Conquering Fate

by Jennifer Anne Davis

  He stood and watched the queen tenderly kiss the princess and lay her on his bed. Queen Kayln removed the baby’s blanket and slipped a red velvet pouch out of the bodice of her own gown, tucking it under the collar of the princess’s dress.

  “I love you my darling child. Keep this close to your heart. I’ll always be watching over you.”

  With trembling hands, Mako picked up his dead baby and removed the knife, tossing it to the ground as if it were on fire. The queen handed him the princess’s royal blanket. He wrapped Tabitha in it and kissed her forehead as if she was still alive.

  “Princess Amer is all that is left,” the queen said, wiping her tears. “Even if she never fulfills her duty as ruler of our land, I want her to live.” She bent down and pressed her lips to her daughter’s cheek one last time. The baby cried, her tiny hand reaching out and clutching the queen’s hair. The queen’s body trembled as she firmly took hold of the loose strand, pulling it free from her daughter’s grasp. She moved away from the bed.

  Mako knew it was taking an enormous amount of willpower and love to make the sacrifice she was making.

  “I trust you will fulfill your promise,” the queen said. “Avenge our deaths and protect my child.”

  Mako placed Tabitha in her arms, and she clutched the baby against her chest as if it were her own.

  “You have my sworn oath, Your Majesty.”

  He shoved the dresser away from the door. The hallway was empty. He nodded and the queen left, running down the corridor with a sense of purpose.

  Mako picked up the whimpering princess, swaddling her in one of his brown shirts. He was in survival mode, his jaw set, eyes steely and ready to kill. He pushed his grief aside so he could protect Princess Amer. Using his belt, he strapped her to his chest and put on his riding cape.

  Going to the back of his room, he removed the tall mirror from the wall, revealing an entrance to the tunnels. He gripped the hilt of his sword and stepped into darkness.

  1

  Rema: Seventeen Years Later

  The sun shone brightly overhead. Rema leaned forward in the saddle and nudged Snow’s ribs, encouraging him to move faster. The horse practically flew over the dirt path, the surrounding forest zooming past. One wrong move and she’d collide with a tree.

  “Come on!” Rema yelled. Snow responded with a burst of energy. She chanced a look back over her shoulder—Bren was a good thirty feet behind.

  Snow bolted over the fallen greenwood tree serving as their finish line, and Rema laughed. Slowing Snow to a trot, she watched as Bren and his horse thundered past her, kicking up dust.

  Bren pulled the reins of his horse and trotted back toward her. “I can’t believe you won, again. And bareback,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s because you’re smaller than I am. Snow can run faster with a lighter rider.”

  Bren wasn’t much taller than Rema, but he weighed considerably more. He was built just like his father—stocky and strong. “Yes,” Rema mused, “that must be it. I’m sure it has nothing to do with my well-trained horse and my excellent riding abilities.”

  “You are something else.” He chuckled. “Come on, you need to get home before your aunt and uncle realize what we’re doing.”

  She knew he was right. Not only was she bareback, but her dress was pulled together between her legs, allowing her to ride like a man. If Uncle Kar ever found out about her and Bren’s races, he’d restrict her riding—the one and only true freedom she had.

  She reached back making sure her blonde hair was still secure in a knot at the base of her neck. Finding it intact, Rema relaced her hands through Snow’s mane. “Race you!” She laughed, kicking her heels into Snow’s ribs.

  It sounded like Bren mumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding,” but she couldn’t be sure; she was already flying through the forest again.

  Rema and Bren had been friends for as long as she could remember. Their races started when she was ten years old and Bren had insisted that girls couldn’t ride as well as boys. She couldn’t let him believe this misguided notion, so she challenged him to a race and won by the length of three horses. The two friends had been racing ever since.

  Uncle Kar and Aunt Maya’s land was about a mile from the forest. The dirt road leading into town passed in front of their modest wooden home. The barn and horse pasture were both situated behind the house.

