Claimed: (The Land of Schism Book 1) Epic Fantasy Novel for Young and New Adults

by Nicole Adamz

Lady Durus had dismissed the Anomaly, leaving me alone with four strangers and an uneasy feeling. My mind flitted to the facts I knew: Lady Durus was the High Lord’s older sister and mother of the only Heir until the High Lord Life-Bonded and produced his own fledglings. The blonde, icily beautiful woman wore Rascette Cuffs despite being Life-Bonded. Which indicated that she wasn’t interested in producing more potential heirs.

  Overall, she reminded me of my mother, and the thought made me shiver. The conversation had seemed benign, but the undercurrents were perilous. Lady Durus’s request for me to entertain for her in the future wasn’t benevolent—she wanted something from me. Which was why I didn’t mention the entire conversation in the letter to my family.

  They would make me do whatever Lady Durus wanted if it would gain the Ambire family more prestige and power. Just like they would report Ari to the Aerial Council for being a True One believer if I reported my suspicions to them. I liked having a Tyro, but more importantly I liked Ari. She might have bi-colored eyes and a stick-in-the-mud attitude at times, but Ari was a good person. Which made her the only person in Summit I could trust.

  Sealing the letter to my family, I stretched lazily and surveyed Ari’s handiwork on my tidy bedchamber. My eyes landed on the brown parcel and small card on my vanity. I reached for the parcel, considering the unremarkable wrapping paper.

  I bit my lip in anticipation. Another gift from an admirer? Cutting the twine, the paper crinkled as I tossed it to the floor, eager to see what lay inside. I stared at the plain leather tome. Surely an admirer wouldn’t purchase this. Who wants a book as a gift? Irritated, I opened the cover.

  My Darling Maewyn,

  I love seeing my gifts on you. You looked lovely wearing the tulip comb last night. This tome contains a few discoveries I’ve made since being your Caelum, and I wanted to share them. I miss our time together. Until we meet again.

  —Your Admirer, G.

  The tome clattered to the floor, blood draining from my face. He’s still watching me! My throat tightened on a panicked scream, fear skittering along my nerves. Bile rose in my throat and I dashed toward the chamber pot, heaving into it.

  Wiping my mouth, I stood. A nightmare I’d thought was behind me had returned. Where did Ari put the tulip comb? A frantic search uncovered the tulip comb, and the yellow jewels stared at me with grasping eyes. I threw it across the room.

  Heaving slow, steady breaths I fought for control. He’s not my Caelum anymore. He can’t touch me. He can’t…a dawning realization swept through my mind. Can he? I surveyed the clothing and jewelry in my room. How many of these came without a note?

  My mouth thinned, my nostrils flaring angrily. After everything…I won’t let him touch me again through some sick means! Davin’s card sprang to mind, and I snatched it from the vanity. I desperately wrote a line of text.

  Let’s have fun. –Maewyn

  Grabbing my personal card, I included it with the note and winced at the hot sting of wax when I pressed the Ambire insignia into it. Blowing on it, I stacked it with the letter to my family. Somehow, I’ll become the High Lady and have the power to fix everything.

  Feeling better, I sponge bathed before dressing in a peach satin gown I knew I’d purchased. Scooping up the letters, I glanced at the armoire before walking out of the room. So much of it will have to go, I thought, vaguely melancholy.

  I straightened my shoulders. I’ll be more selective in accepting gifts. If they don’t arrive with a signed note, I’ll give them away. Ari needs an updated wardrobe anyway—she has no sense of personal style.

  My hand was on the suite door when Ari barreled into me from the other side. I frowned, noticing the dried blood under her nose. Ugh. Another nosebleed.

  “Docent de Ecru’s class?” I said.

  Ari nodded, wiping her nose with a blood-crusted handkerchief. My nose wrinkled. I’d heard rumors about Ari’s nosebleeds, but hadn’t realized they were so bad. Remembering the letters, I handed them to Ari, “Take these to the Courier’s office. I’d like them to make the afternoon delivery.”

  Ari nodded, and I waited until she left before slipping back to my room. It no longer felt like a haven. He had robbed me of that. Anything I couldn’t remember purchasing would need to be trashed. I picked up the metal chest containing my jewelry. Carefully touching each item, I discerned a pattern to his gifts: a color he liked, his favorite flower, a flattering design. How could I not know they were from him? I shook my head.

