Reaching into my pocket, I feel for the key Mama gave me, then gently open the lock. With a click, I lift the lid. I’ve forever thought the lock was a bit pointless. If someone wants to steal our tokens, they’ll take off with the entire thing, not worry if they have the key.
Inside are three golden tokens engraved with the face of Queen Isolde. I’m told she’s beautiful, but the portrait etched on the metal is too severe for me—high cheekbones, cold eyes. The coins emit a slight sapphire glow. When I was little, they seemed like marvelous treasure, but these days they’re just something we never have enough of.
Mama insists I use one to heat the shower water this morning. When I told her how hot water was a waste, she nearly chewed my ear off. It didn’t help that I had to also explain my run-in with Salis and Taro and the mud.
“You need to appear like a lady at the Transfer Ceremony,” she whispered, as if the rising sun might hear her, too. “I won’t have people thinking our family is in need.”
Mama can’t provide much, but she’s still proud and determined to take care of us like she promised Papa.
I pinch a token between my thumb and forefinger. I have no idea if the sensation is only in my head, but a whisper of energy radiates through my fingers. I place the chest behind the mostly empty food storage tins in the cabinet.
“I’ll take a short shower,” I call out to Mama. “You should enjoy the warm water, too.”
She answers me down the hallway, from her room. “You take as long as you need.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a martyr, Mama.” I’d already planned to save her plenty.
I glance down at my nightclothes then peer out the second story window. The street appears empty. Plus, I’ll only take a second. No one will see me, if anyone is opening shop. I race down the stairs, slip out the front door, and rush across a well-worn path, clutching the token in my palm.
Out front stands the metal token box for our cluster of ten shop houses. I find our number and place the token in the round, cut-out slot. As I pull my hand away, the coin glows a brighter blue, then vanishes. Magic.
Now we’ll have one tank of hot water and electricity for at least an hour. Now that’s magic.
Ignoring the eye of our nosey neighbor, who had pulled back her curtain the second I stepped foot off the front stoop, I race back home. In a flash, I’m up the creaky stairs to the bathroom and starting the shower. The water is warm straight from the faucet. I can’t strip out of my pajamas fast enough before flinging myself into the cascade of heated water heaven. Which is nothing like the thirty seconds of icy hell I endured last night to scrub as much mud off me as I could.
Five minutes is all I allow myself. I leave the rest for Mama, especially as she left me her bar of fancy lavender soap and a dollop of perfumed shampoo to use. I wring out my hair, then step from the stall and wrap a towel around my body.
“Your turn, Mama,” I shout as I leave the bathroom and walk toward my room. She doesn’t answer. A few steps later, I enter my tiny bedroom and gasp. My body freezes in place. “Asher!” I squeak, pulling my towel tighter around my body.
Asher sits on my bed, dressed in his best dark green-hued tunic. He knows I love that one because the color matches his eyes. A mischievous grin stretches over his lips, a reminder that he’s in my room. On my bed.
Pointing toward the hall, I scold, “What are you thinking? Leave.”
He doesn’t budge.
I lower my hand and lift my chin. “How did you get in anyway?”
His wry grin turns lopsided. “You know, we’re going to be married.”
“So? We’re not married now.” I gesture him outside my room again. “Shoo,” I order.
Asher stands, a low chuckle punctuating his every move. But he holds in his humor as he passes me with a courteous dip of his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
After he leaves, I grapple for my underclothes and the dress that’s laid out on the chair next to my bed. Ten years ago, the shabby thing was the height of fashion. Still, I pull everything on as quickly as I can. Then, not wanting Asher to linger in the hallway for Mama to discover, I throw open the door. And there he is, no more than six inches from where I stand, gaping at me as I stand frozen before him—again. Ugh. It’s getting old.
“I like this look, too. Not as much as the other—”
Before he can finish, I punch him in the arm. “Get inside.” I yank him in while he feigns injury.
Asher plops onto the bed, and I grab my mirror and brush from my side table. I lower myself into my chair and rake the brush through my hair, occasionally checking my reflection.
Asher pats a spot on the bed next to him. “You could bring those big brown eyes over here.”
“My eyes and I are perfectly comfortable over here.” I pull at a tangle near the back of my head.
“You’re no fun this morning.”
I stop what I’m doing and furrow my brow at him. “I’m going to the Transfer of Life Ceremony in a couple hours.”
He waves his hand in the air. “You’ll be fine. I overheard talk in the town square. You only have about a five percent chance of being chosen to receive the marking this year.”
“A zero percent chance would be better,” I mutter.
“Well, at least you’re not volunteering to have a life like your brother.”
Neil didn’t get the marking, but right after the Ceremony, he was one of the few who was accepted into the Lore Training Institute. He wanted out of this hell hole and was willing to do anything to escape—even if meant leaving us behind to serve the Royals in a low position with no freedom. The town of Borandice is just a few miles away, but we never see him anymore.
“There’s always been a chance that I could be chosen today,” I say. “Mama’s going to need him, if I actually am.”
Asher stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Neil wasn’t happy salvaging worthless scrap all around the ruins.”
“And you’re saying I am?”
