Shadaya: Out of Darkness (Gemstone Royals)

by Kelly A. Purcell

  SHADAYA

  Out of Darkness

  Gemstone Royals Book 1.5

  Kelly A. Purcell

  Shadaya: Out of Darkness © 2019 by Kelly-Ann Purcell. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by RebecaCovers

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

  CONTENTS

  Map of Saharia

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Connect with Kelly A. Purcell

  The GSR Series

  Map of Saharia

  PROLOGUE

  “C

  lose your eyes," she whispered just as her father always did, as her grip tightened on the practice sword and she shifted into another stance. She tried to mimic the way her father moved with his own sword, imagining she was slow dancing, feeling the gentle breeze against her skin, visualizing a log bobbing along a tranquil stream, like a lone leaf riding the waves of the wind.

  He always said that if you listened more than you looked you could feel the right moves to make, he did not believe in just practicing sword positions and perfecting footwork, for him combat was an art, whether it involved fists or swords. It was an art that his daughter took more seriously than her lessons, soaking up her father’s passion as if it was her own.

  Her father, Mervin Quadin, had just returned from another long trip but was so impressed with his daughter’s improvement and dedication to what had started off as merely a way of spending time together, that he had dived right back into training with her. Today they were just outside the mansion practicing with their wooden swords on the lawn when her father was called inside by one of the servants.

  “Alright my heart,” he had said tapping her pert nose as was his way.

  “I will be right back.”

  “Hurry papa,” she beamed up at him, looking into eyes so much like her own.

  She had watched him walk away in that straight-backed important way he had, then returned to practicing her positions. He was always being called away for something, with that angry thought she lost her balance. This snapped her out of the world she was weaving with her mind and sword, with an exasperated huff of annoyance she stomped her feet; how easy her thoughts distracted her.

  Suddenly a shrill scream was emitted from the house. Her heart leapt at the sudden terrifying sound. It was her mother. She dropped her practice sword and bolted from the back lawn towards their mansion. Her tiny frame slipped unnoticed into the midst of the commotion. There were kings’ guards in the foyer of her home, she was young, but her practiced eyes immediately noticed their offensive stance, hands on the handles of their sheathed swords, feet firmly planted, eyes alert. Her father had taught her to be observant. The servants had gathered by the entrances whispering among themselves. Fear gripped her heart.

  "Mervin Quadin will you be leaving with us quietly or will you be causing us trouble?" one of the soldiers asked.

  These soldiers did the bidding of the king throughout Dravia and were known to be ruthless, heartless creatures much like their king.

  Her tiny gasp was lost in the uproar that followed which included her mother’s sobs. Her mother was kneeling with the remains of a broken tea cup before her, tears flowing down her face.

  “Why Mervin, why!”

  Her mother was always so dramatic, nothing of consequence could happen in her presence without attention being drawn to her. The little girl’s annoyance was short lived, as she watched in horror as her father submitted to the guards.

  "At least let me say goodbye to my daughter!" He said calmly.

  “Papa?”

  He tossed a look over his shoulder and saw her, the slight widening of his eyes showing that he had not expected to see her there.

  She was confused, her young mind still having difficulty comprehending what was truly happening. After a moment’s hesitation the soldiers turned him about. With his hands now bound in front of him he knelt before her and managed a smile. Just for her, he always smiled just for her.

  "All will be well little one," he said, as he reached up with his bound hands to cup her cheeks tenderly.

  He then tapped the necklace she had always worn around her neck, often beneath her clothes, and with a firmness she knew too well said:

  “Never take it off, don’t ever forget.”

  She did not like that his words were implying that he would somehow not be here to remind her.

  He then discreetly tucked something cold and hard into her hand, so much tinier than his own. He squeezed her hand over it, and she could tell that it was a key, that barely fit in the palm of her tiny hand.

  “Take care of things for me, my brave girl,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes as if he had more to say.

  “Why are they taking you?” she asked with an indignant frown, ready to fight them all if she needed to.

  “I’m in a bit of trouble my heart. I… if I don’t come back…”

  “No!” she cried, throwing her small frame against his stooped one. She clung to him.

  “You always come back.”

  “If I don’t come back,” her father repeated, this time his voice thick with emotion, “I want you to be brave and strong and don’t forget to practice.”

  He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “guard your heart.”

  "Alright that's enough!"

  One of the soldiers snapped, yanking him to his feet.