  The pile of jewels was smaller than I’d thought it would be, and I was grateful. I glanced toward my clothes. I suppose he wanted to feel like he possessed more of me than a neck or a finger. Anger flashed through me, and a pile of clothes sat on the floor when I finished ransacking my drawers.

  They were beautiful garments, but I refused to give them a second thought. Now, they only made me think of him. Grimacing, I suppressed painful memories, and contemplated what to do with the jewels and clothes in front of me.

  Ari’s lean frame popped into my mind. She’s too tall and he had them made to my measurements. Measurements he would know from… I cleared my head, swallowing hard. Trash they are. I didn’t want any remnant of him in the suite, and Ari would never wear them as a Caelum. Her modesty was one of the things that had given her away as a True One worshipper. Staring at the pile, a wild thought entered my mind and I grinned.

  Thick, black smoke chugged from my bedchamber fireplace when Ari returned. She raced inside, her wide, bi-colored eyes making her look like an odd woodland creature. A giggle escaped, piercing the frantic haze gripping me, and I laughed until my ribs ached.

  Ari threw open the windows and grabbed pitchers of water from the galley. The fire hissed its death throes, and when the hysteria passed, I stared at the dense, smoldering heap of clothes. It was a charred, soggy mess. A sense of freedom hummed across my skin.

  Ari tugged at my arm, and I swatted her away, wiping watery eyes. “Just disposing of trash,” I said, my lips twitching.

  Her mouth compressed. Glancing at me speculatively, Ari’s gaze dropped to the leather tome on the floor. I smiled uneasily. Her eyes held questions I didn’t want to answer.

  Uncomfortable, I muttered, “I kept my favorite pieces.”

  She raised an eyebrow, giving me a hard look at the lie. Shaking her head, Ari cleaned the mess in the grate and, I asked her to take it somewhere I wouldn’t have to look at it. Her strange eyes fell to the tome again, and I refrained from hiding it beneath my dress. I didn’t want her reading the inscription, so I would dispose of it myself.

  I needed a distraction, and shopping was perfect. Grinning impishly, I said, “I need to go clothes shopping, so I’ll wait for you to take the trash out.”

  Ari’s shoulders slumped. I knew she hated shopping and couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. She gave me a mournful look as she left. I quickly tossed the leather tome haphazardly into my nightstand. I would throw it away later. Ari was too observant, and I didn’t want any unwanted questions or suspicions filtering into her mind.

  When Ari returned, I grimaced at the drab, stained uniform she wore. The color washes her out. Dark hair, different colored eyes, tan skin. Brown, brown, brown.

  “Do you know when your new uniforms will arrive?” I asked. Ari shook her head. Heaving a put-upon sigh, I ignored the nausea roiling in my stomach; forcefully pushing him from my mind as we prepared to leave.

  Chapter 7

  Ari

  WE FLEW PAST THE BRIGHT SHOPS of the Market District and the wooden stalls on the streets below. They all begged for the attention of passerby, their colors smearing like paint, but Maewyn flew toward a marble building with golden double doors. It was a high-end boutique in a part of the Main Holding undergoing renovation by Azoic Caelum.

  There were no winding stairs to the lush balcony; an indication Anomalies weren’t allowed on premises—the current trend. An engraved plaque displayed the boutique’s name: Splendour. A slender female wearing an intricately embro
idered gown and a bevy of bracelets exited the shop, her violet eyes warming when she saw Maewyn.

  Maewyn rushed toward her with outstretched arms, “You look wonderful, Castia!”

  Castia hugged Maewyn, her gaze filling with disdain when she spotted me over Maewyn’s wings. Her look traveled from the top of my short, springy hair to my plain uniform and scuffed boots. Releasing Castia, Maewyn turned to introduce her.

  “Ari, this is Castia Ambire. My cousin. Castia, this is Ari Laurel. My Tyro.”

  Castia’s brows shot up, and she met my gaze square-on, “You’re ugly. Just like the reports said.”

  I sent a questioning look toward Maewyn, ignoring the stinging barb. She smiled apologetically. “You’re the only Tyro I’ve had,” Maewyn explained, “But I didn’t say you were ugly. Just that your eyes are…different.”

