All I could think about was the stolen moments Jasper and I had found—the flirting but never touching, until that night. The reading from Morgana lingered in my mind. My hands tingled, and my eyelids were heavy. They burned when they were open and ached when closed. I rubbed my wrists and scratched my arms, anything to take away the pain. Jasper had been murdered because of me. The costliest of all kisses.
THREE
André’s solemnly stared at the painting on the wall from the bench where we sat. “He ran away?” He gave me a look. “I’m not an idiot, Winter. You know something.”
“Like they told you, he left.” I couldn’t remove the lump in my throat. “You know how he is.”
“He wouldn’t have just gone without saying anything to me. When he gets the chance to visit, we always spend most of the time together. We’re good friends. He’d tell me if he was going on the run.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Promise me you’re not hiding anything from me? Thar father hasn’t asked to you to?”
My stomach lurched. He knew the ways of our parents enough to know something was amiss. They should have known better than to lie to him. I could be their undoing, but I know I’d pay for it. Not even André could save me from my father’s wrath. “I promise.”
“I trust you.” He said slowly, then rose to his feet. “So I’ll accept you don’t know anything, but I’m going to keep looking. I can’t believe he’d run away.”
I wanted to beg him not too, to tell him the truth, but the thought of my father’s anger stopped me. I couldn’t change what happened to Jasper, no matter what happened he was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to pretend, and I was good at that. “Let’s sword fight.” I offered, an attempt to brighten his dismal mood. Both of us didn’t have to suffer. He could be happy.
He arched an eyebrow. “But you always lose.”
“Then you need to teach me better.” I teased. “Besides, it will get you away from your wife for a few hours.”
His expression hardened. “I know you don’t like her, but can you at least not speak badly about her every chance you get? I love her.”
My eyebrows pinched downward. “Why? She’s awful.”
“She has a lot of fire in her.” He countered. “It’s not the worst thing. Behind closed doors she is sweet, to me, anyway. She loves me, more than anyone else I’ve met. A breath of fresh air from this stuffy court.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He didn’t reply.
“Please?” I broached the subject again. The light from the oil lamps flickered the paintings to life, wavering the brush strokes, making them appear as if they were moving. The gallery was quite beautiful, with walls reaching fifty feet up to a point.
“An hour, then I need to get to bed. I have a long day tomorrow and I’m tired.”
“Thank you and watch, because I will beat you one of these times.”
“You can try.” His frown all but disappeared.
We left the galley, my heart heavier than when I entered. Lies didn’t sit well in my soul, especially when they were to my brother.
***
I squirmed in my bed as the nightmares loosened their chains, sending me back to reality. I hadn’t bothered opening my eyes until something wet landed on my cheek. I reached up and touched my skin. Drops of scarlet, thick and fresh, fell slowly from the panel above. I turned my head and looked at one of the columns of my four-post bed. Blood had traveled upward, swirling around the knots and crevices, accumulating in a pool above my head. I moved away in time for the next droplet to miss when it fell, then sank into the white silk sheets. The whole thing reeked of magic. I rubbed my fingers together; it was silky, a blood spell. I’d read about them before. They were used as a warning, a prophecy that death was coming to a family, but who would cast such a prediction, especially when it was considered treason?
I stared at my red-stained fingerprints and was transported to the last time I saw Jasper. To how he had crumpled when the king cut him down. It had been months. His murder had never fully sunk in. I still wasn’t sure how he died. Immortality couldn’t exist if he had so easily turned to ash.
My thoughts were disrupted by shouting coming from outside the door. Voices rose, growing louder by the second. I got out of bed and curled my toes; my feet were cold against the ground. I walked to my arched window and looked down. The crowd that had gathered outside the castle gates swelled steadily. The day was barely beginning. A pale fog had amassed through the courts, leaving everything shrouded under a thick layer of gray. Heavy droplets of rain fell, hammering against the stained glass on my window, crisscrossed with lead. Propping both my hands up under my chin, I stared at the cloud cover. My heart fluttered when a crow flew into my window, hitting it with a loud thud. I jumped backward. It circled downward, after leaving a red splat on the glass.
They were an omen, another sign death was near. I blinked twice, trying to make sense of the insanity that had followed my waking and wondered if I was, in fact, still dreaming. For good measure, I pinched my arm, but nothing changed.
Screams rang through the halls, followed by heavy footsteps and unintelligible shouting.
I pressed my eyes shut and settled back onto my bed. The blood drops fell faster as my door creaked open.
“Bring the princess,” the head guard, Adius, ordered from outside my door.
Curling my knees up to my chest, I sank my head and curled into a ball. One guard lifted me over his shoulder and carried me out. I pounded my fists against his back to put me down, but all he muttered was “king’s orders.”
Amassed fear and anxiety filtered through the castle. When I opened my eyes again, we had arrived at the throne room. Above the entrance was the quote engraved into stone, fear not the enemy, for they will fall.
The doors were opened for us. I was carried inside behind Adius. It was dark in the room. The lamps were yet to be lit. I was placed down in front of the thrones, which sat on a platform with three steps on each side. My mother and father sat upon them. André stood next to them, armored in steel. His ocean-blue eyes lit with happiness when he saw me.
