Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1)

by Olivia Majors

  “She does,” I whisper quietly, remembering all the times my parents – my mother and Lord Bone – locked eyes from separate corners of a room or secretly joined hands in the privacy of their home. “She truly does.”

  Trithar smiles, but there’s pain in his features. “I’m glad. Elinor deserves happiness – more than anyone I know. I could never have given her that. Never offered her such peace. I’m happy someone else was able to give it to her.”

  “You really did love her,” I say, unable to keep the amazement from my voice.

  “Maybe.” He shrugs, but a tear from rolls down his cheek at the feigned nonchalance. “Sometimes, we need to let go of the things we love in order to move on with our lives. But I don’t think I have to tell you that, do I, Kyla?”

  I turn my face away. I hadn’t thought much about Shade since the night of his escape. Hadn’t let myself think about it. The wound is still too fresh – too raw.

  “Does it still hurt? Letting go of mother, I mean?”

  “You learn to get over it with time. Time and determination and every other gods-damned thing you can think of to forget what you felt. To forget the dreams you built around that one significant person. Yes . . . it still hurts.” He sighs. “I don’t think it ever stops hurting.”

  “I tried looking in on her last night,” I say.

  Trithar’s eyes widen.

  “B-but . . .” My power has weakened, and I only caught a glimpse of my mother’s face before everything had gone dark. I’d tried for hours to get that glimpse back. Tried until the black void had overtaken me, and I’d finally slithered into unconsciousness for my efforts.

  “Would you like to see her?” Trithar asks.

  I nod.

  He holds out his hand. The moment I grasp it, the power in his body flows into mine and I don’t even have to command the darkness before it is there and a shard of flashing color is shooting from its depths in my direction.

  The room I’m standing in is cloaked in darkness. Dark flowers. Dark drapes drawn across the windows. Darkly clothed nobles with their heads bowed reverently.

  Candles light the entire room, but it does nothing to change the mournful atmosphere..

  People are weeping. Sobbing. Wailing.

  A casket rests in the center of the room. It is closed, but the words etched into its marble lid are clear and precise:

  Asher Rave, Noble warrior and Devoted friend, Rest in Peace.

  My lungs constrict.

  His funeral is being held in the ballroom of my house.

  Standing regally near the casket, Landor accepts the condolences of the guests instead of the bereaved family members.

  The Rave family – consisting of Asher’s widowed mother, two little brothers, and his baby sister – sit in a corner, weeping quietly and surrounded by extended family. I can tell they aren’t ready to accept other people’s sorrow on top of their own. They also don’t have the money for this kind of funeral. I have no doubt it is my brother’s doing.

  Behind Landor, stands my mother, looking strong and extremely beautiful, even if she is dressed in black. Somehow, the color suits her. My father is in a wheelchair beside her, the stub of his severed right leg extending a few inches over the rim of the chair. He grasps my mother’s hand, and occasionally she glances sidelong at him, a smile on her lips.

  Yes, she learned to love Gavin Bone.

  Landor wears an eye patch over his right eye. However, even with one eye, he still manages to convey everything he needs to convey without saying a word. And right now, all I sense from his frigid stare is icy, unparalleled rage.

  A rumble of whispers catalysts throughout the crowd of attendees.

  Celectate Wood and Aspen enter the room. Seeing the savage ruler again after so many months causes that small, weakened part of my power to rumble ominously. If I had known on that day so long ago, that I could have destroyed him with the mere wisp of my abilities, things would have gone differently.

  Landor and mother both stiffen at the unexpected arrival, the ice in their gazes becoming twin storms.

  Celectate Wood whispers something to Aspen. The royal heir approaches the casket and stops in front of my father. His eyes rest for a brief moment on the place where my father’s leg should be before he finally looks him in the face.

  “Lord Gavin Bone, I am pleased to see you in good health and wish you the best in your recovery,” he says, the arrogant tone of his voice lighting a small, but uncontrolled, flame of anger inside me.

  “T-thank you,” my father mumbles, eyes darting nervously between Aspen and Celectate Wood in the far corner of the room. I sense the fear radiating from him – but also something else. A squaring in his shoulders. The touch of confidence in the way he holds his head. The look that passes between him and my mother.

  “My father wishes to offer the grieving family members his condolences and, for the loss of their son, who was a knight in his service, he wishes to compensate them generously, so they never need suffer the affliction of poverty, as well as grief.” Aspen produces the document that his father slipped into his hand and holds it out to my father – or the man who had been my father.

  Don’t take it! I want to scream. Don’t you dare let that man make a puppet out of you again!

  But I know he will take it. He can’t do anything else. He is beneath Celectate Wood and beneath his own fear. He always has been, and he always will be. I chose to be ostracized so he could have the chance to strike at Celectate Wood – and he didn’t take it.

  Lord Bone grasps the document.

  My heart sinks and, across the room, Celectate Wood smiles. I want to rake my fingers down his face.

