Of Nightmares & Fire- Sneak Peek

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The kingdom wasn’t meant to be under my father’s rule. He took it by force. The payment for a kingdom was steep, but to my father, any payment would have been worth sitting on the throne. The price was my mother’s life—not to mention all the other men and women he sacrificed to win his glorified chair.

I was six.

The memory of the night he paraded me through the devastation replays in my nightmares. That and many other horrors. Every night I am reminded that I am the reason so many people lost the ones they loved because my father killed them, and when it's not him, the monsters in the dark seem to seek vengeance on my soul.

“I did this for you, sweet girl. My heart.” He crooned, as he kissed the top of my head before taking his seat on the throne. His fingers flexed as he gripped the velvet-cushioned arms, his hands still covered in the filth of war. Instantly ruining the very chair he fought so hard to win.

His words were a lie though; he had no heart, and his hands never washed clean of the filth he covered them with. They only became more blackened by the blood he continued to spill. I am a princess of ruin, the governess of destruction. I hate him, and I hate myself for not having the courage to do anything about it, even all these years later.

The room is dark already, the sun having set nearly an hour ago, taking the days warmth with it. My hearth is lit along with many candles; they illuminate the space in a golden glow and cast shadows around, but none of them are as dark as the ones in my heart as I think of what I’m about to endure. My blue eyes show no warmth, staring back at me as I prepare myself for yet another dinner with the devil himself.

“Princess?” Colette’s soft voice brings me out of the dark recesses of my mind. Turning to face her, I do the best I can to bring a small smile to my face. Her eyes fall shut in a slow blink before she turns and shuts the heavy wood door behind her. “I thought you might need a hand?” She asks with a sad smile of her own.

“Or a stiff drink.” I roll my eyes, looking back at my reflection.

“Well,” She wiggles her eyebrows as I look at her over my shoulder in the mirror; a true smile spreads wide on her face. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulls out a silver flask and pops the top. I spin around so fast I nearly fall.

“You didn’t!” The excitement in my whispered shout is evident. “Oh my gods, Cole, you are quite literally the best!” She laughs and stretches her hand out to me. Women don’t get much for strong drinks in the castle. For the princess, especially. The king says it is not good for childbearing age and weakens the woman’s already frail body. A frail woman cannot produce a strong male heir, and he never fails to mention how my own mother was a testament of that weakness. I would sooner like to pluck my eyeballs from my head than bare a child that would become a pawn to the likes of him, though. For that reason alone, I have been taking the preventative tonic since I became of age to bleed, unwitting to him.

“I will remind you of that every day for the rest of your life.” She winks before I pour the liquid fire down my throat. The burn of the alcohol is welcomed over the dread that has been freezing my gut. The dinner that is ahead isn’t even one that I need to be prepared for. It will just be my father and me. He’s been entertaining suitors for me all month. With my twenty-first birthday fast approaching, he has made it his mission to marry me off and make a strong alliance in the process. My feelings on the matter be damned. I would never be able to tell him how I truly feel about all of it. A woman’s voice is not to be heard unless it’s singing the praises of men.

I scoff at the thought.

“What the hell is that? It’s awful.” I gasp, wiping the back of my hand across my lips. She coughs out a laugh after taking a drink of her own. Father would be furious if he knew. He would likely string up Colette at the gallows for the theft alone. Not to mention the fact that the product was given to me. His precious gem—who allows his reach to extend farther by marriage.

“Barrett gave it to me.” She tips the flask up again and hands it back to me. I let the liquid splash over my tongue and warm me further before I respond.

“He gave it to you?” I quirk an eyebrow.

“Well, unknowingly, but he would have given it to me, had I not thrived for the thrill of snatching it.” She beams before twirling her finger, telling me to turn around once again. She pulls my black hair back and away from my shoulders, separating the strands and folding it into a series of pleats around my head. I prefer my hair down and flowy, but my father would never have it. “A woman should look polished. Show your neck and shoulders and how you hold them high, Astraea. No man wants a weak woman in his shadow.” He would tell me. Because that is what I was meant to be. The shadow of the man my father chooses as a successor. Nothing more.

While I am his only heir, he could not fathom a woman leading. He did not have a son, so he will choose one. It’s probably preferable to him anyway. Another way to control everything around him. Colette finishes my braids and places a white flower into one of the pleats at the back of my head before I turn to face her.

“I don’t want to see him.” I say solemnly.

“I know.” Her lips press together in a thin line as she pulls me into her. “You will be free of him soon enough.” What she doesn’t say is that I will have a new man ruling over my life. That’s what I’m most worried about. While my father is an evil I must live with, I know what to expect from him. Once he chooses a suitor for me, it will be a new sort of hell I have to learn. Soon my father will pull me into these dinners with suitors. It will become a courting affair, and just the thought of it makes my stomach clench.

