Journey to Lightningwood Forest

By Meredith Short

Lacey Brionne has spent her 14 years in the sleepy, seaside town of Mabley, just aching for something amazing to happen. But the most excitement she’s found is sneaking out of her mother’s inn past midnight and sneaking in an hour later without getting caught.

But things change the night of the town festival when a long-thought dead cult makes an attempt on the prince’s life. Lacey thwarts the attack but sets in motion the prince’s panic and a hastily assembled journey to the furthest reaches of the kingdom for the princess, Lacey’s best friend Catrina. Not wanting to miss the adventure, Lacey and Catrina’s twin brother Connor stow away as the entourage makes it way out of town.

On their way to an enchanted forest, Lacey and the twins are joined by the young magician, Olin, and do their best to not honor Prince Tristan’s request that they all stay quiet and safe before reaching their destination. Instead, they face down mountain trolls, fend off attacks from supposed friends, experiment with newfound powers, and even negotiate a truce with a headless—but surprisingly pleasant—spirit.

All this before one of the party must make a sacrifice to a fairy queen that could save the kingdom or lose a soul forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meredith Short
• Release date: Feb 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781310041655

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lacey sat on a thatched roof gobbling down one of her mother’s rolls as the rest of the quiet village of Mabley doused its lights and curled up in bed for the night. She could tell by the height of the moon that it was well past her bedtime, but the cool breeze and the anticipation of getting up to mischief kept her wide awake. While the rest of Mabley slept, she would have an adventure.

She’d left her skirts in a heap on the roof in favor of the leather britches she’d borrowed from the stable boy. Although she knew her mother would be furious if she knew Lacy had left her handmade gown on the roof, her activities for the night would be nearly impossible while tripping over some frilly dress. With the leather trousers, she could hop from one roof to the next with ease. Tonight she glided along the rooftops freely, making it nearly to the seaside road without ever touching the ground.

When she neared the port, she shimmied down a ladder, pretending she was a tightrope walker, high above the ground. When she got to the bottom, she dismounted with a flourish. She crept through the shadows all the way down to the water, the smell of the sea cool and salty in her nose. Tralian silk, Xian porcelain, even spices from as far off as Brilmarny were off-loaded in full moonlight that skimmed the water like mercury in motion. Lacy licked her lips with excitement, imagining herself aboard one of the huge ships bound for adventures on the high seas.

While the post guard’s back was turned, Lacey climbed the rope along one of the ship’s bows. She grabbed a sword that had been left carelessly on the wooden deck and began slicing through the night air. She closed her eyes and she was fending off blood-thirsty pirates to protect the treasure carried in the ship below. Suddenly, something caught her eye and she moved slowly toward a glistening on the deck. She dropped her sword and reached down for the shiny piece of gold. Suddenly, the deck behind her creaked and she readied herself for an onslaught, a battle.

As she turned, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and pulled a butter knife from her boot.

Well, well. Miss Brionne, to what do I owe the pleasure? asked the man from under his cape.

Oh, it’s only you, said Lacey, relaxing.

The man chuckled. Only me? Ha! Some respect you show for your sheriff. I’ve locked men up for saying such things!

Good thing I’m not a man, eh, Sheriff Brady? Lacey giggled.

You’ve got quite an innocent face for such a rapscallion.

Lacey put on her best pout and batted her eyelashes, Me?

The sheriff nodded toward her hand and asked, What have you got there, Lace?

Lacey handed it over with a shrug. I’m sure one of the merchants forgot to give this to the port official. No one likes taxes, right? Sheriff Brady eyed her suspiciously, but couldn’t help but laugh.

Just be careful, will you? The port is no place for a girl. Not even a girl like you. And be cautious with that knife. If it were a little sharper, it could even hurt someone.

Seeing she was off the hook, Lacey ran off throwing a wave over her shoulder. Sheriff Brady smiled and shook his head. He could see that little lady getting herself into a heap of trouble in the not-too-distant future. And she was only fourteen years old. He smiled to himself knowing that as soon as his back was turned, she’d be up to something else.

He was right. Lacey hid behind a barrel until the sheriff had passed out of sight and then climbed onto another ship. This one smelled of cinnamon and cardamom and other exotic spices as she sat down on the deck to take it all in. She inhaled deeply, her head swimming in sweet smells as she tried to conjure another adventure. But what was exciting about spices? Lacey rolled her eyes, able to think of nothing else but her mother’s kitchen. Nothing in the world could be less exciting than that.

An hour later, she crawled back into her window on the second floor of the inn and into her bed. She pulled her muddy boots under the covers just as her mother, Rose, cracked the door open, spilling dim candlelight into the room.

’Night ‘night, Lacey, her mother whispered sweetly.

Lacey feigned waking and mumbled back, ’Night, Mother.

Although her eyes were shut, Lacey could tell her mother was watching her so she casually rolled over and stared at the window she’d just come in.

