Tempest (The Chronicles of Winterset Book 2)

by K. G. Reuss

  “Ah,” Soran said, his gaze shifting over to me. “Are you well, sister?”

  “Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been unavailable this morning, and I apologize for having to leave again,” Soran started, and I stared wide-eyed at him.

  I reached out for him and pulled him aside, out of earshot of Tarek. “You cannot leave me with Tarek,” I whispered urgently.

  “Why not? He’s one of the best warriors in Dar’ish. He’s highly respectable, and he knows what he’s doing. He trains all our soldiers, Analia. I trust him with your life, or I wouldn’t have sent him.”

  “He’s an ass, Soran,” I huffed, glancing at Tarek quickly.

  “Well, he is an acquired taste, but he means well.” Soran chuckled. “Besides, it’ll only be a week or two until Kellin returns, and then he can take over—”

  “Wait. You said Kellin would be back tonight.”

  “Yes, I know,” Soran sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “It seems there was an attack on a small village near the edge of the kingdom. Kellin rode with troops to provide aide. He won’t be returning until he’s certain the threat has been neutralized. It appears there have been small attacks on all the villages which line the kingdom’s borders.”

  “He could be killed,” I said horrified. “If it’s Zaros, they will kill him.”

  “Calm down, Analia,” Soran said reassuringly. “Kellin is an extraordinary fighter. He will fare well. Don’t worry for him. He wants to get back here just as much as you want him to. I dare say he’ll fight tooth and nail to get back to you.”

  My face heated at Soran’s words, recalling how Kellin had professed his love for me only weeks ago, and I’d turned him down and chosen Calix.

  “Now, go train with Tarek, and try to not give him a hard time,” Soran continued, a smile on his face. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “What? A few days?” I blubbered. “You can’t go. I don’t know anyone here but you.”

  “Analia,” Soran said, resting his large hands on my shoulders and staring me in the eyes. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Do as Tarek says, OK? When I return, I’m going to want to see what you can do. So will Kellin.”

  “Calix already trained me, Soran. I told you that.”

  “We spoke of this already, Analia. I don’t know what he showed you. I want to be certain you can handle whatever comes your way because, baby sister, it is coming, and it is one hell of a storm.”

  Chapter 11

  I grumbled the entire way to the training grounds. Soran’s news had put an even bigger damper on my already crummy mood and being stuck with Tarek magnified it by about a million.

  “Why can’t I change into something else? Why does it have to be a dress?” I huffed as we stopped in a wide-open space deep within the palace grounds. There were dummies and targets and various other training contraptions I didn’t recognize sprawled throughout the massive area. There were even a few men practicing at different stations.

  “Because princesses wear dresses.” Tarek smirked at me. “Men wear pants.”

  “This place is sexist,” I snapped, grabbing the sword he handed me.

  “Sexist or not, you still have to wear the dress. Besides, it looks good on you.” Tarek flashed me a toothy grin.

  I had to fight the urge to jam my sword through his smug face.

  “Come, Princess. Show me your stance.” Tarek gestured.

  I grimaced. Calix and I hadn’t really gotten into weapons. It sort of ended after he drew blood on me.

  “Uh.” I clumsily held the heavy sword the best I could, mimicking something I recalled from a movie I’d seen with Mel.

  “And you claim you can defend yourself?” Tarek snorted, shaking his head. “This is downright laughable. Come. Everyone have a look at the mighty Oracle! She can’t even hold a sword.”

  The men who were out on the field turned their attention to us. My hand shook with anger as Tarek continued to poke fun at me, his eyes bright with merriment.

  “I present to you, your princess.” He continued loudly, “Our savior!”

  I bit my lip so hard I could taste the metallic liquid in my mouth, thicker than the iron sword I clutched.

  “She claims to be the Oracle, and yet, she can’t even hold a sword. She is not fit for the title.”

  I dropped the sword to the ground and pulled the fire from my soul and set my hands ablaze. I aimed it straight at a guffawing Tarek, who was too busy entertaining the small crowd he’d accumulated.