  But Gavin Bone turns and hands the document to Landor, without a word. My brother accepts it with a small bow and opens it. His eye scans the words neatly etched onto the fine white paper. He look at Aspen – and rips the paper, slowly, into tiny pieces. He tosses the torn strips on the ground.

  “The Bones will protect what is theirs to protect,” he says with cold firmness. “Make sure you tell your father that.” He tips his chin in Celectate Wood’s direction.

  Aspen’s eyes widen. “My lord . . .” he falters, glancing at Gavin Bone.

  “As of this moment,” my mother interrupts coolly, “Sir Landor speaks for House Bone.”

  The air leaves my lungs. My brother . . . is High Lord?

  The man I’d called “father” for seventeen years adjusts his position in the condemning wheelchair so he can look up at Aspen, whose face has gone red. Everyone in the room is glancing in their direction. Everyone in the room saw Landor throw Celectate Wood’s generous offer to the ground.

  “I . . . I don’t understand,” Aspen stutters.

  “Last night, under the witness of Calaisar’s priests, my son Landor was officially given the title of High Lord Bone of Ianthar,” the former Lord Bone says.

  Aspen’s shock is equal to mine. Ianthar is the ancient city of the Bone ancestry. It has lain in ruins for nearly forty years near the white diamond mines our family owns. My father – Gavin – always said it would take a leader with great strength and power to return the Bone family to its rightful roots.

  The newly initiated High Lord steps forward, a powerful, foreboding force to be reckoned with. “I will be repairing the city so we might return there – along with any Kelban citizens willing to bind themselves to my House in return for land, jobs, and a place to live.”

  Aspen’s mouth moves but no words come out.

  If Ianthar is repaired, the city and the surrounding land is capable of holding ten thousand citizens. If all of them are bound to House Bone, my brother can create an army. My brother – and those who call him “lord” – will pose a great threat to Celectate Wood’s reign.

  And there isn’t a damn thing the devil can do about it.

  “What do you mean by this, my lord?” Aspen asks, failing to keep anger from his voice. He glares down at my father.

  It is my mother who steps b
etween the heir and former High Lord, her expression full of pride and arrogance that causes Aspen’s hands to curl into tight fists. “My husband has done what he can for Kelba.”

  Now it’s Landor’s turn.

  Aspen smirks at my mother. “Need I remind you what happened to your daughter, my lady? Surely you don’t wish to tempt fate a second time.”

  She smiles coldly, the chill in her features spreading throughout the room and appearing on Aspen’s face. He is not used to this part of my mother – the “bitch” she kept buried beneath the surface. “Don’t flatter yourself. My daughter will avenge herself one day. Tell your father that.”

  Aspen stares at her, shocked, but quickly delivers her message.

  Celectate Wood looks across the room at her, curiously. She stares back at him, shoulders straight and chin uplifted.

  He frowns, eyes narrowing, and leaves with Aspen trailing in his wake.

  “I can’t wait to watch your sister tear him to pieces,” Lady Bone snarls.

  “What, mother?” Landor turns to look at her from where he’d been speaking with another distraught guest.

  “Nothing, son. Nothing.”

  She smiles.

  I smile too, as the vision disappears and I find myself, once again, standing on the dark patio overlooking a vast sea. The Bones will do just fine.

  My real father removes his hand from mine. “What did you see?” he asks quietly.

  “Fire,” I say. “I saw the devil discover that there’s other fires he neglected to bank.”

  Trithar stares at me, confused.

  I ignore his confusion and press a hand to my burning forehead. The pain has returned, dragging its claws down the side of my neck. I grit my teeth and fight back against it. The claws recede, but I know they will return.

  “Do they hurt?” Trithar asks after a moment of silence. “Your powers, I mean?”

  I hesitate, not sure if I want to reveal such a weakness too soon, but perhaps he can help. “Sometimes.”

  “That’s to be expected,” he reluctantly admits. “Right now they are only part of your instincts.”

  Now it’s my turn to stare at him in confusion. “My instincts?”

  “They attack when you feel attacked. They protect when you want to protect. But when you have formulated control over them, you can attack even if you don’t feel threatened. You can protect without the sudden urge to do so. You will have to sharpen them. Hone them. Strengthen the small amount of control you have on them already. But once you find that control you, not they, will be the real master of that power. Do you understand what I mean?”

  I nod. The idea of having control over my powers, without having to force them to obey, fills me with excitement.

  Trithar observes me, silently. “Kyla,” he finally says, “before we begin there is something of valid importance that you must know.”

  “What?”

  “No two Imperials have ever shared the same abilities within the bond of offspring. In other words, a father’s powerful gifts would not pass to his children. Maybe one of his powers might, but not both of them.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You have the ability to move objects with the will of your mind. You also have the gift of telepathic entrance – the ability to see things happening in another place at the present moment. I have both of those gifts, as well. You inherited them from me. But I inherited them from ancestors hundreds of years back.”

  I regard him with wary eyes. “And what does that mean?”

