The Curse of Ormshire (The Beast Within Book 2)

by S. L. Perrine

  “It’s all about the Story!”

  Spartanburg, SC

  This edition published in 2018 by Burning Willow Press, LLC

  3724 Cowpens Pacolet Rd. Spartanburg, SC 29307

  (USA)

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  The persons, places, and events of this novel are works of fiction.

  Any coincidence with individual’s past or present is merely that,

  coincidence.

  © Burning Willow Press, 2018

  © Author S.L Perrine

  © Editor Christine LoBianco

  © Formatter Mayhem Designs

  © Cover Ryn Katryn, digital art

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Appendix I

  About the Author

  For Gram

  The Beast Within

  The Curse of Ormshire

  Maga’s a Beast

  The Passing of Pylira

  Of Fire and Light

  Blood Rites Trilogy

  Blood Rites

  Turning the Stone

  The Fate’s Seal

  The Crawford Witch Chronicles

  Immortal Slumber

  Power Surge

  Collision of Fate

  The Covenant

  The Ravana Moon Series

  The Darker Side of Me

  Hide & Seek

  Dirty Little Secret

  Truth or Dare

  And many more

  Chapter One

  Pylira: One Hundred Years Ago

  After months of arguing with her father, Princess Renella Pyliro decided that it was finally time to confront him. It was her last day at home, and she would properly beg her father not to send her away. She had spent the last year making sure her father was aware of her disdain for the engagement. He reacted in kind by telling her it was out of his hands; that a king never goes back on a deal.

  Renella burst into tears just before opening the door to her father’s study and set to work on her last available attempt to sway him otherwise. “Do I really have to?” She pleaded with her eyes.

  “Yes, you must. These are affairs of state, and this is not the first time you have heard of it.” He looked at his eldest daughter with a stern eye.

  “No, sir, it’s not, but I do not have to be happy about it. He is a monster.” She stomped her foot and turned her back, her plan of begging forgotten.

  “You couldn’t know that. Tyson’s father and I have been best friends since childhood. Besides, I hear from your mother the young lord is a proper young man. I’m sure you will do well.”

  That was the end of the conversation. King Rowan turned his back and returned his attention to more matters of state. His daughter, knowing she had lost, left his study to find the only other person she could think to complain to; her mother.

  Renella and her mother shared a bond like no other. She was always able to get Karen’s help in swaying her father to change his mind. She spent an hour looking for her within the palace walls. A maid said that the queen was in Renella’s room getting her things ready for her departure, but when she looked, she was not there. Renella, positive her mother would not hide from her before she was to leave, continued her search. She finally found her in the rose garden, her usual retreat.

  “Mother, you have got to speak with him,” she demanded of the queen.

  Karen sat with her back to her daughter. She knew it was only a matter of time before the princess would find her and beg her for help, but she could not. “I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but in this alone, I cannot help you. I can have no say in it.”

  Renella stepped around her mother and saw the tears that fell atop the rose petals. “Oh, mother, please do not cry. My intention was not to upset you.” She lifted a pale pink rose from the ground and studied its broken stem. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m just being my usual stubborn self.”

  “I’m not worried for you. I was betrothed to your father. I know how this works. I’m just going to miss you. I did not think it was going to be this hard to say goodbye.” She looked at her daughter and studied her for a moment. “I was packing your things this morning, and I came across this,” she said, pulling free a pile of fabric she had been concealing in her lap. “This was your favorite blanket when you were small. You dragged this thing all over the palace with you.”

  “If it will help, mother, it’s yours now. You can carry it with you.” She held her mother’s hand, which clutched the blanket.

  “Thank you, darling.” She gave Renella’s hand a pat and stood, bringing her daughter with her. “I’m fussing over nothing,” she said while she smoothed her skirt. “And so, might I add, are you.” She pointed a finger at her daughter’s nose. “You’re moving a whole three days’ journey from here. We will see each other again.” Karen hooked her arm with Renella’s and started them on a walk around the garden.

  “I know, and it’s not the distance that bothers me, Mother. I do not even know him, and Father wants me to go off and marry him. It’s a barbaric custom.”

  “I thought the same thing when I was your age. Now look at me. I’m married to a king I happen to love very much. You may very well have the same thing.” Karen cupped her child’s cheek and kissed her forehead.

  “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve spent a great deal of time with him over the years. He’s a lovely boy. He will make a fine husband for you,” she said as she tried to flatten Renella’s wild red ringlets.