I inhale a deep, steadying breath and pull my shoulders back. Regardless of my feelings, regardless of the anger and hurt that are stirring in my heart, I will do as my father says because… what other option is there?

Colette lifts my necklace to clasp it around my neck, and I smile as she does. The dainty silver chain that was my mother’s is the only reminder of the woman I came from. I wish I could ask her about it. The pendant dangles at the valley between my breasts and reflects the light the setting sun allows to filter into my room. The knotted metal design of the oval piece is still a mystery to me. I wonder if it had meaning to her, or if that hope is just a made-up wish from a little girl who craved memories of her mother.

Nonetheless, when I wear it, it makes me feel stronger. More capable of dealing with the harsh feelings my father brings out in me. I never go a day without wearing it. Since my mother’s handmaiden, Colette’s own mother, gave it to me for my tenth birthday.

Colette and I make our way to the dining room, and each echoing click of my heels makes my chest that much tighter. Before I know it, we are being greeted by the guards who wear the gaudy silver armor my father requires of them with our family crest brandished on the chest. A horse's head with roses bordering it to honor my mother, or so my father claims. I think it serves as a reminder of what he is capable of. What he is willing to sacrifice to win.

“Ahh! There is my beautiful daughter. Come, sit. We have much to discuss.” He bellows from across the ostentatious dining room table suited to sit twenty and not just the two of us. The same can be said for the spread, which is laid out upon it. The scents mingle and engulf me; all sorts of meat, cheese, and breads fill the center. Fruits and steamed vegetables of all varieties. He always makes every meal seem grand and insists that we have it together. “The only family we have is each other, Astraea.” I internally groan at the memory. From the outside looking in, my father seems loving and compassionate with me; it’s when we are alone and he’s had a few goblets of wine that his true nature comes out.

I give him the warmest smile I can muster as Colette pulls my chair out and I join him at the table. She places a goblet next to my plate and fills it with lemon water before backing away with a low bow. I nod my head in thanks but say nothing more. We’ve kept our friendship a secret our whole lives. If my father found out that I had become friends with someone as low as a handmaiden, he would send her away like he did the last one who got too close. “Friends are for the weak. If the people around you don’t serve to elevate your stature, they merely serve.” He has said it time and time again. I couldn’t disagree more.

“Court will begin with sunrise tomorrow.” His words rip me from my thoughts like a slap across my face. I stare openly gawking at him with my lips parted. Tomorrow? My birthday is yet another month away. Surely we do not need to prolong the courting for that long.

Snapping my mouth shut when he looks at me with a tilted expression. I compose myself by digging my nails into the palms of my hands under the table.

“Why is it to start so early? Is it not normally only two weeks of courting before the decision and ceremony?” I ask before wiping my sweaty palms on my dress and then picking up my fork to feign nonchalance by pushing around my food. I see the heavy swallow and somber look on Colette’s face and make it a point not to look at her again so the tears don’t come. We both thought I had more time.

“There are many suitors who’ve petitioned an audience. Things take more time when courting a princess. They will court in groups. The first group is set to arrive tomorrow. All, of course, will be staying in the castle. We will have dinners nightly, with entertainment, and during the day there will be one-on-one—”

“I know how courting works, father.” My vexation winning the battle of wills inside me, the words burst from my lips before I can think better of it. His goblet slams to the table, the red liquid sloshing out and staining the light table covering, and everyone in the room flinches. Our eyes collide as malice enters his dark brown gaze, but he says nothing. The chair loudly protests on the wood floor as he stands from his seat, and everyone in the room is frozen.

“Leave us,” he says with a terror-inducing even tone, keeping his gaze locked with mine. When no one makes a move, their feet rooted in fear, his voice echoes, bouncing off every surface, “LEAVE US!”

I see Colette behind my father pause, and I hold my breath, hoping that she just does as she’s told and leaves us to speak alone. One of the guards notices her hesitation and gives her an eager nudge in the direction of the door, and I make a mental note to thank him personally for saving her life.

When the door clunks shut and we are left alone, he turns his back on me, crossing the room to one of the arched windows along the wall. He stands there a moment, unmoving like a statue carved from solid stone, and I begin to wring my hands in my lap as I wait with trepidation.

“I’m sorry,”

“Ah-ah, Astraea. Apologizing is for weak women. You will not be weak. Have your lessons not taught you anything?” He asks, his tone patronizing and low as he turns back around to face me. It’s then that I finally see what he was doing. The leather band that held the curtains back is resting across his palms. He slowly tracks his eyes up from the strap to my resilient gaze. 

