War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  “Take him to the edge of the Vale,” Seville ordered the guards. “And bar him from ever finding the Vale again.”

  “But, Your Grace,” Byron pleaded, “my people…they cannot survive without the kindness of our allegiance.”

  “Then I suppose they will have to find a new king,” Seville stated, leaning close to Byron.

  Leonetta turned back and looked at her father’s body lying on the floor. Even death did not touch the beauty of the fae body. She walked inside and kneeled next to her father, feeling Asphodul and Seville next to her. Leonetta laid her head on her father’s chest and sighed, allowing tears to flourish from her eyes and flow down her cheeks. She had only had but a moment with her father, and now she would have to walk through this new world without him.

  Though she understood what Seville and Asphodul told her, Leonetta couldn’t help but allow a bit of darkness to seep into her heart. She lifted her head and looked at Seville who was staring up at the group of help that had gathered and kneeled before the king. The air was tight, and it seemed that even the birds in the forest outside of the kingdom had stopped chirping. Seville nodded her head, and Leonetta turned to watch Asphodul walk to the balcony, muster her fae charms, and release a sound that was reminiscent of an ailing swallow.

  The long, whining chirp was a signal that few ever heard and signified to the people of the Vale that the king had died. Asphodul turned back and looked at Leonetta and Seville, her strength catching in her throat. Leonetta rose with the queen and joined Asphodul on the balcony once again.

  “We will have the king’s memorial tomorrow where he will lay in memoriam next to his grandmother,” Seville explained. “Then I will retreat for the customary four days of mourning. The two of you will run the kingdom in my absence. You will have to remember what we stand for and where we come from with every decision.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Asphodul stated.

  “We are the royal women of the Vale,” Seville whispered as she turned and watched the helpers collect the king’s body and carry him to the sanctuary. “And for the first time in five centuries, we will rule this kingdom hand in hand. It is time to lay aside your childish whims, ladies, for we are now warriors.”

  Leonetta and Asphodul stood and watched as the queen joined the king’s body and escorted him out of the room. They turned, holding hands, and looked out over the canyons. Small fires began to appear as the people of the Vale lit their torches in honor of the fallen King. Those fires would stay lit for five days in memorial. Though the king’s body was gone, the fae magic was eternal, and Asphodul knew she would one day see her father in her visions. Until that day, however, she would stand tall, helping her mother to lead the kingdom to safety and peace.

  The sky overhead flooded with clouds as the coming storm approached. Tyriad flew high in the sky, looping the castle in his own shifter form of mourning. Losing Anthurium was reminiscent of when his own father had died, and at that moment his grief was immense. Leonetta squeezed Asphodul’s hand, understanding the feeling of loss all too well.

  Chapter Nine: A Mate

  Leonetta ran her hands over the cold stone arms of the throne. Her thoughts lingered on her father’s memorial just hours before. It was the first fae funeral she had ever attended, and it was much different than those in Avalon. The fae body, when ready, didn’t get lowered into a darkened pit and covered with dirt. Instead, a chanting commenced and the body dissolved, the king’s magic flowing outward and into the sky. The area where the physical body was left in dust lit up in vibrant colors on its own. The fae in attendance then began singing melodies in the old fae language. The chorus of voices floated down the walls and into the streets of Athanasia where the people of Vale stood with lit candles. As the melody pierced their ears, they began to sing as well until the choir of the Vale could surely be heard across the realms.

  Those traveling to the Vale for the queen’s mark continued to Anthurium, though there would be no party for the queen. Instead, they would sit in mourning as Seville locked herself in their marriage chambers. When the queen’s mourning was complete, the spirit of the town would be lifted by a feast celebrating the king’s life. It would be full of light and music and would usher in the reign of the queen and her daughters.

  Even though the town sat in silence, the kingdom continued about its business. There was a war approaching, and Asphodul and Leonetta knew all too well that Osiris would not cease his push just because of the death of Anthurium. Asphodul looked down from the queen’s throne at Leonetta and smiled before turning back to the ogre commander who was kneeling before the two princesses. At a time when any human would have nothing but rage for the ogre, only pity sat on Asphodul’s face.

