by Jordi Burton
From Anastasia
Jordi Burton
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical
events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other
names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the
author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or
locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Jordi Burton
Cover Art by Aaron Lambert
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the
author. Brief quotations may be embodied in critical articles or
reviews.
ISBN: 1-7336110-0-2
ISBN-13: 978-1-7336110-0-8
To Morrie
the most passionate person I’ve ever known
We miss you
ALSO BY JORDI BURTON
The Anastasia Series
Call Me Anastasia
Her Name Was Anastasia
From Anastasia
Dramatis Personae
The Jacquelinian Royal Family
Analie Astor……Queen of the Nadmilise
Brock Astor………King of the Nadmilise
Bale Astor………………………..A Lord
Calla……………….Mother of the Sterata
Anarose Piliar…...Queen of the Nadmilise
Elliot Piliar………..King of the Nadmilise
Anastasia Piliar Moneth…Crown Princess
of the Nadmilise
Celia Rowan………………………A Lady
Graham Piliar………………..A Diplomat
The Hullenian Royal Family
Tamo Moneth……King of the Werewolves
Aylen Moneth….Queen of the Werewolves
Aatu Moneth………………..Crown Prince
of the Werewolves
Kanna Moneth..Princess of the Werewolves
Niboki Moneth…Prince of the Werewolves
The Viirean Royal Family
Mateiv Roza………..King of the Vampires
Vlad Roza…………Prince of the Vampires
Ostana Moneth..Princess of the Werewolves
The Castavi Royal Family
Sona………………..Queen of the Sorcerers
Mohan……………...Prince of the Sorcerers
The High Council
Euaristos Spiros…….King of the Demigods
Krag Rok………………..King of the Trolls
Dohate………………….King of the Giants
Aguin Eom………...King of the Elementals
Luana Lanana……..Queen of the Mermaids
Karmen Roth…………Queen of the Ghosts
Valdon……………..Special Representative
to Jacqueline
The Future Kings of the Realms
Zethus Spiros………Prince of the Demigods
Rokker Rok…………….Prince of the Trolls
Dammek……………….Prince of the Giants
Nalin Eom………...Prince of the Elementals
Eala Lanana………..Prince of the Mermaids
Hughie Roth…………..Prince of the Ghosts
The Dinas Family
Dolan Dinas………………….A Blacksmith
Victorya Dinas……..Dance Master of Sehir
William Dinas………A Warrior Apprentice
Dani Dinas………….A Healing Apprentice
The Woodsman Family
Jelina Woodsman……………A Seamstress
Aleric Woodsman………….A Knowledgist
Eleka Woodsman……………...A Musician
Chris Woodsman………...A Royal Warrior
Alex Woodsman…………...A Knowledgist
Representatives
Murcy Zand…………Of the City of Talrom
Sophine……………….Of the Isle of Berysa
Warriors
Hayde Zand…………………..Realm Guard
Ioan Moldovan………………….A Vampire
Firro Glude………..Warrior Master of Sehir
Surreg Toldens………….Commander of the
Realm Guard
Kalgess Follant……………..Warrior Master
of Jacqueline
Durse Follant……………………An Outlaw
The Gods and Angels
Kristana……………….Goddess of Creation
Julieus……………………...God of Creation
Razibelle…………………….Warrior Angel
Humurse………………………Warrior God
Lumise…………………Goddess of Healing
Luke………………………Angel of Healing
Others
Lili Hadsun………Handmaiden to Anastasia
Melina Hadsun……….A Baking Apprentice
Joey Surine……………………...The Sterata
Fairy Queen…………....Queen of the Fairies
Turania Noul…………..Keeper of the Words
Miruna Tayna……………..Keeper of Secrets
Jumba…………………………...Soul Seeker
Adrian…………………………...The Sterata
Deera Ros……………..Mother of the Sterata
Isidora Spiros……………………A Demigod
Ourla Emalia…………………….A Mermaid
Healer Dounin……………………..A Healer
CHAPTER ONE
E arly morning sunlight filtered through the squat windows in the Council chambers of the Sehirian castle. Anastasia sat alone at the ancient round table, spinning her gold engagement ring over the wood. Branded inside were Aatu Moneth’s initials, carved in the traditional werewolf language, Bashaa.
Six months. Six months had passed since the man with the black eyes, Adrian, had stabbed Aatu in the back and watched him die in Anastasia’s arms. Six months since her best friend, Joey, had been kidnapped and held in the Shadow compound Adrian had controlled. Six months since Healer Dounin confessed to working to take away her premonitions so Adrian could go ahead with his dastardly plans. Six months since Aatu’s sister, Ostana, had been outed as being a spy, resulting in her brother’s death.
And yet… none of it mattered now.
A cool wind tore through the room a moment before the gilded outline of a portal appeared. Right on time. Anastasia slid the ring onto her finger, getting to her feet.
