Contents
Title
Description
Copyright
Acknowledgements
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
Curse of the Crown
Glossary
Characters
Exclusive
About the Author
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Ties of Magic
Curse of the Crown Book 2
Caitlin Taylor
Ties of Magic
Description
A prince with a perilous magic, ascending a cursed throne.
A hunt for the one person who might offer respite.
How much can a king sacrifice for his empire?
Since his ascension to the throne began, Akoni's magic has been growing more and more volatile. With each day his control weakens. The only hope he ever had was Jeffrey, whose mere presence had an inexplicable way of helping him manage his magic.
But Jeffrey vanished, nowhere to be found.
Akoni's men search for Jeffrey, while Akoni fights to counter the damage done by his father and the members of his court.
Every day he struggles against his magic, which grows more dangerous with each passing moment.
Can Akoni find a way to control his magic and save his empire? Or will the magic corrupt him as it has his father, dooming him and his people?
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ties of Magic: Book 2 in the Curse of the Crown series © 2019 Caitlin Taylor.
All rights reserved.
CaitlinTaylorBooks.com
Cover design by Dee Aditya at Decorous Anarchy Studios
Editing and proofreading by Emmy at Studioenp
Acknowledgements
The most enormous thank you goes to my beta readers. You have no idea how much I appreciate all your help, your encouragement and your patience when I ask the silliest questions.
Jana, Wulfy, Helke and Andie -- Thank you!
To my readers: I love you!
Everyone of you, who has picked up my first book and loved it and has come back for more, I'm so grateful. You make dreams come true.
Chapter 1
The moon hung bright, illuminating Jeffrey's path. While he was grateful for the light, only two days had passed since the full moon. The goddess would be watching, and he was not certain whether that was a good thing. He picked his way across the undergrowth, flinching at the crackling beneath his feet each time. Patrols would not yet come this way, but caution was still necessary.
He reached the familiar statues and found them unchanged by time, as clean and smooth as he remembered, suggesting the servants still cared for them. They stood as imposing as ever. The Goddess Gaia and her daughter, Tempesta, carved from white marble. A rocky outcrop behind them had water trickling down the rock face, gathering in a shallow pool near the marble base and winding through the forest.
Jeffrey made a gesture of goodwill towards the statues, open-handed, palms up. He knelt at Gaia's feet and used a dagger to dig. The grass gave no resistance to the sharp metal, and the earth was loose, making it easy work. Only a few inches down, his blade tip encountered resistance. He carved out the edges, stuck the dagger beside the buried item, and pushed. It was enough leverage for the object to lift out of the ground, and he picked it up. Dusting off some of the soil revealed the panther etched into the wood.
A box the size of one hand. It was smaller than he remembered. Then again, maybe his hands had been smaller. More than ten years had passed. He'd sworn never to return. A voice in the back of his mind told him he'd have thrown it away if he truly had not expected to return.
He shook his head and opened the case, a part of him wishing it'd be empty. There was no latch, and the top came away with no resistance. A cloth-wrapped bundle lay inside. Jeffrey took it out and set the box aside. Beneath several layers of linen, he found a gold ring with faint lines on a flat, round centre showing a panther poised to pounce.
The sigil ring of house Trevino.
He had been thirteen years old when his father had presented it to him. He was not the true heir, but he was a member of the family, and it came with duties and privileges. He would wear it to mark his status. Back then he had been well pleased to receive the ring and had worn it with pride.
A gentle breeze stirred the trees, a shimmer of moonlight reflected off the golden surface.
"Enough with the hints," Jeffrey muttered, casting a glance at Tempesta. "I'm here, aren't I?"
Since arriving in his hometown, Ibirea, he'd been staying at the temple, the priestesses always hospitable to any travelling visitors. It did have the unwelcome side effect of receiving more visions from the goddess; more specific than the last time, more demanding, impossible to ignore.
He wrapped the ring in the cloth again and tucked it into his shirt. The wooden case went back into the earth, soil and grass on top. He stamped the ground, leaving next to no trace of any disturbance.
As quietly as he had come, he left. He used a different path this time. Instead of heading away from the estate, he went towards the white-walled villa.
He froze at the cracking of a branch. A flickering light peeked through the trees. The patrol was early. He should have known they'd change their patterns. But the torchlight could be as much a help as a hindrance, leaving them near blind to anything outside the illuminated circle. Careful steps took Jeffrey out of their line of sight and away from their path.
At the edge of the forest, Jeffrey paused, staring at the villa. His chest constricted as memories swelled inside him. He shook it off and hurried towards the side of the house. If luck was on his side, he'd find his father's study still had a broken window. The room lay in darkness; nothing moved within.
