Fist of the Furor

by R. K. Ryals

  It put me on edge, my gaze searching the shadowy hallways as we moved downstairs. Ryon followed us, his face grim and his jaw set. It was a sober day for a wedding. Even the sky seemed reluctant to celebrate. It was grey; low hanging clouds thick and full of moisture. The wind was sharp, leaving a tang of salt on the tongue.

  “This seems wrong,” Maeve mumbled as she joined us, a guard I didn’t know at her back.

  It wasn’t long before Daegan fell in step, Lochlen shadowing him. All of us wore green. We were in the minority in a sea of blue, lavender, and scarlet. Mothelamew’s words from the ball the night before haunted my steps. Sometimes what seems like a brilliant idea is often one of folly.

  Eerie silence filled the banquet halls. Noblemen in stunning tunics, and women in beautiful dresses and gauzy headpieces full of jewels, lined the marble floors. Their fingers, ears, and necks were covered in valuable baubles. The bell in the village beyond the palace continued to clang. The scene was too sober for a wedding.

  “Something isn’t right,” Daegan breathed.

  With sad eyes, Reenah glanced at us, her hands gesturing at the Hall of Light. There, inside the dim room, the grey clouds hovering over the glass ceiling, stood Cadeyrn. He wore a simple white tunic with a blue overcoat, emblazoned with a falcon. His leather breeches were black, his long mahogany hair pulled back by a leather thong. My half-brother, Gryphon, and the heir, Arien, stood next to him, their attire similar to Cadeyrn’s, their eyes downcast. The king and queen stood before them on the throne, their eyes on the entrance.

  My gaze followed theirs to find Catriona and Gabriella, both of them resplendent in dresses that represented their cultures. Princess Catriona wore red, her fiery hair pulled up on top of her head and fastened by a gauzy scarlet scarf that fell over her face. Her crimson dress was covered in gold spherical designs, each one circling another all the way down to the hem. Around her neck, she wore a gold filigree necklace made of four globular knots.

  Beside her, Princess Gabriella shone in a deep violet gown covered in silver beading. She wore her hair down, a silver tiara full of amethysts resting on the crown of her head. A simple amethyst sat nestled between her breasts. But it was the purple cloak attached to her dress that drew the eye. Down the back of the satin ran the image of a swan in silver beadwork. It was the crest of the Greemallian monarchy.

  Together, the women stepped forward, stepping lightly, their faces even as they glided to the throne.

  My fingers found Reenah’s sleeve. “But the wedding … I thought it wasn’t until midday.”

  Reenah exhaled. “That is the announcement, but for the princesses’ safety, the announcement was false. A wedding open to the public is fraught with too much danger for anyone associated with Prince Cadeyrn.”

  My hand found my stomach, my fingers clenching the green satin that covered it. The princesses moved past, each of them glancing at us. Their steps faltered, and I realized they’d caught a glimpse of the silver pendant hanging around my neck. Momentary surprise flitted across Catriona’s gauze-covered face before her attention snapped back to the throne. Gabriella’s jaw tightened in anger.

  I started to reach for the silver chain, but Lochlen’s hand suddenly covered mine. “Don’t,” he muttered. “Leave it.”

  The procession continued, the princesses coming to a stop before the dais. They knelt, their heads bowed. King Freemont’s gaze swept the room before drawing his sword. With simple, elegant movements, he let the broad side of the gleaming weapon hover carefully above each of the women’s heads before stepping back. A holy man from Henderonia replaced him, his scarlet silk tunic the color of dark blood in the dim room.

  Servants moved silently, lighting globes full of the murky liquid Sadeemia seemed famous for. Lamp oil. Before long, flames flickered inside the glass casements. In the distance, thunder rumbled, an ominous sound that mingled with the clanging bell from the village temple.

  “It’s like attending a funeral,” Maeve whispered.

  Her fingers found mine, and our hands clasped. Chills ran down my spine. Daegan moved closer, his looming figure shadowing us as his hands found the small of our backs. I didn’t check to see if Lochlen remained near. The dragon would observe any way he chose to observe, his eerie eyes taking in everything.

