better for her to know. The maid had been right to confess to what she had witnessed and kept to herself for so long.

  “I’m sorry, My Queen, but Aldus wishes to speak with you.” Wilfrid lowered his gaze to the floor.

  Aldus Perez. Advisor to her father once, now advisor to both Rosalynne and Sabine, which meant Rosalynne trusted him hardly at all, and if Rosalynne knew Sabine at all, the other queen trusted Aldus even less.

  “I will see him.”

  “Very well.” The guard turned to her door.

  “Here,” she added wearily. “I will see him here.”

  “In your bedchambers?” Wilfrid asked.

  To his credit, the guard did not appear shocked even though he must be flustered at the very least.

  “You will be in the room.”

  “With the door…”

  “Shut,” she said, her tone firm.

  “My Queen, people—”

  “People will think and say as they wish, and I do not care,” she said. “I have a kingdom to run and a war to prepare for. The advisor will wish to speak to me considering one or the other or perhaps both. Considering I do not wish to leave my room…”

  Rosalynne fluttered her eyes closed. Her father had not left his room hardly at all.

  Except to kill Bates.

  She hugged herself, wishing she could hold the babe, smell his sweet scent, and enjoy his co
mforting warmth one more time.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “I believe he is in the tea room you normally see him in.”

  “Very well.” She sighed. “Lead the way.”

  Without further comment, Wilfrid brought her to the tea room and stood by the closed door. She knew the guard did not prefer the door situation. He cared too much about the opinion of others, but then again, she was the queen, at war of another kind with Sabine over ruling Tenoch Proper—or merely Tenoch or any land at all. The people’s opinion would matter greatly once Rosalynne eventually married.

  Married and had a baby.

  Married and hopefully did not die during childbirth.

  Married and pray and hope and wish that the baby survive until adulthood and could wear the crown one day him or herself.

  Aldus Perez stood and bowed deeply. A tall man with slicked-back, blond hair, he was attractive, and he knew it. At times, Rosalynne wondered if he were trying to seduce her, and she would not be surprised at all if Sabine had taken him up on that particular offer. That alone could sway the advisor more toward the elder queen’s side.

  “What is it you want?” she asked curtly before he could address her formally.

  He nodded and grinned, although his massive eyes did not look as pleased as the rest of his expression. The mismatch alarmed her.

  “We need to devise a plan a defense or else to mount an attack. Which would you prefer?” he asked.

  Her head swam. The war was a threat to not only her but her people. She cared about them all, she did, but all she could think about was Bates.

  And thinking about the babe made her recall Noll. Her brother had adored the baby almost as much as he had his dog, which he had named after the baby. Tabes. Oh, sweet, ignorant Noll. A head injury had Noll acting like he was far younger than his years. He had longed to use a sword, to be a true prince. He hadn't understood that he was mentally deficient, and Rosalynne wished she had shown him more understanding, more patience.