  I let it go, and a blazing fireball hurled toward him. He ducked just in time, and it slammed into the straw dummy behind him, setting it crackling with flames. Truth be told, I’d been aiming at his feet, wanting to see him dance, but the ball had veered off course. The memory of my dream and Calix telling me to use wind flashed in my mind. But how? How would I learn it correctly without a proper teacher? And what if it was just a dream I shouldn’t even dwell on?

  Tarek righted himself quickly, a nasty look on his face.

  “You wish to play dirty, Princess?” he growled, his blond, shaggy hair falling across his face. He sent out a blast of energy, and the dirt around me formed a vortex of dust and wind, causing me to cover my eyes. He wasn’t lying when he said dirty.

  I tried to push my way out of it, but I was walled in, forced to cough and gag as I choked on the thick, dirty air I tried to suck into my lungs. I fell to my knees, shielding my eyes, as I rasped out.

  The air around me calmed, the pressure letting up. I opened my eyes to see Tarek’s shiny boots in my field of vision.

  “Had enough?” he inquired, the cockiness thick in his deep voice.

  I ground my teeth together and flung out my hand, sending a surge of wind at him. It was nowhere near the caliber of a perfect storm, but it would do. It swept him off his feet, tossing him back several yards. Both surprise and determination swept through me. Maybe I wouldn’t need a teacher after all.

  I thought Tarek would hit the ground hard, but instead he landed with cat-like reflexes and charged toward me, teeth barred. I quickly whipped another blast of air at him, concentrating on taking out his legs, but he dodged it and lifted his hands, causing the ground beneath my feet to quake. I lost my balance and fell hard onto my stomach. The rumbling of the earth beneath me sounded like angry thunder. I turned over, but he was on me before I could do much else, his hands wrapped firmly around my wrists, holding me steadfast to the ground.

  “Such a lovely position,” he said breathlessly. “I haven’t had this much fun sparring ever.”

  “Get off me, you creep,” I spat at him, desperately trying to get my hands unpinned so I could blast him into next week.

  “Make me,” he jeered, pinning me harder to the ground.

  I’ll show him.

  We’d gathered quite a crowd, and their cheering only fueled my rage.

  I closed my eyes and thought about Calix. His face flashed through my mind, his smile, his words.

  I control the flame. The flame does not control me.

  The heat welled inside me, and I focused on letting it out. Tarek let out a yelp of pain as my arms became laden with thick orange and blue dancing flames. He rolled off me quickly and clutched his burned hands. Slowly, I rose to my feet and stood over him, the fire still ignited, my chest heaving hard. I could see the raw blisters forming on his hands, and he grimaced in pain as he clutched at them.

  We’re all a little dark on the inside.

  Words Calix had said to me hit me hard as I stood over Tarek, my hands emblazed, the memory of Courtney on the ground burning fresh in my mind.

  I wasn’t like this. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Sure, Tarek angered me, and I thought I’d want this. But now that I was here, standing over him, it wasn’t what I wanted at all. My own mother, the queen, even said similar words as Calix.

  What was it?

  I had to choose which to let out and which to keep caged?

  He didn’t s
ay anything as he peered up at me, a look of pain and surprise on his face. I came to my senses quickly, caging whatever darkness had tried to seep out. The flames died out, and I hastily knelt beside him and reached out for his hands.

  “Please, I can fix them,” I whispered tentatively. He seemed to consider it, obviously not trusting me. “I swear I can.”

  He allowed me to look at his hands, and I took the raw blistered hunks of meat and wrapped my own hands around them. He winced as I squeezed tightly, perhaps more than I needed to. I focused my thoughts on healing him, on fixing him, all the while hoping I didn’t look like an idiot if I failed. I didn’t have a ton of experience in healing, but I knew I could.

  Warmth flooded my body, and I pushed it toward Tarek. He relaxed as his hands mended. When I looked into his blue eyes, there was something like awe painted in them. He held my hands longer than he needed to after I’d finished, causing me to feel a wave of something—perhaps that familiarity again.