He stuck his dagger between the wall and the frame and twisted. A crunching sound, metal scraping against stone. A click. The window opened as if by itself. He checked the inside again and found the room empty. He pulled himself up on the ledge, drew his legs up, and awkwardly climbed in, hitting the floor with a thud. He cursed and waited, frozen. There was no sound, no one coming to investigate. He closed the window quietly, wondering when this method of entry had become so difficult.
He turned to look at the room, and another wave of memories hit him. His father sitting at his desk, writing letters, lecturing Jeffrey, reprimanding his brother, praising his sister. Both of them sitting by the fireplace reading, Jeffrey in one armchair, his father in another. He shook himself. There was no time for this.
Silent steps brought him to the desk, seeming untouched, as if his father may return any minute to get some work done. He pulled the letters he had prepared and laid them in three piles. Now came the tricky part. He'd have preferred to do this elsewhere, without being rushed or the risk of discovery. But he didn't have the funds to buy th
e necessary bits, especially the expensive wax. The paper had been dear enough, but he'd had to buy it, knowing well he wouldn't have time to write everything out in here. He needed the letters to be unquestionably authentic, which meant smooth paper, a faultless hand, and the right sealing wax. Regular candle wax would give him away as a fraud within moments, as would hurried script, mistakes made in a rush or any number of other things that might happen if he didn't do this with care.
He lit a candle and gave a silent prayer to Tempesta to let it remain unnoticed. His father's writing utensils were all lined up, waiting for someone to use them. He prepared the wax, put it in a spoon nestling in a little stand, and set a candle underneath. Drawing the recently unearthed ring from his shirt, he unwrapped it. Once the wax had melted, he poured a little on one of the letters and pressed the ring into it. One by one, he added a seal to each letter which demanded one.
When he was done, he placed one letter, marked Kendra, in the centre of the table propped up by a small stack of letters. The remaining, sealed letters he tucked away into his shirt. He blew out the candle and righted the utensils. Aside from the small trail of smoke and the newly added letters, the table remained untouched.
Jeffrey licked the tips of his forefinger and thumb and pressed them against the wick. With a faint hiss, the smoke disappeared. He swept his gaze across the room and allowed himself a moment of reverie. He'd been happy here once. His father's smell still lingered, or maybe it was only his imagination. An unbidden memory came to him, of his father screaming at him, calling him a disgrace, cursing him for ruining the family.
He shook his head and left the room the same way he had come. With the window closed as best he could, he followed along the wall. Beside a window with light shining through, he paused.
A woman, who sounded like his sister but not her, spoke. A servant replied. Silence. Cautiously, he peered into the room. A fire burned in the hearth; reclining couches faced it. He had a view of the bottom half of a dress, bright green with white embroidery, but nothing else, and it was not enough. It had to be her, but he couldn't linger.
Voices coming from the forest startled him. Time to go. Casting nervous glances in all directions, he hurried on, leaving the estate.
It was only when he was off the grounds and two streets away that he breathed easier. His entry had been unnoticed. He thanked Tempesta for her guidance, while cursing her for putting him through it all.
Time for a drink. Though, maybe only one. There was important business waiting for him tomorrow.
***
Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Jeffrey pressed the door handle and entered.
The young man behind the counter looked up, his brown-eyed gaze moving down to Jeffrey's feet, then back up again. "Can we be of assistance?" he asked, his tone condescending.
Jeffrey had expected little else and smiled. "Good day, sir," he said pleasantly and stepped up to the desk.
The man recoiled.
"I'm quite certain you can be of assistance. I'm here to check on my lord's books."
"Huh. What lord would that be?"
Jeffrey put one hand into his shirt; the gold ring dug into his chest. He pulled out one of the letters and handed it to the clerk.
Spindly fingers took the paper and unfolded it. The clerk's eyes rolled from left to right as he scanned the document. He held the seal against the light, peering at it closely. Turning his head, he eyed Jeffrey.
"Lord Trevino is dead nearly two years."
"Lord Fabrizio Trevino has left us one and half years ago, in fact. Lord Corvin Trevino is still with us."
"No one has seen Corvin in over a decade."
"Do not be insolent with me," Jeffrey snapped, slamming his fist on the counter. "Whether you've seen him with your own eyes or not, he is the lord of the Trevino estate, and I'm here on his orders. Now, will you give me what I seek or does his lordship need to find a more competent bookkeeper?"
"Excuse me a moment." The clerk disappeared behind a door.
Muffled voices filtered through.
An older man with greying hair came out, holding Jeffrey's letter, the younger man following behind. "Good day, sir. You say you're here on behalf of Lord Trevino?"
Jeffrey gave a curt nod, his lips pursed, drumming his fingers on the counter.
"It's always been a privilege to serve the house Trevino. There are many matters in need of his lordship's attention. We'd welcome seeing him to address any open concerns."