  Castia missed the disgruntled expression Maewyn directed at her, and wrinkled her delicate nose at my appearance. Opening the boutique’s doors, Castia ushered Maewyn inside, letting the door slam shut and almost hit me in the face. I paused on the threshold, clenching my jaw against the anger surging forward at her attitude. True One, keep my fists idle, I thought with a growl.

  Distracting myself, I studied the stained-glass dome ceiling of the building. Each wide pane was a different color, bursting onto the marble floor in a rainbow. Flamboyant and risqué outfits for men and women were artfully arranged inside coordinated patches of light with bolts of cloth on racks behind them. Patrons meandered around displays with shop assistants chattering about current styles. Maewyn surveyed the store slowly, a small sigh escaping her lips.

  Castia grinned smugly, “This is the only family shop to have stained glass. It’s my joy. The High Lord has asked for my assistance with his personal designs.”

  I looked around the shop in surprise. Skies! I cursed. Maewyn’s family must be wealthier than I realized. It takes a lot of dosh to open a shop this close to the Aerie.

  “Really? You’ve been assigned—I mean—you’re helping the High Lord?” Maewyn said incredulously.

  “Would I lie to you, cousin?” Castia purred.

  “Only if it suited you,” Maewyn chuckled. She planted a soft kiss on both of Castia’s cheeks murmuring, “May power shift in our favor.”

  Castia returned the sentiment. “And stay there,” she said.

  She led Maewyn to a wooden stand in the middle of the shop among colorful displays. The carved stand rested in the domed ceilings central pane of natural light, creating a small halo around it. Wooden petals and leaves twisted around a large tome in the center that drew the eye.

  “This book contains every fashion trend, and when new designs are created, they’re meticulously recorded,” Castia said, carefully leafing through thick pages of parchment.

  Sketches lined page after page, crammed with notes and measurements. The books antiquity intrigued me, and I watched Maewyn lightly trace a stitched design. Her expression shifted innocently, and I raised my brows. Maewyn wanted something.

  “I’m hoping to perform at the Aerie for the Autumn Feyle,” Maewyn said, letting her words drift suggestively in the air.

  “Really?” Castia said haughtily, her expression speculative. She knew Maewyn wanted something too.

  “Can I get an invitation?” Maewyn said hopefully.

  Castia narrowed her eyes, “Why do you want to go?”

  Maewyn dropped the pretense, scoffing, “Why else? Heir Talon should be there. Surely it isn’t too difficult to ask the High Lord for one?”

  “Of course not! But when I meet High Lord Bera our conversations are …limited,” Castia smirked.

  She held out her wrists, displaying the flashing Rascette Cuffs among her bracelets. They wrapped around her wrists like vines, preventing conception outside of a Life-Bond. Maewyn’s face registered shock before she recovered with a huge smile.

  “Any chance of a Life-Bond?” Maewyn said.

  Castia’s smirk slipped, “Not yet. I’m working on it.”

  “And my father approves?”

  “Of course, anything to keep High Lord Bera’s attention. And I do mean anything,” Castia said suggestively.

  “Anything except conversation. Maybe my request is too difficult,” Maewyn said testily.

  “Nothing is too difficult for me,” Castia said haughtily.

  My eyes darted between them. Why is Maewyn angry that Castia has a Mate-Bond with the High Lord? It was a common practice among Aeolus worshippers. The Old Tradition of waiting to mate until after Life-Bonding was no longer valued in Summit. There was a definite ‘try it before you buy it’ mentality that went along with choosing a lifelong partner now.

  I gave Castia an assessing glance before shrugging. The inner workings of someone else’s family weren’t my business. Mine was complicated enough. Dead mother, abusive father, absent siblings… I shook my head, not wanting to start that line of thinking.

  Instead, I examined a fashion trend on a mannequin and frowned in distaste. The wisps of material held together with clasps could hardly be deemed an outfit. It was a tempting piece in more ways than one, but an image of me in it caused me to shudder. Too many personal areas made public.

  Maewyn pouted when Castia told her she would obtain an extra invitation in return for a favor, “We have family-ties, Castia. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  “Oh, it does, but not with business.”

  “Still learning at my father’s knee?”

  Castia laughed grimly, “No, your mother’s. Flesh, secrets, and dosh. All are acceptable forms of currency.”

  Uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, I edged toward the book on the stand. Intrigued by the stitched sketches, I traced one of the patterns. Castia’s hand whipped out, smacking mine.

  “Don’t touch that!” Castia hissed.

  Embarrassed, I shrunk back. A small cut appeared on my finger and I rubbed at the tiny, red welt. Castia stared at me, her gaze accusing.

  “Castia!” Maewyn admonished, stepping to my side.

  I lifted my chin. No matter what color my eyes were, treating me like an Anomaly was going too far. If I dropped my gaze, I’d be admitting Castia’s behavior was acceptable.

  Castia smiled through clenched teeth, “That tome is not for you. Ever.”

  Maewyn’s brow furrowed, “Castia, Ari will be a Caelum.”

  Castia snorted, “It’s shameful for you to have a Tyro without a Talent. Especially one that looks like her.” I flinched.

  “Ari has a Talent. It just hasn’t manifested yet. She’s full of possibilities,” Maewyn said, a dangerous chill to her voice. Surprised, I glanced at her. Full of possibilities?

  “Oh, Mae, don’t be so naïve,” Castia sneered, “She was pawned off on you because they didn’t know what else to do with her.”

  “Ascension assigned her to me, and Ari isn’t a topic of discussion. Family or not, don’t overstep your bounds. You don’t know anything about my life at Ascension, and I trust her. That should be enough merit for the Ambire family considering where my rise to Caelum put them,” Maewyn said.

  “Where you’ve put them? Mae, you haven’t done anything since Ascending to Caelum. The family is pushing me into the upper circles. I have a shop in the Main Holding and I caught the High Lord’s eye in half the time it took you to become Caelum,” Castia jeered.

  Her voice oozed with arrogance, making my skin prickle with repugnance. She’s selling herself to get her family into a better social position? I glanced at Maewyn’s unhappy face. Is that why Maewyn became a Caelum?

  Maewyn snapped, “Do you think you can keep High Lord Bera’s interest? He’s never had a Life-Bond! The only prestige you’ll have is laying on your ba—”

  The sharp slap of skin sang throughout the boutique.

  “How dare you say I’m a mere pretty bird, and the High Lord will cast me off when he’s done!” Castia said, her eyes glinting like steel.

  “Isn’t that a win-win situation, Cassie? Y
ou’re sure to be Life-Bonded into a High Family with the High Lord’s stamp of approval on you. Our family will finally get the title it wants so badly,” Maewyn sneered.

  Castia’s nostrils flared, “I’ll capture High Lord Bera’s heart. Just wait. Even if the High Lord casts me off it’s better than nothing—which is all you’ve accomplished.”

  “I’ve done everything expected of me,” Maewyn snapped, her skin flushing with rage.

  “Oh?” Castia’s eyes cooled and she scoffed, “You’ve done everything expected of you? I don’t think so.”

  Maewyn stilled, staring at Castia before murmuring quietly, “I shouldn’t have been told to Life-Bond with him after what he—” Maewyn stole a glance at me and corrected herself, “He was far too old for me to have a Life-Bond with, and father agreed it wouldn’t be beneficial to the family if the Life-Bond pulled me into death with Greerson once he dies. And believe me, I would want to die by that point. Besides, I want a Life-Bond formed from love. We’ve seen the tragedies that occur otherwise.”

  Castia crossed her arms, glaring, “You’ve gone soft in your life away from the family, Mae. Love is what kills people when they Life-Bond, and there’s no room for it if you’re going to survive.”

  I shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two beautiful women. I used to wistfully dream of being pretty, but maybe my path would have been different if I’d been attractive. For the first time, I wondered if beauty had a price I didn’t know about.

  Father could have forced me into a Life-Bond just to get rid of me. The thought made me shiver with dread. Maybe I should be grateful to be ugly. Perhaps the True One gave me a gold-colored eye to spare me from a loveless fate. It was an interesting notion for something I often viewed as a curse.

  Castia’s violet eyes bored into Maewyn challengingly, “You’ve always been the Ambire pet with your unique silver hair but not anymore. Your father is putting his confidence in me. If you want peace about Caelum Greerson, you’d better pray to Aeolus we succeed with our assignments. Otherwise, they won’t let you walk out of that dais intact. They’ll cut Life-Bond lines into your hands themselves—no matter who it’s to.”