by Kara Jaynes
“I’m going to travel back west,” I replied, one hand around the toddler’s waist, the other hand holding the reins. “Back over the mountains.”
“Why?”
“To warn the others.” I studied him out the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t read his expression. “You must have heard the prince. He has an army. The Twyli are going to attack Ruis, Fyrsil. Maybe Sen Altare, too. None of the non-magic users are safe. I hope that I’ll give them much needed time to prepare for war. Or to at least escape.” A thought came to me. “I’m going to stop and warn Bleaksdale, too. I don’t suppose they will stand much of a chance, but they are in danger also.”
“I’ll send Zero to warn them.” Fyrsil replied. “He’s not a magic user, so they’ll be more likely to trust him. It’ll buy them some time to evacuate.”
“Thank you.” It felt awkward, thanking the brigand king, and he merely shrugged in response.
We rode in silence for a long time after that. My longing for Aaric was like a knife through my heart. I tried to focus on my surroundings rather than think of him. It was too painful. It was then that I noticed Zero watching me, his pale eyes unreadable.
“What?” I asked him. The brigand shook his head and looked away.
I fingered the charm around my neck. How had it come to me? What did it mean?
Zero was looking at me again. “What?” I said again, irritated.
The man shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.
“Come again?” Fyrsil asked, eyes squinted as he peered at his servant.
Zero coughed nervously and mumbled a little louder. I tilted my head, turning so I could hear him better.
“Speak up, man!” Fyrsil barked, and Zero jumped.
“Your necklace,” he said to me, voice barely audible above the jingle of harnesses and muffled thump of horse hooves. His face reddened. “I s-saw it. Around A-Aaric’s neck. When he fell.”
“All right,” Fyrsil eyed his servant askance. “So you noticed Adaryn has a matching necklace. Good job.”
Zero’s face was flushed with embarrassment and he looked away from Fyrsil. I shook my head. “It’s the same one.”
The brigand king rolled his eyes heavenward. “And how is that even remotely possible?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped at him. I felt another wave of loss threaten to overwhelm me. “I don’t know. I just know I woke up with it this morning.”
“Okay.” Fyrsil’s eyes widened in alarm as he registered my expression. I was a hairsbreadth from crying. “That’s fine, Adaryn. I recognize it as a good-luck charm from the Denali. Maybe it’s magic. Anyway,” he continued, obviously wanting to switch subjects, “I don’t understand why you want to go back to warn Ruis. Aren’t these the people that enslaved you? Why would you want to help them?”
I snuck a glance at Zero before responding. The brigand’s face was still flushed, but he looked decidedly relieved at not having to speak. “No child deserves to have their life ripped away from them, Fyrsil. Even the Oppressors’. I will see if my clan will help me.”
“Your life is much more important than the life of a Denali, Adaryn.”
“You’re speaking nonsense.” I glared at him sourly and then turned my attention back to our path.
“Were you following me?” I asked the brigand king after some time.
“Maybe.” Fyrsil shrugged. “You ran off in a rage without half your supplies. What else was I supposed to do?”
I groaned inwardly, not wanting to say what needed to be said. “I’m . . . I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About Aaric. I thought you and Zero made it all up to cover up . . .” I trailed off.
Fyrsil looked uncomfortable. “It’s all right.” He coughed self-consciously. “I guess I should apologize for not respecting the relationship you and Aaric had. I didn’t realize your bond was so strong.”
I eyed him incredulously—how could my relationship with Aaric be any less?—but he looked serious.
“Do you plan on returning to your camp then?” I didn’t relish the thought of traveling through the mountains alone, but with the Twyli prince holding a grudge against me and my mission to warn Bran about the threat of invasion, I didn’t have a choice. I also needed to get Dahlia to safety. I hoped Bran and the nomads hadn’t traveled too far.
The brigand king laughed. “No. We’ll need to stop by and explain my absence, but I plan to travel with you.”
“To what purpose?” I peered at him suspiciously.
Fyrsil’s expression was one of pure innocence, which made me even more alarmed. “Why, it’s like you said. You can’t think I’d let all those children in the western cities be taken? Perish the thought.”
I didn’t believe him for one minute, but I let the matter drop once I realized questioning him produced no results. I’d find out sooner or later.
29
Aaric
“Where am I?”
Aaric blinked, trying to clear his vision. Fog roiled about his arms and legs, white and thick. Looking down, he couldn’t see the ground, and looking up, couldn’t see the sky either. “Where am I?” he repeated.
Nothing answered him. Aaric grunted with irritation. He’d entered the arch, and had felt the good-luck charm he’d worn ripped from his neck. Who had taken it and why was beyond him. “Hello?” he stepped hesitantly forward. “What am I supposed to do?” How long had he been down here?
A glowing arch of pure, white light appeared in front of him, cutting through the fog like a knife. Another appeared on his left and yet another on his right. Turning in a slow circle, Aaric found they surrounded him.
Choose. The voice spoke to his mind. Choose.
“How do I know which one I’m supposed to pick?” Aaric tried to swallow. His throat was parched.
Choose, Denali. Choose.
Aaric exhaled, and turned to the arch that had appeared first. “Here goes nothing, I suppose.” He walked forward and into the light.
30
Adaryn
I hid in my tent, tears coursing down my cheeks. Fyrsil had tried to comfort me, one of his wives having gone through the same nightmare, but he couldn’t help. The only person who might be able to provide a small shred of comfort was Aaric, and he was gone.
I sat in a huddle with a fur blanket wrapped around me, legs drawn up, arms clasped around my knees. I rocked back and forth, trying to stifle the hiccuping sobs that racked my body. I was so sad, and so angry. Angry at Aaric for not being here when I needed him. Angry with Fyrsil for not being Aaric. Angry at the Twyli. Angry at myself.