“Of course not, Bel. But I have a theory that the Transfer knows your soul’s desire.”
I snicker at his silly belief that magic is a good thing, then playfully drawl, “And what is my soul’s desire, oh Wise One?”
The mischievous grin consumes his lips again, and he leans in my direction. “Well, me, naturally.”
I chuckle. “Shows what you know about my soul.” I rest the mirror and brush on the side table. “Now, let’s go downstairs and explain to Mama why you were in my room.”
He gallantly gestures toward the exit. “She loves me, and you know it.”
“Whatever.”
The wood on the steep, angled staircase creaks loudly with every step as we go down. There’s no sneaking out of this home. Not that Mama monitors me. She knows she can always rely on me.
At the bottom, Mama comes from the storage room and clicks her tongue at Asher behind me. She shakes her head and grins. Her hair is pulled back today, revealing her elegant cheekbones and warm eyes. I can see why Papa was so madly in love with her.
“Don’t you have a home?” she jabs at Asher.
“Sure ma’am, but my home isn’t filled with beautiful ladies.”
And right there is why he can do no wrong in Mama’s eyes.
Ignoring Asher’s charm, Mama scans me up and down. “I can’t believe that dress has held up. The last time you wore it was . . .” Her gaze drops. “. . . um, was at your father’s funeral.”
It’s a simple maroon fabric, with ribbon detail on the front of the bodice and cap sleeves. Nothing flashy, but the dress was all I had.
Papa deserved much more than the modest cremation and small family Ceremony we gave him in the woods. Spreading his ashes was the moment I knew life would be different. I was no longer Papa’s little girl. I had to grow up, and my brother Neil just wanted to get out. Now I’m facing another life-changing moment wearing the same dress.
Mama spins me around and ties the thin ribbon at my shoulders. She pats me down, smoothing out any
lingering wrinkles. I rub my palm across the exposed skin on my upper arms. Will today be last time I’m free of the marking?
“You’re stunning,” she says, interrupting my thoughts.
Asher places a hand on the small of my back. “She sure is.”
My cheeks flush, and I quickly brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. To further hide my growing embarrassment, I head over to the small kitchen, tucked into the back corner across from the storage room.
“Is there anything to eat?” I ask
“Oh, yes.” Mama joins me in the kitchen. “I still have biscuits from last night’s supper and we have eggs I can cook up.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I insist. “I can cook.”
“I got this.” Asher grabs the bowl of eggs from the counter.
“Um, no, thanks.” I grin. “The last time you cooked, the burnt smell lingered for days.”
“Psht, whatever,” he says with a perfect smile.
Mama grabs the small bowl from his hands. “Sit you two. It’s a big day. I’ll make the eggs.”
I don’t argue and grab two of the day-old biscuits from the small wicker basket on the counter. Grabbing Asher’s hand, I lead him to the small bench near the front of the shop. I toss him a biscuit and he catches it without looking. He downs the bread in two bites before we even sit.
I take the spot closest to the front window. My gaze drifts up the road to where Favian was brutally sentenced to death yesterday. There’s no sign of his body or that he was ever there. Any desire to eat leaves me.
Asher wraps an arm around my lower back, pulling me in closer to his warm body. “Hey, you can’t keep thinking about last night,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You’re the one who’s always telling me how we should live the best life we can and hopefully one day everything will be different around here.”
“It would be so much easier if I wasn’t required to do this stupid tradition. If the land outside the Queendom wasn’t radiated, I’d make you and Mama pack your bags and we’d seek our fortunes.”
Asher pulls my hand into his lap. “I’d follow you anywhere if we could go.”
The soft blue of Papa’s eyes set in his frail face pops into my mind. He got sick by extending his scavenging beyond the borders. He desperately wanted to provide for us, and the ruins beyond the town, inside the borders, were becoming barren of anything valuable. It only took a few weeks before he withered away to nothing.
A bellowing horn triumphantly sounds in the distance, pulling my attention from Asher and my thoughts. People in the street begin to stir.
They’re coming.
Rising from the bench, I yank the front door open and step out to stand on the entry porch.
A slow procession of elegant horse-drawn carriages rolls down the road in-between lines of Relic citizens. Silver gilt outlines the beautifully lacquered blue oak panels covering the first two lead transports. Five rows of privileged older women and men ride atop each carriage. Even from here, the regal gowns these living elders don contrast sharply with the dull setting of Arlos. It’s as if we’re supposed to think of the rich as gods.
But they’re nothing more than a symbol of handed down wealth and status—former winners of the almighty Transfer of Life Ceremony. None earned their place, but the fact doesn’t stop the chosen from wearing their arrogant smirks. I guess I shouldn’t really blame them. It’s the House of Lore that chooses the ideal candidates who will remain loyal to the Queendom—those who receive their markings.
Behind the Elders’ carriages trot two majestic horses mounted by Royal Guards. The Guards wear the same outfits and carry the same staffs as the one who murdered Favian yesterday, but I can’t tell if that man is one of these horsemen.