I shifted my gaze to my father, whose expression hardened on seeing mine. He gripped his staff and stood. “It is time,” he growled.
His magic shone blue and black, dancing around his hand and staff with dizzying speed. I could tell he was furious; our magic reflected our emotions. My brother followed him.
“Please,” my mother pleaded.
“Enough, woman!” my father shouted, silencing the room.
“My only son,” she cried, pressing her hands together. I’d never seen her so emotional.
“He is a soldier, proud to serve with me to protect the kingdom he will one day rule.” He slapped his hand on André’s shoulder, pride in his features. “Isn’t that right, son?”
André stood tall, tilting his chin upward. “I’ll be safe.” He kissed her cheek.
“André!” My eyes widened. “What’s going on?”
He pinched my cheek. “Don’t worry, little sister. We’ll hold them off. Stay inside.”
My stomach dipped. “You’re not going out there?”
He watched father storm away. “I have to go.”
“Be safe.” I begged. “Please!”
“I will. Tell Florence, won’t you, that I love her. She hasn’t come down yet.” Worry pinched his sharp features.
“You can tell her when you return.” I said out of desperation. Something felt wrong. The sense of doom which had followed me since Morgana’s reading had followed me since.
He nodded, then walked out behind our father.
“André!” Father called, his voice booming through the hall from the open doorway where he stood.
“Don’t leave the castle.” André warned.
I watched them leave, my stomach knotting as they did. Thudding from hundreds of horses sounded in the distance. They were galloping over the drawbridge. Sliv
ers of cold danced around the large room. The lamps around us were lit one by one, illuminating the stone walls from their shadows. Their flames flickered, offering heat that was quickly sucked away by cold drafts. I shuddered and looked to my mother for comfort, but her cold, dead gaze warned me to stay away.
Since Jasper’s death, she had barely spoken one word to me in private. She was ashamed of her daughter, frolicking, as she’d called it. I had been reminded of my only job, an advantageous marriage. No one would want me if word got out about my sole indiscretion, and the betrothal my father had worked hard to set up would be broken. He had wanted to get the fae under his thumb for a long time, and my union with Blaise would help him accomplish it. He would stop at nothing to make it happen, even murder. Painfully, the only other person who could whisper a word of what had happened was dead.
“What happened?” I asked Adius. I knew it pointless to go to my mother, but ever the surprise, she climbed down the steps, then grabbed me by the arm. She pulled me into a dark corner, looking around for eavesdroppers before leaning into my ear.
“Berovia sent thousands in the night. Mercreatures sank a lot of their ships, but over a thousand still reached our shores.”
“They’re here?” My shoulders tightened. Most of them were sorcerers too, but unlike us, they used elemental magic and were called solises, while we were called lunas. The names were nothing but to differentiate us from the magic we used and the kingdoms we lived in. The solises called themselves that after the sun, after we called ourselves after the moon−it was from the moon where we were energized, strengthening our bond to our ancestors. The others joining them were the light fae, who also lived and ruled in Berovia. Again, also named for the same reason−to show they were different from the fae that lived in Niferum who were, apparently, more darkly inclined with their nature. “Why have they come?”
She tightened her grip on my arm, making me wince. “Why do wicked people do evil things? To cause suffering, nothing else. Your brother…” Her eyes filled with tears, a rare show of emotion on her tight, angular face. “He will bring them to their knees. He is strong, like your father.”
“They will be okay?” I meant to reassure her, but it came out as a question.
She licked her lips. “Of course they will.” She released my arm, leaving half-crescent marks on my skin. “But you must not repeat this information to anyone. Hundreds have already died. We can’t let anyone know how bad it has become. We must stay here until the battle is done. They will try to kill us, Winter.”
The castle suddenly felt smaller.
I cast my gaze downward. “Are we at least winning?”
Her long pause told me we weren’t.
The hours fell into each other as we sat still, listening to drawn-out screams and distant shouting, until a scout came wearing a somber look. He dipped his head, then kneeled at her throne.
A howl erupted from my mother when the words left his lips. She clutched at her stomach, growling inwardly. Her eyelids shut tightly; tears fell from the corners. I stepped back and gasped. He handed her my brother’s staff. It was splintered at the sides and stained with blood. My heart ballooned, and the world dissolved beneath my feet. Prickles ran through my arms.
My brother was dead.
I didn’t take it in at first.
Mother was inconsolable. His death extinguished the little light left inside of her. I watched it flicker, then fade as she clung to the wood until her knuckles turned white, as if she were holding onto a part of him. Her nailbeds bled when she dug them in further. Pressing his staff against her chest, she looked at me. Tears pricked my eyes as the first lights from morning peeked through the stained-glass windows. I looked up at the Mortis Royal Crest of our family, feeling its crushing weight on me.
I couldn’t stand to watch. I ran from the room and to my secret hiding space, a passage hidden behind a tapestry. It was where André and I would go when we were kids. He would teach me how to fight with a sword, which my parents never allowed when I was young girl. Still, he taught me, but I wasn’t very good. Now I was older we practiced in the gardens. Well, we did…
I ran my hands along the wall, inhaling sharply. My tears fell thick and fast. My throat tightened. I breathed deeper and quicker, but it only made it worse.