  “It makes you a very special – very different – heir, Kyla. In time, we might come to know what it will mean for this empire.” He leans on the railing. “Now, we have so much to do and very little time to do it in. Every heir, once they’ve passed their fifteenth year, is required to make a demonstration of their powers and receive their full title. You are born my heir, Kyla, but you must participate in an acceptance ceremony in order to prove to Ebonia that you are my heir and capable of ruling the empire. When I spoke to the Darthans about your existence, they were intent on disregarding you as an heir because you are well beyond the age of fifteen. But I convinced them to allow you an acceptance ceremony when you turn eighteen years old.”

  “But I turn eighteen in three months!” Three months to harness control of my powers. Three months to adopt my second form. Three months before I must prove to Ebonia that I am fit to rule it.

  “You will need training. Trish shall be your mentor. She will train you every day, for as long as it takes, until your gifts are perfected and you no longer need the training. It will take time. Patience. Dedication. But you’re my daughter, Kyla,” he says, “and you will succeed.”

  I let him touch the brand on my shoulder – the symbol that says I am alone and will never have a place in this world. It has become part of me. A part of me I will us to show the world that they are wrong about outcasts like myself.

  “Now,” Trithar says, releasing a slow, steady breath, “we must prepare you to meet them.”

  “Them?”

  “Your brothers,” he says, “the former heirs of Ebonia.”

  Epilogue

  One day I’m going to return to that land of shadow and fog.

  One day I’m going to rip their ethereal bodies to shreds and smile as I watch them float away into the darkening sky.

  One day I’m going to face the girl I loved.

  The girl who deceived me.

  The girl who I wanted to be the next chapter of my life – and I’m going to have a choice.

  When that day comes, I will do what should be done.

  I will slaughter the hell-cursed demons.

  I will destroy their gods-damned land.

  And I will look at that girl – and I will have to kill her.

  Acknowledgements Page

  I dreamed for years about reaching this moment – having my book in print and being blessed to write an acknowledgements page to all the people in my life who made that dream a living breathing reality! There are so many people who took time, effort, and love out of their own busy lives to help me achieve this. I hope I can convey my heartfelt appreciation to everyone with mere words!

  Laura Jaycox: best friend, reading buddy, first reader. You were there with me from the very beginning. You were the first person to read Ostracized and the first person to make me believe it could be a success. On the bad days, when I felt unimaginative or had a deadly case of writer’s block, you would endlessly brainstorm with me until something clicked. You’ve been there for me when I needed a fresh set of eyes or a confidence boost. Ostracized was possible because of you! You’re such a confident, smart, impressive woman who encourages me everyday to keep going and never give up no matter how hard it is. Thank you for being with me through thick and thin, girl!

  To my little sister, Katie: You were my first real fan. My adventurous sidekick. My eager listener when I had a new story or book idea. From the very beginning, you were always there for me when I had ideas and needed to get them out of my system. You never allowed me to stop writing because you always needed a new story. I love you little sis and I’m so proud of the badass you’ve become!

  To my beta readers: Nakia Steel, Summer Salmon, Bethany Doe, David Romanko, Laura Jaycox, Lily Reid, Caitlin Anderson, and my beloved sister, Katie. Words can not begin to express my appreciation for all the hard work and time you put into making my book a true masterpiece. Your honest feedback and suggestions shaped a bare manuscript into a beautiful finished edition! Thank you so much!

  Thank you Paramita Bhattacharjee: you brought Ostracized to life by designing a cover that really captured the essence of this empowering tale and its character. I could not be happier with the results. Working with you was amazing. Your awesomeness made this important part of the process a complete breeze!

  Thank you to the many friends and family whose presence in my life provided the ultimate source of material for quick-witted banter and embarrassing situations. I’m so grateful to
have you all in my life and you’ve inspired me in ways you didn’t even know.

  To my seven amazing siblings: I give you full credit for my ability to capture relatable dialogue and irritating characters (just kidding, not all of them). I love you all so much and couldn’t be more grateful for all the inspiration you gave to me, unawares.

  To my parents: Your support, love, and unwavering faith in my abilities never let me give up hope. Even at a young age, you told me I had a gift and my talents would one day be recognized. You told me I could do anything I set my mind to. I owe you for not just the writer I’ve become – but the woman as well. I love you both so much! Thank you for always believing in me and pushing me to stand up, no matter how many times I got knocked down!

  And finally, to all my readers, this story was written for you. To empower you. To give you hope. To inspire you. No matter how alone you feel or how society treats you, you can stand up and fight! You can keep going! You are only truly beaten if you allow yourself to feel that way! Do not allow fear to cloud your judgement. Do not allow fear to make your choices. I love you all! I can’t wait to give you more empowering adventures.

  OLIVIA MAJORS

  has been an avid writer since she was four years old and devoted the entirety of her childhood and teen years into turning that skill into a career.

  Olivia keeps herself busy running a successful website and YouTube channel devoted to inspiring the youth and young writers of the twenty-first century alike.

  When she cannot be found writing or running her business, Olivia is exploring nature, kickboxing, drinking coffee, and working full-time as an Account & Logistics Coordinator.