“Perhaps it’s been too long…turn around, sweet daughter, and drop that lovely dress.” I swallow the bile trying to rise in my throat and do as he says. Standing, I reach back, unbuttoning the top of my dress. At the same time, I turn away from him and let the fabric fall to my waist, where I hold it with one arm to my chest.

The first crack of the leather always stings the most, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. The second takes my breath away. The third makes me choke on the sob that tries to escape, but I do as he wishes. I stay silent, feigning strength, and as the silent tears fall, I promise myself this will be the last.

 Colette dips the white cloth into the bowl on the side table as I lay on my stomach on the settee. I bury my face into the pillow to attempt to hide my cries of pain as she cleans the wounds. They aren’t nearly as bad this time as they have been before. As she lays the lavender-scented solution onto my back, I hiss as the cold healing tonic makes contact.

“Shhh, I know it hurts, but you know if he catches us, he will be inclined to serve punishment to you again and likely kill me for spite.” I bite down on my silk pillow as she continues to gingerly clean the wounds. She’s right, my father was a cruel man and has only become an even more cruel king—the longer he sits on the throne, the worse he becomes. While many see his rule as powerful and ironclad. I see him for what he is. Scared of losing it all. That’s why he punishes anyone who speaks out of turn, anyone who defies his laws, and most of all, anyone who is deemed to possess any inkling of the magick that used to flourish in this kingdom.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” The pillow muffles my words.

“What are you going to do?” Her question takes me by surprise, and I turn my head, removing my face from where it was burrowed into the pillow. I stare at her through swollen eyes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking away when I see the concern she is pinning me with.

“I saw the look on your face when you came out of the dining hall. I know you. That look in your eyes was determination. Like the time you were punished for attempting to climb the tree in the courtyard only to make it halfway and be snatched down by a guard.” The corner of my mouth tugs up the smallest amount at the memory. “You had the same look in your eyes then, when you were just ten years old. You were determined to climb up that tree because you were told you couldn’t. Do you remember what you told me?”

“If I’m going to pay the price, I may as well earn the prize.” My smirk now widens to a full smile. “This is why I love you.”

“So are you going to tell me?” She persists, and my smile falls. I want to tell her it’s something trivial like climbing a tree or staying out past dark, but the truth is, this could affect us both. So I need her to understand that I can’t tell her my plans, not in full anyway. I don’t want to risk her life. I won’t. Tears fill my eyes as I move to a sitting position. Colette helps me, holding one hand, and guides me up so I don’t brush my back on anything. When I’m sitting upright, my front covered with a blanket, I meet her pale green eyes.

“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question, not really. She sees the answer without my spoken words. She can see the truth in my eyes, and I hate the heartbreak I see in hers. Tears blot out my vision, and I blink them away before standing and placing a dark slip over my head. Even the softest of fabric, fit for a princess, rubs across the wounds painfully.

“I love you, Colette. You are more than a best friend to me. You have been like a sister.”

“Stop.” Her tone is firm even though the word is whispered, for our privacy, and I turn around to face her once again. “Don’t say anything else. I don’t need to know the details. Just know that I am here for you if you ever need me. You know how to call for me. Just as we did as kids. It’s better to face your chances out there than it is for you to die slowly here.” My mouth curls up in a tight-lipped smile, more grief than happiness in it, causing the tears to spill and mark the gray stone floor.

“Like a moth drawn to a flame,” I whisper in her ear as I pull her into a hug. She’s careful not to touch my wounded back, but the pain has begun already dissipating from the healing bath she gave it. I place my hand on the back of her head. Her red hair is down, and I bury my nose in it as I hug her tightly. The smell of earth and sweet jasmine fills my nose, and I do everything I can to imprint it into my mind. There is no one I will miss more than Colette.

“We will dance in the heat or burn in the flame, but either way, together we stay.” She says in answer. The line we have told each other from the beginning. Only this time, we won’t be together. Not physically anyway.

With one more look into my eyes, her bottom lip wobbles before she slowly leans in and kisses my cheek. She moves to walk away but looks down at her hands, which grip my forearms. Her fingers blanched with how tightly she’s holding on. The tears that have been building in her eyes gently cascade down her heavily freckled face before she swipes them away and rushes from the room. Leaving me alone in the dimly lit bed chamber with only the pain of losing one of the only people I have close enough to love.

Leaving me alone to either plan the end or the beginning of my life.

***

While my father is a smart man, he is also a creature of habit. So I know when I pull the heavy door to my chamber open, it will be Aeron standing guard at night. The older gentleman is already fast asleep in the chair to my left, his head tipped back and jaw slack, and his soft snores fill the empty hallway.

