Seeking Destiny

By Kimber Grey

What is a lost princess supposed to do after she's attacked on the way to her wedding, discovers that she's the granddaughter of the evil overlord, and finds herself in the company of outlaws... except to fight her way to her prince, even if she has to overthrow the darklord council to get to him?

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Seeking peace for her kingdom, Princess Vinesta is shipped far from home as a bride for Prince Mikael, who is not only a stranger but apprenticed to a sinister darklord. Her unfortunate journey takes a drastic turn when she learns that her ship harbors outlaw mages like herself, hiding from the darklords.

When they are discovered and shipwrecked, they are drawn together by a shared desire for freedom and unity for all the kingdoms in spite of the overwhelming odds against them. Vinesta could never have realized that her ordeals would be the catalyst that would draw her betrothed, her companions, and Dark Overlord Varick himself into the war to overthrow the darklords, but her pure desire to seek out and meet her destiny inspire a rebellion that promises to forever change the course of life on their world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kimber Grey
• Release date: Aug 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386895138

Kimber Grey

Kimber was born in the arid and alien land known as southern California. She began consuming fiction from an early age, and has ever been eager to emulate the works that dramatically shaped her heart and mind as a child. She began creating short fiction and poetry in grade school, and wrote her first (laughably bad) novel in jr. high. Luckily, devouring the written word at an alarming rate tends to improve one's ability to produce it. With a grandmother who is a writer and an editor, English teachers who supported her budding potential, and a husband with a clever wit and an even greater appreciation of the written word, Kimber has never lacked support in the pursuit of her bliss. She published her first fantasy novel Quietus in 2009, and her second Seeking Destiny in 2012. The first three books of Faiden Reborn, Kingdoms Lost, Fallen Heroes, and History Forgotten were published in 2017. Her work has appeared in anthologies such as: "Ponderous Paradox", Missing Pieces IV; "Pushing the Envelope" and "A Dash of Salt & A Can of Whoop-Ass", Missing Pieces V; "Deathbringer's Apprentice", Missing Pieces VI; and "Solace Moon", The Hapless Cenloryan-The Troubadour's Inn Book I (2017 Ed.).

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Gyrfalcon skimmed the smooth ocean surface, the horizon filled with the dark line of cliffs as wide, white sails filled with the first steady wind since the ship set sail three days earlier.  It was a lean, long, two-masted ship without much grandeur and less renown.  Though it did not flaunt garish stain and paint and it did not fly high flags full of color and import, it was a strong, reliable howker.  It had been chosen for its speed and its unquestionable constitution.  Though the Gyrfalcon was not much to look upon, it had weathered fouler seas than any ship in King Sayril of Righland's vast fleet.

Captain Rhaugh was a seasoned sailor and a savagely loyal servant to the king.  When King Sayril required fast, subtle, and sure delivery of delicate cargo, Rhaugh and the Gyrfalcon were always equal to the task.  This journey was special, though.  The under-spoken vessel was transporting the most precious and important cargo to date, a quiet and frightened seventeen-year-old girl.  She was to be presented to Righland's enemy, King Lomidan and Prince Mikael of RalStad.

No one bothered to ask the child if she wished to go or spoke more than a few polite words to her when she occasionally ventured from her cramped room below deck.  None of Rhaugh's small crew met her hazel eyes.  They spoke only to direct her to safety or out of the way.  They were not the sort who mingled with royalty, and the morose beauty among them was the worst kind of bad luck.  She drifted from one end of the ninety foot vessel to the other like a lost soul haunting the wreckage of her demise. 

Princess Vinesta's only companion was a forty-four year-old brunette maidservant who constantly shadowed the girl with patient vigilance.  When Vinesta had first met her new maidservant, Lyrria, on the docks, her surprise had stirred her momentarily from melancholy.  Lyrria had been an early wedding gift to the princess from her husband-to-be, Prince Mikael.  Vinesta had immediately set upon the servant with prying questions about her betrothed, only to discover the servant had also never met the prince.  Lyrria had been purchased with a letter and notes and confessed she'd never been outside of Righland's borders, let alone to the Kingdom of RalStad on the other side of the continent.  Crestfallen, Vinesta withdrew once again to her solitary misery and dread.

The first few days of the voyage had been miserable, dreary rain and rumbling storms with dangerous gusting winds.  The captain had opted for safety over speed, giving fair distance to the land and short-sailing.  On the third day the sun shone warm and inviting down on the vessel and a remarkably favorable wind opened on them.  Captain Rhaugh let down the sails and brought the Gyrfalcon to an unprecedented flank speed, lifting the spirits of the crew considerably.

When the princess appeared top deck just before noon, all could see that her spirits had also risen.  Her seasickness had passed more quickly than expected, and her cheeks were flushed and bright from the cool caress of the salty air.  She stayed in the shadow of the sails most of the day, watching the horizon, a sad smile turning her lips.  Though she refused food, she did allow her maidservant to protect her delicate features from the ire of a bright sun with a slightly pasty salve.

