Orphan's Blade

by Aubrie Dionne

  * * * *

  Nathaniel tried not to look at the faces of the undead he slayed or think of how they were once people, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, friends. He’d lost his army in the endless tide, and he felt like the lone survivor of the end of the world. His arms ached from slashing through the bodies, yet they came with fresh vengeance. They did not tire nor falter, not even when he cut off a limb.

  A body of a woman in a red dress hurtled toward him. She blinked out of existence, then back in again five feet closer and snapped at his face. He fell back, raising his sword as she leapt on top of him. The blade cut through her stomach. She kept snapping as she slid down his blade toward him.

  She would have been beautiful once, without the clumps of mold growing on her cheeks or the dark circles around her eyes.

  An arrow hit her head with a thump and she dropped unmoving on top of him. Nathaniel glanced up to see Flip standing on a carriage above him. He offered his hand. “Get to higher ground.”

  Undead swarmed the city, pounding and scraping on doors and breaking through windows. The army had retreated to the buildings around them, staunching the flow as it eddied around them. If he took the boy’s hand, they’d be stranded, but at least he’d be alive.

  Nathaniel grabbed Flip’s hand, and he hauled him up to the top of the carriage. Undead climbed from all sides, and they scrambled to kick their hands off. The carriage rocked underneath them with the flow of the horde all around it.

  Flip wiped sweat from his brow. “I only have three arrows left.”

  “Save them.” Nathaniel didn’t have the heart to add for ourselves. Instead, he glanced at Flip and smiled with irony. “Are you still glad you chose to come?”

  Flip shrugged and laughed. “At least I had a good meal.”

  “Was it that delicious?” Nathaniel kicked at a man’s thick white fingers as he clung to the carriage top. He prayed Valoria had reached safety. If only he could have saved her. If only he could have saved them all.

  Flip used the end of his bow to whack an undead from the back of the carriage. “’Til the last bite.”

  * * * *

  Valoria knelt on the side of a bed. Her mother lay before her unmoving. She cried, holding her mother’s hand against her cheek. The skin was warm and soft, smelling like freshly baked bread and lavender. Her mother’s eyes opened suddenly. They were violet, unlike her own silver eyes, or those of her father. She stared accusingly. “You left me here to die. You’re just like your father. You love him more.”

  A whimper caught in Valoria’s throat. She’d always favored her father, and the guilt thickened on top of her like a blanket, suffocating her until she fought for tiny breaths.

  Her mother smiled, but it was cruel. “You have failed him.”

  One of the undead reached out to Sybil’s horse, and the beast tumbled to the ground. Sybil crawled from underneath the weight, her leg bent at a crippling angle. Undead closed in, snapping their teeth.

  No. Valoria fought against the vision. Her mother had always scared her. She’d be kind, and then change in a heartbeat, throwing words like daggers. She’d resented Valoria because her father loved his daughter but not his wife. Valoria had buried that truth deep within her. But now she faced the spitefulness of it for what it was, and it did not have power over her anymore.

  An undead man with an arm hanging by a few tendons snapped at Sybil, tearing flesh from her wrinkled hand and sealing her fate.

  Valoria pushed the vision of her mother away and clapped her hands, sending the undead sprawling around Sybil as she crawled toward the necromancer.

  Valoria turned all of her will on the necromancer. “Now you shall see.”

  The necromancer dropped his hands at his sides as Sybil approached. The figure, black as night, bowed to the vison of pale white. All at once, he lost his hold on Valoria, and the evil trickled from her body, leaving her shattered and weak.

  The old woman reached to her lost love with the hand bitten by the undead. Black spread through her fingers down her arm. They had seconds together, if that.

  The necromancer reached down and took her hand, and all of the undead stilled as if they were puppets with no strings. Black met white, and Sybil and the necromancer melted into each other. With a flash of light, they blinked out of existence and were gone.

  The horde crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

  It was done.

  Valoria collapsed to her knees and closed her eyes, praying to Lyric that Sybil and her love were finally together and free.

  Chapter 32

  Aftermath

  Pounding came from the door behind her. Valoria crawled to the door. It took all of her strength to stand and lift the lock from its hinges.

  Echo burst in. “Lyric’s last breath!” Echo ran toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “You’re alive.”

  “Mostly.” Exhaustion threatened to knock her to her knees, so she leaned against the old man and held him close. “The others?”

  “Cadence sealed herself in the inner keep.” Echo smoothed over her hair. “I thought I’d lost you to the necromancer’s magic.”

  “You almost did.” She pulled herself back to look in his eyes. “What about Brax and the queen?”

  “Both are accounted for.” Echo hefted her toward the door. “Now we should get you to your bed for some rest.”

  “And Nathaniel?” Her heart stopped.

  “They are still looking.”

  Panic surged inside her until she couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean?”

  “He’d been separated from his squadron.”

  She pulled away from him and straightened with new determination. “Where?”

  “They last saw him at the back gate.”

  “The back gate?” The last she’d seen, it had been swarming with undead.

  Valoria pushed by her old music teacher. Her knees wobbled, and she ignored them, hurling herself at the door.

  “Where are you headed?” Echo shouted after her.

