“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” I took one hand off the stick, planting it on the ground next to me and holding up my free hand to indicate I meant him no harm. “Where’s the guy who came to save you?”
“You mean him?” He shifted to the side, revealing Braden.
He lay on his back, one hand clutched to his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers.
I rushed to his side, dropping my stick as I fell to one knee. “Braden!”
His eyelids fluttered open. “Thought I told you to stay put.” He coughed. His voice was weak, but his tone still retained some of its arrogance.
“What happened?” I wanted to look at the wound on his stomach, but I didn’t want to take his hand away and remove the pressure. I also feared the sight of too much blood might make me faint.
“Bastard was pretty quick with that knife.” He gave a weak smile. “I licked him pretty good on the arm, though.”
“We’re going to get you out of here.” I turned to the other guy. “Help me get him up.”
“No way, man.” He stood abruptly, glancing about. “I have to get out of here. This is some freaky stuff. People in masks, random fog. You’re on your own. Good luck.” He whirled around and darted off.
A great whooshing sound filled my ears just as I was about to call after him, and suddenly the fog was gone. The man froze mid-stride.
We were surrounded by hooded, masked people, most of whom had wands raised in front of them.
“Ah, another masked crusader.” The tall, slim man turned his beaked mask toward me. “My my, this full moon has blessed us indeed! Two magicians to bolster our ranks. And strong ones at that.” He cocked his hooded head at me. “Am I right in assuming you do not wish to join us? I don’t want to presume, but if you came here with that one,” he gestured to Braden, “I assume you didn’t come seeking friendship.”
“Uh, no.” I strained to keep the fear out of my voice. “I don’t want to be part of your sick little murder-cult, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The masked leader clicked his tongue against his teeth. “It’s exactly this kind of narrow-mindedness that has driven us into the shadows. Witchkind used to be strong. We used to take what we wanted without remorse. And now? We cower behind wards like criminals. That is what we seek to do. To put an end to the destruction of our way of life. To bring about a new day for witches everywhere!”
The masked crowd around us cheered, and disgust knotted my stomach.
“Please, bird-guy. Please let me go.” The prisoner’s voice cracked with desperation as he pleaded with the leader. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I totally agree, and I think you should be allowed to do whatever freaky stuff you want. Just, please, don’t hurt me.”
“Silence, human!” The leader’s voice boomed across the clearing, loud and angry. “We are no longer in need of your services.”
“Hu—” The prisoner’s confused protest was cut off abruptly as the man in the bird-mask swished his wand in a rapid, horizontal movement. The man’s head twisted violently, his neck snapping with a sickening crunch. He slumped to the ground, landing face-down on the dirt and remaining motionless.
“Holy crap! You just killed him?” I gazed from the slumped man to the masked leader, horrified. “What the hell!?”
The man in the beak mask waved his hand. “Please. He was but a human. Nothing to fret over.”
Braden tugged at my sleeve. “You’ve got to get us out of here.” His eyes were intense, wide open, and bloodshot. “Now.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Like you said, I haven’t learned any magic yet.”
“You can do it. Just concentrate.”
“Young witches.” The man in the bird-mask stepped toward us. “You appear before us as a gift. We do not take this gift in vain, so go now with the knowledge that you have served well.” He raised his arms above his head and once again led the group in their otherworldly chant.
The masked people closed in around us as they chanted, and the air became heavy and hot as they tightened the circle. Every step they took toward us made it more difficult to breathe, and my head grew foggy.
“Figure it out, Meena!” Braden hissed at me as he gasped for air. His complexion was very pale.
“Yeah, no problem.” I stared in horror as the circle of masked figures closed in on us, the beaked man leading the slow approach. I closed my eyes and frantically scoured my mind for any possible way out.
I was totally unprepared for this, and I cursed my stupidity again. Leia and Oliver had tried to tell me that Broken Wand Academy was a dangerous place, and yet I had followed some sketchy characters into the woods alone, without telling anyone where I was going. Really, I deserved this fate.
As it became even more difficult to breathe, I glanced down idly at my class ring. Lot of good this stupid thing did. It was supposed to help keep us safe, but it didn’t seem like anything could keep people safe here. I should have demanded to leave as soon as I got here.
A thought struck me then, and I frantically pulled off the ring, gagging as a terrible wave of nausea passed over me. I grasped Braden’s arm with one hand and the magic stick in the other and squeezed my eyes shut. I did my best to ignore the chanting that was practically on top of us now.
I tried to recollect the feeling of relaxation that had preceded my incident with the bathtub, which I soon found was no easy task with the cacophonous mob and their undecipherable chant. I hadn’t thought that I’d be longing for a cup of Leia’s special tea any time soon, but a mug would’ve come in handy right about now.
The man with the beaked mask was mere feet away, his wand raised menacingly as if he were about to strike. I shut my eyes again, clamping Braden’s arm and the stick so hard I thought I might break both.
“Oh, crap! Oh crap crap crap crap crap!”