The last time I saw him played on repeat. I should have hugged him or pled with my father like my mother did, not that it would have done much good.
I dropped to my knees, drooping my head down. Tears collected in the dirt that had been dragged into the tunnels behind the walls.
Morgana’s reading trickled into my thoughts.
They were the deaths she saw, and the crown, it would now be mine.
The terrifying truth dawned on me, bringing with it a constriction in my chest.
I was heir to the throne.
***
I kicked the cover off my legs, rubbing my bloodshot eyes as I moved my gaze to the window. Rain pattered against it, the sound calming me as anxiety bubbled to the surface.
André’s absence was felt in every waking moment. I ached for my brother, wanting him to be alive more than anything, but no amount of crying or screaming would bring him back. As heir to the throne, all expectation fell on me and I hated it.
My father had grown closer to the young woman who had disturbed my reading with Morgana−one of Florence’s ladies−spending every day with her as if she were the answer to all his problems. He was doing anything and everything to avoid dealing with André’s death. It had strained the relationship between my parents, one which was already barely hanging at the threads without the extra burden.
Jasper’s murder continued to haunt my nightmares along with my brothers. I felt nauseous most days.
I was to be taken to the dark fae court, Lepidus, in a months’ time to meet Blaise to formally agree to our engagement. It would only be for one day and I would barely spend time with him as per the customs of a betrothal. I didn’t care. I felt dreadful all the time and refused to move from my bed unless I absolutely needed to. Sleeping brought great comfort, an escape from reality. Seeing anyone was the last thing on my mind.
I pondered going down to the banquet hall to eat but decided against it. I didn’t particularly enjoy seeing my parents nowadays and avoided them as much as possible, wanting to stay out of their way. I was worried what would happen if my father carried on acting the way he was and if my mother didn’t stop berating him for what was “appropriate” and “proper”. She always had been overly concerned with image, and having the king be seen with a mistress on his arm didn’t look good. I know he’d threatened to send her away, and me along with her, if she continued. He always made good on his threats, and my mother never relented. I guessed I fell somewhere between the two.
Day was falling into night again. I let out a long exhale, waiting for the time to pass. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to push the pain in my chest down as far as it could go, unable to tolerate any more grief. A knock sounded at the door, and Morgana was announced. I closed my eyes, sighing. “Hello.”
“You must at least bathe.” She prodded, walking over to my bed. She leaned her tall, gray staff against the wooden post. “One day this pain will dull, and everything will change.”
“I don’t want to feel anymore.” I cried. “Every time I wake up, I think André being gone was a nightmare, perhaps hoping, but it never is, and I can’t cope, Morgana. I can’t do this.”
She leaned forward, pulling me into her arms. “Feeling is good. It allows us to move through things. It may hurt, but it shows you loved André and that love was so deep it physically hurts.”
Stroking my back, I sobbed into her waves of brown hair. “Will things ever be normal again?”
She pulled away. Her fingers pressed into my shoulders as she held me at arm’s length. “Nothing will be normal Winter, but change is coming. It’s not going to happen today, but soon, things will happen in a way you won’t expect.”
“What did y
ou see?” I asked, sensing her tone.
She shook her head. “Destiny only revealed shreds of the future, glimpses into a timeline, but I do know one thing for sure; nothing will be the same again. You’re not going to stay in this bed forever. You will not always feel this way. You won’t be afraid.”
I wiped my nose against the sleeve of my nightgown. “For now, I will sleep.”
A kind smile pulled at her lips. She stroked my hair when I laid down. “Rest, Winter. You will need it.”
FOUR
Four months later
Everything had changed. I had turned sixteen and had learned to embrace my role as heir, just as André had. I wanted to make him proud, even if he was dead. His spirit would be with our ancestors and that gave me a shred of peace amongst the chaos in my soul.
My anxiety had dissolved, thanks to the capsules Morgana made up for me. Whatever herbs she used, they took the edge away. The constant buzz that had me looking over my shoulder at every opportunity was gone, and I was finally on the road to being fixed.
The tower room was smaller than the one back at Magaelor. Mother and I had been sent away, to live on a small island—Inferis—after André’s death. It was hardly a surprise considering my father’s behavior. The only time I had been permitted to leave the island was when I’d been briefly taken to Niferum to meet my fiancé, Blaise, some months ago. I’d spent just one day there, in the winter wasteland of a kingdom, and hardly remembered a thing. Depression had clouded everything, but things were different now. I still grieved, but it was numbed compared to the pain I’d been in in the months after André died.
The castle, living quarters, and a vast wood made up the island. It was always gray and windy. White cliffs overlooked deadly waters filled with mercreatures. My father continued to reign back at Ash Court and had refused to see us. He had taken his mistress fully in name and all but discarded my mother. She told me he would come around, but I didn’t see it happening.
The Fate of Crowns: The Complete Trilogy: A YA Epic Fantasy Boxset Page 3
