Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3)

by Matt Howerter

  If the monster was concerned, he showed none of it. His posture remained unchanged, and even the pace of the undulation of his robes did not quicken or alter in any way.

  Sacha’s bolstered confidence tapered as she again remembered her studies: Control your emotions. After a few moments of facing his impassiveness, she dropped her hands and released the Shamonrae. This thing standing in front of her held her child captive and, in doing so, held her captive as well. She lifted her chin to stare straight at the black eyes, conjuring thoughts of her father’s stern manner. “What do you want?”

  Vinnicus drifted to a grouping of robes along one wall. “There are many things I desire, but all lead to one end,” he said. His pale hand reached out to pluck a warm-looking woolen robe from its peg. “Your part in this is here. In Basinia. As queen.”

  Sacha closed her eyes. Queen? She couldn’t be queen. She still had no idea how to pull off “princess,” and she was one. When she opened her eyes, Vinnicus was gone. Gasping, she whirled in place. Tendrils of anger wormed their way through her dread. “Stop toying with me!” she shouted to the rafters, not caring if her voice carried beyond the chambers.

  The soft cloth of the woolen robe Vinnicus had pulled from the wall gently settled on her shoulders.

  Sacha started in surprise. Her blue eyes blazed as she clutched the soft robe to her body and spun yet again to face the apparition, stepping away to avoid any possibility of his touch. “What do you mean? My sister was married to the prince, not the king.”

  “The king is very ill, and the current queen will not hold her position for long when he dies,” Vinnicus replied.

  Sacha narrowed her eyes. “Your doing, I suppose.”

  A smile touched the corners of Vinnicus’s mouth. “Some things just happen on their own; others need… influence.”

  Sacha felt sick to her stomach. His casual disregard for life and death was beyond disturbing. It was as if mending a dress held the same weight as killing a king—either could be done with the same dispassionate air. There might be no reasoning with a thing like Vinnicus, but if she was ever to have a chance at winning her daughter back, she must have more information. She channeled more of King Hathorn’s most frosty air as she asked, “Am I to know why I am to become queen?”

  “That’s better.” Vinnicus smiled in earnest. “Of course you will be given the reason, but only when I deem it necessary. For now, you will need to become your sister, and convincingly so.” He frowned and glanced toward the door of the bedchamber. “Thus far, you have not been very persuasive.”

  “I’ve only been here a week!” And with Alexander for only one night. Sacha felt heat come to her cheeks as she continued aloud in exasperation. “I can’t just jump into a man’s bed and perform like some common whore!”

  Vinnicus’s dead eyes examined her, unblinking. Time drew out as he continued to stare in silence until finally he spoke. “Perhaps not, but you will have to become more attuned to your new role, and do so quickly. Prince Alexander is not dull of wit.”

  Sacha clenched her fists. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve just recently returned from a rather trying experience in the wilds of Basinia, only to find my daughter taken by a madman and my sister brutally murdered by that same madman!” She was screaming by the end, her heart hammering in her chest. The remnants of her released power sparked deep within as she took a step toward Vinnicus, pointing a finger at his coal-black eyes. “And you expect me to just accept this lunacy without so much as a hiccup. You are mad!”

  “Yes.” The ever-moving cloak that surrounded Vinnicus twitched at the word.

  Sacha stared at him, wide eyed. Mend a dress, kill a king...

  Vinnicus did not so much as shrug. “But that is irrelevant. Are these the only reasons you fail at your task?”

  Sacha found herself unable to answer as she struggled to decide whether she was more vexed than terrified or terrified than vexed. Would any reason be enough? she thought bitterly.

  Sacha’s lack of speech prompted the pale creature to continue. “I have details about your sister’s life among the Basinians that might prove useful. Are you prepared to listen?”

  “Where is my daughter?” Sacha demanded, ignoring his question and attempting to cling to the one thing that could possibly make this insanity worthwhile.

  “Safe. Are you prepared to listen?”

  “I want to see her. Now.”

  Vinnicus’s cloak twitched again, but his face remained impassive. “You will see her once you have earned the privilege to do so. Are you prepared to listen?”

