Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2)

by JK Ensley

  Blessed by Sapphires

  “One cannot determine the outcome of any encounter. Every mêlée, no matter how small, has the potential to stir up a hornet’s nest. Don’t take up arms over every little thing. Make your thrusts count, land the blows that matter. Make a difference in this world without making it worse in another way. Balance—it must be accomplished before harmony can be achieved. Carve these words on your hearts. Choose your battles wisely, Brothers and Sisters.”

  JK Ensley

  Blessed

  by

  Sapphires

  Book Two of

  A Dance with Destiny

  JK Ensley

  I am Jenevier Olesia Embarr. Healer by rights, killer by choice.

  This is neither the beginning of my story, nor the end.

  Copyright© 2013 by Jennifer Ensley

  Blessed by Sapphires is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance, similarity, or identification to actual persons, living or dead, events, products or locales is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

  Artwork by Claudia McKinney. http://www.phatpuppyart.com and stock purchased from http://shutterstock.com

  Cover Design by Ashley Dungan, The Bookish Brunette. http://www.bookish-brunette.com

  Editing by Toni Rakestraw. http://www.rakestrawbookdesign.com

  Formatting by Jennifer Ensley. http://www.JKEnsley.com

  Proofing by Mel Carey and Linda Ingle.

  All rights are reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form, including but not limited to, characters, text, book design, cover work and artwork all owned solely by Jennifer K. Ensley. Any unauthorized duplication and/or distribution of this work, characters, places, and story in whole or in part may result in civil liability and criminal prosecution.

  Download entire series here.

  For my son, Christian, whom after years of telling me how weird I am, finally convinced me. I caved in and embraced it. Stay true to yourself, Son. Forge your own path. I’ll be waiting for your return. Your journey may be a long one, but imagine all the amazing stories you’ll have to tell. Dum vivimus vivamus…While we live, let us live.

  And to my beloved parents… I have not the words. Tears will have to suffice in expressing how much you mean to me. Never has any daughter known such love and support. I humbly kneel at your feet, always.

  Gratitude!!!

  All works by JK Ensley are available in the following formats.

  Print at Amazon.com, Createspace.com, and wherever books are sold.

  eBook available in all ereader formats.

  Audio book available through Audible.com, Amazon.com, and iTunes.

  Also by JK Ensley

  A Dance with Destiny:

  Cursed by Diamonds

  Download entire series here.

  “One doesn’t have to go in search of evil as per a quest or mission. The journey is a short one. For if a person simply removes their goodness, evil will find them easily enough. Darkness wasn’t created; it is the absence of light. A being cannot spread darkness… they need only remove the light.”

  ~ Jenevier

  Chapter Prologue

  “A discarded Princess will knock upon our door.”

  “Oh, thank the goddess. Will she arrive before Beltane?”

  “That, I cannot see, Larie. Yet, she is meant to be the treasure long awaited.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “When I look upon her, calmness and peace wash over my essence.”

  “So she is the one.” Excitement lit up her face. “Will we finally be blessed with perfection?”

  “She must be the one, the one chosen from the beginning, for I can see nothing but love and harmony covering the whole of Praetoria following her blessed arrival.”

  “At last, after a thousand years, we’ll finally please the goddess and receive our just rewards.” She collapsed unto her knees, breathing a deep sigh of relief. “I’ve only ever dared to dream this would happen within my lifetime.”

  “As have we all, child, as have we all.”

  “Pray, tell me. What does the chosen one look like? What color is her skin? Her hair? Her eyes? I must needs know for whom to look.”

  “Fret not, Larie. You’ll know her minus those trivial things. What your eyes see will be but a ruse. The treasure lies within, hidden from mortal view.”

  She furrowed her brow, apprehension replacing some of her previous joy. “Then how will I know her? How can I be sure?”

  “Don’t concern yourself with the hows and whys, my child. Have faith that what will be, will be.” He leaned forward and knowingly patted her arm. “She will come to you, Larie. She’ll trust you almost immediately.”

  “You have seen this?”

  “Yes, I have. She will very nearly love you before the end.”

  Happy tears burned her eyes. “I tremble at the thought.”

  “Take heed, Larie, for you will very nearly love her as well.” His eyes narrowed as he imparted the warning he had envisioned. “She’s a beautiful trap, a delicious poison. She is a deadly enchantment, my child, one you cannot easily look away from.”

  “What’re you saying, Oracle? Is she to be feared?”

  “Perhaps. Yet, you won’t be able to. She will not harm you, Larie. She’ll love the night people. Fear will be the farthest thing from your mind. You’ll only want to hold her, comfort her. She’ll need you, Larie. You will be to her as a calm place amidst a battlefield.”

  “Will you know when she nears?”

  “I cannot tell. She is as water. I know not where she flows… she knows not where she flows.”

  *****

  “Sire, what will you have us do?”

  “Hold, that’s what I’ll have you do. Move not until I command it. She can cease the very beat of your heart. She can cause your lungs to forget their purpose. Move not against her. This maiden is for me alone.”

