Casualty (The Shirael Legacy Part I)

By Merideth Graves

In the kingdom of Dalmere only the noblest of families possess magic. Those who say otherwise are heretics, defilers of the word of the king.
Orphaned, alone Sela survives in the shadows, the source of her of her talents a dark secret. When wits alone fail to protect her she uses her body. That is until she discovers an enchanted ring and its equally beguiling master.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Merideth Graves
• Release date: Mar 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370827800

Book preview

Casualty

(The Shirael Legacy Part I)

By Merideth Graves

Copyright 2017. Merideth Graves

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Connect With the Author

Chapter One

They always said there was something of the fairy folk in Sela, but the elves never left their crystal cities nor did they walk the forest.  To mix their blood with a creature so banal as a human would be a disgrace, much like a farmer grown too fond of his pet pig. This was known, and what would such a creature do this far south, past the forest and the mountains? How would such a thing fare in seasons both much too hot and much too cold, surrounded by nothing but the mundane?

Magic was a rare gift for humanity, such that it only ran in the noblest of bloodlines. This too was known. Sela had caught glimpses of the noblemen over the years. Tall, proud, the Avelins were known for their raven hair and golden complexions, while the Blumenthals were known to be fair with deep crimson locks. She’d heard it said that the Taars produced the most beautiful women and the most delicate men, though tavern drunkards offered more in talk than substance. One unmistakable thing she knew to be true was the otherworldly gaze of the sorcerer. Each nobleman she’d seen had it, be it amber, jade or sapphire eyes, not the dull grays or browns of the commoner.

Sela set out that day like many others clothed in peasant's garb typical of the city, a long-aproned tunic with headscarf careful to cover her ears lest the points be seen. Her short stature and lithe frame allowed her to pass for a girl much younger than her age. Often mistaken for a housemaid, no one seemed to notice when she slipped in and out of upper-class houses.

The Ivory Mantle stood in the southern most point of the Garden District. Known for its lush greenery and proximity to the markets the wealthiest of the merchant class owned homes here.  To the outsider, it looked to be a quiet place of rest for the weary traveler, well the sort of weary traveler who could pay one gold for a room. To her, the place was rife with the sort of marks likely to be gone before they’d noticed anything missing.

No one seemed to pay much mind when she wandered in, no sneers of disgust or requests for the kitchen. No one even glanced at her on her way past the lobby and its lounging guests up the wooden stairway to the rooms. The dull hum in the back of her mind led her past the first two rooms to the one on the corner. She only needed to glance over her shoulder to make sure no one saw her do it, her secret, the thing the aunties warned her about.

Common knowledge said that no sorcerer of true power existed among the common folk. To believe otherwise went against common knowledge, the word of the king. An unfortunate fact for one such as she, belief came with enough danger, but existing? Blasphemy.

Sela froze next to the door. Something felt wrong, unexpected as if something sensed her in return. Time to become even more invisible, to blend in. The pull of the object surprised her. Precious metals, stones, and jewels each vibrated in their own way. In the back of her skull, she knew each one before she laid eyes on it.  This felt different. This called to her, told her she needed it, promised her riches. Part of her knew better, instead telling her to run. This was a trap that no smart girl would fall for.

With a slight gesture of her hand, Sela willed the lock open, careful to turn the knob with the utmost care. Her heart raced in anticipation of what may lie beyond the door. Would it be a person or perhaps an empty room? Light snores followed by deep breathing answered her fears.

The door closed without the slightest creak. For one agonizing moment, she slid the latch back into place. The interior resembled what she’d come to expect, a single bed with fresh linens, a chair, and a chest. Some rooms had fresh fruit laid across shelving or a small table, but not this one.

Sela crept past the bed noting the man fast asleep within. With a gentle grace, she brought her finger to her lips guiding him deeper into the realm of dreams. She saw the prize, a ring, on his small finger. The single jewel embedded in its center glowed, pulsating at a pace that mirrored the beating of her heart. With each pulse the light grew, its hum louder and louder in her skull. It cried out to her. It wanted her and she it. Overcome with lust she reached out gingerly testing its seal on his finger. It slid off his finger with ease all but landing in her apron pocket of its own accord.  

The pulsing stopped, the vibration of the ring now a gentle hum subtle compared to all others. Sela then took a moment to consider her surroundings. The room held a degree of finery unusual for this place. The man's other items lay about, dark clothing a touch too new. She marveled at the craftsmanship of the leather tunic folded neatly next to the bed, as she did the matching set of leather boots.

She glanced toward him. Clean