  “Your Grace,” the ogre spoke, looking down at the floor. “Our name is disgraced, and we fully understand if our kingdom and realm are abandoned by the fae. There is nothing we can give to make up for the actions of the coward we once called king.”

  “Once?” Asphodul questioned.

  “We chased after him,” the commander replied. “It is hard to rule a Kingdom in pieces.”

  Asphodul looked at the ogre, unsure of what was truth or lies. She stood from her throne and nodded at the guards who moved to attention. Her graceful steps showed the courage of a warrior, something she did not possess just weeks before. She approached the ogre and reached her hand down, lifting his chin so his eyes met with hers. Next, to the ogre, the princess looked like a small doll.

  “May I?” Asphodul asked the ogre.

  “Of course,” the ogre replied. “But be warned. No princess should see these atrocities.”

  Asphodul smiled slightly before placing the blue, glowing surface of her hand on the commander’s forehead. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as she searched his memories for both his innocence from the crimes committed and the death of King Byron. It was evident from the memories rushing through her head that the ogres knew nothing of Byron’s alliance. Slowly, the memory shifted, and Asphodul watched as the ogres surrounded Byron, pulling him limb from limb. Part of her wanted to pull away while the other part, deep inside, found solace in his death.

  “I hope that in future offenses we can seek conversation and handle these delicate issues in other ways than violence,” Asphodul stated as her vision returned. “But I will not lie – that did strike a special place in my heart.”

  “You speak true words of wisdom,” the commander replied with a slight smile. “Just as your father once did. We would like to remain in the walls of Athanasia and lend our assistance against the coming nation of Avalon.”

  “We would be grateful,” Asphodul replied, nodding her head at the ogre. She turned to walk back toward the throne when a messenger appeared breathless in the doorway. He quickly made his way to the front where he whispered into Ardontis’ ear. The Faith nodded and walked toward Asphodul who stood waiting, emotionless. Ardontis leaned in and whispered into Asphodul’s ear as he glanced up at Leonetta.

  “I see,” Asphodul replied, clearing her throat and making her way back to the throne. “It seems Osiris and his Army have reached our ports.”

  “We should go immediately,” the ogre commander replied as he stood. “The people will need our help.”

  “Commander,” Asphodul interrupted. “Forgive me, what is your name?”

  “Bartoth, Your Grace,” he replied, clasping his large, hairy hands together.

  “Commander Bartoth,” she said kindly, “though I highly approve of your enthusiasm to help those in need, it won’t be necessary.”

  “But your people, Your Grace…” he began in a testifying manner.

  “Were safely moved from the port just yesterday,” Asphodul rang in. “We were assuming their flags would be seen, and with the king’s death, we wanted to secure our people as to not feel the burden of a hasty war.”

  “I have spoken out of turn,” Bartoth bowed. “I have underestimated your strategy.”

  “I wish I could take credit,”
she smiled. “But this belongs to my dear sister, Leonetta, and her trusty Faith. They are all too familiar with the habits of King Osiris. Commander Tyriad flew out, missing the king’s funeral and, with the assistance of his shifter army, moved all of the people to a safe location. We knew they would be there since Tyriad saw their flags in the distance as he flew back from the port just this morning. We have met with Tyriad and created a strategy. He will brief you.”

  Asphodul smiled at Bartoth as he bowed and turned to leave the castle. She looked to Tyriad who, understanding her order, followed behind the ogre. As the two approached the doorway, Asphodul called out to the two commanders.

  “Remember one thing,” she said, making her way toward the two. “An ego can be just as debilitating in future battles as a hammer to the legs.”

  Tyriad smiled at the words, not surprised at all at the leadership Asphodul had quickly adopted. He winked at her as he ushered Bartoth from the chamber room and out into the lawn. Asphodul turned back toward Leonetta who rose and met her halfway through the large room. The air flowing into the castle was cool, almost cold, and storms continued to rage outside the walls.