Ever so slowly, I pull the door shut behind me. When it creaks loudly, Aeron’s mouth shuts, stopping his snoring and plunging me into silence. My face scrunches up as I wait on bated breath. I blink slowly and release my breath when his mouth falls open once more and the first rumbling snore echoes through the hall.

Holding my boots in one hand and my satchel in the other, I pad down the corridor toward the staff stairwell. I know it’s not likely any of them will be up and walking around at this hour, but guards will surely be on the main stairs. The entrance is covered by a tapestry with my mother’s image on it; as I pull it back, it almost appears that she is nodding down at me, giving me her approval. I have to think that she would be proud of me for choosing this. Choosing to run away from the man who ruins so many lives. The man who took hers. Letting the heavy fabric fall behind me sends me into complete darkness, and I curse under my breath at myself for forgetting a lantern. I can’t turn back now.

I continue my descent, quietly and meticulously, with my forearm as my guide. I let it rub along the rough stone wall to lead me to my destination. A flicker of light at the end of the stairs and a shadow moving in the room at the doorway causes my steps to falter, and I miss a step.

“Shit.” The word is only a whisper as I catch myself on the wall, but it is loud enough in the quiet room that the person the shadow belongs to darkens the doorway with their body.

“Who’s there?” His voice is deep and unrecognizable. I press my back against the stone, holding my breath, hoping that with a moment of silence, he will think it was nothing. Perhaps the wind outside, or an animal causing a ruckus. He steps into the shadow of the stairs. All I can do is listen to the pounding pulse that’s rushing in my ears and think about how my first attempt to run away from the life that is meant to be my noose has failed before I even made it outside the castle walls. Then his shadow moves, and the dim light from the small staff kitchen is in view once more.

After a moment of silence, I let my breath out of my cheeks and creep forward. Once I reach the doorway, I peek around the corner to find the room thankfully empty. I used to sneak down to this kitchen when Sienna was on staff. Before my father had her killed. He said she had magick and was plotting against him, but as I got older, the more I understood that it was my friendship that killed her. My father never wanted me to become close to anyone. She wasn’t the first nor the last, but she is the one that helped me put a name to what was happening.

Lies.

My father was lying to everyone in the kingdom. Sienna didn’t have magick. She was, however, a part of the Neer. A group of people who support the use of magick in healing and good welfare. She told me about it when I had come into the kitchen after a particularly bad punishment from my father. She had brought a woman into the castle, and together they put on salves and said incantations over me for healing. It was the quickest I’ve ever recovered. Sometimes I wonder if it was that night that caused her death.

Poking around the room, I pull as many items as I feel reasonable from the cupboards and drawers. Pulling the canvas bag I have strapped across my body open, I shove bread, cheeses, and smoked meat in for my journey. I don’t know how long it will be until I find somewhere to settle but I won’t be hungry along the way. At the last minute, I see a knife sitting atop the wood block suited for chopping and wrap it with a cloth before sliding it into my bag too. I know the realm is vicious, especially for those living near the outer rim of the capital. I will be ill-prepared even bearing a knife, with no self-defense training, but it has to be better than nothing.

Deciding I’m ready to continue, I crack the door that leads to a narrow hall. The end of the passage leads to the courtyard. Once outside, that is where my real mission will be. There will be guards at all exits. I won’t get out easily, but if I’ve learned anything from my father, it’s that anything worth having is worth working for. With that last thought, I step out into the cool night air.

A wide smile spreads across my face at the luck I must have conjured because the guard at the closest exit is fast asleep. His hands are folded across his mound of a belly, and his chair is tipped back, resting against the stone wall at his back, and his cloak hood is draped over his eyes. I laugh inwardly at my father for employing only the best guards for the palace. The guards that run the kingdom beyond the palace walls are of the more…questionable variety. Their nobility only extends to how much coin they can trick out of the commoners. I’m dumbfounded at the ease with which I cross the courtyard. Running, I only look back once I have climbed the nearest tree and hopped over the battlement. I slide down the other side, landing with a laugh. I clap my hand over my face in astonishment as I turn around and look up at the tall sandstone wall—I’m free.

Pulling the cloak up to cover my face as much as possible, I can’t help the smile that takes over my face as I take my first step toward town. The next step to getting away: find a convoy that will be heading to another town or, preferably, another kingdom. I will pay for passage to leave with them. One thing I know for certain, I cannot do this alone; there is no doubt in my mind. If the dunes didn’t kill me, the sand pirates would surely do the job. I may not have fighting skills, but the only thing I had to escape was reading. I have learned all I could about the people I never got to see. The land I was surrounded with but never ventured to. I would have to leave with a convoy. There is safety in numbers when out on the dunes.