The portal opened to reveal a young woman wearing a tichel headwrap and conservative ankle-length, weather-worn dress. Lowering the cloth covering the lower half of her face, she offered Anastasia a humorless smile. Anastasia couldn’t help but think how much she looked like her brother, William.
“Dani.”
Dani Dinas glanced over her shoulder, dropping into a quick curtsy. “Any news?”
“Not yet. The trial hasn’t yet convened.” Anastasia hesitated. “And you?”
“Nothing.”
An awkward silence spread between them. Anastasia took the time to look over Dani. In the two months since they’d reclaimed Sehir together from the Shadows, she’d grown stronger, surer of herself. She still sported the three scars on the right side of her head, the flaxen hair around them completely shaved. The scars stood out against her tanned skin, unable to be healed due to the poison with which the Shadow’s claws had been laced when it cut her.
Anastasia finally broke the silence. “A new warrior will be joining you in the Sand Isles.”
“When can I expect her?”
“He will arrive around
noon your time.”
Dani nodded. “We can wait.”
A knock sounded at the door to the Council chambers. Anastasia hurriedly reached through the portal and took Dani’s hand.
“I will give you any news I have once I’m able.”
Dani held her gaze. “And I you.”
The portal vanished just as the door to the chambers opened. Anastasia smoothed down her hair as Valdon stepped inside. He wore his traditional drape-like sorcerers’ robes that flowed behind him as he moved. His dark sapphire eyes, which matched the color of his vibrant hair, held a melancholy expression. It filled Anastasia with an acidic anger; bile coated her throat. She couldn’t believe it had truly come to this. And yet here they were.
“Are you ready?”
She scoffed. “Would you be?”
She looked around the room to calm herself. The map depicting the ten non-human realms as one world looked pristine, scrubbed of all blood—Shadow and Nadmilise alike. It helped her believe that just maybe they could cleanse the realms of the bloodshed as well.
Holding her head high, she stepped out into the hall. Her guards, Gath and Mortam, took up their usual posts at her side, reminding her of when she’d first arrived in Sehir, nearly a year previous.
Pushing those memories from her mind, for fear of where they would lead her, she stopped in front of the side door to the throne room. Beyond the doorway, the people of Sehir, and the Representatives to the Crown of Jacqueline, gathered. Anastasia had only seen something like it once before. Then, she had sat with Joey and Ostana, watching a man as he was greyed out, the divine tattoos granted him by the Gods and Angels particular to his trade turned ashen by Valdon’s powerful magic. Now? Now was an altogether different setting, and she wasn’t sure she was prepared to handle it.
Valdon caught her arm. “Remember, you don’t know him, either of them. You owe them nothing.”
“I remember.”
Pulling from his grasp, she marched into the room. The people stood as she entered, their eyes trained on her as she took the throne behind the long table of Representatives. After a wave of her hand, they sat. Silence pervaded the chamber.
She gripped the armrests of the throne to hide the trembling of her hands. Releasing a breath, she resisted the urge to run back the way she came. But she knew she couldn’t hide.
“Bring them in,” she commanded.
Two guards at the end of the hall opened the large doors. A moment later, four more guards led two prisoners between them. One was tall, even by Nadmilise standards, with long, unkempt raven hair, and a soiled length of cloth tied over his eyes. The other… the rough beard covering his jaw, and the intensity in his hazel eyes made Anastasia’s breath catch.
Her mind took her back to that afternoon, the day before he’d been arrested, the last time she’d seen him:
“I was given a test, when I returned to this universe. It showed me everything I could’ve ever wanted, gave me my grandmother, Aatu. But I turned it down. And it wasn’t to save my people, or rescue my family, or defeat the Shadows.”
“What was it for?”
“You.”
The sound of their chains clanging on the stone floor drew her back to the present. Both prisoners knelt before her, before the row of Representatives, before the people of the royal city. She tightened her grip on the throne, making sure her expression remained neutral, impassive, remembering what Valdon had said. She didn’t know them. She didn’t owe them anything. If only it were true, this whole process would go much more smoothly.
“Christopher Jay Woodsman, William James Dinas, you stand accused of desertion.” Her voice reverberated loudly through the chamber.
Chris flinched. He looked pitiful, blinded as he was, with his hands chained behind his back. William stared defiantly ahead. She almost wished he would make eye contact with her, but she knew it wasn’t best. Just being in the same room as him made gooseflesh erupt across her skin; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to look him in the eye and pretend he meant nothing to her.
Lili had been the only person to witness the moment between them. Every other moment they’d been together in the last six months could be explained away in a way that kept their scavenger hunt to find her grandmother, and the alternate universe she lived in, a secret.
“And who represents these men before the Crown and the Gods and Angels?”
Anastasia looked to William, but he remained expressionless. Good. It was better he didn’t speak until he needed to.
“I do.”