  “Trouble,” the trees sang, their rough voice mingling with the thunder. Mothelamew’s warning echoed. Sometimes what seems like a brilliant idea is often one of folly.

  Inhaling sharply, I whispered, “He can’t do this.”

  Oran dug himself against my skirts. “Don’t, Phoenix. It’s the only way. As wrong as it feels right now, this is the only way. We have a war to fight, and Sadeemia has two allied countries to appease. It is the only way.”

  I glanced down at the wolf, my eyes meeting his black pupils before moving to the throne, my free hand digging ever deeper into the satin covering my abdomen.

  Maeve leaned toward me. “Are you okay, Stone?”

  Prince Cadeyrn looked up, his gaze catching mine before sliding to the silver pendant encircling my neck. A corner of his lips twitched, his eyes finding mine once more. There was something in his gaze, a deep understanding I couldn’t discern.

  My nails bit through the dress’s fabric. Swallowing hard, I tore my gaze away from the prince just as his gaze dropped to my stomach.

  The trees whispered, but instead of ominous words, it sounded like rough sobbing. They wept, their cries filling my frame and causing my breath to hitch.

  “Stone?” Daegan breathed. His hand tightened on my back.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

  Maeve’s hand clenched mine. “It feels wrong.”

  The Henderonian holy man was speaking now, his hands lifted to the small crowd. I could only assume these nobles were trusted men and women of the king and the princesses. Strange words floated on the air. I spoke many languages, but Henderonian wasn’t one of them.

  “He’s binding them to each other and to their gods,” Reenah spoke quietly next to us. I glanced at her, and she smiled. “It is a simple ceremony. The Henderonians do not have lavish weddings. Their extravagant gatherings are reserved for holy days.” More strange words were spoken, and Reenah’s hand suddenly covered mine on my stomach, her fingers gently prying mine loose. “It is done.”

  The nobles filed from the hall toward a grand dining room reserved for guests. The smell of sumptuous foods filtered through the area.

  “We will feast all day,” Reenah announced.

  At the front of the Hall of Light, Cadeyrn led the princesses away from the dais to a doorway leading to a back stairwell. Men and women followed them, including the holy man.

  “They’ll each be taken upstairs to separate rooms,” Reenah explained. “And then Cadeyrn will be expected to visit each of them under the watchful eye of Henderonia’s hallowed brother of the gods.”

  Maeve gasped.

  Reenah glanced at her. “It is important for royal alliances that newlyweds make love in front of witnesses. It seals contracts and promises the possibility of children, of heirs.”

  Above the glass ceiling, lightning flashed, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Beyond the castle walls, the trees continued to weep, the sound echoed by the clanging Serenity Bell. Maybe the people of Sadeemia were right. Maybe it was wrong for the prince to turn his back on his gods.

  Lochlen stepped between me and the sight of Cadeyrn’s disappearing back.

  “Come,” Reenah insisted. “The couples will return after the consummation to imbibe in the feast.”

  We followed the smell of food, Maeve and Daegan tugging me after them. Lochlen watched my face, his reptilian gaze unreadable. The wedding had sealed a strong alliance between Sadeemia and two countries. It ensured us men in our quest against Raemon, but as I caught a final glance of Cadeyrn’s blue surcoat, I suddenly didn’t care. The prince was my friend, a deep friendship that could never be more.

  Chapter 9

  There was an overindulg
ence of food and an excessive amount of drinking. The hall was full of belching, quarreling dignitaries with complaints and opinions that would never be addressed. The king sat at the head of the table, his eyes roaming the crowd before rising abruptly. His departure caused a momentary lull in conversation, eyes tracking him as he strolled to his throne in the Hall of Light. I watched as he sat, his eyes on the main stairwell just beyond the hall. Princess Gabriella had returned moments before, her dress and hair as perfectly immaculate as when she’d left. She didn’t smile, but she whispered with her ladies, a smug expression on her face.

  “It’s strange, don’t you think?” Maeve asked, her eyes on the princess. “I mean, we’re just sitting here eating while the prince is … well, you know.”

  Daegan speared a piece of roasted meat with his knife and snorted. “I don’t know what else you expected. It’s royals after all.”