As evening approached Vinesta gazed out across the azure water, but her mind was far from the golden sun reflected there.  Somewhere beyond that glittering line was her new home and her new life as the bride to a man she had never met.  The princess closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the cool, crisp, salty spray that bathed her bare shoulders and face.  The sun blazed near the horizon, turning her auburn tresses almost red, yet the warmth it had brought earlier could no longer reach her.  Its heat had been broken by the approaching night.

For a moment, Vinesta allowed herself to let go of the cares that had weighted on her heart since her betrothal two weeks before.  She was surprised by her newfound awe of sea and wondered how she'd lived without ever having known its beauty.  Though Righland had a great fleet of ships for warfare and freight, she had never left the shores of her home.  It saddened her to know that her first voyage across the ocean's endless magnificence would take her so far from the life she'd known and the family she held dear.

Vinesta wanted to be proud.  She wanted to be the brave princess who saved her people from yet another savage war by uniting two torn kingdoms.  But she wasn't proud and she wasn't brave; she felt betrayed and desperately alone.  Tears stung her eyes and she called to mind the familiar faces that she had always believed would be constants in her life.  She knew now that she would never see her bothersome siblings or her beloved father again.

Though she was sure a life of loneliness and misery awaited her in the land of her kingdom's enemies, Vinesta hadn't protested her fate.  Her father's eyes, so shadowed with pain and loss, had silenced her complaints; she couldn't bear to add to his misery.  It was those eyes that had kept her from fighting the harsh news of her betrothal to the heir of a kingdom that had time and again betrayed their treaties.  It was her love for the aging king that willed her to accept the banishment with a smile.  She'd even commended her father for dousing the fire of another war with the proposed union.

Now she cursed herself for her diplomacy.  She loved her father dearly, but he'd sold her freedom to a man who'd undoubtedly hated her people from birth.  What hurt the most was that her sacrifice was given for a peace that could never last.  RalStad was a ruthless kingdom, transparently controlled by the darklords.  It was not a matter of if, but a question of time before RalStad's blood-thirsty king once again betrayed his treaties with Righland.

Vinesta buried her face in her hands, feeling every bit as fragile as the delicate lace of her gloves.  She turned her back to the fading light of the sun, just as her father had turned his back on her happiness.  In all of her seventeen years, she had never felt so alone.

Black clouds blotted out the waning sun and thunder threatened to destroy the once-lovely evening.  Vinesta hurriedly wiped the tears from her face and gulped several deep breaths of air.  She didn't relish the idea of another storm on this ship and she couldn't risk anyone discovering what she was.  As she forced herself to calm and her heart rate to slow once again, the clouds diminished.  A few thin, red rays struggled through the overcast sky one last time before the sun disappeared beyond the line of the sea.  Vinesta kept her heart calm, but fear was filling her mind.  What if someone had noticed the peculiar weather?  She dare not look around for staring eyes, lest she confirm any of the crew's possible suspicions.  It had been all she could do to keep her weeping from worsening the already foul weather the first days of the journey.  What a fool she was, to allow her powers to slip on a clear day . . .

Foolish child.  The words had been whispered, but they echoed loudly in Vinesta's mind.  Fear lanced through her gut.  The princess spun to face the woman who had insulted her.

Lyrria, Vinesta hissed.  Perhaps the servant hadn't seen the sudden storm that had dissipated as quickly as it had come.  The princess lifted her chin sharply, refusing to acknowledge the accusation she thought she heard in the woman's voice.  How dare you?

Lyrria walked forward and leaned against the railing, her posture relaxed and her face turned away from the nearby crew.  Be quiet, you silly girl, she whispered, her voice stern and commanding.

Vinesta rose to her full height, her fear quickly replaced with anger at the woman's informality and disrespect.  After realizing she could learn nothing about Prince Mikael from the servant, Vinesta hadn't bothered to get to know the woman at all.  Absorbed with her misery, the princess had imagined that the servant might also want to be alone with her thoughts.  Now Vinesta greatly wished that she had more closely examined the prince's gift. 

Who are you to talk to me in such a way?  Vinesta kept her voice low, but even she could hear the edge in her tone that spoke of a life accustomed to authority and deference.

Lyrria turned to look at Vinesta and for the first time in three days, the princess truly looked at the maidservant before her.  The woman was likely past forty years old.  Her features had undoubtedly been lovely once, but her dark honey eyes had been hardened long ago.  Her once-chocolate hair was grayed and her too-lean body spoke of little food and less rest.

I've been watching you for some time now, princess.  Though Lyrria's tone was a little more respectful, it still irritated Vinesta that her outrage was so easily dismissed.  "You've been so careful, Lyrria continued, until now."

All of Vinesta's indignation at the older woman's impropriety disappeared instantly.  The maid had seen.  A lump rose in her throat and her breath stuck in her chest.  What do you mean?  Though the weak denial was spoken, Vinesta was now certain the maidservant had witnessed the passing unnatural squall.

I couldn't be sure if the storm we suffered through that first night was you, but now there can be no doubt about your abilities.

