“King’s Guard,” he uttered, as the first of the soldiers came into view. With one hand, he pushed open the window. “Help,” he shouted across the space. “We’re up here.” As the guards raced toward them, he drew his head back inside. “Sit there and look scared,” he ordered, as he headed toward the door.
There was a crash from downstairs, as the main door flew open. Tay shrank back, seeking the comfort of Darius’ arms. Outside, they heard shots ring out, and she glanced back out of the window. The guard were heading to the village outskirts, shooting as they went.
“I thought they were going to hide?” She tried to move, but Darius held her in place.
“You can’t help them,” he hissed frantically, as the sound of boots pounded on the steps.
“I have to…”
“Here’s the Prince.” They heard the words bellow from below, as the door to their room burst open. A small group of armed men entered the room. Darius moved himself away from Tay’s embrace, and approached.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Tay marvelled at his ability to lie. “We were beginning to worry.”
“Darius James?” The lead guard asked, his eyes moving past to rest on Tay. “Lyana James?”
“Yes.” Tay summoned her courage and stood. “I’m glad you’ve come.” She tried to ignore the sounds of combat.
“I’m glad we’ve found you Miss.” The smile he gave did not match his eyes. “Come on.” He held out his hand, and Tay took it gingerly, allowing him to lead her from the cabin.
The cold bit through her thin dress, even with the covering blanket, and she shuddered. The snow was falling heavily now, as they approached the large wagon. Shots and screams could be heard in the still night air. She almost halted, picturing her mother’s death for the second time in her life.
“Go inside.” The guard dropped her hand to open the back door. “We’ll get you home.”
“It’s alright Lyana,” Darius comforted, as he took hold of her hand. “I’m here.”
“I know,” she whispered, as she clambered into the back of the wagon, followed by Darius. Waiting for the Prince’s body to be loaded, she was startled when the door slammed shut behind them.
“What the?” Darius moved to the door, hearing the locks click into place.
“Relax.” They both turned in shock to stare at the speaker. Almost hidden by the gloom of the carriage, a man leant forward, his appearance sending waves of shock through both of them.
“Father.”
Tay felt her stomach roil unpleasantly, as she stared across at Overseer James. He turned to face her, and a twisted smile creased his features. “Emerson’s girl,” he noted, with a nod. The blood drained from Tay’s face, and shivers began to race down her spine as his cold eyes regarded her.
“How?” To his credit, Darius seemed as cool and remote as before, but Tay could hear a quaver deep within his voice.
“I wondered why the daughter of Caleb Emerson was working for my neighbours.”
“How do you know my father?” Tay’s curiosity overcame fear and her question rang out in the still air.
“Come now, you think I don’t meet all the agitators?” Carl glanced across at Darius. “I did find it strange that he was suddenly transferred.” Darius shifted uncomfortably but his features remained still and watchful. “And then there was the query about this one’s ration?” Carl jerked his thumb toward Tay. “So I looked into her file.”
Tension stiffened Tay’s back but she did not speak, almost entranced with fear. Distantly, she heard the sounds of gunfire, and for a moment she wished she were outside running for her life, far from the bone-numbing terror that was this conversation.
“Taya Emerson,” Carl James continued. “Oldest daughter of Caleb Emerson; two siblings.” He took a breath. “Rating”－his voice was slow, measured and merciless－“menial work only.” He finished with an almost triumphant note. “I take it the rating increase was the reason you did this.” Cold, pitiless eyes settled on Tay and she shivered, unwilling or unable to respond.
“Leave her alone Father.” Darius’ voice snapped across the wagon, drawing his father’s attention. “The deception was my idea.” He gave a shrug. “She only asked me to transfer her father.”
“And you agreed out of the goodness of your heart?” A leering tone entered his voice.
“Not totally.” Darius’ voice was crisp, curt with pent-up emotion. “But all this discussion is immaterial.” He pushed himself upright. “You’ve found us out, so what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
Tay and Darius started and stared across at him with disbelief. A small smirk played across his lips as he leant forward.
