FALLEN
PALADIN
KRISTELL CARNIE
FALLEN PALADIN
By Kristell Carnie
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AUTHOR
Copyright © 2017 by Kristell Carnie
www.facebook.com/kristellcarnie
This is a work of fiction and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author.
All characters appearing in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is not intended and purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, re-sold or transmitted electronically or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover designed by AMYGDALA DESIGN
Copyright © 2017 by Amygdala Design
Please note:
This novel is written by a New Zealand author and therefore is written in British English.
Thank you.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Acknowledgments
Author Note:
To the child who waits patiently for their superpowers to kick in, I’m waiting too….
Prologue
His tortured screams fill the charred air, escaping without permission through dry, cracked lips, forced from his lungs by the overpowering pain like no other he has ever endured before, as the scalding metal plunges into his creamy flesh, branding his already scarred back once more.
Although I cannot hear his wail, it still rips through me, rattling my body, quivering inside my veins, twisting at my insides until all that consumes me is his misery.
Trails of sweat line his dirty skin as his trembling body finally collapses to the ground at the feet of the cruellest creature in existence.
The body that I created inside my own, heaves with exhaustion as he tries to control himself. The strong, resilient man he has become shines through when he raises his head, his amber-gold eyes, clear and focused, glare up at the very creature I despise more than any other in this wretched world.
When their eyes lock, I feel the truth with every fibre of my being. Garvien knows. He knows the truth about my deceit and now he will stop at nothing until he has made Blay yield, until he relents and spills our secrets allowing my Realms borders to be breeched by these monsters.
And Blay will succumb, no matter his enduring strength, it’s only a matter of time, and time is something he is quickly running out of.
I must act soon. I will not allow my son to pay for my mistakes.
I will end this, once and for all.
Chapter One
The cool steel blade glides across my palm, biting into my pale skin, leaving a bright red puddle of fresh blood in its wake. Almost instantly, shimmering blue veins of light etch across my wrist, working their way towards my self-inflicted wound, spreading out to cover my hand in a slow, music-less dance as they work their unexplainable magic to weave my flesh back together, leaving no trace of my recklessness except for the lingering blood which I quickly wipe away, concealing it, just like all the times before.
My eyes flicker to the window, taking in the slow tide of fog crawling its way towards the castle. Swallowing the unrelenting unease that burrows its way into the pit of my stomach each, and every, time I witness the alluring, yet equally mystifying sight, I try to push it from my mind.
Right now, I don’t have the energy to decipher my unwarranted disillusion. My focus must remain on regaining my strength and not pushing myself too far and ripping open my wound once again.
The large gash across my chest is all but healed, the skin still tingling and sensitive beneath the already fading scar. The injury I sustained in my fight to save not only my mother but all of Prytora too, should have been life ending. Anyone else would have crumbled in a bloodied heap, their insides spilling to their outsides with no hope of being saved. Hell, it’s a miracle that I managed to pull through. I doubt even the prized Jalooniem sap, the Prytorians secret healer, would have saved me from the extent of my wounds alone.
No, I know for sure that the blue markings which shimmer around my body, pulsating out from the thin puckered, pink scar on my wrist above the dreaded bracelet, is the real reason I’m still alive, still breathing into lungs that should have emptied long ago.
I don’t dwell on the mystery, at this moment in time I can barely focus on anything other than that last flickering memory of his face, full of determination to keep me safe at any cost, and acceptance of his own fate to come.
Blay. Prince of Prytora. Future King of this land. The possible holder of my barely beating heart. Sacrificed, because of me.
A stab of guilt tinged pain pierces through my hardened shell, echoing around my imprisoned soul like a non-relenting torture device.
I swipe the blade across my palm again, the shadowed memory delving the knife deeper than before, a hiss of pain escaping my gritted teeth as I try, unsuccessfully, to chase away the images which hound me.
I deserve this pain, no matter how fleeting. I deserve this, and so much more.
A knock at the door jolts me from my memories and with practised ease, I flick the knife beneath the overstuffed pillow, hiding the evidence of my self-harm before anyone has a chance to realise the extent of my own loathing.
The heavy wooden door glides open with the help of Zaneth, who quickly steps back, allowing the small structure of my mother to pass. She nods her thanks to him, a soft twist of her pink lips showing the first gentle smile to grace her face in far too long.
Zaneth’s eyes linger on her for a moment longer than necessary, taking in her hesitancy as she hovers by the door, waiting for some tiny indication from me that she may enter, still unsure of my feelings towards her.
I don’t blame her. Since waking from my attack by the Zantronians two days ago, I haven’t been exactly forthcoming in my affections, a fact that has surprised me more than her, it seems.
