Royal Spy
Fate of Eyrinthia • Book 2
Heather Frost
Copyright © 2021 Heather Frost
Map Design by Kevin Frost
Cover and Interior Design by K.M. Frost
This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and locations are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the prior written consent of the author.
Summary: Clare continues her adventures as the princess’s decoy, facing growing threats on her journey to the kingdom of Mortise.
All rights reserved.
ASIN: B08Y8C69P6
For Anna and Laurie,
You were there at the inception of this story and you’ve been with me at every stage since. (Remember when it was going to be one book?) Thank you for your forever friendship!
Praise for HEATHER FROST
“Royal Spy is a breathtaking page turner that leaves you wanting more! Frost has outdone herself with her irresistible characters and fascinating backdrop of Eyrinthia. This is a must-read for any fantasy lover!”
- Author Ashley I. Hansen on Royal Spy
“Royal Spy is a gripping story with strong, powerful characters. Excitement, betrayal, love with every turn of the page in this heart pounding adventure. I couldn’t put it down!”
- Min Reads and Reviews (Mindy) on Royal Spy
"Reuniting readers with favorite characters and introducing them to new friends who jump off the page, Royal Spy is an immersion in exotic lands with richly detailed cultures. Frost effortlessly weaves a tale of adventure wrapped in romance, intrigue, and humor that leaves you anxious for more. An exhilarating read!"
- Author Rebecca McKinnon on Royal Spy
“Heather Frost is a force to be reckoned with!
This is quite honestly my favorite Indie author series. Hands down, the best. Frost does such a phenomenal job of bringing the characters to life and giving them souls that you are instantly attached to...So many twists, turns and puzzle pieces, it truly makes Frost one of my favorite authors!”
- Author Sarah Hill on Royal Spy
“Action-packed, emotionally involving, and simply astonishing...Colour me intrigued, this book left me at the edge of my seat and I need to know what happens next really bad!”
- Darkest Sins (Silvia) on Royal Spy
"From her very first book, Heather Frost has delivered solid and vibrant characters and complex stories full of mystery and romance, and Royal Spy is no exception. Every page pulls you in and keeps you trapped until suddenly the book is over and you’re begging for more. This book is excellent for anyone looking for an adventure that will stick with you for years to come."
- Author Dana LeCheminant on Royal Spy
“...Everything was perfect about this book. The story was beautifully written with an amazing world, characters, and plot twists. This is one of my favorite books of the year and if you haven't started reading the books then I have no idea what you are doing. Perfect for those who love royals and Sarah J. Mass.”
- Thindbooks on Royal Spy
"This is a story that completely captured my attention from the very beginning and didn't let go the whole way through ... I've been craving a book like this."
- Getting Your Read On (Aimee) on Royal Decoy
"This book has just about everything! ... The intrigue is fantastic. This is a series that is worth reading. I will anxiously await the next installment to see what happens next."
- Bookworm Lisa on Royal Decoy
"This book was superb. ...Well thought out story that was action packed ... It was amazing ... a fantastic read that made me read it in one sitting. Heather Frost will be an author that I keep on my radar from now on. Can’t wait for book two!"
- A Court of Coffee and Books (Stacy) on Royal Decoy
"If you are looking for a good read with royalty, mystery, intrigue, spies, war, and romance, this book has it all. Heather Frost certainly delivers a great read with Royal Decoy."
- Why Not? Because I Said So (Sheila) on Royal Decoy
“Frost has written a magnificent young adult fantasy romance that readers will absolutely love. The turn of every page is jam packed with fast paced, thrilling and adventurous twists and turns that will keep readers guessing and wanting more.”
- Singing Librarian Books (Sydney) on Royal Decoy
“An amazing first book in a series! The premise of this
novel was so interesting! It’s something that I’m fairly
certain I haven’t read before in other books.”
- Chapters and Pages (Caitlin) on Royal Decoy
"Seers is a really good paranormal read mixed with a
great romance, and a some really fun characters."
- Mundie Moms Blog on Seers
"Heather does an amazing job of keeping the story rolling, fast paced and full of intrigue and suspense."
- Author Cindy C. Bennett on Demons
"As soon as I finished the final pages of Demons I was on
a countdown until I had Guardians in my hands.
And it did not disappoint!"
- FicTalk Review on Guardians
Also by Heather Frost:
Fate of Eyrinthia Series
Royal Decoy
The Seers Trilogy:
Seers
Demons
Guardians
Asides: A Short Story Collection
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Glossary
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Want more books by Heather Frost?
Seers are not just spectators, they are also prey
Prologue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1
Clare
Clare sipped red wine from a long-stemmed glass, fighting to keep an easy smile on her face despite the lateness of the hour and the ache in her feet. The night was half-gone and the Harrington party did not look to be waning any time soon.