Eathien is a wealthy kingdom, but the further I venture out into the parts I’ve not been allowed, the more I begin to see why. The people are as dirty as the ground they walk on. The stench of poverty thickens with each dwelling I pass, and the further my hatred of my father grows. He would not allow me to these parts because he knew. He knew that my compassionate heart would not be pleased. He knew that the more I saw, the more defiant I may become, and one thing he hates worse than women is a woman with an opinion.

It sickens me to know the luxury I lived in every day of my life since my father took rule here. Although I don’t recall much of my childhood before, I know I was never left wanting. These people? They are not just wanting; they are in need.

Men and women lay sick in filth on every corner. Children play barefoot with nothing but what most in the castle would see as garbage as toys. My heart breaks at the sight. Too consumed by my surroundings, I trip over a pothole in the unmaintained path, bumping into a woman who sneers at me as she hurls obscenities my way. Why isn’t my father taking care of the kingdom as a whole? Are we not only as strong as our weakest?

I turn toward her, offering my apologies as she brushes me off, and because of the distraction, I stumble again. As I turn to right myself in the bustling street, I run right into the back of a man who is pushing a cart mounted with loads of animal skins for trade.

“Watch where you’re going, you daft Kru!” He shouts the insult at me as I wrench upright and put my hands out to steady the angry man who was at risk of tripping as well for my negligence.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Please forgive me.” I say as I place my hands on his back and shoulder. He spins, surprising me by grabbing my wrist.

“Not just a Kru, but a pickpocket too, are ya?” He growls, bringing the attention of others who are passing by. That word again. My eyes narrow on the man.“You know what happens to those who steal from me?” The grip with which he holds my wrist is painful, more so when he twists it further. The skin heats and burns under his rough hand.

“You’re hurting me. Let me go!” I shriek. I didn’t think this through. I’m not cut out for this. I should have paid a guard to take me. I would have been able to set them up for life judging by the state of the kingdom. My thoughts of what if consume me as the anger in the man raises.

“Oh, I’ll let you go alright. You fu—”

“Think about your next words wisely, Martier. There are children around.” A deep voice speaks behind me, cutting off the brute’s slur.

“She’s a Kru thief!” I’ve heard of the Krusaders. The remnants of the people who barely survived my father’s usurping. The people who were stripped of what little they had left to their names and those who were now forced to beg, steal, and cheat their way through survival. It’s ironic he’s calling me the derogatory name when my father is the one who made it so.

“What did she steal?” The man asks as he comes to stand at my side. I can’t see his face through the shadows of his hood, but the man in front of me seems to be willing to listen to him, so I stay quiet.

“She…she stole…” He pats his pockets down with one hand, looking around nervously. “I caught her before she stole my coin! I saw where her hand was heading!” He yells and narrows his eyes at me; still holding on tightly to my wrist, he shakes me where I stand. His lip curls back in disgust, revealing rotting yellow and brown teeth.

“I assume that would make her a pretty poor thief then? Since you can barely see the latrine to sit on most days?” The people who have crowded us laugh at the skin trader’s expense, and the glower he aims at me worsens. He pushes me as he drops my wrist, cursing. I don’t think the man who has come to my aid is making anything better, but since they are occupied with each other and I am no longer detained, I attempt to slip away unnoticed.

I make it around the corner of one of the small dwellings, looking over my shoulder, and let out a sigh just as I slam into a hard body. His large hands curl around my upper arms to steady me. “And just where do you think you are off to?” My stomach drops at the sound of the dark timbre of his voice.

“I—I’m so sorry. I’m making it a habit to run into people today.” I try to pull away from his grip, but he doesn’t let me go, and I swallow my fear as I continue to try to backpedal. “I’m just making my way to the dune ports. I’m not trying to cause anyone any trouble.” I say, looking down. I don’t want him to see my face. This man holds himself differently than the others I’ve seen in passing thus far, and there is a good chance that he could be a high-ranking guard or a nobleman in these parts. Either would not be good for my escape.

Using his gloved hand, he pushes to lift my chin with two fingers, and I sidestep. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say curtly before continuing my trek, face to the ground. To my vexation, he falls into step at my side.

“Are you a handmaiden to the princess?” My feet stop where they are, and my breathing stops altogether.

“No. Why would you ask that?”

“Your finery is—well, much more fine than we tend to see in these parts. What are you trying to get away from?” I dare a glance up at his face for the first time. He’s removed his hood, and my breath catches in my throat. He is taller than any man I have come in contact within the castle, with hair in stark contrast to mine. Where my wavy, long hair falls dark, almost raven-black, his hair is light, a bright blonde with messy curls that beg for a woman’s fingers. An uncommon sight.