  For one fleeting moment, Sacha thought of attempting to kill the creature. Residual arcane power pulsed deep within her, tempting her to action. Anger and worry surged in time with her heartbeat as she glared at the hateful creature. If only she could kill it—but no. Even if she could succeed where Teacher had failed, she had no idea where Rylan had been hidden. It was also likely that Vinnicus’s minions would kill the girl before Sacha could even begin the search.

  Patience. Teacher’s voice echoed in the vaults of her mind, and she took a calming breath as she had been counseled in her first weeks at the Monastery. Again she found that even those simple exercises helped. After a moment’s focus, Sacha felt in control of her emotions once again. Sacha opened her eyes. “I am prepared to listen.”

  Vinnicus gave her a curt nod. “Other than Alexander and your cousins, Rouke has been the closest person to your sister. Keep him nearby. He will help you learn your sister’s routine and protect you.”

  Sacha had planned on doing just that. Rouke’s association with Erik was reason enough for her to trust the man. Also, his actions at the falls in the face of powers beyond his abilities spoke volumes about his character. Beyond having earned Erik’s trust, Rouke suffered under the same burden of secrecy Sacha did. She did not know if she could actually become friends with anyone at this point, but Rouke was a man with whom she hoped to try.

  “You will resume study of the Shamonrae with your previous mentor,” Vinnicus continued.

  “Is he even capable?” Sacha scoffed in disbelief. “The man I knew is not the puppet you turned him into at the falls. The last I knew, you had destroyed his mind.” Her accusations were not entirely exaggerated. Her mentor, Teacher, had been broken by some form of mental attack. The poor man was completely void of cognitive thought or emotional response.

  “He is capable,” Vinnicus replied. “Your mentor will have gaps in his memory when next you meet. It would be wise for you to have gaps in your memory as well. Reminding him of what has happened will only cause him harm.”

  She threw her hands into the air. “Why not just do the same to me as you did to him? This charade seems pointless.”

  “What had been done to your mentor has its… limitations,” Vinnicus replied. “Basic human nature, however, can prove limitless in its possibilities. I have provided you with true purpose, which is far more effective than any compulsion I could bestow. Shall we continue?”

  Sacha clenched her jaw, pushing away her desire to lash out with the arcane power still surging through her veins. She flashed her teeth. “Please do.”

  The pale creature continued once more. “The Basinians who are close to your sister are well aware of her two passions: flying with the Rohdaekhann and finding you. I suggest you learn the former as quickly as possible. The latter will play out on its own. You need only keep up the appearance of concern.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard,” Sacha muttered sarcastically. “How am I supposed to learn to fly when Sloane was already passionate about it?” She knew of the giant eagles that lived and worked with the Basinians, of course. There were some things that everyone knew.

  “That is your concern, but again, I would advise befriending Rouke. He has proven himself a resourceful man and is Rhadoken.”

  Sacha frowned. “I’m not familiar with that term.”

  “An accomplished flyer,” Vinnicus answered with a negligent wave. “The vocabulary
of the flyers is one more thing you must learn, and quickly.”

  Sacha rubbed her temples. She could feel the pressure mounting. One thing at a time, she thought. “Anything else I should know?”

  Vinnicus and his writhing cloak slowly moved past Sacha toward one of the many closets. The shadows in the room seemed to thicken and reach for him. Before he stepped into those shadows and disappeared completely, he spoke once more over his shoulder. “Your reacquaintance with the Shamonrae begins today.”

  CHANCELLOR Kesh Tomelen practically skipped down the secluded hallway. He hadn’t been this excited since… well, since he’d killed Kinsey. Or thought I had, he amended with a sour twist to his mood. That distant night had started out with such promise, only to end in horror. Kesh shivered at the memory and slowed his pace. The discovery of what Kinsey truly was would haunt the chancellor’s dreams forever. I’m glad you are gone, Kesh thought with a scoff. And that fool elf as well.

  Thoughts of the half-dwarven ranger and his elven stepfather slipped away as Kesh allowed himself to revel in his recent turn of fortune. His estate had been returned to him, refurbished and staffed, as well as his standing within the courts. Wealth and freedom were once again his, or at least a version of them.