  “I’ve underestimated you,” Tarek said softly, his eyes wavering in revelation. “It isn’t often that I do that with someone. I think there might be hope for you yet. For all of us.”

  Chapter 12

  We ended training after that, and Tarek walked away, leaving me alone on the grounds. I nodded nervously to the large men on the field, wondering if they hated me as much as Tarek seemed to.

  “He’s rough around the edges, but he’s not a bad guy,” a deep voice said from behind me. I turned and stared at its owner, a tall, broad guy who appeared to be about my age. His coffee colored hair, warm dark eyes, and innocent smile made me feel immediately at ease.

  “Tarek?” I asked dumbly. The guy nodded and squinted as he peered out at the setting sun.

  “Yes. Captain Tarek. He arrived here some years ago and quickly climbed the ranks. Word is he’ll make general soon. He’s pushy but means well,” the guy said, his gaze falling back on me.

  “He’s a jerk.” I sighed.

  “He can be.” The guy chuckled. “My name is Rowan.”

  He bowed to me quickly, seeming to remember who I was.

  “No, you don’t need to do that,” I interjected, shaking my head. It felt awkward and wrong for anyone to bow to me.

  “Princess Analia, forgive my manners,” he rushed. “It was ill of me to speak so openly to you.”

  “Honestly, I appreciate it,” I admitted. I was tired of people bowing and tiptoeing around me because I was a princess. “Call me Ana.”

  “Again, you’ll have to forgive me,” Rowan smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners, a dimple in his cheeks. I imagined the words Mel would be spewing about his boyish good looks. Mel. I missed her.

  I let out a dejected sigh at the memory of my best friend, and the smile slid off Rowan’s face.

  “I offended you, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, no. No. It’s just … it’s been a rough couple of days,” I stated, forcing the smile back onto my lips.

  “You don’t need to fake it.” Rowan laughed deeply. “That smile looks like you stepped on one of old man Garrick’s badger traps.”

  This time I really did smile and even chuckled a little. It seemed a strange thing to do, considering what had been happening in my life.

  “May I speak freely, Princess?”

  “Ana,” I corrected automatically. “And yes, please do.”

  “A-Ana,” he stumbled on the word. “Tarek takes his job very seriously. He’s a skilled fighter, one of the best, and as you could tell, he possesses the power of Earth and can work a bit with Wind. He’s hard to get to know and even harder to try to like. However, if you nod your head and act like you’re listening to him, he’ll be a lot easier to deal with. Also, Winterset may be in disarray, but I promise you that you’ll not regret being here, so try to smile more. It’s not the end of the world. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Thank you,” I replied sincerely.

  “You look tired. Do you need an escort back to the palace?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I could use a guide though. I mean, if you’re up for it, and it won’t get you into any trouble,” I added hurriedly.

  “Are you kidding?” Rowan laughed. “If the princess tells me to guide her, then I can be in no trouble seeing as she’s the boss.”

  “Boss’s daughter,” I corrected, and Rowan’s eyes sparkled with humor as he studied me.

  “Same difference. I’d be honored to show you around. Come.” He nodded to a few of the men practicing, and I followed him off the grounds. “Did anyone show you anything?”

  “Soran showed me some of the gardens, and I’ve wandered down some halls,” I admitted sheepishly. “I’d really like to go back to the gardens if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.”

  I walked beside Rowan and listened as he spoke about the palace and the history behind it.

  “The palace has stood here for over five thousand years,” he said, gesturing up to it. “It was built by King Marek of Oxendale. However, the king kept acquiring more providences and the once small kingdom of Oxendale became Dar’ish, named after his beloved queen, Daria of Ishia, Court of Light.”

  “Are they dead?” I asked a little too bluntly. Rowan laughed again and nodded.

  “Yes, long dead. King Marek would be your great grandfather many times removed. He passed after aging to a grand old fifteen hundred. He’d have lived longer had he not caught the rattles.”