No! Astraea, keep your wits about you. It’s just a pretty face—striking blue eyes, full lips, and—nope. I am not doing this. The thoughts alone evoke enough to think I would remember him, had I seen him around the castle.

While my father wished me pious, I am no prude when it comes to men. If I were to be given to a man for the rest of my life, unwillingly, then, as I saw it, while I was able to decide for myself, I would bed the men of my choosing...

In secret, of course. Only a few lost their lives because of it. They knew the risks. Even if it hurt me, my father only caught word of their indiscretions by their own mouths. No one who knew of my exploits would have betrayed me.

“Yes. I worked in the castle, but my assignment has ended, and now I seek my next adventure.” His blue eyes narrow as he tilts his head, surveying me. I tug my hood forward more, making sure that my face is well hidden in the shadows.

“Very well…” He quirks an eyebrow, the question of my name distinct in his tone.

“Sienna,” I extend my hand to him, relieved I took any rings I was wearing off, and he lifts it, kissing my knuckles. I send a silent apology to my deceased friend, hoping she can forgive me for using her name in aid of my escape. I don’t think she would mind after knowing what my life was like.

The people here in the wallows of the kingdom may be suffering, but wealth and position can’t buy happiness. Even those in great positions have demons they battle. That I know from experience. I am the highest matriarch of the kingdom, save the king himself, and happiness is an emotion that I can’t say for certain I’ve felt. At least not since my mother was taken from me. Since I was forced into this position by my father.

“Safe travels then, Sienna.” My cheeks heat at the softness of his words, and I say my thanks in return, then urge my feet to quickly get moving toward the dune ports. I can feel his eyes trail my wake, and I don’t look back.

With any luck, a convoy will be leaving today, and I will be out of the kingdom by nightfall. I’ve heard from talk around the castle staff that it’s not every day that convoys are safest to leave. Maelstroms of rain from the north threaten to bring back the long-since-dried sea on some days, and sandstorms from the east aim to bury those unlucky enough to find themselves in one alive, on others. The best travelers have it down to a science, or so I’ve heard. With that thought, I look out at the horizon and the clouds that seem to be rolling further in by the minute. I have a feeling my luck is running out, and today is likely not one of the days that they leave.

***

Wrenching a door open, I step over the threshold sopping wet. My cloak clings to me and drips on the wood floor, causing a circle of puddles to form around me, but no one notices my entrance. It’s a welcomed feeling to be unnoticed. Able to enter a room without an audience of people gawking and pining over your every move. It’s freeing. Smirking under my hood, I stomp my feet and close the door behind me. Closing myself into the tavern and away from the monsoon that invaded the land only moments before I reached the ports. I won’t be traveling today. There are no travelers who will be heading out until the rain stops.

Keeping my head down and hood up, I cross the room to the back where the bar is. The barmaid looks up as I approach, and I place my hand down on the surface, sliding two coins to her.

“I would like a room for the night,” I say curtly.

“Very well, but it’s a full house tonight. No rooms are being unshared.” She says, sliding the coins into her palm and pushing them into the pocket of her dress. Leaving no room for argument she lifts the bar, stepping though gruffly and shouldering past me. “This way.” She says, not waiting for a response, she cuts through the crowd of people blocking the narrow stairway.

I look around nervously, and my lip rolls inward, my teeth chewing on it. I can’t go back out into the monsoon, so I will be forced to share a room with a stranger. If they recognize me, all of this will be for nothing. Taking a steadying breath, I pull steel into my spine and take my first step in the direction the barmaid headed, only to collide once again with a hard body.

“Shit,” I curse, and the wide smile on the man’s face becomes even more prominent, his straight white teeth sparkling in the low light.

“Very becoming language for a lady, princess.” My eyes widen, my pulse ramping up by his words. He can’t know I am the princess. My hood surely still covers my face. I take a step backward. The urge to flee burning at my heels. I will find somewhere else to wait out the storm. Surely there is another tavern nearby. If I—

“Miss?” The barmaid leans from behind the man, still looking at me. Her words pull me from my internal turmoil. Reflexively, I glance up at the man who is causing my heart to feel as though it is going to jump out of my throat. His expression has changed from jovial to curious, and he tilts his head as he eyes me. “Did you want me to show you to your room?”

“Yes,” I cough, stepping around him. “Please excuse me.” I nod my apologies and hurry up the stairs. When I reach the top, I can’t help but look back down at the man. It’s the wrong thing to do. From this angle, he surely sees into my hood. The expression on his face changes once again. Whatever he sees causes his dark eyes to round as they meet mine.

The stranger with golden curls from the alleyway steps up to him, clapping him on the back, breaking the trance we were locked in. I turn the corner, letting my eyes fall closed while I try to take a steadying breath before quickly making my way to the door the barmaid impatiently holds open for me.