Torches flared in the night, bringing a glow of light to the gardens overrun by chatting nobles, rushing servants, and a perimeter watched by guards. The stars glittered above them, streaks of clouds l
ined in silver moonlight stretching across the sky.
Clare enjoyed the fresh air of the garden, heavily laden with the scent of blooming flowers. It was a nice change from the endless drawing room teas, lavish dinners, and the carriage that carried her to the next stop on their journey to Mortise.
Before leaving Iden, Serene and Clare had gone through a seemingly endless list of every noble Clare might meet on the tour. Serene had shared her personal background with the different nobles she knew, so Clare would know how to interact with them. In all her lessons, the princess had failed to mention how utterly draining these parties could be. Three days into the king’s tour, and she was already exhausted. Her face hurt from smiling, and she missed sleep. Did nobles even need sleep?
She was beginning to think the answer was no.
She was trapped in a conversation with three ladies who were desperate to discuss every detail of Serene’s wedding, including table arrangements—as if that was the most important aspect of the coming alliance between Mortise and Devendra.
“Of course, deciding what flowers to allow on the tables must not be put off,” Lady Harrington said, her tone serious. “Choosing the wrong combination invites ill fortune.”
Lady Firth nodded, which made the blue feather sticking out of her hair shudder. “My sister mixed peonies and roses for her wedding feast, and do you know what happened? Her husband’s mother died a week later.”
“No!” Lady Bent gasped, eyes wide as she clutched her wineglass.
Lady Firth nodded more vigorously, flapping the feather so much it looked like it was trying to take flight. “And that’s not the end of it! They inherited all of the horrible woman’s furniture and my sister’s new husband was so deeply in mourning that, to this day, he won’t let Elizabeth throw any of it out!”
Lady Harrington pursed her lips. “That’s just the ill fortune we must avoid.” She turned to Clare. “What flowers have you decided on, Princess?”
She gave the answer she thought Serene might—if she were in a diplomatic mood, of course. “I haven’t decided, but I’d welcome your ideas.”
The cluster of ladies tittered and started calling out possible arrangements and their alleged omens. Clare shifted her weight, trying to ease the ache in her feet. She envied Serene. The nineteen-year-old princess was a year older than Clare, and she was probably at an inn somewhere, blissfully asleep. Of course, that was the whole point of a decoy; Clare would take the risks of the highly-publicized tour, attending the social engagements, royal appearances, and dozens of appointments Serene had booked, all while the real princess traveled a safer, anonymous route. There were a few times their paths would cross, as King Newlan wanted Serene to handle some stops on the tour, most notably the dedication of a new road. But for most of the trip to Mortise, Clare would play the part of Serene.
She wasn’t sure how she would survive six weeks of this.
“Wrong flowers aren’t the only thing that can bring bad luck,” Lady Bent cut over the discussion. She glanced at Clare. “Did, ah, Serjah Desfan offer to escort you to Mortise?”
Serjah, the Mortisian term for a prince, seemed to get a little stuck on the woman’s tongue. Clare had been that way, before her tutoring. Now the Mortisian titles came easily; serjan for king, ser for lord, serai for lady. She wondered if Serene, after her marriage, would take on the Mortisian title for queen—seraijan.
Her lessons had taught her many things about Mortise, but she really didn’t know much about Serene’s future husband.
Serjah Desfan Cassian was the heir to the Mortisian throne. He was twenty years old, and he’d spent the last few years at sea rather than in court—an eccentricity many in Devendra’s court speculated about. He was currently ruling as regent, since his father had fallen ill.
That was really all Clare knew. She hoped, for Serene’s sake, he was at least kind.
Lady Bent was still eyeing her, awaiting a reply to her question. Clare shook herself from her thoughts. “No,” she answered. “He did not offer to escort me.”
Lady Firth clucked her tongue. “Bad luck.”
Lady Bent nodded in solemn agreement. “A man should always come to his lady. Not the other way around.”
“I think,” Clare said, “that if women always waited for men, nothing would ever happen.”
Lady Harrington chuckled, but Lady Bent’s brow furrowed. “I remember the last royal wedding Devendra saw.” Her eyes pinned Clare. “King Newlan should have gone to Zennor to bring your mother to Iden, but he did not. He sent his cousin instead, and we all know how fate repaid everyone involved.”
Clare barely held back a wince. Yes, she knew how that had played out. Newlan’s cousin, Ivar Carrigan, had fallen in love with the queen he could not have and he’d started a civil war that had stolen many lives—including Clare’s father’s. Ivar had escaped the failed attempt to end Newlan’s reign, and the lesser-known truth was that Queen Aren had aided his escape—and, according to proof Princess Serene had found—she had been quietly killed by her husband for her betrayal.