  “The rattles?” I asked, envisioning an old man making the sound of a baby toy.

  “It’s what we refer to as a disease of the lungs. He spoke of it to no one until it was too late. Queen Daria died shortly after.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “She threw herself off the North Tower.” He grimaced as he said the words and shot me a sidelong look.

  “She killed herself?”

  “Yes, she was heartbroken over the loss of King Marek. This probably wasn’t the best story to tell,” he mused as an afterthought.

  “No, it’s fine.” I waved off the tragedy to him, but it remained heavy on my mind, reminding me of Calix and my broken heart. “Where do people go who are as old as that?”

  “Well…” Rowan said thoughtfully. “Most don’t really live as long as we once did. It’s been a very rough time. Over the centuries, we’ve warred with one another, cutting short many lives. There aren’t very many healers left in Winterset. It’s not a very common gift to begin with. Sometimes when we get sick, we simply succumb to the illness like any other mortal creature. Some age many years. Others aren’t as fortunate.”

  “That’s awful,” I murmured. “And you?”

  “And me? What?” Rowan asked, casting me a sidelong glance.

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m not very old, actually. I’ve just hit my eighty-fifth birthday.”

  “Pff.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “That’s dead in Earth Realm practically.”

  “Which is exactly why I keep myself right here in Winterset. No realm hopping for me.”

  “Is realm hopping common?” I asked, perking up at the news.

  “No, not really, but there has been word about such things.” He frowned. “We’re in a trying time, Princ… I mean, Ana. People don’t want to die. They’re willing to flee Winterset in the hopes of some preservation of life, even if it means a drastically shorter life, because let’s face it, a short life is better than no life.”

  “How do they do it? How do they escape? I mean, if they do escape.”

  “Well…” He looked at me carefully, apparently choosing his words wisely. “You’d need to find someone who can create a portal. It’s an even less common gift than healing.”

  I thought back to how Kellin had ripped a terrifying hole into the fabric of Earth Realm. It definitely didn’t look like an easy task. We continued our walk, Rowan pointing out and naming the various unfamiliar plants and trees to me, commenting on their usage and even prodding me to smell some of them. Everything in Winte
rset seemed so beautiful. It was hard to think about it being destroyed and realizing I was one of the reasons behind it.

  “So, did this tour of the grounds help convince you Winterset isn’t so bad?” Rowan asked, smiling.

  “It’s beautiful,” I agreed. “But I miss home.”

  “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he answered sympathetically, his eyes flashing painfully at his words. “If you want to talk about anything, I’ve been told I’m a decent listener.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I’m ready for all that,” I stated sadly.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “How about food? Are you hungry?”

  “Actually, I kind of am,” I admitted.

  “Come, then. I’ll show you where you can get some food.”

  I followed him back to the palace and tried to remember all the twists and turns he was taking to reach our destination.

  “Mabel,” Rowan spoke loudly, the smile carrying through to his voice. “What do you have cooking, sweetheart?”

  “Rowan,” the chubby, older woman answered happily at the sound of him. “I was making some Stormburg Soup. I figured you’d be popping in here. I swear that nose of yours can lead you to any kitchen in the kingdom.”

  She wiped her hands on her white apron and turned to face us. The color drained from her face at the sight of me, and she curtsied clumsily, knocking a ladle off the counter as she did so.

  “Oh, no. Please don’t do that.” I blushed, instinctively bending down to return the large spoon.

  “Milady, I wasn’t expecting you,” Mabel spoke hurriedly, taking the ladle I offered her. “I’m sorry. You have my apologies.”

  “No, it’s fine. I was hungry, and Rowan said he’d take me to get something to eat. Don’t let me disturb you.”

  “I can whip you up something. What would you like, milady?” She wiped nervously at her brow, her hands shaking.

  She must not have much interaction with the royalty here, I thought glumly. That made this encounter so much more uncomfortable for both of us.