“Thank you.” I rush into the room, not waiting for her response before I shut the door between us and press my back to the wood. Chest heaving, I tip my head back with my eyes trained on the dark bed chamber as my mind races and those dark eyes haunt me. 

The task is simple—we just need to get in and get out. My magick is already thrumming in my veins, telling me that we’re close. Martier is a pain in the ass on any day, but I know the people of Eathian. While they normally revere mine and Mavros’ arrival, they are on edge with the princess coming of age to marry soon. The king is ready to find the suitor that best fits his mold. Everyone around knows that woman did nothing but bruise his ego. I shake my head as I look up at the cloud-heavy sky. It’s not a good sign.

Where the hell is Mavros?

We should have headed to the palace this morning, but my stubborn brother wants to play this his way. Every task we are set on, we flip a coin to see who will be in the lead. Luckily for me, he gets to be the one to play dress-up for the king. I just need to sit back quietly and pretend to be his guard while he is the pompous asshole heir of Diemos. It’s not entirely a lie. We are both heirs of Diemos by our queen’s word. She has chosen us to rule together if her death shall come. It’s the part that I am playing as Mavros’ guard and the part he will be playing as a suitor wanting the hand of the princess that is the lie.

Zinya couldn’t stop laughing when we were en route here, and we tossed the coin to see what role we would each play. While Mavros is charismatic, his exploits are usually sexual and not the attention of the king of a power-hungry kingdom and his prissy little princess. Mavros needs to be serious if he is to truly keep us here long enough to find what we are looking for.

Rounding the corner, I slow down when I see Mavros talking to the same cloaked woman I saved from sudden disfigurement only a moment ago with Martier. It’s not often I am surprised by people, especially here in Eathian. The good in the kingdom has mostly been run out or killed by King Connard Casimir. Even now there are bodies hanging from at least a couple of the cantilevers throughout the city; their crimes are unknown, but their punishment is clear enough to say it was plenty to anger the king.

He’s taunting her, and even as she tries to conceal her face, I see the blush that colors her neck and climbs to her cheeks. I roll my eyes. Asshole. I curse my obnoxious twin. When she takes off, nearly running away from him, I can’t hide my amusement as I lean against the clay wall of the shadowed alleyway and cross my arms, waiting for him to turn around.

“The fuck are you smiling about?” Mavros laughs as he turns around, finding me watching him.

“You need to be serious about this, Mav,” I scold, even if my smirk still pulls the corner of my lips up a fraction.

“I think you are serious enough for the both of us.” He winks, and I shake my head with a scoff and push off the wall. “Where’s Zinya? Are you ready to head to the castle yet?” He pats my chest as he walks past me, and I catch his wrist, stopping him in his path.

“I’m serious, Mavros. You can’t treat this like a joke. The king will see through your comedy. He is not one to entertain jesters. Look up, brother; those poles are not just for looks. The hooks are meant for men to hang like flags around this city. He kills and hangs his trophies for all to see.” I seethe, looking up at the extension on the clay building, prepped and ready to hang a man. A punishment and a warning.

“You know… Since I am to be the serious one, maybe you can do us all a favor and get laid. Maybe you wouldn’t be so—” Mavros stops, looking me up and down, and I level him with a glare.

“I don’t need to get laid. I need to get the job done.” I growl, looking out at the market. Many of the carts are moving now. Eyes keep shooting up at the sky, and sure enough, the clouds I noticed earlier are churning. The tell-tale sign that a storm is coming. Just what we don’t have time for.

“What’s the difference?” Mavros asks, and I look at him baffled.

“What?” I curl my lip in annoyance.

“You said you needed to get the job done. What’s the difference between that and getting laid?” He laughs, and I take a calming breath. I swear we twins couldn’t be more different.

“I think since I was born first, you lacked oxygen for too long. Your brain suffered before you even took your first breath.” Zinya walks up just as Mavros’ jaw falls slack, but she heard what I said. Her head falls back in a gut-deep laugh at Mav’s expense. I can’t help but smile a little too. “Come on. Looks like our little quick stop has cost us. We need shelter from the coming monsoon. We won’t make it to the palace before the storm.” My eyes lift just as the first of the thunder rolls, and I push my way through both of them and head to the first tavern I see.

Mavros starts drinking as soon as we step up to the bar. I guess if he needs to get something out, now is the time to do it. We will be stuck here for at least a couple of days while this storm rolls over.