  “Emperor, draw not swords with a witch. They don’t fight with honor.”

  “She is no witch, Yui. She’s an Angel.”

  “Sire, Angels don’t exist.” The young man narrowed his eyes and looked to his liege, skeptically. “Only the old ones of Jinn can wield powers like those you speak of. And they are no longer of this world. Someone has given you ill counsel, Milord. Give me their name and I will deliver you their head.”

  The Emperor cast the young Shinobi a knowing glance. “Could you so easily remove a woman’s head, Yui?”

  He swallowed hard. “If she intentionally bore false tongue to the Emperor, it would be my duty to do so.”

  “Your loyalty is admirable, good Yui.” The Emperor smiled. “You will go far. Alas, it’s not blades I wish to cross with this woman.” He looked to the clouds. “My desire in her regard is not for her blood. Well, not wholly. I have undecided intentions toward the maid.”

  “You wish to bed her?” Yui shook his head, tossed a stone in the still waters, and stared blindly at the coming ripples. “Sire, one so powerful cannot be trusted in the throes of passion. If you let your guard down with her—”

  “Steady your thoughts, young one.” A wry smile turned up one corner of the Emperor’s mouth. “When I take her to bed, it will be her deepest desire for me to do so. She will love me and give herself to me freely. My intentions are, ultimately, she will gift me her great power in exchange for my heart.”

  “And, when you have gained her love and won her heart, what then, Sire?”

  “Then, my dear boy… I shall destroy her.”

  Yui turned wi
de eyes to the Emperor. “Sire, hell hath no fury—”

  He cut off the young man’s words. “Hell itself cannot stand before my blades once drawn.” He looked back to the clouds. “And this maiden does not boast the power of hell, no matter her trinkets.”

  *****

  “Decimus, come before me.”

  “Yes, Master Shabriri. What is your wish?”

  “I’m sending you to aid an old friend of mine. He’s on layer seven, the realm of Praetoria. One in their group has been dispatched back to the Otherworld by those damn Guardians. We must maintain The Thirteen. Go now. And tell Jago I will demand payment of him when next we meet.”

  The handsome demon bowed low. “Is that all, Milord?”

  “No, that’s not all, you sniveling little brat,” Shabriri hissed. “I wish you to send me many bastards. Lay with a human woman every night, send each spawn back to Spadroon.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “The more screams and tears the woman sheds at the conception, the more powerful the offspring will be. Take care not to kill her, you fool, or you’ll defeat my purpose.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Book Two

  Chapter 1

  Jenevier

  (ZHEN-ah-veer)

  I was walking down yet another busy city street. Hundreds of unknown faces, thousands of unseeing eyes, and still I was alone.

  I had nowhere to go, nowhere to be. And yet, I walked… always I walked.

  During my time on the eighth layer, I’d witnessed many horrific things. Countless muggings, beatings, drug use, burglaries, murder, abuse of all kinds, rapes, gang wars… and still, I walked.

  This street was no different from the thousands of others I’d roamed. It was lined with small shops, large buildings full of office workers, street vendors, and all the unknowing masses numbly dragging through their unknowing lives. The sounds here mirrored all the others; honking horns, police sirens, subway tremors, accented voices shouting about their available wares, and the ever present homeless, begging for coins from businessmen who pretended not to notice them… and from the tourists who noticed them too much.

  And that’s exactly where I was—head down, trudging along Baker Street near the harbor in a congested town called Baltimore—when I heard the blissful chiming. My mind rocked with the painful remembrance of those tinkling little bells. I slowly turned toward the beckoning OPEN sign, almost daring to hope, yet bracing myself for the disappointing reflection I feared I would find looking back at me from the dusty old store window.

  Sorrow shook me once again when I saw the same golden curls and the same deep blue eyes. No tinkling locks and no flaming orbs could be found. I glared at the accursed cheap wind chimes that had made my heart skip a beat and caused my blood to race through my veins. I willed those taunting chimes to burst, or break, or just crash to the filthy sidewalk. But nothing happened.

  A large bin underneath those wretched wind-tossed devils taunting me held a name which bade me come closer.

  It was only a wire container, pushed out near the street, piled full of old books and faded novels. The shopkeepers used such things to tempt would-be customers into perusing the merchandise within as well. A large handmade sign simply read ‘75% off, all sales FINAL.’

  Halfway down the mound of tattered, torn, and previously unwanted paper treasures, one bore the name… Jenevier. My name.

  I have traveled through many layers of this universe and have yet to meet another Jenevier. I know not if it’s the name that’s rare or if those bestowed with such a name were simply not troublesome enough to need my sort of intervention. Yet, I alone can easily disprove that theory. And that little thought made me giggle. I’m amazed, after what I’ve lived through I can still manage to laugh on occasion. It feels good.

  I carefully pulled the book through one of the large square holes and cautiously opened the first page. Written there upon that cheap, yellowing paper were the familiar words of my very last thoughts. Words I had never even uttered aloud. The same words that’d run through my mind as I lay dying at the end of all things. I read on.