“I want you to continue playing my daughter,” he noted at Tay, smirking at the confused look that crossed her face.
“Why?” she asked, shocked out of silence by the bizarre request. “I thought you’d turn us in or kill us.”
“I only have one legitimate heir,” Carl responded, with a sidelong look across at Darius, “and you,” he glanced at Tay, “are doing a fine job of playing Lyana. There’s no benefit to bringing you to the attention of the authorities.”
“But…” Tay stammered, thoroughly confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Imagine how it would look if it came out that my son used his influence to remove your father from his rightful punishment.” Tay felt a shudder race across her skin as he spoke. “I would be removed from my position for allowing it.”
A thought began to burn behind Tay’s eyes, an idea born of desperation and fear. “If I reveal this charade, you’d be removed?”
“Don’t get any ideas about blackmail girl,” Carl retorted. “What do you think would happen to you and your family?”
A lead weight settled across her chest, and she glanced at Darius’ pale body for support.
“What about Lyana?”
“What about her?” The casual indifference in his voice chilled Tay to the bone. “She made her choice.” A cruel light danced in his eyes. “If she wishes to dally in the gutter, then that’s where she she will stay.”
“Where is she?” Darius sounded sick, but Tay could hear the steel tones that laid beneath his words.
“I moved her to the mine-head.”
“She’s your daughter.” Tay somehow beat Darius to the punch, her words of protest echoed by his. “How can you do that?”
“Easily.” Carl stepped back and shrugged on his cape. “So just think of how much feeling I have for you.” Tay flinched beneath his gaze but did not drop her eyes, anger flaring into life beneath the surface.
“What do you want?” Her tones were flat, hatred rippling through every syllable.
“Just marry Kail and find me the Coils of Copper and Brass.”
For a moment, time slowed within the wagon as both Darius and Tay stared up in surprise.
“The Coils?” Tay recovered her voice first. “Aren’t they a myth told to children?”
“No.” Carl fastened the clasp to his cloak. “They’re quite real.” He glanced over his shoulder and continued to speak. “Kail may know where they are.”
It took a great deal of control for Tay to remain still. “Why would Kail know where they are?”
“One of the few benefits to being Head of Palace Security,” Carl answered with a smirk. “Barely significant fiscal benefits, but the knowledge gained is priceless.”
“What if I can’t?” Tay asked, her voice a tenuous thread. “And what about Jackson, he’s already tried to arrest us.”
“Jackson’s easy.” He opened the door and beckoned someone over. Tay and Darius glanced at each other as Jackson walked up to the door. There was a loud bang and he fell to the ground, blood pouring from a hole in his shoulder. Carl moved back into place. “Problem dealt with,” he announced, with a smile. “Do this”－he fixed his gaze on Tay－“or you may become an only child.” Carl adjusted his scarf, and banged on the wall behind him. The door cracked open, and he s
tepped through. Darius lunged forward, but stopped at the gun pointed toward his head. “You have until tomorrow to agree.” The words drifted toward them as the door swung closed, leaving them alone in the wagon.
“Darius…” Tay began, her voice strangled with emotion.
“I know.” Darius closed his eyes, struggling with the emotions that his father had provoked.
“Lyana…” Tay’s thoughts drifted to the friendly, inoffensive young woman who had been sentenced, by her own father, to a lifetime of servitude.
“I know.” Quiet despair rippled through Darius’ voice. “I told you he was a monster.”
“How did he…” A shake of her head and she dismissed the speculation as counter-productive. “Never mind, now what do we do?”
“What he says,” Darius replied, with a lost note to his voice. “Find the Coils of Copper and Brass.”
“And then what?” Tay whispered, scared beyond reason.
“Try to use them.” Darius looked over at her, his face set like granite. “It’s time to end this mockery of a system.”