After our emotional reconnection back home, and the happiness I had felt finally getting my mother back, you would think that the tension between us would have vanished entirely. Instead it lingers, like a thorn in my side, always present, unrelenting in its niggling pain and only exasperated by the grief eating me alive.
“Rayna,” Zaneth’s gravelly voice vibrates around the large room, giving me the sharp jolt I need to pull myself from my aloofness. That’s the thing I like most about Zaneth; he doesn’t hold back, never sugar coating his thoughts. His lack of pretence is endearing, I always know where I stand with him, a rare quality of honesty that I have found myself clinging onto in these past couple of days when others have treated me like a fragile china doll – or worse yet, a mystifying object they don’t quite know what to do with.
The questioning hasn’t started yet, although I know it will soon, it’s only a mat
ter of time. It’s hard to believe that only a week ago I would have done anything – including abandoning a castle full of luxury and protection, giving it all up to run away into the deep unknown, even nearly cutting off my own arm – all for the sole purpose of keeping my dreaded secret.
Now I don’t care who knows. The fear of being sentenced to death doesn’t hold the same terror as it once did, nor does the shadowed threat of them returning me back to the Zantronians clutches. Hell, I will shout my admission from the top of the castle’s highest tower to all of Prytora if it means that they will send me back to Zantron.
I must get back, no matter what it takes, I have to find him, find Blay. Not knowing if he is dead or alive is killing me, dragging me down into a world of pain that is crippling me beyond anything I can handle.
The cursed bracelet, which still eagerly clings to my wrist, continues to burn, simmering just within reach, waiting until I let my guard down even slightly, so it can take over, reducing me to nothing more than a pawn for Garvien to use.
I know it is him that is causing me this anguish. I feel his presence running through my veins, hiding in the recesses of my mind, wanting nothing more than to control me completely, to punish me in every way possible. I am a simple game piece in a complicated and twisted game and he is the champion player. I am doomed, no matter what my outcome, but I refuse to relinquish myself until Blay is safe. My life for his, that’s my plan, I only need to make my first move, and it has to be soon, very soon.
“Rayna,” Zaneth repeats and I blink away the fog hovering over my mind.
“You can come in, Mum.” I sit up straighter in bed, wincing as the lingering tendrils of pain shoot through my chest.
My recovery may have been miraculous but I still bear the brunt of the hidden wounds, the healing not yet complete deep inside my petite body. This is the only reason I’m still confined to my bed and not out fighting my way back to Zantron, that and the fact that my door is heavily guarded, once again ensuring I can’t make another daft escape.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Mum’s soft voice travels the distance between us.
“Alive.” I don’t mean to sound so harsh, yet I won’t bother pretending that I’m happy about that fact either.
“Have you eaten?” She walks closer, her chocolate eyes sweeping over my untouched breakfast still sitting on the wooden dresser beside my giant bed. Her peaches and cream skin crinkles as a deep frown burrows into her forehead and she glances at Zaneth, an unknown look fleetingly passing between them before he steps from the room, shutting the door behind him and effectively locking us together in solitude.
“Queen Karadese believes you will be able to get up and move around in a few days. That’s progress.” Her eyes dart to my arm, the unspoken question she has been holding in is now desperate to blurt out.
I shut her down with a single look. It’s not that I’m trying to hide my secret, I don’t care anymore about that; it’s just that I don’t want to talk about it with her.
I may have my old mother back, the gentle and kind woman who I grew up with before everything went to hell, but since Dad’s death, she has been anything but mentally sound. I don’t want to flip that fragile switch again.
My current situation could push her over the edge, driving her back to that unstable mental place she was trapped for so long. No matter how much pain she’s caused to me during these last couple of years, I don’t ever want to see her struggle like that again, so desolate and utterly lost.
No, when I do reveal the truth, it will be to someone stronger, someone like Queen Karadese. After all, she has held in her own secrets for all of these years; her revelation only whispered to me as I passed out into the depth of my subconscious. An admission that I still haven’t been able to question her on yet, even though the truth ricochets around my mind like a torturous joke, I pray isn’t true. Regardless, I doubt anything would make that woman break under pressure and that kind of internal strength is exactly what I need right now.
Mum seems to pick up on my hesitation and a shadow crosses her delicate features. With a gentle sigh, she lowers her head, her delicate hands twisting together in an agitated attempt to keep herself calm. Finally, she looks at me, her eyes filled with sadness and an understanding I never thought she would hold – not for me, not now anyway.
“Rayna, I can’t fathom what you have been through these last few months, and I won’t pretend to be a perfect mother, but I assure you that I do understand the pain you are going through right now.” She perches on the end of my bed, her eyes drifting to the window yet seeing nothing but her past.