  Oran sighed at my feet. “I don’t understand all of the fuss. Animals don’t even need bedrooms.”

  I would have laughed if it had been anyone other than Cadeyrn. Somehow laughter didn’t seem right. It had been almost seven months since I’d lost Kye. The pain still ate at me. Cadeyrn had understood that. He’d helped me through the worst of the grief, and he was giving my people his support, aiding us in a war that was prophesied to kill him.

  My gaze stayed locked on the king, on the way he massaged his temples when he thought no one was looking.

  My appetite was gone. “I’m finished.”

  Standing, I pushed away from the table, ignoring Maeve and Daegan’s stares. Lochlen reclined, his fingers steepled, his gaze following me as I moved into the Hall of Light. Ryon and Oran shadowed me, but they kept their distance. The attention the nobles gave me felt like a heavy weight on my back.

  The king stiffened, his eyes on my approaching figure. “I am not attending questions.”

  My gaze raked his bearded face. “I can help the headaches, sire.”

  My offer of help wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, and a fleeting look of surprise slid across his features quickly replaced by a scowl. “You intrude, rebel.”

  Shrugging, I stepped forward, fully aware of the king’s personal guard standing post behind the throne, their silent, emotionless faces alert.

  “I can fix it, Your Majesty. It isn’t much, and I’m not sure if I can keep them away, but I can help.”

  The king’s eyes lifted, locking on something over my shoulder. By the commotion in the dining hall, I knew Prince Cadeyrn and Princess Catriona had returned. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t remained at the table.

  “Your headaches, sire?” I asked.

  The king’s gaze met mine. “You can really help them?”

  I nodded. “It’s part of my gift.”

  Lifting my hands, I started to reach for the king, but was stopped short when his guards reached for their weapons.

  Freemont waved them away. “Stand down. Let the girl approach me.” His gaze swept my face. “I don’t agree with my son, you know. You disturb me.”

  In the end, I didn’t touch him. My hands stopped just short of his head, my power reaching for him. My palms burned.

  “Because of the prophecy?” I asked.

  I swept my hands over the top of his head, pausing when the burning in my palms intensified. I wasn’t sure what caused his headaches, but whatever it was, my magic had located it. Concentrating, I poured power down through my hands while calling on Silveet and the forest. They answered.

  “Partly,” the king replied. Sweat beaded up along his brow, his eyes widening. His guards grew anxious. “It’s said you will bring darkness to our family.”

  The burning in my hands lessened, fatigue working its way down into my limbs. I fought the urge to yawn. “Darkness has already found you, Your Majesty. Your cousin, Raemon, would have come for you whether I existed or not.”

  Exhaling, the king sat back, his jaw slack, relief evident on his face. My hands fell away.

  “Incredible,” he breathed. His gaze found mine. “There was something wrong with me, wasn’t there? I feel … lighter.”

  I glanced at the floor. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve healed life threatening wounds before, but I’m not sure how it works. I don’t know the power’s limits.”

  Freemont watched me. “You’re a naïve one, girl. Tested by war, I can see that, but still naïve. War steals from people,” his gaze fell on the dining hall just beyond the throne room, “but circumstance can completely rob them of life.”

  Standing, the king left his throne, the breeze from his sudden departure fanning my face. There was renewed vigor in his step. Exhaustion weighed me down.

  Cautiously, Ryon approached me. “Are you okay?”

  Waving him off, I straightened, my back stiff. I’d known what healing the king would mean. The first time I’d ever healed someone with a dire wound, I’d blacked out, overcome by pain. Kye’s pain. The second time he’d been injured, there’d been nothing I could do to save him.

  Oran’s fur met my palm just as the trees screamed, “Trouble!”

  I tensed, my eyes going wide. “Oran,” I breathed. The wolf growled. Even exhausted, my fingers flexed, ready to go for the dagger on my thigh.

  There was a yell, a chorus of high-pitched female screams. There were overturned plates and breaking glass in the room beyond.

  “Rodents,” a man cried, disgusted.

  I turned just in time to find a drunken lord stumbling on the marble floor, his hand going for his sword, his eyes narrowed. Thomas the mouse scurried toward me.