Tay nodded, staring down at her shaking hands. From outside of the wagon, the sounds of gunfire intensified, and the scent of burning thatch tainted the air. As she listened to the shouts of the fighters behind her, she thought of her siblings, her parents, and of Carl’s threat to them. For the first time in her life, she gave voice to the roar of injustice that laid deep within her. She would find the Coils of Copper and Brass, discover the mysteries of that dark, silver-dotted sky, and then, she would tear this world apart.
About the Author
Claire was born in Peterborough Maternity unit, several weeks premature and the weight of a bag of sugar. Bad temper kept her alive through a bout of intensive care and she clung to this like a life raft. Not saying she’s a grump but she doesn't really have zen levels of calm. She’s worked as shop assistant, a butchers assistant and is now stuck in the admin ghetto of the UK civil service.
An avid creator of stories, she hit her teens and discovered roleplay. Yes she plays D&D, but so does Vin Diesel and no one says that he's sad. Playing and running games with her friends inspired her to return to her first love, fiction, and she started her first book in 2007.
Chapter Sneak Peeks
If you enjoyed this book, and can't wait for the next installment, check out these sample chapters from books one and two of ClaireWarner's Night Flower trilogy.
The Black Lotus
15th June 1752
The floor was cold. That mundane thought floated through her mind as the deep dark of unconsciousness ebbed away. The unyielding surface sent small stabs of pain through her limbs as confusion set in. Her head felt heavy and somewhat hollow as she struggled to remember how she had fallen. She managed to blink; the simple task rendered difficult by the lassitude swamping her. As she struggled closer to full awareness, she became aware of something clasped in her hand. Its surface was smooth, shaped like a flower but, as she traced her fingers over it’s surface, it seemed to spark a wary, almost sick sensation of worry.
"I think she's waking up,”
A voice, feminine and vaguely familiar, sounded close to her head. She tried to move, to turn her head to stare at the speaker but her body refused to cooperate, still caught in the spell of near insensibility.
“Yes, I can see that,” Another voice, male and disapproving, spoke from further away. “You need not sound so thrilled; I doubt she will welcome you when she opens her eyes.”
“Oh, Hugh darling, how can you say that?” Petulant yet teasing notes flowed through the woman’s light lilting speech and she longed to see the face that it belonged to. Those tones invoked cautious recognition, a recognition which did not bring her any sense of peace.
“Because it is the truth,” The man shifted position and walked closer to her prone figure. “Why on earth did you do it?” The voice dropped lower, becoming accusatory in tone and timbre. She wondered at this, struggling with tattered threads of memory that refused to make sense.
“It solved a problem,”
“I beg to differ,” He was stood over her now; she felt the tips of his toes against her side. “Do you think that Justin will thank you?”
Justin, that name caught at her mind, dragging it free from the sludge her memory had become. She knew that name, the feelings it provoked were soft and wondrous. Once again the memories fluttered close to the surface yet she was still not awake enough to make sense of it all
“He should,” The voice argued, louder and less teasing than before, “This solves all,” She felt the woman move, the edge of a skirt brushed against her side, and she wondered how long they were going to stand and argue over her.
“Really?” There was a bark of incredulous laughter. “Our Justin, who promised never to curse another,” Her eyelids opened slightly, and she focused blearily on the rich brocade silk that tickled her nose. “Do you honestly think he would be happy that you damned someone else?” From her position on the floor, she could see the man’s calves and a pair of silver buckled shoes.
“Yes Hugh,” The skirt rustled as the woman stepped away from her side to argue with the man before her. “The chit is now safe. John will not be able to hurt her,” Another memory tugged at the edges of her mind and this one sent a thrill of fear through her. “And Justin..,” The woman laughed shortly, bitterly, “Justin will not spend the next fifty years in depression because he had to leave her,”
“Don’t try to claim that you did this for him,” The man knelt down now and she felt his hand close about her wrist. Her limited vision took in a rose pink satin frock coat and embroidered lavender waistcoat. “You did it for yourself. You’ve always felt like the youngest, and now you’re not,” His other hand reached down and settled in the small of her back. “Come on now Melissa, let me help you up,” She did not question her name, for she remembered that at least.