  It was not so long ago that he had been lost in the machinations of Banlor Graves and his shadowed desires to keep the kingdoms of Basinia and Pelos apart. Oh, Kesh had deluded himself that he was only biding his time until he might become the master, but now he could see how sorry his lot truly had been. Even his attempted betrayal of Banlor’s designs by saving Sacha for himself instead of having her murdered had been a desperate act and likely doomed to failure had it not been for the intercession of his new but admittedly disturbing master.

  Now the sister who never noticed him was dead and the new princess—the rightful princess—needed him. More, she could not in her pride and ignorance refuse his assistance or presence. Vinnicus had insisted, and she dare not cross him. It was only a matter of time until Sacha became queen in fact as well as in right, and until then Kesh would be there, working with her. She would come to know his value and his love even as time allowed her to forget the sister who was lost and the daughter who certainly would be. That same passage of time would let her come to love him, as she must. Her strength and beauty, paired with the decrees she would make after following Kesh’s advice, would eventually allow her to displace that idiot Alexander in the hearts of the nation. When that happened, it would be simple enough to take Alexander’s place at her side, and then Kesh could step into the role that he had been born to assume: king.

  Servants in white scampered from his path as he marched through the beautiful but nearly empty halls.

  The living quarters of the highest family were not open to the public or to the majority of the nobility, leaving this area of the citadel lightly traveled. Kesh’s station was not one that should allow him access, either, but given Sacha’s need for his assistance and the summons he carried in his pocket, he found it quite a simple matter to walk freely within the royal hallways. The fine carvings, elegant furniture, and other trappings of the nobility faded from his notice as he focused ahead on his solitary goal: reaching Sacha and helping her move into the future.

  A pair of guards dressed in emerald plate mail flanked the entrance to the Princess’s royal chambers. The bulky duo straightened slightly as Kesh approached, and their gauntleted hands drifted to their sword hilts.

  The chancellor came to a halt well outside the reach of a swinging sword and began speaking before either guard could ask his business. “Good day, gentlemen. I am Chancellor Kesh Tomelen, and I have come to escort the Princess Sloane to her meeting with the Ladies’ Council.”

  The council was a group of the more important nobility that had evolved through the years to manage the many festivals and feasts here in the capital city of Basinia. The celebrations had become more than just a cause to make merry and ignore work over the years. Now they were a principal portion of the economy and a primary source of income for vendors of all kinds and races. Some were much more important than others, with the distant Feast of Corin being the most important of all. There were many events the princess could afford to miss, but her presence would be expected at many and all but required for those regarding the Feast of Corin. His mission as guide and educator gave him sufficient pretext to be here today and for many of his visits to come. “Would one of you be so kind as to announce me?”

  The brutes glanced at each other, and the shorter of the two guards narrowed his eyes with suspicion. Before he could open his mouth, Kesh made a flourish with one hand, producing a sheet of parchment detailing the meeting he had just mentioned and requesting Princess Sloane’s presence. Lady Cora Barrelon’s signature had been scrawled across the bottom of the page, meticulously avoiding the other text.

  The shorter of the two guards took the paper from his hand and turned his skeptical glare at the words printed on the page. After squinting at the letter for a moment, he grunted and said, “Wait here.”

  Kesh tilted his head. “Of course.”

  Squint-eye returned shortly and gestured Kesh into the parlor. “Have a seat,” he said, waving at one of the plush red chairs. It flanked a cold fireplace that would have served to warm the whole of the royal hall had it been stoked and blazing. “Her highness will join you soon.” The guard then took a position near the door and commenced watching Kesh.

  Kesh smiled briefly at the guard’s brusque tone, then drifted across the softly gleaming floors to the indicated chair. Squint-eye scowled his displeasure as Kesh bypassed it to review the books that had been painstakingly displayed on intricately wrought shelves located on either side of the great hearth. The titles were genealogies of the Ventus family and compiled histories of the Basinian kingdom. Several carved bowls and lovingly crafted wooden sculptures took the spaces not crowded with leather-bound literature.