I was only vaguely aware of the tent flap pushing aside as someone entered. I looked up, tears blurring my vision. I blinked; it was Dahlia.
“What’s wrong?” It was startling to hear her little voice as she spoke for the first time since we’d left her village.
My brain felt numb as I searched for the right words. How could I explain my loss to a child who was only three?
“I-I lost my baby.” It came out as a cracked whisper, and tears sprang up anew. I’d lost my child. Why? Why did it happen? Was it something I’d done? Did I exert myself too strenuously? Did I not eat enough? Had I traveled too hard? Fyrsil had insisted that it wasn’t my fault, but how could he know that? He didn’t know anything.
Dahlia came up to me and reached out, little fingers extended as her small hands cupped my face. “Momma.” Her eyes looked into mine, eyes so blue they were almost violet. “Momma, I’m right here.”
I stared at her, remembering the child’s own loss only a couple of months before. We’d both suffered so much.
I hugged her to me, breathing in the scent of her white-blonde head, my tears trickling into her hair as I cried. Dahlia was right. She was inextricably a part of my life now. And with my heart ready to break in two, my love for her and her love for me was what held the pieces together.
Snow fell outside, the land still in the harsh, unforgiving grip of winter. Aaric was dead. I didn’t know how far I could t
rust Fyrsil. The Twyli prince was hunting me. I didn’t know if I could convince Ruis of their impending disaster. I missed my father. My unborn child was lost. But with Dahlia, the two of us holding each other, the pain in my heart lessened a little . . . for now. She was here, and she loved me, and I loved her.
My daughter.
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Sneak Peek of Book 6 in the Unbreakable Force series by Kara Jaynes
1
Aaric
Where am I? Aaric sat up in bed and shook his head groggily. His mind felt like it was filled with fog and he ran a hand through his hair distractedly.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.” A man entered the room and, in one well-practiced movement, knelt on one knee.
“Rise,” Aaric said. He yawned and crawled out of bed. The remnants of sleep were beginning to leave him and with it, the fog in his head. Standing with his arms out to either side of him, he held still, allowing the man to dress him.
“Today is a big day for you, Your Majesty,” the man said, buttoning Aaric’s shirt. “It’s the Day of Justice and Mercy.”
“I know, Gilbert,” Aaric said. He squinted at the man who was now smoothing his lapels. A young man, with large brown eyes and neatly combed brown hair. He knew him, but didn’t. How odd.
He glanced about the room—his room. It was massive, complete with the gigantic four poster bed he’d just got out of. The room was much bigger than his study back at home.
What study? He shook his head again.
“And finished, Your Majesty.” Gilbert stood back with a bow, and Aaric blinked, looking down at himself. He felt like he should stare goggle-eyed at the finery he wore, but he couldn’t remember why.
“Thank you, Gilbert.”
Gilbert looked shocked at the words of gratitude, but quickly hid it, bowing deeply. “It is my honor, Your Majesty.”
Opening his bedroom door, Aaric strode confidently down the hallway. He’d walked these halls a hundred times—a thousand times. He knew the way. He ignored the finery around him. Plush carpets, gilded furniture and crystal chandeliers held no interest for him. A book on the other hand . . . when was the last time he’d read a book?
“Not for some time, Your Majesty,” Gilbert spoke up, walking meekly behind him, and Aaric realized he’d spoken his last thought aloud.
After traveling several hallways and flights of stairs, Aaric entered his throne room. It was ten times larger than his bedchamber, and that was saying something. The floors were alternating square slabs of marble in white and black. The throne itself was a monolithic structure of solid gold. “Such a waste,” he said aloud as he sat in it. “It should be melted down into coins and given to the poor.”
Voices murmured in shocked undertones and Aaric looked over to his left, suppressing a sigh. He flapped a hand in greeting at the lords and ladies standing there, acknowledging their presence.
The Day of Justice and Mercy. Aaric remembered. It was the day where anyone, young or old, bond or free, could approach him on any matter and would accept his judgement. A day of responsibility. Aaric could already feel its weight bearing down on him.
He stifled a yawn. He wished his wife was here with him.
My wife? I’m not married. He shook his head again.
His stomach rumbled and he grimaced. He was required to fast this day as part of the ordeal. He leaned back in the throne and nodded at the servant standing by the large, gilded doors of the throne room. “Show the first in.” Might as well get this over with.
The people who’d come to seek his advice or beg for mercy varied in livelihood and social status. Farmers and nobles, paupers and knights, the crowd of people clamoring to see him was endless. Aaric felt as if a pressing weight sat on his shoulders. This would never end.
“Your Majesty.” Two of the royal guard stood before him, each holding the arm of a woman standing between them. “Your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke again, “this woman was caught stealing, from the royal coffers, no less. I’m sorry to waste your time, Your Majesty, with such filth, but she demanded it, and I could not refuse, it being the rule of the Day of Justice and Mercy.”
Aaric stared at the woman, his heart hammering painfully against his chest. She was short, but held her head up proudly, her hair a wild mess about her face, her eyes a stunning blue.
Adaryn.
Read the finale to the Unbreakable Force series in
Final Enchantment
by Kara Jaynes
About the Author
Kara Jaynes is a fantasy and children's book author. She lives in Colorado and loves taekwondo, long walks, and fairy tales. She's been writing since she was very young and has more stories in her head than she could possibly write.
Please visit the author's website for more information on upcoming books and news at www.karajaynes.com.
The adventure continues in book 6: Final Enchantment
Connect with the author online
Twisted Enchantment by Kara Jaynes
Copyright Kara Jaynes 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Designer: GermanCreative
The stories, characters, and incidents mentioned or depicted in this publication are entirely fictional.
No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holder.