  Bitter word for bitter word, painful moment for painful moment, they were all meticulously recorded upon those loosely held pages within that broken old binding. Here was my entire life, written down for all to see and then haplessly tossed into a discount bin outside an overpriced tourist shop.

  The rain started, so I walked on, the book tucked neatly under my shivering arm.

  *****

  The weather on layer eight is nothing like my homeland of Ashgard. It is unpredictable at best. I’m always traveling to a fairer place, never resting, always searching. Baltimore is definitely no place to be in the tenth month of their calendar year. I’m headed south in search of the blessed sun and the warmth I know it will bring.

  I don’t believe I’m invisible. I mean, I can see myself and I can see my reflection. But not one single being on this entire layer has ever acknowledged me in any way. Strangely, that’s become my favorite thing about layer eight—complete anonymity.

  I go where I please, eat what I crave, and sleep where I want. No one seems to even notice. If I wish to yell, I yell. If I want to cry, I cry. If I feel like singing… I just open up my mouth and belt out the tune at the top of my lungs, no matter where I happen to be standing. And when the time comes that I decide I’d like to take a lazy summer nap in the very center of a beautifully manicured flower garden… well then, that’s exactly what I do.

  I mean, my banishment was severe, yes, but not completely cruel. I could have all I needed, except companionship. I’ve used up all the friends and love this life had to offer me. I haplessly squandered all that was truly precious, all that was worth keeping, so it was taken from me. Or perhaps more appropriately, I was taken from it.

  *****

  I made my way into the dank office of another dingy old motel and chose a random key from the hooks on the wall behind the desk. I’d never figured out how to retrieve one of those sliding cards used by all the newer, much nicer places to sleep. So I either stayed in a rundown old dump still using metal keys, or I slept under the stars when the weather permitted.

  Once inside my humble home for the night, I hung up the new clothes I’d taken right off the store rack, uncontested. I peeled off the wet ones still mercilessly clinging to my trembling, ageless body, and turned on the shower. I sat down upon one of my favorite things this layer had to offer, an indoor toilet, and began to read my newly found treasure as I waited for the wonderful water to warm all by itself. No fire needed.

  I didn’t sleep that night. I read the stolen novel from cover to cover, the whole of my life, right up until I ripped Prince Merodach’s still beating heart from his pleading chest with my angelic hand. I murdered Ashgard’s Dark Prince, and thus sealed my fate.

  How could this be? How could someone upon layer eight even know of my existence, much less my entire life, verbatim?

  Yet, here it was. Every single moment, every single decision, perfectly recorded for all time and eternity. My many sins were written right here in black and white for curious eyes to freely behold.

  I felt violated and naked as I finished the last page and closed the painful little book. I looked for the prophetic author but found only initials. The inside cover had my life listed as a work of fiction. I’ll admit to you now, I had to laugh at that little revelation. It had most definitely seemed like reality while it was happening. I yet bear the horrible scars to prove it.

  I missed my home now more than ever. I missed my beloved friends I could never see again. And, I missed my precious Varick with all my heart and what little of my soul yet remained to me.

  I won’t claim to know who the author was or how they saw my tormented life, but I am extremely grateful the gifted seer stopped their words before recording my fateful ending. I alone wish to be the purveyor of the words written herein so inquiring eyes may know my true end, lest I be heralded a hero to even one soul upon even one layer. />
  Let it be known that I, Jenevier Olesia Embarr, tore the still beating heart from the pleading chest of Merodach, Prince of Wrothdem and crushed it before him in my mighty hand. I witnessed, judged, sentenced, and executed him without a summons from God. In so doing, I murdered this man and freely took the life of an innocent.

  Now, if you’ve read the prophetic story of my life, you know well why I carried out this horrific deed. Merodach was twisted, evil, destructive, and definitely no innocent. At least this was true in the eyes of all who knew him. Alas, I am but a created being, flawed at best. My ways are not His ways and my thoughts are not His thoughts. I couldn’t hear Merodach’s pitiful pleas for love and mercy through my bitter, vengeful rage. But God did. I was meant to be the vessel He used to finally turn Merodach’s wicked heart. I was unknowingly sent by God to show the dark Prince what love was, what it truly felt like.

  The Prince of Wrothdem had been denied the meaning of love since he was orphaned as a babe. With Merodach’s heart now capable of priceless love, coupled with his wonderful gift of Elven magic, God was going to use this newly remade Prince to bring prosperous peace and righteous unity to all of Ashgard. Merodach was to be given a second chance to fulfill the role God had intended for him. If he did not, the summons would come down and I would have been chosen to carry out his long overdue death sentence.

  Yet, I alone robbed Merodach of his destiny. I alone robbed God of His divine plan. And it was me who robbed the good people of Ashgard from knowing the true euphoric paradise intended for them and their children.

  I murdered an innocent!

  My vile act was witnessed by my brother Vareilious, my summons was sent down to Vareen, I was judged by my beloved Varick, and my sentence was mercifully carried out by God’s own glorious hand.