“I know first-hand that you don’t have to know someone for a long time, for them to capture your heart so completely. Your father and I fell in love the first time we met, and I see that same sparkle which lightened his eyes, now in yours, even if it is hidden deep. With us it was instant, there was no questioning it, and without him…. nothing makes sense. I haven’t met Blay, but from what I have heard, you two became quite close in the time since he saved your life. It’s understandable for you to miss him, to even blame yourself for his predicament, but honey, no one else does.”
She turns, her lips quivering slightly as she reaches for my hand, wrapping it up in her surprisingly strong grasp.
“No one here blames you for any of this, so you need to stop tormenting yourself with this unwarranted guilt, for something that you had no control over and can’t be undone. Blay made a choice, honey, he chose you. That shows a lot about his character, and I for one, am so happy he did. I couldn’t stand losing you again, not now, not ever. So please, for the love of God, don’t make me lose you too. Come back to me.”
Mum leans forward, wrapping her lithe arms around my shivering body and pulls me close to her. Inside I’m screaming out to let her in, to let her see how much I’m struggling, but rather than opening myself up to her, I hold still, caught up in a shell so strong I can’t break through.
She presses a kiss to my unwashed brunette hair, breathing me in like I’m magic.
“You are your father’s daughter, there’s no denying that. He fought his illness to the bitter end, never once letting it get him down until it dragged him from this life kicking and screaming. You have his strength, his passion. Use it, my darling, use everything you have inside of you to pull yourself through this. Only you can, Rayna.”
Mum releases me just as quickly as she held me, pushing herself up and retreating from the room before I can see the tears streaming down her face.
I sit there, stuck in between wanting to run after her and wanting to crawl back under the covers and hide away from my reality.
However much trauma she has created, she’s right about one thing. I can’t stay here, waiting for life to get easier when I know it never will. Nothing will ever change my fate or erase the horrific memories from my mind, and nothing will ever be able to save Blay’s life. Except maybe, for me.
He has saved me twice. It’s now time to return the favour.
Chapter Two
Pushing the covers back, I slide out of bed, holding still for a moment as my wound tightens, not enough to cause immense pain, just enough to remind me, once again, that my injuries haven’t properly healed yet.
It’s ironic how the gash, which nearly tore me in two, spreads from my collar bone, down between my breasts and comes to a jagged end at my stomach. The emotional hell I’m going through feels like my heart has been ripped out and my physical wound nearly did just that.
The injury was bad. Crude enough to kill a normal person, luckily I’m not normal after all. The blue weaving lights still shimmer around my body, dulled though, as if the extent of my wound is taking far longer to heal than a simple sliced palm, perhaps knitting my insides back together needs a slower finesse? Regardless, I wish it would hurry up and heal, being stuck in this room, excluded from almost everyone is slowly driving me crazy, and I certainly don’t need any added craziness in my life.
I gr
it my teeth, refusing to give in to the discomfort now that I’ve made my mind up to act, to not just wither away to nothingness which would be all too easy to do and far more likely of me.
If I could sprint over and lock the door I would. The last thing I need is for someone to come in and question my actions. But with Zaneth standing guard outside of my door, I know that if he hears even the minutest of sounds he will be in here faster than lightning, scolding me for being up and about before the queen has given permission.
Stuff the queen, stuff anyone who stands in my way. I’m done with waiting, holding tight while they make plans for a rescue mission that should have been implemented days ago.
Hell, they should have let me go back straight away once they knew of Blay’s capture, rather than sedating me and healing my injuries. I’m nothing to them, just a little human girl who got rescued on my deathbed. Blay is the important one, he’s the future king; I’m merely a mascot for their fight, something visual to prove they have hope, but ultimately useless.
The Prytorians stupidity sparks my anger to life all too easily. The heat of my building rage swirls in my veins, pulsating around my body at an extremely rapid rate, warming my skin as it advances. The overwhelming feeling is still so foreign, terrifying in its unwavering pursuit to take me over so completely, yet undeniably beneficial when it comes to needing strength, and right now I need tonnes of that.
I use the fleeting energy to my advantage, making my way to the dresser and pulling open the drawer to retrieve my hidden package before the blue lines begin to appear to their full extent, knowing full well that they will, it’s only a matter of time.
I don’t have to be injured for the lights to spring forth, marking my body in a beautiful, yet surreal, artwork. Even though they do seem to spread across my skin whenever I need any kind of physical healing, they also show up now whenever my escalating anger takes hold.
Fallen Paladin (The Paladin's Curse Book 2) Page 1