  She didn’t stay to answer.

  Valoria had to climb over undead to reach the thoroughfare leading to the back gate. So many had died. How could she begin to hope the one man she cared for had been spared?

  “Nathaniel!” She shouted, scanning the piles of bodies. She imagined his familiar head of brown hair among the debris. Horror knocked her over, and she had to pick herself back up again to continue. If he was here, she’d rather know. She’d rather find him and lay eyes on his face one last time.

  She climbed her way to the back gate, where a single carriage stood amidst the bodies as if the horses had abandoned it mid-trip. Two pairs of boots lay on top.

  Valoria climbed on top and fell to her knees when she saw him. Nathaniel lay with the red-haired young man from the raiders. Hope and fear intertwined, Valoria crawled beside him. She examined his arms and legs for bites, but could find nothing piercing the armor. She placed both of her hands on his face. “Nathaniel, Nathaniel wake up.”

  His eyes fluttered open. “Valoria? What are you doing here?”

  “The undead are defeated.” Valoria propped his head up with her palm. “Ebonvale is safe.”

  “Or what’s left of it.” The young man sat up beside them and shook his head. “And I was about to stick an arrow through my own heart.”

  Valoria stared at him in shock.

  He ran his hands through his curly red hair. “I fought for Ebonvale and all that. So now, where can I find a decent dinner?”

  Valoria pointed to the castle. “There’ll be medics there as well.”

  “I don’t need a medic. I need a roasted chicken.” He jumped off the carriage and picked his way through the undead.

  Valoria turned back to Nathaniel. He studied her face as if it was the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen. “Brax and the queen?”

  “They are safe.” She offered her hand. “Come, let me get you to the castle.”

  �
��You should be with them, not with me.” Nathaniel plopped his head back down on the carriage.

  Valoria paused. Should she tell him what Brax said? He had a love, as the mermaids had proven, but was it Blanca?

  She’d confronted her inmost fear, beat the necromancer, and climbed over a sea of undead. She had enough courage to tell him the truth.

  “Brax does not want my company.”

  Nathaniel waved her off. “Give him time.”

  “That’s just it.” Valoria tried to think of a polite way to say Brax had denied her. “He does not want time.”

  Nathaniel perked up, raising both eyebrows. “So what does he want?”

  “For me to be free. He called off the wedding.” She thought she would have been embarrassed, but to speak it brought her relief.

  Nathaniel’s eyes widened in shock. “Free?”

  She nodded.

  “You mean you are not to be married?” He sat up and blinked, wiping dust from his eyes as if he wasn’t seeing the world correctly.

  “Not to a prince of Ebonvale.” She smiled. “Unless, there’s someone else who’d want me—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Nathaniel rose and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her so fiercely, she fell back and he fell on top of her. They laughed, and he kissed her again, running his hands through her hair, then along her neck and down to her waist.

  Valoria ignited under his touch. He tasted of sweet passion, and she opened her mouth, kissing him deeper, wanting more. She ran her hands through his hair, just like she’d dreamed of doing so many times and pulled him down against her, thinking she’d never release him again.

  Epilogue

  Valoria took her father’s hand. Sparrows chirped from above as they walked through the sparkling chains of dust motes hanging from the bluewood pines. A crowd sat in white chairs in a meadow beside the domed House of Song. Cadence sat in the back row, followed by Echo, and the other music teachers in the village. On the other side, the queen of Ebonvale sat with Brax and members of the Royal Guard. Finally, the houses would be united.

  Nathaniel stood at the end of the aisle dressed in the blue robes of the House of Song. His brown hair had been pulled back, showing his sharp features. He caught her gaze and smiled, intensity burning in his eyes.

  “Shall we?” Valorian glanced down at her and squeezed her arm. Gray streaked his long hair, but his silver eyes shone strong as ever. This was the first time he’d have to face Danika Rubystone, and he’d accepted the challenge with courage.

  “Are you proud of me, Father?” Valoria hesitated. This was not what he’d wanted. The houses would be united, but not by blood.

  “More proud than any father in the land. We do our best, and the Thoridians have always been stubborn in their ways. Thank Lyric for Nathaniel.”

  “Yes, he is wonderful, isn’t he?” Valoria smiled, catching Nathaniel’s gaze once again.

  They stepped forward, and ten harpists fanned out around the party brought their fingers to the strings in glorious glissandos. For once, Valoria was content not to play with them. She had better things to do.

  They approached Nathaniel, and Valorian placed a kiss on her cheek. He turned to Nathaniel and held out an emerald pendant framed in gold. The pendant dangled, catching the rays of sunshine. On the back was the royal crest of the House of Song, a lyrebird. “I gave you this once, a long time ago, when you were a boy.”

  “I remember.” Nathaniel nodded with deep respect. “You handed it to me to distract me so I’d hide in the carriage while the kobolds attacked. You told me it is held by the prince and rightful heir to the House of Song.”

  “I did.” Valorian smiled. “I was sorry to have to take it back. I’d wanted you to keep it then, and I am more than proud to give it to you now.”

  Nathaniel took the pendant and hung it from his neck. “I shall treasure it, and Valoria, always.”