  After taking two steps towards the door, her father shoved his shoulder backward against the guard in annoyance. This earned him a rough shove that caused him to stumble forward and hit his chin against the hard door. Her father being the proud man that he was did not make a sound, she knew he would never give them the satisfaction. She watched them leave with him, leaving everyone in the room in stunned silence. But not her, she dared not let him leave again.

  She turned and bolted through the back gardens in the direction of the stables. Her short legs pumping beneath her as the hem of her dress swept the dusty path. Her new puppy, which her father had just brought back from his journey, excitedly running after her. She charged into the stables and went right to her pony, a gift from her father upon his return from one of his many journeys. She did not waste time saddling it, instead she leapt onto its back and took hold of its mane just as her father had taught her.

  "Go mister Wiggles!"

  The pony bolted forward, covering the grounds of the manor fast
er than she ever could, heading in the direction of the gates. The mansion was in such disarray over her father's arrest and her mother's dramatic wailing, not even the guards watched the gates. It was the first time she would be out to the city on her own, but she could not let that deter her from seeing her father. A part of her truly believed that if she could only get there, if he could only see her, everything would be okay.

  Despite her resolve to be strong for him as he always asked her to be, tears streamed from her eyes into her dark hair, as the wind whipped against her face. She did not understand everything, but she knew that something had gone terribly wrong and there was a great chance she might not see her beloved father again. She rode hard and she cried harder, please do not let me be too late, she prayed, for the first time appealing directly to her family’s god so personally. Her family, for generations had paid homage to Rad as their family god. She tried to find solace in the fact that just two days ago she had personally brought an offering to their family god to protect her father. She hoped that it extended to this moment too.

  By the time she reached the city, the crowds had already gathered… as if for an execution. Her eyes widened, she could not believe the king would do such a thing to her father. Her parents had never let her witness the brutal executions, as her father always said it brought darkness to the purest heart, of which hers was the purest he had ever encountered. Thoughts of him almost left her weak and unable to dismount, but as the pronouncement boomed through the square and the people shouted in excitement, reality forced her off her pony. They were going to execute him like a common thief. She ran toward the crowd, pushing her way through the chanting, sweaty villagers, their tattered brown clothing letting her know that most of them were peasants. Her father did not deserve their jeers, he had a heart for the oppressed unlike any noble man she had ever known. She could not understand why anyone would want to take his life.

  Finally, she made her way to the front, through eyes brimming with tears she managed to pick him out of the line up of three. There was a brown sack over his head, but she knew his stance and that grey tunic with the silver trim, he still wore the family ring on his finger, it glinted in the midday sun. Haddin, the king’s youngest son, stood a little way off, he had always been a pious and cruel looking youth, just the way she would always remember him. He stood beside his father who seemed troubled and preoccupied, was he thinking of the days of war, when her father fought bravely by his side, or did he have no thought for the man whose life he had just committed to end.

  The sack was yanked from his head, leaving his thick dark hair askew on his head, she had never seen her father look disheveled, not even when they sparred did a hair ever fall out of place.

  "Father!" she shouted.

  His gaze found her quickly and his brave expression faltered, "Shadaya," she saw him say.

  She pushed against the gate that served as a barricade against the mob, the cold tips bruising her chin, "Father!" she cried.

  He was shaking his head, tears now falling from his own eyes, this seemed to rile the crowd even more. A noble man crying like a coward for his life. They did not know that his tears were not falling over his fate, but over the knowledge that the purest heart he had ever known was about to witness such darkness. She could see it in his eyes.

  "I love you," he mouthed.

  "I love you too Father!" she shouted as she wept, her knuckles white as she gripped the key, he had given her.

  As the executioners lined up next to the podium their swords drawn, the kingdom's crest inscribed on their uniform, she cried even more. She saw her father's expression harden as he glanced at them, but his eyes quickly returned to her.

  "Close your eyes!" he shouted, "Close your eyes Shadaya!"

  Obediently she squeezed her eyes shut, stealing herself against what was to come, if only there was a way to close one's ears from the pain too.

  CHAPTER 1

  She woke with a start to the sound of heavy panting next to her ears, a slobbery kiss followed. She opened her eyes to her grey hound standing over with concern in his dark eyes.

  “It’s okay Pit,” she whispered and pushed her curly raven hair out of her eyes. She withdrew her hands from her hair, and her eyes grew wide with panic at the bloody mess. She reached up and touched a spot tentatively, wincing at the pain from the wound.

  Pit made an impatient circle and nudged her again. It was then she realized what Pit was trying to direct her attention to; the incessant pounding on her door. She was almost frozen to the floor by the memory of what she had done. She had tried so hard to stay in control and to stick to the task at hand, just as her mentor had warned her to, but the sight of that ring on that filthy man's finger had done something to her. A call rung out now from behind her door, drawing her from her dark thoughts.