With sure movements, he helped her to her feet. Her eyes opened fully, and she took in her surroundings. She was in a parlour, mahogany wainscoting covered the walls, and a thick blue rug topped the parquet floor. Several chairs stood around a card table in the corner of the room, and a fire was burning brightly in the hearth. Behind her lay a closed door and she could hear conversation and music from beyond. As the man guided her to a cushioned chair, she glanced up, taking in the extravagant clothing that seemed totally at odds with the serious cast marred his features.
“You’ll be a little disorientated at first,” She could see pity in his eyes, and she wondered at it. “It’ll pass,” He reached out to one of the small tables in the corner of the room and picked up a glass of amber liquid. “Take a snifter of that, it’ll strengthen your nerves,” The scent of brandy filled her nostrils, and she took a deep gulp. The liquid burned her throat as she swallowed and made her splutter. As she controlled her coughs, her eyes took in the form of the woman. Taller than her, the woman had blonde ringlets worn in an elaborate style and powdered. An expensive dress of dark blue brocade covered her form and blue eyes sparked with mischief or malice.
“What happened?” She asked, staring at the pair of them in confusion. “Did I faint?”
The man sighed and knelt down, staring at her with sorrowful eyes. “I’m sorry my dear, but,” He held out his hand and she looked down at the small snuff box before her. Set into the lid was a black enamel locket in the shape of a lotus flower. The smooth planes of the bloom filled her vision, and she stared at it in utter shock. As horrified recognition raced through her; the man continued to speak. “You have one of these now and I’m so very sorry,”
It was then that she looked down, at the item clasped between her fingers. It was a lotus flower locket, a veritable twin to the one on the box. The sight of it finally sparked her memory and she remembered what it stood for. Her head snapped up and she stared at the blonde woman, hatred replacing shock as her mind finally filled in the gaps of her memory.
“You bitch.”
Blood Orchid
; Melissa sat before the fire, staring into the blaze without really seeing it. Her thoughts were miles and years away, back twenty years or more, when she was an innocent, thinking herself in love.
"This won't do,” Marcus placed a large cup of tea at her right hand and interrupted her chain of thought. "You have to forgive,”
"If he hadn't…” She started to protest, but her brother held up his hand, stopping her in mid flow.
"Not him...” Marcus said softly, his green eyes searching her face. "You...”
"Marcus?" She stared up at him, confused by his words and sudden shift in conversation.
"It's not Justin you're upset with,” Marcus did not remove his gaze from her face and she shifted uncomfortably under the direction of his stare.
"I...” She tried once more to protest, but Marcus broke in again, shattering her words with weighty truths of his own.
"You blame yourself, if you hadn't pushed for him to notice you," Marcus' fingers settled on hers and she swallowed back a burst of emotion. "Tell me I'm wrong,”
Melissa stayed silent, listening to the crackle of the fire in the background as she tried to process her brother's words. Her first instinct was to deny it, to loudly declare that he was wrong, but the words wouldn't come. Her mind was drifting back through the years to her first glimpse of Justin Lestrade.
"You did warn me,” She whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You tried to stop me and I didn't listen...” She bowed her head then, tears flowing down her cheeks like a river.
"Melly," He drew her into his arms and held her gently, letting her cry for the second time that day. "You weren't to know and neither was I,” He rested his chin against the top of her head and stroked her hair. "So please...please try to forgive...”
"How touching,” They pulled apart at the familiar voice and Marcus jumped to his feet and he stared at the source of the voice with something akin to hatred.
"Montjoy," Marcus pushed Melissa behind him and took a step forward. Melissa wiped the tears from her face and picked up a poker from beside the fire. She moved to stand beside her brother, poker held ready in her hands.
Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1) Page 30