It took me a few moments of sitting in silence with my eyes squeezed shut to realize something had changed. I opened my eyes and heaved a massive sigh of relief at the semi-familiar curtains around my dorm’s bathtub. Braden’s head was cradled in my lap. I nearly leaped from the tub when a slender hand pulled back the curtain.
“You sure do know how to make an entrance, Meena.” Leia stared down at me, her toothbrush dangling out of her open, toothpaste-covered mouth. “Who’s the guy?”
“This is Braden. Braden, meet Leia, my roommate.”
His eyes were closed, and he remained motionless.
“Braden!” I tapped his cheek gently to stir him, but his body was completely limp, his hand had fallen away from the wound on his stomach. His shirt was drenched in blood.
“He doesn’t look so good.” Leia grimaced as she leaned in and pulled up his shirt, revealing the extent of the damage. Blood streamed freely from what was a deep, gaping gash. “Oof. Not pretty.”
Nausea washed over me again, and my head spun.
“Meena?” Leia’s voice sounded very far away, distorted, as if we were underwater. “You don’t look so good, either. You okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I attempted to nod, though whether I succeeded or not, I couldn’t say. “Totally fine.”
Leia’s concerned face loomed over me, spinning as the edges of my vision drew together into one tiny point of light. And then my awareness blinked out altogether.
End of Episode One
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Exclusive Sneak Peek of Crown of Lore
Chapter One
TOMORROW MIGHT BE the final day my mind is my own.
I’m not sure why everyone plays the loss of one’s individuality off as an honor. For those in the Relic class—like me—the Transfer of Life Ceremony is the end of any freedom we pretended to have ever had. Might as well fuse a ball and chain to your ankle, if selected. My life will be set, and not in a good way. Plus, I’ll have to live with the creepy memories of some random elder.
Yup, super great honor.
But today, there’s still work to be done. So, get to it Bel.
A sigh of exhaustion exits my lips as I slam my hands against the steel cart and give it a shove. The damn thing is heavy enough without the four inches of mud from last night’s rain pushing back at its thin wheels. I’m strong, but this is becoming ridiculous. It’s nearly the end of the work day, and I still don’t have much to show for it. Just a few yards of copper wire and a couple boxes of busted up circuit boards. Hopefully we can strip some gold from this archaic tech. If not, the Tenant class merchants will stop frequenting our shop, and we need their tokens of Lore or we don’t eat. The Royals don’t do handouts. No Tenants, no tokens—no hope.
My feet are soaked. Silt and gravel ooze through the holes in my boots with every squishy step. A gentle breeze wisps by and I shiver. Strands of hair flutter annoyingly in front of my face. That I can at least fix this moment. I reach back and grab my too-long waist-length hair, grimacing when I notice how the drab, brown color matches the mud caking my shoes—I didn’t need that visual right now—and wrestle the wind-tangled mess through a spare hairband dangling from my wrist. A sting slaps the skin of my hand first, and then I hear it. Snap. Holding back the urge to roll my eyes, I throw the broken tie to the ground. Ugh, this day really can’t get any worse.
And, as usual, I’ve spoken too soon.
Taro and Salis make their way over to me from across the road. The orange-haired brothers think they’re so much better than everyone else for having the ears of the top Tenant class buyers. Their bulky frames fight to not rip through their tops. These boys spend a good portion of their week staying in shape even without having to drudge heavy carts around all day. Probably just to make sure they can push around anyone who tries to compete for the same political leverage.
Since I rarely see the two pulling hours of hard labor at any of the ruins, like the rest of us, I’ve decided they have other ways to make a living. But I don’t really care to find out what that might be today.
In one well-choreographed swoop, I grab the hem of my mud-soaked skirt and tuck the fabric into my belt. Then, with a determined grunt, I give the cart a hard shove.
Nothing happens. The cart refuses to give. Not even a charitable inch. My eyes dart first to the right wheel—nothing unusual. Then the left—the treacherous wheel that betrayed my plans of escape, sinking into the mud instead.
I let out a long, slow breath and steel myself. “Hey boys.” I add an extra dose of artificial sugar into my tone.
Taro takes the lead and makes a beeline right for my cart. He’s the taller of the two, and sports a crooked nose courtesy of his brother, who clocked him in the schoolyard. The whole thing happened maybe six years ago, when I was about ten or eleven.
The brute slows before me and snatches up my wiring. Holding the stolen goods in the air, as if the near-trash were a trophy, he says to his approaching brother, “This will bring a few tokens, yeah?”
I yank the coiled wire from his grasp. “For me. Not you.”
Salis maneuvers in a flash to within inches of where I stand and growls, “Not anymore, little girl.”
His putrid breath accosts my senses and I recoil. For a split second, my mind goes blank. Then, as if on instinct, my fist forms a ball. A feeling surfaces. A familiar injustice. My brother used to steal food directly from my plate, in front of everyone, as if he were entitled to my share. Anger simmers to a boil until it overwhelms me, and my fist collides with Salis’ nose in a satisfying yet sickening crunch! Vibrant red blood seeps through Silas’ fingers as he cradles his injury.
“There, I fixed your face,” I sneer.