  Kesh could feel the intense glare of the guard like a nettlesome burr. As if I were some common thief, he mused.

  Time ticked away as Kesh ignored the guard. What in Orundal could be taking her so long? It wasn’t as if he had come early enough in the morning to catch the princess still abed. The thought of Sacha dressed only in her nightclothes lingered, ushering deeply buried desires and hopes to the fore of his mind. Kesh removed one of the genealogies of a Ventus relative, one Autor Bancroft, and thumbed through it without actually seeing any words. Instead, he imagined that it was tracking the beginnings of his own story, with him and Sacha at the root of a mighty family tree filled with statesmen and rulers.

  The gentle metallic click of a latch and the whisper of hinges drew the chancellor away from his fancy. Instantly his prior irritation was forgotten.

  Sacha stepped into the parlor with feline grace. She wore a dress that was primarily crafted from golden taffeta and accented here and there with touches of forest green. The garment fitted closely to her slim waist and hugged the delicious curves of her bosom, inviting frustrated glances from men who might chance to see her. Dark ringlets of hair hung down around gold loop earrings to lightly brush her shoulders. Her crystalline blue eyes narrowed as she saw him, but her voice was deceptively smooth when she spoke to the guards. “You may leave us. I would like to speak with Master Kesh alone.”

  Squint-eye’s displeasure showed in the form of a scowl that gave him the appearance of a rabid hound. “Your Highness—”

  Sacha cut his words with a short gesture. “Rest easy... Joshua. The chancellor and I travelled together for weeks, after all. If there was ill he wished me, it would have been better served then than now.”

  Kesh’s posture stiffened as he again remembered the dictates passed down from Lord Graves that specifically intended harm to her. He put Sir Bancroft’s history back on the shelf to cover his discomfort.

  If Joshua thought it odd that she paused before using his name, he gave no sign. He looked at Kesh closely, obviously wanting to say something else, but Sacha once again
prevented him from doing so.

  “I will be fine, Joshua,” she said, her tone firm but her face kind. “Console yourself in the knowledge that I have been personally trained in combat by one of the most deadly men you or anyone else has ever known. If my own skill should prove less than sufficient, you and Tully will be just outside the door.”

  “As you will, Highness,” Joshua said, though his voice still held a tincture of resentful suspicion. “Tully and I will be ready should you call.” He bowed deeply to Sacha and backed through the door, glaring at Kesh until the door closed.

  “Presumptuous cretin,” Kesh grumbled.

  Sacha turned slowly to face him with a frosty glare. “You, sir, are not welcome here.”

  Kesh assumed his most earnest expression. “Please, Princess.” He bowed. “I can only assume your hostility stems from my actions concerning Erik and Kinsey. May I at least explain myself?”

  “There is no need,” she replied curtly. “I know that I must tolerate your presence, but beyond that, we have no reason to converse.”

  Kesh straightened and took on an air of concern. “Well, might I at least tell you why I am here?”

  “Of course,” she said, agitation growing in her voice. “But I can only assume you are here to take me to my mentor, Teacher.”

  “Ah, yes. That is one of the things that draws me to your chambers, but there is another event we must attend first—”

  “No,” Sacha interrupted. “I will not be seen at any event with you.”

  Kesh winced and glanced at the door as her voice rose. The venom with which she spoke took him aback. She truly is upset with me, he thought, amazed. Well, no matter. It will pass when she understands in full. He cleared his throat softly. “I see... there is the matter of your secret, Princess. We must maintain a certain level of ‘normalcy,’ if you will.”

  “I can do that just fine without you,” she snapped, and folded her arms, turning away.

  She had turned a fraction too late. Kesh had seen her eyes lose their fire when he mentioned her masquerade. “Yes, of course,” he said smoothly, his confidence resurging. “But the meetings with your mentor for training in the Shamonrae cannot be advertised as such. Your sister had no such talent. We must leave your quarters under pretense of another engagement.” Kesh spread his hands for emphasis. “These other ‘events’ provide the cover we need to move about freely.”