  “We should have some dinner,” Leonetta stated, smiling at Asphodul. “You are probably hungry after being so amazing.”

  “Famished,” Asphodul said, laughing as she took her sister’s arm. “We should eat on the covered balcony outside of my chambers.”

  “That sounds like a lovely idea,” Leonetta responded, turning to Ardontis. “Will you join us?”

  “I would love to,” Ardontis replied, tucking his clasped hands into the long sleeves of his robes. “However, I must retreat. Though the Vale does not subscribe to the gods, I still have certain duties to perform.”

  “Of course,” Leonetta said, keeping eye contact with Ardontis.

  “If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let the staff know,” Asphodul stated to Ardontis. “I do request you attend our council meeting this evening at dusk.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he replied. Ardontis stood in the throne room and watched as the two girls disappeared around the corner.

  As soon as the mist from the princess’ magic evaporated and their presence was no longer felt, Ardontis turned toward the exit to the garden and made his way toward Tyriad and Bartoth. Ardontis glanced over at the smoke from the incense that flowed from the queen’s open doors to her chambers. He knew this was her time to mourn, to cry, to feel before she was thrust straight into a war where she would have to forget her heart and protect her people. However, as much as Ardontis felt for the queen, his allegiance was with Leonetta.

  Tyriad and Bartoth looked up as Ardontis approached, and Tyriad nodded at the ogre in reassurance. The two shook hands with the Faith before looking back at the maps that Tyriad had spread out across the large oak table situated in the ogre camp just off the garden. Ardontis bowed to the two commanders before standing in front of them.

  “If I may?” Ardontis questioned as he reached for a pen and ink.

  “Of course, Your Faith,” Tyriad replied, handing him a piece of parchment.

  “I believe that if you send word of Anthurium’s death,” Ardontis spoke as he roughly sketched the land. “You will ease their fears of an empty port. Osiris is not educated on the ways of the fae in death. He will only assume it is customary for the lack of people.”

  Bartoth and Tyriad watched silently as the Faith drew out every crevasse of a close-by forest that he had taken refuge in on his way to Anthurium. His chubby hands worked quickly, and with each swift movement of the pen, a strategy began to take shape. Tyriad moved closer in awe as he studied the plan that Ardontis had created in front of them. When Ardontis was complete, he set down the ink and pen and handed the parchment to Tyriad. The ogre bent down to peer at the crumpled paper before standing tall and watching Tyriad’s expression. He nodded gravely before a smirk began to form on his face.

  “This plan is nuts,” Tyriad stated. “So crazy, in fact, that it could actually work, and keep intact the fae’s practical nature to violence. However, we may not need to send word since Alfontus has abandoned Lassliar for allegiance with the Whip.”

  “Those were my thoughts exactly,” Ardontis said, smiling.

  The three men stood above the garden, the cool breeze blowing through the kingdom grounds. The lights from Anthurium’s gravesite shimmered like the aurora borealis, illuminating the edge of the marble castle in brilliant hues of turquoise, purple, and pink. The smell of patchouli incense blanketed the afternoon air and blocked all other whispers of fertility out. From a distance, with the calming hum of fae voices and the swirling clouds above the kingdom, a misguiding feeling of security and peace attempted to calm the senses of those preparing for war.

  The rest of the day went by slowly, and after lunch, Leonetta sat on her balcony, taking in a moment of peace. It had been the first time she had sat quietly, uninterrupted since before her step-mother’s death at the hand of Oedipus, the man she was betrothed to. She looked out over the lush, green forests and setting sun, and her thoughts fell on Holland. Leonetta smiled as she thought about all the innocent days when she and Holland would sneak off to the coverage of her mother’s old canopy in the garden. She sighed and ran her fingers across her lips.

  “His heart is dark,” Ardontis spoke from the doorway. “He has been lost to you, Leonetta.”

  “I know,” she replied as if the sound of Ardontis’ voice was not a surprise. “But one can dream.”