  Meet the Author

  Aubrie Dionne is an author and flutist in New England. Her books have received the highest ratings from Romance Times Magazine and BTS Magazine, as well as Night Owl Reviews and Readers’ Favorite Reviews. She has guest blogged on the USA Today Happy Ever After Blog and the Dear Teen Me blog and signed books at the Boston Book Festival, Barnes and Noble, and the Romance Writers of America conference. Her books are published by HarperImpulse, Entangled Publishing, Astraea Press, Spencer Hill Press, Inkspell Publishing, and Lyrical Press. When she's not writing, Aubrie teaches flute and plays in orchestras.

  In case you missed it, keep reading for a sample of Danika and Bron’s story:

  MINSTREL’S SERENADE

  The Chronicles of Ebonvale, Book One

  He’s sworn to protect her, but can he save her from himself?

  Danika Rubystone has hated the minstrels ever since her mother ran away with one. As Princess, she’s duty bound to marry Valorian, a minstrel from the House of Song. But problems in the kingdom are mounting. With her father dead, she’s the sole heir to an imperiled throne, and wyverns attack Ebonvale’s southern shores. But after Danika finds a lone survivor of a wyvern’s attack who holds the key to protecting the kingdom and she finally meets the enchantingly sly Valorian, everything changes.

  As Ebonvale’s Royal Guard sails with the minstrels to smite the uprising of wyverns, Danika dances a line between sticking by duty like her father, or following her wild heart like her mother.

  A Lyrical e-book available now.

  Learn more about Aubrie at

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/30585

  Chapter 1

  Fire’s Mark

  “No lady should see what evil lies beyond the ridge.” Bron blocked the exit of the carriage with a great wall of muscle, sweat and dark skin. Plumes of smoke rose like great fingers brushing the sky behind his broad shoulders.

  Danika focused on the strength in his dark eyes. “Nonsense. Every ruler must bear witness to the devastation afflicting her people so she can make the right decisions to protect her kingdom.”

  Bron's stance didn’t change.

  She narrowed her eyes; bodyguard or not, he had to follow her orders. She could force him to let her pass, but, maybe this one time she’d play his game. “So she can enact the most deserving form of revenge.”

  “That's more like it.” Bron smiled, thick lips curving. “Spoken like a true warrior.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere. Let me through.”

  He sighed with a gentle rise and fall of his broad chest, ran his hand over his shaved head, and stepped aside. “If you insist, Princess.”

  She placed her fingers in his war-hardened hand and allowed him to guide her to the blackened earth. The air stank of soot and ash, searing her eyes and the smooth skin on her cheeks. She blinked through the wave of heat and summoned her courage. “Show me the site of the greatest devastation.”

  “As you wish, Princess. The smoke spooks the horses, so we’ll have to trek up the cliff on foot.”

  “Walking doesn’t frighten me.” She’d worn her thigh-high riding boots underneath her damask underskirt for such an occasion. She ripped the top layer of silks off, revealing the same leather leggings warriors wore under their tunics.

  Bron averted his eyes. When his gaze returned to her, he seemed to appraise her with newfound interest.

  She stashed the frills in the carriage, hiding the burning flush in her cheeks. Surely the heat had raised her temperature. She refused to blame Bron’s attention. “Lead me to Shaletown.”

  “Or what’s left of it.”

  Bron picked his way through charred trunks, presenting his hand whenever the footing grew treacherous. Although the ground steamed and the soles of her feet burned, she made her way on her own, refusing his offers. As the new ruler of Ebonvale, she had to show strength in a time when fear spread like the plague of the dead.

  They crested the ridge and she covered her mouth with her sleeve. The blackened village lay before t
hem as dead man’s land. People had walked the cobblestones that morning going about their everyday business, unaware of the impending devastation. Anger boiled inside her, followed by a black void of loss sucking her dry.

  Danika cleared her parched throat. “Has anyone searched for survivors?”

  She knew the answer before Bron opened his mouth.

  “No, my lady. The clouds from the blaze obscure the sky and the wyverns may still hover, waiting for stragglers. Besides, the chance of any surviving such devastation…”

  She scanned the remains from her raven perch, balancing her boot on the stump of a sizzled tree. The brick foundation of a tavern stood without its thatched roof or bluewood walls. Black stains streaked across the town square where the fire’s breath licked its way through. Skeletons littered the ash, their black-splotched finger bones grasping through the soot to seek salvation. This kingdom belonged to her now, and she couldn’t let the provinces fall to ruin because of a swarm of vermin from the south.

  Her heart raced as ire shot up through her chest, splitting her apart. “How could they destroy innocent people?”

  “They’re beasts, Your Highness. There’s no logical reasoning to their onslaught.”

  “But we’ve stayed clear of Scalehaven. Unless something lured them to our lands?”

  Bron shrugged as if the wyverns’ attack were inevitable. “The beasts’ population brims with hatchlings. Scouts have reported the yearlings as far north as Brimmore’s Bay.” His voice danced, careful and light, as if he wanted to protect her from the truth.

  She ran her mother’s satin scarf across her blistering forehead. Sweat stained the pink fabric red. “My father would know what to do.”