“I don’t know how much stock I put into all that superstition,” Lady Harrington said. “After all, Desfan’s father traveled to Dorma to escort his bride, and yet that family has known nothing but tragedy.”
Clare had only been a child at the time, but she remembered the shock on every face when the news reached Devendra. Half of the Mortisian royal family, dead in a shipwreck. Desfan hadn’t been on the ship, or else he might have met the same fate as his mother and two younger sisters. Instead, he’d been left with his father to mourn their loss. Everyone had discussed the political ramifications and had even speculated if the terrible accident had been an attack by pirates, rather than the result of a violent storm. Clare, who had recently lost both of her parents, had whispered a prayer for the father and son who had lost their family.
“I’ve often wondered why Desfan spent so many years at sea,” Lady Harrington said thoughtfully. “One would think, after what happened to his family, he would prefer staying on land.”
“I’ve heard that he seeks revenge,” Lady Bent replied. “That he longs to inspire fear and be known as the true terror of the sea.”
Lady Firth rolled her eyes. “You should write novels, Lady Bent.” She turned to Clare, and her serious expression was marred by the ridiculous feather pluming above her head. “Is it true the Mortisian emissary was thrown out of the castle?”
A knot formed in Clare’s gut, but she forced a reassuring smile. “No, the emissary left of his own volition. He was grieved by his father’s death and wished to return to Mortise with all haste.”
Amil Havim had been more than grieved. He had been furious. His father had been killed at the castle during the farewell banquet King Newlan had held for Princess Serene. Clare had been acting in Serene’s stead, and she would never forget the horror of that night. Including the moment Amil had killed the guard responsible for his father’s death. Clare had liked and trusted Gavril, even though he had been trying to kill the princess—and, inadvertently, her—for weeks.
Lady Firth grunted—a very unladylike sound that Clare’s etiquette teacher would have flushed at. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“I heard Ser Havim refused a burial plot in Iden, even though King Newlan offered him a spot in the royal cemetery,” Lady Harrington scoffed. “He demanded a pyre instead.”
“Burning the dead is the tradition in Mortise,” Clare said automatically, as if she were answering one of Master Ramus’s many questions. The royal librarian had spent countless hours teaching her the languages and cultures of Eyrinthia. “A burial is considered an insult. Mortisians believe it traps the spirit, rather than frees it.”
Lady Harrington blinked at her, while the other women stared.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks and she took a quick swallow of wine to keep from uttering any apology. Fates knew Serene wouldn’t have apologized, even if her comments had made the ladies uncomfortable.
Lady Fir
th shook her feathered head. “I think it’s barbaric. I can’t imagine ever wanting to attend a funeral if that’s the way they do it.”
“I don’t know that anyone ever wants to attend a funeral,” Clare retorted smoothly.
“You’re right, of course,” Lady Harrington said, shooting her friend a sharp look.
Lady Firth shifted her feet, her lips pursed tightly. “Well, even if Ser Havim wasn’t thrown from the castle, he certainly rode out the gates like a man pursued. I heard he didn’t even wait until the pyre was cold before he and his guards galloped away.”
Amil’s fast pace would ensure he reached Mortise weeks before their ambling tour did. It would give him ample time to follow through on his threats. He had told Newlan he would convince Desfan to end the betrothal, and though Newlan had sent a letter to Desfan, Amil might arrive before the message did.
Clare hoped Desfan was a man not easily swayed. Losing the alliance was a terrifying prospect, with war looming on the horizon. All that was left to be determined was if the war would come from Ryden or Mortise.
“This topic has become far too serious,” Lady Harrington said. “I think we should focus on the choice of flowers for the wedding . . .”
A prickle of awareness danced on the back of Clare’s neck and she turned, searching the many faces in the crowd. Nobles were gathered in clusters, drinking, talking, and laughing. But beyond them, standing on the edge of the courtyard, was Bennick.
He stood near a torch, the flickering light catching every plane and angle of his face. His dark blue uniform fit him perfectly, from his broad shoulders to his tapered waist. His black boots matched his leather belt, which was adorned with a variety of sheathed weapons, including a longsword at his hip. He gripped the hilt with one hand, his crystal blue eyes trained on her. His dark blond hair fell over his brow and light stubble covered his angular jaw, lending a slightly rough edge to his soldier’s appearance. Just seeing him brought warmth to her chest, but noticing the way he stared at her? The intensity in his expression? It was enough to steal her breath. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a slow smile and Clare’s heart tripped in response.
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