Pride from my victory wells up in my chest at the sight, but it’s short lived.
Taro lunges at me over the cart, but I’m quick, and he’s not. I side-step around him and hightail it down the street. Who cares about some stupid wiring and ancient junk? No clue why it was so important to me a few minutes ago either. I twist back after several successful running-stomps through the mud, but Taro, undoubtedly fueled with adrenaline, is nearly on top of me. Gripping my arm, he uses my momentum to throw me to the ground, topping off this disastrous day as mud covers and drips down my entire body.
“You pigs!” I scream.
Taro raises his foot to kick me in the side, and I brace for the crushing pain, when a body plows into Taro and slams him to the ground. I can’t help but gape. Six feet away from me lies Taro, face down in the mud.
Scrabbling to my feet, I whip my gaze the other direction just in time to see a village boy with a mop of wavy wheat-gold hair. Asher flicks his famous rascally grin my way before twisting around to meet Salis. I want to roll my eyes again. I don’t need his help. But, without hesitation, Asher’s powerful right hook meets Salis’ jaw with a dull crack. Salis staggers back and catches himself. For a second, it looks like he might continue the fight. Instead, he straightens his tunic and spits a mixture of blood and saliva into the mud.
Salis curls his lip and growls at my savior, and then grabs Taro by the arm and pulls him up. “Let’s go.”
The brothers stumble off and out of sight.
“I didn’t need your help,” I eventually say. Mud drips down my forehead and I wipe it away. Great. I probably just smeared the mess across my face.
“Arabella of the House of Garin.” My pleased-with-himself savior bows low, as if he were addressing me as Royalty—a ridiculous notion. Something Asher knows will irritate me. “I am quite aware of your fighting prowess, but it appeared as if you needed a wee bit of assistance back there.”
I scoff, but it’s truthfully more of a laugh.
He offers a hand, and I take it and allow him to pull me to my feet, even though I don’t need his help with that either. Asher is only eighteen, but his hands are already rough with calluses. However, pretty much everyone who lives in Arlos, and all the other Relic class towns dotted across the Queendom, have calloused hands. Living out here is brutal. There’s no getting around that fact.
To return his gallant bow, I lower into a playful, deep curtsy. “Asher, of the House of Caine, I thank you for your loyal service.”
Asher smiles widely and, without releasing my hand, tugs me into his arms. “I’m forever loyal to you, Bel.”
I try to squirm from his embrace. “I’ll get you all muddy.”
“So?” The tenor of his voice rumbles through me. “I can’t resist a girl who can break a guy’s nose without a second thought.”
Now I smile wide, remembering the shock on Salis’ face when I did just that. “You saw?” It was more of statement and less of a question. Still, he answers.
“Yeah, I did. And I didn’t want to let you have all the fun.”
Focusing on Asher’s gorgeous emerald eyes and square jaw, I almost forget about my awful day. He’s the ray of sun I can’t imagine living without. I lean in and press my lips to his, soft and warm. Kissing him always feels like coming home again.
And, as promised, he doesn’t care about the muck and returns the kiss with enthusiasm.
Much too soon, I step out of his arms to note the sun’s position in the sky. “It will be dark in a few hours.”
Asher bobs his head slightly. “I am ever at your service, ma’am.” He fetches the copper coil still lying on the ground and tosses the metal into my cart.
Together, we wiggle the cart free and start down th
e drier dirt path toward home. I spend a few minutes finger combing clumps of mud from my hair and clothes. The stains on my skirt and bodice are bad. Mama is going to be upset, but I’m not as mud-caked as I had originally thought.
Even as the light dims, I can’t help but admire the strong contours of Asher’s jawline as he easily pushes the cart for me. Walking side-by-side, I drive my shoulder into his arm.
He peers down and smiles. “What was that for?”
“I don’t know, maybe because I can . . .” I pause and raise an eyebrow. “… or maybe because I love you.”
He rolls his eyes before facing forward again. “I love you, too.”
He won’t admit it, but I can feel how he’s carrying far more than his share of the cart’s weight now. I don’t bother saying anything this time. He did valiantly save me back there. Not that I’ll boast about that to anyone.
A few minutes pass and we reach my family’s reclamation shop. It’s not much, but with all the overtime hours Asher has put into remodeling the place, it can almost pass as more than a Relic class merchant shack. Before he started working on it, the brittle wood walls and cracked cement foundation barely held up. He’s made the shop respectable with his retrofits. We can’t afford to pay him extra, but I get the feeling he doesn’t mind. He does get extra attention from his supervisor, though—not that he needs my real supervision.
Mama won’t say it, but she would be lost without us. Father passed away a few years ago and my brother went off to the Lore Training Institute. Asher treats her well, even if he’s underpaid. And since he didn’t get a marking last year at the Ceremony, he’s here to stay.
I walk up the few steps to the front entry. Like usual during this time of year, I have to yank the handle. The foundation settles every Fall, warping the frame. After a few tugs I manage to pull the door fully open for Asher as he grabs today’s haul from the cart.
“I’ll take your bounty to the back.” Asher’s full lips twist into a sly grin.
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