Around the bend in the road, a sleek, matte silver craft magically hovers a few feet above the dirt street. Not pulled by horses, this craft glides silently behind the Royal Guards. The same power that resides in those deadly staffs must course through this impressive vehicle. Behind glass windows sits a female Council of Lore member. I can’t quite make out which one she is. The Council consists of four women and two men, handpicked by Queen Isolde herself. These six manage the daily affairs of the land, as well as administer the Transfer of Life proceedings. Three more Royal horsemen surround this craft, their staffs pointed at the people who line the street. No one would dare move on the Council’s transport. Especially not after yesterday.
Not sure why I do it, I stretch my neck out to see if the Queen is attending. I’ve only seen her once, and not up close. She’s never attended one of these ceremonies. Even though she’s done nothing for the Relic class, her presence here would be a sight, for sure.
Arlos has a town center with a decent sized stage. That’s the only reason anyone important comes here, since they wouldn’t dare hold the Ceremony at the castle. Our peasant filth might tarnish their pristine grounds.
The Royal procession moves toward the town center at the end of the road, people following like herded sheep.
“We’d better go,” Asher mutters.
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Three
ASHER GRABS THE last biscuit from the table and stuffs a large bite into his mouth.
“You coming, Mama?” I ask while she grabs our plates and places the dishes in the sink.
“I’m going to take advantage of the last bit of hot water for the dishes, then I’ll be right down,” she says.
“Bel will have to be at the front, but I’ll save you a spot in the back-right,” Asher manages through his final swallow of biscuit.
Mama pats him on the shoulder. “Now go, before you miss check-in and we’re fined.”
I tug Asher out of our house and onto the street.
Above us, the sky is a clear blue. Not a cloud in sight. I inhale the crisp air and let it settle my nerves. The weather is so beautiful. If this were any other day but Transfer Day, I would have already dragged Asher off for a picnic. Mama always lets me have Saturday off from the shop and my foraging duties, but any allotted free time is sacrificed for today.
The streets are crowded, and every step we take on the cobblestone between the town’s shops weighs on my heart. If I’m chosen for a Transfer, the so-called privilege will take me away from Mama. I would send every bit extra I made to her, but she’ll have no one. And although Asher claims we could still be together, he knows that’s probably not true. I would be sent away for training, to secure my position as an Elder. He says he would wait for me, but I know better.
Asher grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers. “Remember. Five percent chance. You’re going to be fine.” He gives me a devious smile. “And to celebrate not being chosen, I even have a surprise for you tonight.”
“A surprise?” My heart flutters and, for a moment, I forget all about my dread. “What is it?”
He chuckles as he guides me to the side of the road when a carriage comes up behind us. “You do understand what a surprise is, right?”
“You know how secrets drive me crazy?” I stop walking and prop a hand onto my hip. The tan carriage passes, the speckled horse pulling it tossing its head into the air.
“Yep. I figured the wondering would keep your mind off other things.”
Before I know it, the narrow street opens onto the crowded town square. Everyone eligible, as well as many of their immediate families from towns all across the Queendom, are here today. Supposedly, there are around a hundred Transfer candidates.
At the opposite end of the square from us is a cement stage. Above it are Royal blue and gold sashes strung across the air to honor the colors of the House of Lore. Generally, the space is plain and used for city announcements and occasional entertainment. But today, directly in the center of the stage, is a large, ornate golden box, flanked by two burly Guards dressed in the standard blue and black uniforms. They each hold a large wooden staff at their sides, ready to take on anyone who may be stupi
d enough to challenge them.
From a lifetime of attending each year’s Transfer Ceremony, I know the gold box contains the Lore Talisman. When an Elder dies, their Essence lives on somewhere outside of what we know. Only during the Transfer Ceremony does the Essence find its way into the metal- and colored-glass device to await the chosen Vessel. Their memories, experiences, and skills, as well as their titles, are somehow held in stasis within this fancy amulet.
And soon, each of the candidates will get a turn to see if they’re the best match for the bottled Elder.
The whole process is quick and organized. They line us all up, and each candidate will touch the device. If we’re not a match, nothing will happen. If we are, the Talisman will glow blue and a symbol belonging to the departed Elder will float above the device. In that same moment, the symbol will materialize on the Transfer’s upper left arm, branding that person for life. The Council of Lore and the Queen hold ultimate power over the Essence Transfer. A person’s fate is set.
I grab Asher’s arm for support.
We make our way through the large, noisy crowd to the front. Once there, I take my place in one of the lines with several other nervous looking girls and one boy.
“I’ll see you soon.” Asher plants a quick peck on my cheek. “And think of my surprise.”
Trying to forget the nervousness welling in my stomach, I slip my hands around his neck and press my lips to his. Just the soft feel of his kiss and knowing he’ll be waiting for me when this is over gives me the courage I need. When I’ve had enough, I release him and plaster on a sweet smile. “Just in case you thought I’d ever forget about you or your surprise.”
His eyes brighten, and he’s wearing an ear to ear grin as he walks to the back-right of the crowd, just like he told Mama he would.
“Do you know where we go after this?” I ask the pale-skinned, freckled girl with strawberry-blonde hair standing in front of me. I don’t know her, but she has a kind face.
Crown of Lore (Betrayal of Magic Book 1) Page 2