"That's precisely why I'm here."
"Of course." The man paused, eyeing the letter again. "It's only, the first time a young lord goes through the books, he should really be doing so in person."
"The letter clearly states the reason for his absence and grants me power to review them on his behalf. Any major decisions requiring his approval, I will be able to pass on to him."
"I see."
"Excellent, then you can let me do my job now."
"It's not that simple, good sir."
Jeffrey sighed. "I've spent days travelling to get here. I don't have time to waste. My lord has given me a task, and I'll be taken by Tempesta's storms before I leave said task unfinished. What does it take?"
"A better sense for dress," the young clerk muttered.
His master shot him a silencing glare.
Jeffrey stared at him. "I should have expected provincials to be aggrandising. The letter is clear. Do you have any doubt of its authenticity? I'm certain we can find someone who will attest for it. I did mention I've been travelling, right? There's a great many things I do for my lord. He does not generally require me to dress well for them. I do not have time to go find a tailor to fit your self-imposed standards." Jeffrey paused and sighed. Gentler, he continued, "Just let me do my job?" He drew a gold coin from a pouch, knocking it against the counter.
He'd always spent little of his wages, some of it on books, but most went to charities, especially for orphans and street children. Working at the palace, he hadn't had the chance to spend anything. It was just enough savings to let him purchase the expensive paper for his letters, leaving a single gold coin and half a handful of silvers. Not nearly enough for the kind of clothes these men would expect, certainly not if he wanted to keep something to live on until he returned to the legion. It worked, though. The expressions on the two men's faces changed. His clothes were simple, but if he wasn't who he said he was, he'd never afford a bribe of a gold coin to examine some papers.
Jeffrey was glad he'd had the foresight to save the money yet pained by the wasteful spend. Regardless, the coin exchanged owners, and Jeffrey was led to an adjacent room with grand gestures and smiling faces. His skin itched at the sudden change. It was only one day, he reminded himself. Tomorrow he'd leave the town and go back to being a soldier, back to an easier life.
"I'm expecting an associate to join me shortly. Do make sure to send him in."
"Of course, good sir. Can we offer any refreshments? There's a lot of books to cover."
"Coffee would be excellent, thank you." He forced a smile and sat. The room was simple, a table, a couple of chairs, a stack of cheap paper, ink, and quills. It would serve its purpose.
The young clerk brought a stack of tomes, disappeared, and returned with a cup of coffee.
Jeffrey was left alone. The door closed with a thud. An odd sense of being trapped hit him. There was a chance they'd send a messenger to the villa. But the lady of the house was out, gone to the capital to attend the prince's ascension ceremony. She would not return for days. There was likely no one else with enough authority to respond to the bankers. Or so he hoped.
He took a deep breath, blew it out slowly, and drew one of the heavy tomes to him. His father had been strict when it came to his tutoring, yet Jeffrey had not had to deal with these kinds of matters in so many years. Would he still understand them? He opened the book and began.
A knock on the door interrupted Jeffrey sometime later. He blinked and looked up.
"Si
r, I believe your associate has arrived." The older banker had opened the door, pulling it wide to reveal a second figure.
Black, close-fitting trousers, a neat, white shirt, a dark-green robe on top, his rust-brown hair styled elaborately. He was dressed exactly the way the bankers would expect. Jeffrey suppressed a sigh of relief.
"Luke, what a sight for sore eyes. Do come in."
Luke entered, gaze moving between Jeffrey and the old man.
"I could do with another coffee. Anything for you, Luke?"
"Tea would be welcome," he said and shrugged.
"If you'd be so kind?" Jeffrey asked, glancing at the old man still standing in the doorway.
"Of course, sirs." The door closed.
"So you came," Jeffrey said. He'd not been entirely certain if he would. They'd only met a few days earlier.
Jeffrey had spent a long time asking questions, finding out what he could of the Trevino estate and how it was doing, what it might need. It had become obvious quickly enough what was happening, and he'd started a search for someone who'd be able to sort matters long-term. When he'd met Luke, he'd liked him on first sight, and their extensive conversation had been promising. Today was the real test.
"Didn't think there'd be anything to come to, but yeah...too curious, I guess." He laughed and shrugged again.
"Good outfit. It should help in future."
"Didn't like how you were dressed, did they?"
Jeffrey sneered and pushed a tome towards Luke. It was left open near the end. "Start with this one. I want to know what you make of it."
"Of course," he said and sat across from Jeffrey, pulling the tome closer.
Tea and coffee arrived, once more, twice more, and then a third time. The light coming in through the window started to fade, and Jeffrey stood, flipping a switch beside the door. A hissing sound came from the wall-fitted lamps, and they flickered to life, a gentle light illuminating the room.
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