  “Unfortunately, in your case,” Ardontis said, taking a seat next to her, “it is only bad that can come from such thoughts.”

  “Has there been any word of the Wild?” Leonetta asked as she fought back tears and turned to the Faith. “And my Hand?”

  “Not yet,” Ardontis replied. “The group of shifters sent out are still searching. Something may have spooked them into hiding. Don’t worry. We will find them.”

  “Is there something else?” Leonetta asked, looking at Ardontis’ face, knowing he was holding something back.

  “I think it’s time you spoke with Holland,” Ardontis stated.

  Leonetta listened patiently to Ardontis as he unraveled his plan, watching as Asphodul walked gracefully out into the courtyard. She knew that everything the Faith explained was the perfect plan, but at that moment, she was finding it difficult to comprehend. The two sat quietly on the balcony, going over Leonetta’s next move while love began to simmer below.

  The setting sun covered Asphodul’s flowing white gown in orange tones, and her hair glimmered in the light. Asphodul looked up to find Tyriad standing, waiting to take a walk with her. He had a smile on his face she had not seen in many days, and her resolve weakened. She walked straight into his outstretched arms and laid her head against his chest. His warmth was unlike any fae or human, and she could feel the dragon inside of him. He stroked her hair carefully and set his chin against her forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” Tyriad whispered.

  Tears formed in Asphodul’s eyes, and she clung tightly to her best friend. She had never felt that kind of comfort between them before, and her heart raced in sorrow and intense emotion. Tyriad leaned back and brushed the hair from Asphodul’s face before leaning down and kissing her softly on the lips. She whimpered in shock but found a spark in his embrace that enveloped her. Instead of pulling away, she pulled in harder, and Tyriad wrapped his arms around the princess. A soft, blue glow emanated from the two of them, and at that moment, Asphodul knew who her mate was.

  “Wow,” she whispered as their lips parted, and Tyriad pressed his cheek against hers. “I guess my father was right.”

  “How is that?” Tyriad laughed. “I don’t remember ever kissing him, so I am pretty sure he didn’t warn you.”

  “No,” she laughed, feeling her lungs expand and the pain in her chest lighten. “He told me when it was time, I would know.”

  “Well,” Tyriad said with kind eyes. “you fae are slow on the go because I’ve known fo
r years. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Asphodul playfully punched Tyriad and smiled, leaning in for another kiss. The two stood under the darkening sky and for the first time in days, the clouds cleared, revealing the universe twinkling above their heads. Asphodul looked up at the shimmering sky and smiled.

  “It’s amazing,” she said with a sigh. “We think we are so important, but we are so small. We are just tiny specks of sand in a floating forever.”

  “My father told me that, when we die,” Tyriad replied, thinking of both his father and Anthurium, “the gods, or whatever you believe, break you up into dust and send you off into the space beyond the clouds. There, you travel for an infinite time until you meet with others and form these beautiful creations that stare back at us in the moon’s glow.”

  “That is a beautiful thought,” Asphodul replied, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “I think my father will float around until his mate finds him. They have never been much without the other.”

  “It is very poetic,” Tyriad said, looking up as a shooting star slid effortlessly through the darkness. “It’s kind of the same thing we do here. We wonder around until we find our home.”

  Asphodul looked over at Tyriad and studied his handsome face in the moonlight.

  “And where is your home?” she asked him.

  “That’s the simple part,” he smiled and met her eyes. “Wherever you are.”

  Asphodul smiled and held tightly to Tyriad’s hand as they stood stargazing. In her heart, she knew that Tyriad was her mate, but staring up at the false comfort of a peaceful sky, she also knew that this clear night would give way to a blinding sun. With that sun would bring the beginning of a war she knew would not end as easily as they would like to think. Her days as a child were now far behind her, and even the wistfulness of love would blow away as the flowers through the garden retracted with the cold of the night air. Osiris was watching, and Asphodul could almost smell the blood of future battles clinging to her hope for a brighter future.