  As soon as they entered the pasture, Rema slid off Snow and untied her dress. She reached back and unknotted her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders. Bren also dismounted.

  “Next time we switch horses,” he said, running his hand through his thick, dark hair.

  She laughed. “It won’t matter. I’ll still win. At some point, you’re going to have to realize I’m the better rider. Always have been, always will be.” She smiled sweetly.

  He shook his head and grinned. “Don’t look now, but your Aunt Maya is coming.”

  Aunt Maya had on one of her nicer dresses, her gray hair neatly pulled into a bun. As she neared, her gaze narrowed. “Why are you out of breath?”

  Not wanting to answer, Rema changed the subject. “Is someone here?” she asked, wondering why her aunt was dressed so nicely.

  Aunt Maya looked from Rema to Bren. “No,” she said. “But we need to talk. Alone.”

  Rema was about to say something when she felt Bren tense next to her. His hands fidgeted with his horse reins. “Well, uh, I better get going,” he stammered, not looking in her direction. He turned and led his horse away, his walk stiff.

  Her skin prickled. Something was wrong. Maybe her aunt and uncle had discovered she’d been racing with Bren. She had planned to rub down Snow and feed him a treat, but it would have to wait. She released her horse into the pasture and followed her aunt around the barn and into the house.

  They entered the sitting room, the fire already roaring in the hearth. Four pewter cups sat on the low table. Someone had been there.

  “Have a seat.” Aunt Maya pointed to a chair. Her hands rested on her hips, and she paced back and forth in front of the hearth.

  Rema knew this was serious. She was in colossal trouble. There was nothing she could say or do to ease the situation. She’d just have to take her punishment.

  Uncle Kar entered the room, a warm smile on his face. He kissed Rema on her head and took a seat next to her. He seemed to be in a good mood. Better than usual. Maybe he wasn’t aware of her racing after all.

  Aunt Maya stood still, her eyes locked on Uncle Kar’s. “We need to talk to you, Rema.”

  “Yes,” Uncle Kar said. “We have good news.” She hadn’t expected the conversation to begin like this. “Bren’s parents paid us a visit.”

  Bren never kept secrets from his parents. He must have told them about their races. “I can explain,” she began, ready to concede.

  “No need,” Uncle Kar continued. “You and Bren have been friends for a long time. It makes sense. And we approve.”

  Rema had no idea what he was talking about. “Excuse me?”

  Aunt Maya cleared her throat. “We didn’t sign the marriage contract yet. There are still a few details to work out.”

  “But we expect to have everything in order in the next day or two,” Uncle Kar said.

  “What?” Rema shouted, jumping off the chair.

  “Didn’t Bren talk to you about this?” Aunt Maya asked, crossing her arms.

  “No! He never said anything to me.” This was almost worse than getting in trouble for racing. Bren, her best friend, wanted to marry her? “Do I have a say in this?”

  “What do you mean? You and Bren are friends. We thought you’d be happy,” Uncle Kar said, his brow creasing in confusion.

  “Happy? To marry a friend! I don’t want to. I won’t do it.” She had no intention of tying herself permanently to any man.

  “Rema,” Aunt Maya said, exasperated. “You are seventeen years old. Bren is eighteen. It’s time, and the match makes sense. We don’t really have any other options.”
/>   She wanted to scream. “So you won’t even consider my wishes regarding the matter?”

  “I’m sorry, dear. We thought you’d be pleased with the match.” Uncle Kar stood, reaching for her.

  She was most definitely not pleased. She was anything but pleased. Clutching her hands into fists, she forced back tears and moved away from her uncle. The walls felt like they were spinning and it became difficult to breathe. Run. She needed to run.

  “After you’ve had some time to think about it, I’m sure you’ll see things clearly,” Aunt Maya said.

  “Yes, I understand,” Rema mumbled. She was going to have to marry Bren, regardless of what she wanted. “I’m going out for some fresh air.” She forced herself to walk calmly out the door. As soon as her boots touched the dirt, she sprinted toward the forest.

