The Tynder Crown Chronicles, Season One: Episode One: The Tynder Crown Chronicles (The Tynder Crown Chronicles, A Novella Series Book 1)

by Wendy Owens

  FROM THE GLEAMING WHITE FLOORS I can tell we’re in The Queen’s castle. The ceilings in this portion of the building are much more normal in height, and, instead of wall sconces, there are overhead lights you would find in any other building. This time, when we are brought to the castle, we’re not put into a dungeon like Desmond and I had been. Immediately we’re taken to this long and open corridor that is lined with clean and modern chairs.

  “Can you tell me how long we’re going to be waiting?” I ask one of the Heralds who is standing directly across from us. He doesn’t reply. This doesn’t shock me, considering I’ve gathered being a Herald means you are pretty much a complete dick.

  “I can’t believe you talk to them like that,” Piper whispers.

  I’m not going to whisper; I couldn’t care less if they hear anything I have to say. “And how should I talk to them? With respect? You have to earn my respect.”

  “Have you seen one without the suit?” she asks.

  “Like naked? Why would I have seen one naked?”

  “No, like with their wings out?”

  “They have wings?” I inquire, leaning around and trying to see if I can tell. “Wow, they do a good job concealing them.”

  “What do you think they want?” Piper asks. I look past her at Ember, who is shaking like a leaf at the far end of the chairs.

  “I think I know exactly what this is about,” I grumble. “Last night, when you were reading about the pixies, didn’t you say they have telepathy abilities with members of their immediate families?”

  Piper shakes her head in confusion. “Yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything.”

  “Psst, Ember,” I whisper. She peers up at me, and I can see she’s nervous. I motion for her to come closer. She looks over at the Heralds, and then cautiously moves across the seats, before fluttering her tiny wings wildly, hovering directly in front of my face. Now I whisper. Now I don’t want anyone to hear what I have to tell Ember. She nods after hearing the instructions and quickly returns to her seat.

  “What was that all about?” Piper asks anxiously.

  “You’ll see.” I grin, and, sitting back, I wait for the show to unfold.

  We wait in those chairs for at least another twenty minutes before finally we are called into the room. From the way this place seems to hold such high regard on ceremony, I half expect to see an altar or something when we enter the room. Much to my surprise, there’s nothing of the kind. Instead it resembles a courtroom. There is a large half-moon bench in the front of the room that has six seats behind it. In each seat sits a very unique character. To the right, there’s what looks like a jury box, and, on either side of the aisle, there are seats for spectators. Directly in front of the bench is a single table and chairs. Apparently there is not a defense side and prosecutor side when it comes to Fae court.

  The room is empty today. There are no jury members, no spectators. Just us, the Heralds, and The Council members sitting and looking down at us. I casually walk to the table at the front of the room. I will not show fear. I will not allow it to appear as though I feel I have done anything wrong, because I haven’t. Piper and Ember follow closely behind, the Heralds remaining at the back of the room.

  “Hello, Ms. Crown?” one of The Council members asks.

  “Yes,” I say, stepping forward. “I’m Royal Magistrate, Tynder Crown, and this is my Crimlock, Piper Williams. I’m not sure why you’ve also detained one of my witnesses, but I’m sure you must have good reason to do such a thing.”

  “Do you know why you’re here?” the same member asks.

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” I answer. “Would you mind enlightening me?”

  “You may take a seat,” a councilwoman in the middle announces to me, without answering the question.

  We do as they ask, and the members chat amongst themselves for a moment.

  “Do you know who they all are?” I whisper, glancing over at Piper.

  She nods. “Left to right, the dark Fae houses: Lady Piedmont of Avadur House, Lord Ardack of Grimlore House, and Lord Uthernaught of Dragonmore House. The light Fae on the right include Lord Wilmont of Elladur House, Lady Marvella of Caleven House, and Lady Peabody of Windsor house.”

  “Jesus, these people sure do like their titles,” I grumble.

  “Silence!” Lord Uthernaught shouts. “Please, can you bring in the complainant?”