  Karen had always wondered where her daughter’s bright red hair came from. Her husband always said, “It’s her spirit shining through.” As much as she loved him, she would laugh at his words every time he spoke them. Karen always thought Renella’s fire-red ringlets meant she was the one her prophet spoke of. The fire’s heart is all powerful; none can stand as her equal. It was, however, evident it was not her child. She was gra
teful that both of her daughters were strong and healthy. She wished Renella had shown signs of magia—as all women of Pylira generally were born with magic in their veins—but Renella had yet to show any signs of having it. As the future Queen of Pylira, it was expected of her.

  There were two kinds of magia—or magic—in the land. Just as any other culture had good and evil, the land of Pylira had light and dark. Those who had traveled from the old lands were light wielders, or luce maga. Those they ran from were the dark sorcerers; the buio maga

  Karen knew, at sixteen years of age, it was more than likely a sign that Renella would not be a maga; a sorceress of her people. Her youngest daughter, Rosella, developed her magia at eight years old. Had Rosella been born with the same fire-red ringlets as her sister, Karen may have thought the prophecy was talking about her, but her dark auburn hair was, thus far, the family trait.

  Renella knew her mother was right, but she did not want to be happy about leaving, so she was not. She decided to carry the habitual act of sulking all the way to Ormshire Castle, home of her betrothed. However, the three-day journey vowed to keep her busy enough to forget about her sullen mood entirely. She had never been more than five miles from the palace walls, which was something she recalled as the gates lifted for her departure that afternoon. She sat forward on her seat inside the wooden carriage and looked out at the land as far as she could see. The heart stone shown bright under the palace keep and gave the lands a rich, vibrant glow. There were fairies and birds hovering about as people strolled and rode horses from here to there. The streams of water were the clearest blue and full of rainbow-colored fish. She marveled in all she saw, and just like that, her bad mood was forgotten.

  The journey was long and tiresome. Renella had to think of games to play alone as she rode. Once in a while, to stretch her feet, she asked the king’s guards to allow her to walk a bit. They were hesitant at first, but she simply reminded them they were the best of the guard, and they would be able to keep her safe. After she took a tumble over a small rock—sustaining a scrape to her hand in the process—they quickly escorted her to the carriage, where she remained for the rest of the journey.

  Ormshire Castle looked as any other on the outside. The big gate in the front was only reachable by a long drawbridge, which had been lowered for her arrival. Renella started to compare her new home to Hearthstone Palace as she entered the grounds. The windows were not lit up from within. As she looked around, she noticed they were either dark or covered. The tallest turret was not nearly as high as the one she grew up playing in, but then again, she was not there to play.

  Remembering the people and the birds and fairies outside of Hearthstone Palace, she was unnerved to notice the same could not be said for Ormshire Castle. The town outside the walls of the castle was quiet, with only a few stragglers out and about. For a mid-day arrival, she would have expected open shops in the square and children playing near the castle entrance. Instead, there was an old man who looked malnourished and a child—no more than seven years old—feeding a goat some bread. This did not give her the happy, warm feeling she had of a place called home.

  The ground was not plush and green but covered in light-colored sand all the way to the line of trees in the distance. It appeared to be surrounded on the east by a large rock wall. To the west lay nothing but the sea, all the way to the south. If she were to travel north, she would find herself quickly in another realm.

  “Are you lost?” a boy asked as the carriage stopped outside a big wooden door. He had mud on his cheeks and his blond hair was matted to his forehead. As Renella took further inventory at his attire, she would have guessed he rolled in the mud with the hogs for fun.

  “No, lost is not even close,” she said, bewildered by her surroundings. Her guards unloaded her luggage and handed them off to the guards from the castle. “Is this the royal welcoming party then?” she asked the boy, who shook his head, undoubtedly trying to rid his ears of mud and water. He stopped for a minute to regard her.

  “Did you say ‘royal welcoming?’” he asked austerely.

  “Well, yes.” She climbed out of the carriage and carefully avoided the mud puddles. “Are they expecting anyone other than royalty today?” she asked quite sarcastically. The boy’s face went cold, his mouth slipping into a straight line, then almost as quickly started laughing.

  “Are you having a fit or something? Should we fetch you a healer?” She looked around, but no one seemed to notice the boy’s behavior.

  He coughed a little and put his hand up at her. “No, I don’t need a healer. However, I may after my father gets a load of me. Shoot… well, come on. You’re early,” he said, grabbing her by the sleeve of her travel coat.

  “What are you doing?” She yanked her sleeve free of the boy’s hand.