  2

  Darmik

  A heavy fog coated the land as Commander Darmik and his squad neared the governor of Jarko’s fortress. Their presence was noticed, and the front gate to the castle opened as they arrived. Servants exited, preparing to greet their prince.

  Darmik scanned the surrounding land. Nothing looked amiss. Pulling his horse to a halt, he dismounted.

  Prince Lennek strolled out the front entrance. The governor, Lord Filmar, was nowhere in sight. “Darmik.” Lennek’s lips curled into a smile, but his eyes narrowed at the squad of twenty men. “What are you doing here?” He stretched his arms open and embraced his brother.

  “Good to see you, Lennek. It’s been a long time.”

  Lennek released him. “Checking up on me?” He chuckled.

  Darmik didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled off his riding gloves. His visit had one purpose—to discover what his brother was up to. Lennek didn’t leave their father’s castle often, let alone King’s City.

  Lennek’s personal steward, Arnek, stepped forward. “Your Highness, will you be joining us for dinner?”

  “Yes,” Darmik answered. Arnek’s nose twitched, then he bowed and dismissed the servants.

  Darmik went to his corporal and whispered instructions for the soldiers to set up camp just outside of town, hidden in the forest. He’d find them when he was ready to leave.

  The brothers were finally alone.

  “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Darmik asked.

  “No,” Lennek whispered, leaning in close. “It’s none of your business, little brother.” He turned away and entered the castle without looking back to see if Darmik followed.

  The castle was similar to the other governors’ homes, yet it lacked some of the opulence. Of course, Jarko was the smallest region, the least important in the kingdom in terms of land and politics. There had to be a good reason for Lennek to have come here, of all places.

  Greenwood Island was divided into seven regions, each overseen by a governor appointed by the king based on loyalty. The kingdom had been restructured this way shortly after the takeover seventeen years ago. The king reigned over all of it.

  “How long do you plan to stay here?” Darmik asked, jogging to catch up to his brother.

  Lennek shrugged his shoulders. “Until I’m bored.”

  “I didn’t realize you and Lord Filmar were close,” Darmik said. “Where is he, anyway?” Lord Filmar was an older gentleman known for being levelheaded and set in his ways—quite the opposite of Lennek.

  Lennek rolled his eyes and led Darmik into a quaint sitting room. There were three sofas and a low table in the center. Books lined one wall, portraits of the governor and his family filled another. “I don’t know, nor do I care,” Lennek smirked. “We’re not friends by any means. I simply wanted a vacation, and this is the farthest place from Father’s castle.”

  “Ah,” Darmik said. Then King Barjon and Lennek had had a falling out. Darmik’s worry and panic had been for nothing.

  Lennek spun and faced Darmik, cocking his head. “Did Father send you?”

  “No. I was passing nearby when word came that you were here. I thought I’d stop in and see you. That’s all,” Darmik said, trying to placate his brother. He wasn’t about to admit that the only reason he had come was to discover what his brother was really up to.

  Lennek laughed. “You have got to be kidding. You, on a break? I don’t believe it.” He flopped on the sofa. “Everything you do has a purpose,” he snapped. “You’re here because you don’t trust me.”

  “Of course I don’t trust you,” Darmik murmured.

  “You may not trust me, but you must obey me. I want you gone tomorrow.” Lennek waved his hand in the air. “This is supposed to be a vacation, and there’s no way I can have any fun with you around.” His eyes darkened as he unleashed the full force of his gaze on Darmik. “You ruin everything you touch,” he spat.

  Moving to the window, Darmik gripped the wooden frame, keeping his temper in check. There were probably servants lurking in the corridors. The window overlooked the governor’s pasture to the north of the property. Several horses roamed the land. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m going hunting. Want to come?”

  Lennek snorted. “Most definitely not.”

  Good, Darmik thought. He didn’t really want to spend any time with his brother. He needed to relax before his temper flared and he pummeled Lennek to the floor.

  Laughter filled the hallway. Several young ladies walked by, bedecked head to toe in the latest court fashion. Darmik didn’t recognize any of them. They had to be the local nobles. “Friends of yours?”