  Before the Herald opens the door, I already know who I’m going to see. But am I simply dealing with a pain-in-the-ass goblin, or did someone put this goblin up to making my life a living hell? The more I think about it, the more I feel like it’s not a coincidence that Terg showed up just after my transformation.

  The door opens, and in waddles Terg.

  “See, I told you, we have to be nice to our clients.” Piper grimaces.

  I pat her leg, and, with a smile, I advise her not to worry. I’ve got everything under control.

  Terg happily takes the stand and begins to rattle off all of the numerous things I failed to do in my duties as a Royal Magistrate, the ultimate complaint being that I did not follow up with the major lead that would have led to the closure of the case.

  “What do you have to say to these charges?” Lady Piedmont of Avadur House asks.

  “He’s right. I never arrested Walter Trunkwater, despite Terg’s accusations.”

  There are random gasps from The Council, and all I do is smile in response. I know my time is coming, and I want to see who is digging the biggest grave at this point, because that will be my very first suspect when investigating who murdered my grandfather.

  Lord Uthernaught of Dragonmore House is quick to step up and condemn me, telling me how disappointed they are. I simply nod with a grin. Lady Piedmont of Avadur is more than pleased to chime in, as well, with her disgust of the way I have handled my post with such disregard for Fae customs. Still I do not argue. And then it happens. There’s a knock on the door of the courtroom, and I know it’s time to reveal my winning hand. Ember’s connection with other Pixies has just come in very handy.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt this wonderful berating of my skills as a Royal Magistrate,” I begin, rising to my feet, “but I actually do have some news on the case if you would like to hear it.”

  “We have heard all we need to, young lady!” Lady Piedmont snaps. Damn it! I hate when people call me young lady. I am anything but a lady. Mental note: Lady Piedmont of Avadur House, one doth protest too much; investigate further.

  “Let her speak, Beatrice,” Lady Marvella of the Caleven House argues, and I wonder if perhaps I’ve found an ally on The Council. I resist the urge to mock Lady Piedmont’s first name and continue with the speech I’ve rehearsed in my head a few times already.

  “Terg did tell me about Walter, and I actually went and spoke to him the very next day. You should all be very proud to have such an exemplary showing of Fae character in such a powerful position.” I say this only to twist the knife in Terg’s heart. “I concluded that his accusations were unfounded and merely made out of spite and jealousy.”

  “This is an outrage!” Terg shouts, hopping up on his tiny feet.

  “No! What’s an outrage is that a criminal like you hasn’t been brought to justice sooner,” I correct him.

  “Council members, do you see what I mean? She’s impossible to deal with,” Terg whines, but based on the look in his eyes, I can tell he’s nervous.

  “Ms. Crown,” Lady Marvella comments, “these are very serious accusations. Can you back them up?”

  “I’d be happy to. On the other side of that door is all the evidence you need to prove Terg is lying and Ember Cornwand is in desperate need of justice.”

  “We can’t possibly let her make a mockery of our high council, can we?” Lord Uthernaught protests. Mental note: Lord Uthernaught of Dragonmore House: a real dick; investigate him further, as well.

  “In all fairness, she deserves to speak, Lord Uthernaught,” Lady Marvella comes to my defense once
again. She motions for the Heralds to open the doors.

  In floats Ember’s mother, along with the chest of rubies.

  “Thieves!” Terg shouts, pointing wildly. “I demand you arrest them all.”

  “Silence!” Lady Piedmont shouts toward the goblin. This surprises me. “Please continue.” She motions toward me.

  Ember’s mother lands softly, placing the chest of rubies on the table in front of me. Approaching the jury box, I retrieve a plant from the windowsill. “May I?” I ask, looking to The Council for approval. They eagerly grant it, many curious about what I have for them.

  “Ember here is what you all know as an Energy Pixie. These rubies belonged to her family, and Terg was the one who originally stole them,” I explain.

  “Can you prove this?” Lady Marvella inquires.

  “Lies!” Terg shouts.