Murmurs erupted through the throne room as the Head Warrior Master of Jacqueline stepped through the doors to the throne room. Snow dusted her shoulders, puddled at her feet; she’d just portaled from a place where it was still winter. She shed her furs as she strode down the aisle, the bronze broadsword at her back glinting in the bright summer sun filtering through the high windows. Reaching Chris and William, she dropped her furs on the floor beside them, placing her hands on her hips.
“Mistress Follant.”
The warrior inclined her head. “Your Highness, Representatives.”
Anastasia resisted the urge to glance at William again. Mistress Follant had been at the Center Realm when she and William arrived together, and she’d seen her and Chris leave together to go to the Sky Temple in the elemental realm. She knew William and Chris were deserters.
“William Dinas and Christopher Woodsman are two of the finest warriors I’ve worked with. You will hear stories of their lack of regard for the law, but that is all they are—stories.”
Representative Sirren, of the eastern city of Irroun, shook his head. “We are not interested in your pretty words, Follant. Either Dinas and Woodsman deserted the Realm Guard, or they did not. There is no gray area here.”
“With all due respect, Representative, there is always a gray area, especially where warriors are concerned.” Mistress Follant narrowed her flinty eyes. “If Christopher Woodsman had followed strict orders, young Melina Hadsun would be dead. He broke rank to get her to a healer when she had been possessed by the Shadows, which saved her life. And William Dinas defied orders to fight against a group of possessed werewolves, which saved nearly a dozen young warrior apprentices in the Small Hall. One of which, I believe, is your niece, Representative.”
Anastasia kept a smirk from her lips, making sure her expression remained stoic. Representative Sirren, however, soured.
“That is all well and good, Mistress Follant. But if we do not have order, we shall have Chaos.”
“Are you really suggesting that you punish every infraction to the greatest extent? For we shall surely have no warriors left.”
The grandfatherly Representative of Talrom, Murcy Zand, chuckled. “Do not be so dramatic, Kalgess. This is not a witch hunt. We are making sure the realm is safe, protected, and we cannot rely on warriors who have shown to disregard the law for their own personal needs. You of all people know the realm, the Crown, must come first.”
“Besides,” Representative Sirren interjected. “By pruning the Realm Guard of deserters, we are giving the realms the best chance at survival once the Shadows break free of their stony enchantment. We must be able to trust those that guard us.”
Murmurs of agreement buzzed through the room. Anastasia held her hand up for silence, hiding a frown. Many Nadmilise warriors had been brought to trial for desertion, but they had not faced the same scrutiny from the Representatives as William and Chris. What had brought on such a strong reaction? And how could Mistress Follant make it stop? She wasn’t a knowledgist, she didn’t study words and law. Was she capable of representing Chris and William, of making sure they were freed?
Mistress Follant pursed her lips. “Prune the plant too much and it dies, Representative.”
All eyes turned to Representative Sophine as she cleared her throat. “If we may let Mistress Follant at least get through her opening statements?”
The other Representatives murmured their agreement, giving Mistre
ss Follant the floor. Anastasia let out a breath, studying the back of Representative Sophine’s head. For months, she’d been held captive by Adrian, tortured in the same compound in which Joey had been held.
Chris had personally carried the Representative from her cell, bringing her back to Sehir. Surely that would sway the Representative’s thinking? Could she be counted on to be more lenient, maybe? Understanding of Chris’s actions, seeing as he’d been instrumental in saving her life? Or, perhaps, she would be understanding in that he was now as blind as she. Though hers was due to torture at the hand of the Shadows, and Chris’s was from taking the List of Ancients from the Wishing Tree, they now had a disability in common.
Mistress Follant inclined her head to Representative Sophine. “Thank you.” Motioning to Chris and William, she turned to meet the eyes of the people gathered in the stands. “Christopher Woodsman is a royal warrior. He studied under the tutelage of Master Glude while an apprentice, and then worked beneath Warrior Surreg Toldens as a Gate Guardsman, and as one of the select few who provided the cure to possessed werewolves. He rescued thirty-six innocent people held captive in Pousa, and then was a part of the group that destroyed the Shadow compound in the Wetland Line.”
Anastasia turned her engagement ring around on her finger, memories of the compound flashing through her mind. Guilt tightened her chest.
“William Dinas,” Mistress Follant continued. “At ten-years-old, he already surpassed many of his superiors in technical skill and ability. He was the only apprentice ever admitted to the Royal Guard, and was chosen to protect the Princess, herself.”
All eyes flicked to Anastasia. She struggled to keep from looking at William. The ruse had to hold. She had to minimize any relationship she had with William, to distance herself, or else the Representatives could argue she was unfit to oversee this trial, and she would be unable to cast her vote in William’s and Chris’s favor.
Instead, she looked at the people. Were they truly listening to Mistress Follant’s words, or had they already made up their minds about the deserters?