  Standing, Lennek straightened his tunic and smiled. “Every woman is a friend of mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some entertainment planned. And you’re not invited.” He strolled out of the room with a smirk plastered on his face.

  Darmik had been so sure Lennek was up to something, but this was nothing more than a pity party filled with drinking and women. And all because Father had yelled at Lennek. Typical. Darmik had no desire to sit in the castle all day listening to his brother’s indiscretions. He would leave tomorrow, since there was nothing to discover here. Lennek wasn’t up to some devious political maneuvering. No, he was too wrapped up in his own personal satisfaction. Darmik needed to stop being so paranoid.

  After Darmik changed into his hunting gear, he headed west on foot into the woods. He was rarely alone and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. After traveling several miles, he reached safe hunting territory.

  The trees were dense, barely a few feet apart. Several moss covered boulders were scattered near the bottom of a small rise. Darmik found a small space between two and crouched down, waiting. The forest animals were still. He nocked an arrow and raised his bow, steadying it.

  A twig snapped and something raced through the forest, dodging trees. He was about to release an arrow when he realized it wasn’t an animal that bolted through the trees like lightning. Instead, blonde hair flew and a gray dress flashed like a beacon against the moss-covered trunks and green leaves. Then she was gone.

  Darmik scanned the surrounding area, looking for who, or what, was pursuing her. All was quiet. Driven by a surge of intrigue, he took off after her, keeping his bow in hand. She ran fast, but he was easily able to follow her blatant trail of broken twigs until it suddenly ended. Skidding to a halt, his right foot slid to the edge of a cliff, sending a shower of leaves raining over the side. He backed away and looked down. A dark river flowed twenty-five feet below. There was no sign of the young woman. He put the arrow in his quiver and secured the bow to his back.

  Searching along the edge, he found a steep trail leading down the hill. The soil was rich and soft, forcing him to focus on his footing. Several times he slid but caught himself. When he finally reached the bottom, he found the woman lying on the bank next to the water, soaking wet. He ran over and knelt beside her to see if she was hurt. Her dress looked homemade, indicating she was from the lower class.

  The woman’s eyes flew open. They were a brilliant blue like the sea. Her hair was the color of hay, only silky instead of stiff and rough. Darmik wanted to touch i
t, just to be sure. The woman’s wet, gray dress clung to her body, her bosom heaving up and down from running. He had seen blue eyes and blonde hair before, but that had been in Emperion. He couldn’t help but stare.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. Her eyes darted to the bow and arrows on his back.

  How could she not know who he was? Then he remembered he was wearing plain, brown clothing that covered his arms and neck, instead of his blue tunic that exposed his royal markings.

  “Are you well?” he countered.

  Her face lit up as she smiled, clearly unharmed. “Of course I am. Why do you ask?” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his response.

  “It’s just that—I saw you go off the edge. Did you fall?” She was drenched and there was no way a woman would voluntarily jump, especially from so high up. And she couldn’t have climbed down that fast.

  “Fall?” She laughed, the sound harsh. “No, I jumped.” She gave him a confident look that implied it should’ve been obvious. Her voice was clear and her speech articulate, surprising him.

  Darmik stared at her. Had she been trying to kill herself?

  “For fun,” she clarified. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone.”

  Since the king forbade travel between the seven regions in the kingdom, all citizens were required to be tattooed with their region’s emblem at birth. Darmik glanced down at her arms. On her left wrist, she bore the black tattoo of Jarko—a curved stalk of wheat with a sword down the center. On her right wrist, she wore her brown leather identification band, but he couldn’t read it from this angle.

  “Let me see your band,” he demanded.

  The woman bit her bottom lip, hesitating. She had no choice in the matter. When a man, no matter who that man was, asked to see a female’s band, she had to adhere to his command. She lifted her right arm, holding it suspended in the air. Darmik took hold of her hand with care. As he read the information, his thumb gently traced the edge of the leather bracelet.