  Silently, one of the members waves a hand in Terg’s direction, and he is rendered voiceless. Suddenly, I do feel a bit more intimidated.

  Taking a deep breath, I begin, “I can. I’m sure being who you all are, you already know that Energy Pixies pull their abilities from natural resources. A resource can’t just be used. It has to be mined, and then cultivated. In order for an Energy Pixie to tap into the natural power of an item, the thing has to be trained and willing to allow the fairy in. Now I propose, if these truly are Ember and her mother’s rubies, they will allow the girls to tap into their power and convert it into energy that will make this plant grow. If these were, however, Mr. Zurank’s rubies, they would not have gone through the lifelong process of being energy-delivering stones. They wouldn’t respond to the Cornwand’s efforts.”

  “Very well, get on with it,” Lord Uthernaught grumbles impatiently.

  I step back and allow Ember and her mother to work their magic. Even I am in awe as the rubies begin to glow, and the tiny plant starts to flourish, a beautiful flower growing and blooming from the center, directly in front of our eyes. There is a hush over The Council as the pixies finish their demonstration.

  I step forward and claim my glory proudly, “I’m honored to serve The Council and The Queen as Royal Magistrate.” I then bow for dramatics. I conclude I am, in fact, an excellent bullshitter.

  “Guards, take Terg into custody immediately,” Lord Uthernaught commands.

  There are whispers all around the room, and as I return to my seat, Piper pats me on the back. She’s beaming that smile I saw when we first met.

  “Ms. Crown,” Lady Marvella begins as the other Council members hush. “In honor of the amazing work you did on this first case, we have decided to remove you from probation. You’re now a full-fledged member of the Royal Magistrate. We are honored to have you in service.”

  I stand again, and give a slight bow. “I humbly thank you, but I do have one favor to ask of you.”

  “What is that?” Lady Marvella asks with a smile.

  “I would like my grandfather’s Crim to be released,” I state firmly.

  “I’m afraid that can’t happen. He knows far too much, so it wouldn’t be safe for Fae,” Lord Wilmont replies without even conferring with the rest of The Council.

  “Then have a memory eater wipe him clean,” I suggest.

  Piper grabs my arm. “Are you sure? He won’t remember anything. He won’t remember you.”

  I nod; it will be better than living as a prisoner.

  Lord Uthernaught raises a finger in our direction, and The Council begins to discuss it. At last, Lady Marvella answers, “We will have to talk to The Queen, of course, but we will give our recommendation that she grants the exile and memory wipe.”

  “Thank you.” My voice cracks, and relief washes over me. I turn to Piper as she throws her arms around me, and for a small moment, I savor my tiny victory.

  MY STOMACH FLUTTERS AS I see Desmond enter through the double doors at the far side of the room. My breath catches in my throat when I see Nash holding his arm and assisting him in his movements. I try not to think about the feelings welling up inside of me when it comes to Nash. This moment in time belongs to Desmond. This will be the last time I ever speak to him. The last time he will know who I am, or the fact that we spent my childhood together. This will be the last time Des will ever get to talk about Joe before the memory of him is gone forever.

  I meet them in the middle of the room, taking Des’ other arm and helping him to a chair. I glare up at Nash. “How did he end up like this?”

  He shakes his head and whispers, “I don’t know.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be his Bimtok? Wouldn’t you have handled his punishment?”

  “No, they know how much Desmond and Josiah mean to me. Myer was in charge of what happened to him,” Nash explains.

  “Myer? The Chancellor?” I question confused.

  He nods. “It didn’t make sense to me either … I’m just telling you who they told me to talk to when I went to retrieve him,” Nash answers in a solemn tone.

  We help Desmond into a nearby leather armchair, and he sighs with great relief as he sinks low into the cushion. It’s only now I can see all the damage that has truly been done to him. He’s lost at least ten pounds in the short time we’ve been apart, his eyes are sunken, and there is a gash across his forehead that should have received stitches, but instead remains a gaping wound.

  “Who did this to you? I’m going to kill them!” I exclaim, falling to my knees.