  "Yes!" she shouted, pushing past the tremor in her voice.

  She slowly sat up, shaking the grogginess from her head. Henry’s potion was taking more and more from her each time she used it. Though it served her purposes perfectly it had an unpleasant side effect. It kept her focused, made her even lighter on her feet than she had trained to be, and kept her alert, regardless of her wounds. Once it wore out though, she became instantly exhausted and every cut, knock and ache would roar to life.

  She looked up from the floor where she had landed after stumbling through the window and stood up. Pit backed away but stayed close as was his way. Since that faithful day when she had lost her father, the two of them had been inseparable. As soon as she gained her balance, she immediately started to strip off her suit, tearing off the sleeves of the expired tunic to wipe up the evidence of the unexpected deed. She had barely made it through her window before she had collapsed onto the floor. She shuddered to think about what would have happened had she passed out before making it inside. Now she considered both the deed she had done and the riskiness of the potion she had grown so dependent upon.

  “I really didn’t think this through," she muttered. Fear rose up in her chest, lodging in her throat like a hard rock.

  "Mi lady!" came the call again.

  Pit barked in response.

  It was Eunice outside her door; her old maid servant and life-long friend. Only she had the audacity to pound on her door at this hour. She jumped out of her trousers and balled it into a bundle along with the rest of her clothes. Now that they held most of the evidence of this morning’s activities, she needed to dispose of it carefully. She shoved it into her armoire and quickly ran her fingers through her hair, she knew she must look a mess, but tending to her wounds would have to wait. Almost instinctively her hands found the necklace she never took off, the one thing she had of her father.

  "What is it Eunice?" she shouted as she rushed to the door, opening it just a crack so she could peer through.

  She hoped that if Eunice saw that she wore only her undergarments she would leave her be. A poor hope to have, considering the woman had changed her undergarments from the first day she had put them on.

  Eunice's big earth eyes widened at the sight of her and she wondered if she had somehow gotten blood on her face. She drew back a fraction, hoping the shadow of the door could hide her.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "There has been another attack," came the somber reply, "Reeva was involved."

  Shadaya inhaled sharply, flashes of this morning flooded her mind. She had known Reeva since she was a child, slumped on the back of her father's horse when he had walked up to their gate seeking work. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, composing herself before her next question.

  "Was anyone...taken?"

  She already knew the answer to that, but Eunice was a perceptive one. The last thing she wanted was for her to figure out that the girl she had grown like her own daughter could commit such a brutal act, even if it was for a good reason. Since she had started working with Henry, she’d had to be deceptive to the ones she loved. That part she did not like so much.

  Eunice shook her
head and as she did, her plump cheeks rose to meet her eyes in a smile, "you would not believe it mi lady."

  Shadaya clenched her jaw, "try me."

  "Someone... someone saved them."

  "Saved them?" that was hardly the word she would use for what happened out at Arduway. She lowered her gaze, she had only wanted to stop what was happening before her very eyes. No one needed to get hurt.

  "Yes, like last time! The girls say they had never seen anything like it. But it all happened so fast that all they could say was that it was like a shadow came out of the darkness and rescued them. It was just like the stories. It was the Shadow!"

  Shadaya blinked, thank the stars she had not been identified at least. She did not plan to engage in combat, when she had started this, it had always been about getting the task done stealthily. Without drawing attention to herself. But once she got a taste of the satisfaction of saving a life, she could not seem to ignore someone in need.

  "Can you believe it?" Eunice was saying, "Someone finally standing up against the prince’s cruel games and protecting our girls. Since the king’s death Dravia has become even more of a festering pit of cruelty and evil. I thought the king was bad, but his sons are monsters."

  Shadaya's eyes widened, "standing against the prince? Why would you assume what happened was motivated by that?"

  "It is obvious Shadaya, no one challenges the selection guards but here is this... person bringing equality to the battlefield of our cause. This isn’t the first time, you remembered what Milden told us?"

  "Um just don’t go around speaking like this Eunice, I would hate for you to get into any trouble. And please do not speak evil of Drayton... his brother is the horror, not him."

  A heavy weight of sadness settled on her chest at the thought of her old friend and their less than amicable passing.

  "I apologize mi lady,” Eunice said sympathetically, understanding in her warm gaze.

  “Reeva is here, Bertrand brought her right away, he knew you would want to make sure she was well."