  “Unless you want to wait out here for four more hours, you might as well come with me.” He held out his hand.

  “Where, might I ask, are you taking me?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “I’m taking you to see Lord Ourobus and Lady Sheree.” Then he repeated, “You’re early.”

  “Okay, then. Lead the way.”

  He led her through the dark halls of the palace in silence. He weaved and bobbed between rooms, and in each, Renella noticed the maids and guards did not look as though they would be stopping him. They came upon—what Renella could only conclude—the throne room. The big throne was centered atop a small staircase. Along the walls were chairs lined in red velvet and gold. The throne was burgundy leather with two ornate gems. The stones were shape of diamonds—neatly placed in the headrest. The boy disappeared up the stairs and through a door to the left of the throne. When he came back, he looked like his mood had soured ten-fold as he stood on the right side of the large chair.

  “May I introduce my Lord father, Ourobus, and the Lady Sheree,” he said as lord and lady emerged from the doorway.

  Lady Sheree was the first to speak. “Oh, you poor thing.” She walked down the small staircase and embraced Renella. “You should have been received. I am so sorry.”

  “Yes, had your guards sent word you would be early, we would have made sure of it,” Lord Ourobus said to Renella while giving his guards a stern look. “That is no reception for the future queen of the realms.” He regarded Renella, walked the short stairs to take her hand in his, and kissed the red hearthstone ring she wore. He was a half-inch shorter than Renella; a robust man, with a firm grip and strong odor that reminded Renella of the marsh pits in Largania. His blond hair was pulled back tightly to his nape. His chubby fingers held the ring of the lords on his pinky.

  “I am sorry, Your Highness, as to the state of my son. I can make no excuses for him, for he is his mother’s child,” he said, looking at the young boy, who remained near the throne. Renella took a minute to look at him as he gave a short nod, all the while looking straight ahead. Renella knew that look well. She had used it most of her life while entertaining her father’s company.

  “I am familiar with the hasty acts of boys, Lord Ourobus. Make no mind of it.” Renella contemplated if the lord’s reaction to his son’s inability to remain proper were as strong-fetched as her own father’s.

  Renella was whisked around the palace by pretty, young ladies and shown, what felt like, every corner of the castle. By mid-afternoon, she had thought to find a nice spot to hide for a bit and catch her breath. She wandered the lower levels and came across the most beautiful courtyard. It was encased by the castle wall but had been open to the sky above. The center of the courtyard held a rather large pond, with a gazebo made of marble around it. The pillars were covered with dancing morning glories, which climbed the walls of the castle. It was the first greenery she had seen in Ormshire.

  She sat atop the ledge encircling the pond and played with a loose thread from the bottom of her skirt. The sun had already begun to set, so she gazed at the sky and marveled at how all she needed to do when she missed home was look up, for the sky looked the same no
matter where one traveled. The time got away from the princess. As she heard the bell calling for supper, she realized she still wore her traveling clothes.

  “Are you lost?” a young girl’s voice said to her from within the long corridor.

  “Why do people keep asking me that?” she mumbled to herself. She then said to the girl, “I don’t believe so. I have my ladies to show me where I need to go.”

  “Well, if you’re going to supper, I can show you the way. My presence is required there as well.” She gave a short curtsy and fell in step with Renella.

  She was the most appealing person Renella had the pleasure of meeting since she arrived. The girl looked to be the same age as Renella. Her curly brown hair was in pigtails, and she wore a pale orange jumper. She looked as though she was more than able to enjoy her youth to the fullest, which made Renella wonder what it would be like for her to be a carefree girl, rather than a princess.

  “You are excused,” she told Renella’s ladies when they met them around a corner. “I will see to the princess.”

  “Please, call me Renella.” She detested all the formality.

  “Renella it is.”

  They entered the dining hall, and she had to wonder if the cook prepared all the food for her arrival or if the spread before her was an every-night occurrence. The dining table looked like it sat twenty people, and the top was filled from one place setting to the next with large trays of food of every variety.

  “Ladies, how nice of you to join us.” Tyson, the lord’s son, stood at the foot of the table, but his parents were nowhere in sight. He had cleaned up and rid himself of the mud from earlier in the day. Renella could then see he had the same bright blond hair as his father, large blue eyes, and a dimple in his left cheek when he smirked. She could also see his true age, which she knew to be closer to her own. She wondered where the carefree look of the boy she first met went. Just then, his face only showed the stern look of a lord’s son. “I see, Renella, you have met my sister.”