  “Hush, child,” Desmond says softly, raising a hand. “I’ll be fine soon enough.”

  “I’ll keep watch,” Nash offers, shifting uncomfortably. He crosses the room and stands near the double doors from which they’d just entered.

  “I’m sorry, Des. I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared if I left you with them, you would end up dead. I knew they weren’t going to let me have you as my Crim, so I came up with this plan.”

  He delivers a slight smile. “It’s a good plan. Joe would be proud.” His hand cradles my face as I lay my head in his lap, still on my knees in front of him. With his other hand, he begins to stroke my hair.

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” I say, my voice shaking.

  “Shh, don’t think about that. I’ve been in this game for a long time, Tynder. It will be nice to not have to worry anymore.”

  I tilt my head and look up at him. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

  “You’re Josiah Crown’s granddaughter, you’ll be just fine,” he reassures me.

  “Are you scared?” I ask, unsure I want to hear the answer.

  “Me? No way. I can’t wait for it to be done. I put in a request to have new memories of a beach life implanted. Maybe I’ll get to be one of those guys selling conch shells to tourists, or even better, hermit crabs. I always liked those things.”

  I laugh through building tears. “That sounds amazing.”

  He uses a finger to steady my chin and forces me to look at him. His voice was soft, but now it’s barely a whisper, “Gideon is good people,” he begins.

  I try and shake loose, but he lifts my chin again.

  “There aren’t very many people you can trust now, Tynder. Josiah trusted him—”

  “And look where that got him.”

  “Josiah trusted me, too.”

  “You know I didn’t mean it about you,” I quickly add.

  “I know, but I’m telling you, Nash is one of the good ones,” he continues. “What do you think about Piper, can you trust her?”

  “I think so … She seems to be a misfit, like me.” I grin.

  “You have Josiah’s instincts, trust them.”

  I see Nash turn around; he’s waving his arms.

  “They’re coming,” I inform him.

  Desmond swallows hard, and, looking at me again, he says, “You need to figure out where the weapon and the poison that killed Josiah came from. Only someone very powerful could get their hands on that kind of poison, do you understand?”

  I nod, just as I see a hooded figure enter the room near Nash.
With him are two of The Council members. Hanging at the cloaked figure’s sides are his hands, with fingers at least twelve inches in length and suction cup devices on the end of each one.

  “I don’t know if I can let them do this,” I groan.

  “You have to,” Desmond presses. “You need to be strong now. Josiah needs you to find his killer. He loved the Fae, Tynder. You’re not just doing this to bring a killer to justice; you’re trying to save an entire world. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I answer at last, the tears escaping down my cheeks.

  I feel Nash’s hand on my shoulder, and Desmond looks up at him. “Get her out of here. She doesn’t need to see this.”

  “What? No!” I cry, fighting against Nash’s outreached hands. In a whirlwind of colors, I see the councilmen and the creature that is about to suck all memory of me from Desmond’s mind. Nash takes a firm grip around my hips and throws me over his shoulder. I scream and fight and kick, but I can’t seem to break free. I see the creature lifting its long fingers to Des’s head just before Nash sweeps me out of the room.

  “Put me down!” I demand. He does as I ask, and I lunge forward, trying to get back into the room, but Nash matches my every move.

  “Let me by,” I command.

  “I can’t do that,” he replies.

  I can hear whimpers from the other side of the door—Desmond’s whimpers.

  “Can’t you hear that? They’re killing him,” I plead.

  “No, they’re not. You know he wants this. Let it be.”

  “Let it be? Screw you, Nash.”

  “Please, I don’t want to fight you.”

  “What do you want then?” I snarl.

  “I want to help you,” he quickly replies, a tenderness in his voice.

  “Help me how?”

  “I want to bring Josiah’s killer to justice.” I can see the pain in his eyes—the pain that mirrors my own. For a second I think of letting down that wall, letting Nash be that rock for me to lean on, letting him wrap his arms around me until the pain of losing Josiah and Desmond fades. But I don’t. I can’t.