“Sorry, big guy, we can’t give single rooms; you either bunk up or sleep at the bar for all I care. There are too many people that are going to need a place to lay their heads in this. Those willing to pay.” The red-headed bar maiden is brash and confident; I’ll give her that. Most men wouldn’t even talk to me like that, yet she just says it matter-of-factly, with just a look of annoyance. It makes me like her right away, so I give her a smirk and step in close. She lifts her chin to show me that she has no fear. The man she is trying to bunk with me, though… he has plenty. He stammers about making some kind of excuse about how he actually would rather spend his coin on ale and would just sleep in a booth if he needed it.

“Well, look at that. My room just became a single.”

“You’ll pay triple.” She growls, and I give her my best Mavros wink. Judging by the angry glower she pins me with, it was lacking his undeniable charm, so I shrug. Tripling the cost for a night of peace is fine by me. I pay the haggler and order a whiskey before finding a table in the corner, far from my brother and the rowdy crowd he entertains. We did bring soldiers with us, but most of them steer clear of The Hawk—Harbinger of Death. My reputation as the silent killer doesn’t scream drinking buddy.

The rain is really pelting the clay roof now, and as the storm gets louder, so do the tavern’s patrons. The only man who might take his job as seriously as me is Viltarin, and even he is smiling while holding a pitcher of ale. I’m about to get a refill of whiskey and take it to my room when the door to the tavern opens, letting the sounds of the storm pull my attention to the smaller hooded figure that walked in. I recognize her immediately. The same woman from the market. The same woman my brother was shot down by, and the same one who is oddly alluring to me…

I sink back into the booth a little longer as I watch her. Her cloak is soaking wet, leaving a path of water trailing behind her as she makes her way to the bar. The way she looks around and keeps her hood up tells me that she has something to hide and causes me to be that much more interested in what she is doing.

When I see her slide a coin across the bar, I notice the barmaid give her the same bullshit about having to bunk up. I can’t help but want to get closer. The intrigue of what is pulling me to her is too strong to ignore. I am about to stand beside her and say hello when she looks around. I watch people for a living. Gain information and kill. I’m an assassin and a spy, and everything about this woman screams mystery, and it’s one I can’t help but be drawn toward solving.

I can only see her lips and chin from where I stand, the firelight around the tavern casting shadows across her face with the way her hood is drawn. She pulls her pink bottom lip between her teeth, and I catch myself mocking the motion. Distracted by this, I don’t realize that she was standing before it’s too late. She slams face first into my chest as I walk up behind her.

“Shit,” the curse coming from her catches me by surprise again, and I can’t help the smile that tugs my lips up at the corners.

“Very becoming language for a lady, princess.” She takes a hesitant step back, her mouth pulled into a frown. My hand twitches; the sudden urge to reach for her, tell her I’m not going to harm her, screams at me, but all I do is stand here. I stare like she is a god’s divine mythical creature.

“Miss?” The barmaid, damn this woman, interrupts my personal turmoil, and the cloaked woman looks up at me. Never has a woman of few words ever caused me to become this perplexed. Even my magic stills within my veins. Almost as if it were telling me to pay attention. Think about your next action.

“Did you want me to show you to your room?” The wench cuts through my thoughts again.

“Yes,” the strange woman coughs, sidestepping around me. Her shoulder brushes just above my elbow as she does. “Please excuse me.” She apologizes, but I say nothing as she rushes up the stairs like someone is chasing her. When she reaches the top, her head turns back to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes, even through the shadowed tavern, shine the brightest blue. They glow like the flowers of scorpion grass that grows back in Diemos, in the shaded areas of the thick forests. When the sun hits them just right, they have an ethereal sort of beauty. I’ve never met anyone with eyes like hers. As soon as I think about it, I also have to remind myself—those flowers are deadly. This woman could be too. I don’t know anything about her. She could be a siren for all I know, with the way I feel drawn to her.

Mavros comes clapping me on the back, and I cough as he knocks the air from my lungs and pulls my attention from her. When I chance a look back, she's gone.

“What’s the matter with you? Did you get into the spicy grass again? Looking a little jumpy.” He laughs, and I punch him in the stomach, returning the favor of losing my air a moment ago. He laughs harder, curled in on himself.

“Don’t fuck with me, asshole.” I growl as I head to the bar. Needing that second whiskey more now than ever.

“Noted.” He wheezes, Zinya laughing with him now, but I can’t think of anything, even as I look into the liquid gold in my cup. All I see is the blue flower in the scorpion grass with a random ray of sunshine finding its petals and lighting it up like magic from within.

Preorder now- Physical copies available for preorder here on my website (US only) or the ebook on Amazon. Every physical preorder will be entered to win a deluxe book box and every ebook preorder who fills out the incentive form in my linktree (linktree.com/blakegallows) will receive a character art bookmark. (International)

Releasing September 4th, 2025