Sweet dreams, said Rose as she pulled the door to. Lacey exhaled; another mission accomplished. The door cracked open again and Rose said, Oh, I’ll need my butter knife for breakfast, dear. The door closed again and Lacey giggled. Caught.

Over the previous few years, Rose and Lacey had developed a certain understanding about the young girl’s habits. Rose understood that her daughter simply wasn’t like other girls. While most girls spent hours at embroidery or braiding each other’s hair, Lacey preferred to climb trees and sift through the tidal pools for anything squirmy or squishy. On the rare occasions that Rose left her with an embroidery tutor, she always returned to find Lacey seated in the corner with an unladylike message sewn into her practice tapestry.

Rose had grown up in a kitchen and was renowned for being the best cook in all of Mabley. But as happy as Rose was to sit close to the fire baking and stewing, Lacey was equally intent on roaming, exploring, and finding trouble.

Rose wished she could say, I just don’t know where she gets it, but she knew exactly where she got it. Lacey’s father had been just the same, and Rose had told her so.

That night, Lacey lay awake thinking of him. Always after an adventure, when her heart was pounding and the sweat on her forehead began to cool, she imagined him. He wore stiff leather boots and a sword at his side. He was always a little dirty—the sign of a good adventure—but he winked a green eye at her and smiled at whatever she’d just done. And he ran his hands through his hair, red just like hers, and laughed as she ran to hug him.

But the truth was she didn’t know much about him at all. Her mother wouldn’t even tell her his name because she believed that speaking the name of the dead was unlucky. All Lacey knew was her mother had left her home village of Hobart when a drought ravaged her country, killing her family and destroying their land. She and Lacey’s father boarded a ship bound for Kerbin, a country about 200 miles from Hobart where they thought they could make a new start. But a day’s journey from Kerbin, the ship was attacked by pirates. The ship was sacked and most of the passengers were killed. Lacey’s father hid Rose in a large pot in the kitchen and returned to the deck to face the pirates. That was the last she ever saw of him.

A few days alter, the ship washed up on the shores of Mabley. Rose and the soon-to-be-born Lacey were taken into the village, starving but alive. Rose was an unmarried mother-to-be and where her Hobart countrymen would have shunned her, the caring Prince Camden came to their aid. He found Rose work at the inn and asked only her loyalty to him and his family in return.

A thousand details never really made sense to Lacey, but whenever she pressed the issue, her mother silenced her by sending her on an errand or offering her sweets. She knew that it hurt her mother to talk about it so she tried not to pry.

After not much wondering and wishing, Lacey drifted off into a dreamless sleep. She awoke to the sun pouring in through her window and the aroma of her mother’s cooking in the kitchen below. Knowing that the inn was full and there would be a huge breakfast awaiting her, Lacey dressed quickly and even managed to comb the kinks from her long hair. To appease her mother—and to apologize silently for sneaking out the night before—she slipped her britches under the bed in favor of a simple blue gown. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and stuck out her tongue. She always felt like she was wearing someone else’s skin when she put on a dress.

She got downstairs just as the other guests were milling around looking for a seat. They too had been roused more by the heavenly aromas than by the clinks and clanks of preparation. Lacey made straight for the kitchen to find something useful to do. While her mother’s back was turned, she slipped the butter knife into the silverware pitcher and breathed a sigh of relief when Rose seemed not to notice.

Thank you, Lace, Rose said through a smile Lacey couldn’t see. She must have eyes in the back of her head, thought Lacey. In one movement, Rose pulled two dozen rolls out of the stone oven and placed the tray on the large granite table. Lacey placed two on each plate along with a ladleful of porridge and took them into the common room.

While Lacey struggled to be a good server, Rose smiled to herself at the oooos and aaaah that greeted her cooking. Her delight was interrupted by a timid knock at the back door. Rose opened the door to a boy and a girl, twins amazingly similar in appearance although the boy was a head shorter than his sister.

Well well, the royal food testers. You’re a little late this morning, said Rose, eyeing the pair seriously.

Sorry, Miss. Connor had to stop and let Squire Wendell beat him up a little first. Morning exercise, you know, said the girl, grinning and pushing her brother through the door.

Watch it, Cat. Some day I’ll be bigger than you and—

Catrina laughed. Well, when that day arrives, I’m sure to break the seams in my boots from shaking. In the meantime, just try not to bleed into my porridge.

Lacey reappeared in the kitchen at this and smiled at Connor’s bruised face. Wendell? Connor nodded and sniffed some blood back into his nose.

Don’t they feed you two in the castle? Lacey asked as she watched the twins devour their breakfast.

They don’t feed us like this, said Connor, spraying porridge as he spoke.

You should really try and get a job at the keep, Miss Brionne. Father’s food tester says he can’t tell if the food up there has been poisoned because it all tastes rotten, Catrina chimed in.

I’m flattered, really, said Rose humbly. "But what would all these wayward travelers do if I closed