  “Kill it!” a frenzied female voice yelled.

  The mouse jumped, his small body quivering as he ran. I wasn’t sure if it was possible for a mouse to look terrified, but this one did. It made my heart clench, and I stepped into the hall before lifting the hem of my skirt in welcome. To kill the mouse, they’d have to undress me. Although, by the reddened, drunken gazes, I wasn’t sure the nobles would find that unwelcome.

  “Talk to me, Thomas,” I hissed as he drew nearer.

  He squeaked, “Traitors, my Queen! There are traitors in the palace!” He skidded under my skirt, and I dropped the hem. The room suddenly filled with outraged cries, a horde of noble men forced to stop chasing the creature, their chests heaving.

  “If you’ll just move aside, m’lady,” one man panted, “we’ll be rid of the rodent.”

  I smiled. “Oh, I rather like the creature. I doubt he’ll cause me any harm.”

  The men scoffed. Behind them, Gabriella swore, “She’s unnatural! She protects pests now? Pests! They carry disease, Your Majesty. You must not allow it!”

  Prince Cadeyrn stood, his large frame rising above the rest of the men in the room. The only sign of his earlier absence was his hair. It was down now, unbound. It emphasized his sharp features and vivid blue eyes.

  “Where are the traitors?” I hissed, my voice low enough only Thomas and Oran could hear.

  Thomas circled my feet. My jaw clenched. I was the protector of creatures I’d once climbed onto chairs to avoid. It was something to get used to.

  “Stop moving,” I ordered.

  The mouse stilled. “They’ve plans to kidnap the heir, my Queen.”

  I froze, my blood going cold, my body going numb.

  “Thomas,” I said slowly, “do you mean Prince Arien?”

  The mouse squeaked, “No, my Queen, the other heir.”

  I had my dagger in my hand, the scandal be damned, and was moving toward the stairs before the guards had time to react. Oran bounded after me.

  There was shouting below, firm orders and harried exclamations as Prince Cadeyrn leapt up the stairwell, his sword drawn. Lochlen, Maeve, Daegan, Gryphon, and Madden trailed us.

  My hand found Cadeyrn’s arm as I ran, my fingers digging into his skin. “Your nephew?” I asked. “Where is he kept?”

  Cadeyrn roared, “To the nursery!”

  The royal guards gasped. A distraught female scream rose from below, and I knew th
e Princess of Yorbrook had heard his cry. Her son was in danger.

  Chapter 10

  “Cover the hallways!” Cadeyrn ordered, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. His eyes searched the dim corridors, made dimmer by the threat of rain outside the palace.

  We’d reached the landing of a floor I’d never visited before. It was even more opulent than the level my room was located on. Rich tapestries and expensive portraits lined the marble walls. Grand Henderonian furniture perched in comfortable alcoves, and the smell of incense from Guarda overwhelmed the senses. In the distance, a baby cried.

  Still clinging to my shoes, Thomas slid out from beneath my skirt, and I glanced down at the mouse.

  “Go,” I commanded. “Find out what’s happening.”

  He scurried away, the guards watching him apprehensively. I’d yet to remove my free hand from Cadeyrn’s arm, and his palm suddenly covered my fingers.

  “What has the mouse told you?” he asked.

  I glanced up at him. “There are foreign traitors in the palace. They aren’t Henderonian or Greemallian, but he was unable to determine from where they hail. They intend to kidnap the heir to the throne.”

  The guards hissed, their lips thinning and their narrowed eyes searching the passage. A young page huffed up the stairs behind us, his face red and frightened.

  “You ordered weapons, sire?” he panted, his head inclined.

  On his thin shoulders, the boy hefted three sword belts, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. The prince must have sent the boy for the weapons as soon as he’d seen me going for the stairs.

  Cadeyrn nodded at the rebels. I took the bow while Maeve, Daegan, and Lochlen each grasped a sword. For the second time since I’d come to the palace, I destroyed a dress, my dagger digging into the green satin covering my legs, the sharp blade leaving a slit from my ankles to my thighs on either side. It left skin exposed, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Handing the dagger hilt first to Maeve, I watched as she did the same, her expression grave.