Vinesta's eyes widened of their own accord.  Her heart, which had been beating furiously just a moment before, seemed to choke and falter.  Her voice was a breath forced out by a near-sob of fright.  What will you do?  Vinesta was completely at this woman's mercy.  Her life, quite literally, was in the hands of a servant she hadn't even bothered speaking to in three days. 

I think we should retire to your quarters, Your Highness.  Lyrria's eyes were sharp and unyielding, showing no hint of her intentions.  Vinesta tasted bitter on her tongue as terror dissolved all of the words she might have spoken.  In a mere instant, her world had changed and her miserable but certain future had evaporated.  Unconcerned by the princess's crumbling reality, Lyrria turned toward the hatchway.  "There is much to discuss."

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Chapter 2

The finely woven rug softening the cold stone floor of Prince Mikael's bed chamber was beginning to show wear from his nightly pacing.  When will she get here? he snapped as he spun to the manservant waiting by the door.

Please, Your Highness, Henrik responded with his usual calm.  Try to be patient.  It is not a short journey. 

Henrik had been in Mikael's shadow since the prince was still in swaddling clothes.  Mikael frowned at the small, tanned man, meeting the servant's gentle brown gaze.  For as long as Mikael could remember Henrik had been a steadying force in his life, a tough man of unwavering loyalty and patience.  This day, however, the prince found himself irrationally irritated by the unshakable calm he saw in the servant's eyes.

Mikael growled and strode out onto his balcony, his russet eyes turning to watch the sparkle of the sea just a few leagues to the south-west.  He raked his fingers through his thick, unruly, black waves and ignored the tickle on his bare shoulders when they fell back into their typical unkempt mass.  He knew his irritation was being misdirected at Henrik and the distant princess, the result of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could vanquish.  Mikael was able to keep hidden from all but his manservant a weakness that had plagued him since his first indications of magic at the age of twelve.  Every day he struggled with an unceasing, bone-deep exhaustion that never ebbed, a state that often made him quick to temper.

'Your Highness is aware that it will take a good number of days for your betrothed to travel the seas.' Enisyer, Mikael's teacher in the ways of magecraft, was spying on his thoughts again. 

'Who asked you?  You shouldn't be in my mind,' Mikael responded sharply before he thought better of it.

'Your mind was troubled, my Prince.'  Enisyer's quiet reply was laced with arrogance and contempt.  'If you wish to be a lord of the dark arts, and overcome the weakness of your flesh . . . you must heed my instructions very carefully.'  Mikael did not miss the poorly concealed threat in the darklord's tone.  He'd taken offense at Mikael's disrespect, but the prince was in too poor a temper to favor wisdom.

'I'm not comfortable with your constant spying, Enisyer.'  Mikael knew he had been too reckless of late during his dealings with Enisyer.  He knew the darklord to be a cruel, brutal villain, but Mikael's patience with the darklords' occupation of his kingdom grew more strained with each passing day.  As his father's health suffered, Mikael assumed more and more of the ailing king's duties, only to discover the terrible blight the darklords had been on his kingdom.  Needless wars, brutal taxes, harsh and unspeakable punishments far exceeding the crimes, and misuse of every manner of resource were the legacy his father was leaving him.

'It is my solemn duty to remind you that controlling your emotions is paramount to controlling your spells,' Enisyer smoothly supplied.  The sinister man, as emissary to the dark overlord, essentially owned RalStad.  King Lomidan and Prince Mikael were just his tools to keep the public placated, and he delighted in remind the prince every day.

'I'm already aware of that,' Mikael replied flatly. He wished Enisyer would retreat and leave him to his thoughts, but now that the darklord had taken offense he would not relent until Mikael conceded to him.

'Then you are also undoubtedly aware of what might transpire should you choose not to follow my advice.' 

Mikael frowned.  Enisyer was reminding him of the demise of the magelords after a devastating war against the darklords.  Both courts of whitelords and graylords had been destroyed, and every child born with magecraft since had been enslaved or slaughtered.  Had Mikael not apprenticed himself to Enisyer, he was certain he would have been slain as well.

'Your Highness would be wise to remember what happens to those who grow too bold with their masters.  Obedience alone will see you through your training.' Enisyer's malevolent chuckle sent a chill down Mikael's spine.

The prince was sure the evil man would love to make an example of him one way or the other, either by torture and death or by enslaving his will to the magelords who now ruled the kingdoms.  The emissary often dangled the prospect of great power and success before the prince, but Mikael wondered if he truly wished to be a magelord if it meant becoming a darklord, a blackmage like Enisyer.

'Certainly you do, My Prince.'  Enisyer's presence in his mind was receding, but he was always sure to have the final words in all discussions.  'You have the gift; you have no choice but to learn to control it.  Be glad that I am your instructor.  Others are not as lenient as I.  Your arrogant ways would have done you no favors had you been apprenticed to the master of our order.  The Dark Overlord Varick gives no quarter.'

Mikael watched the sunset fade into darkness until he was certain the emissary's attention was truly gone.  He contemplated his servitude to the darklords and wondered, not the first time, if death would have been a more favorable fate.  As angry as he was with his father for allowing himself to be completely controlled by Enisyer, Mikael knew he would undoubtedly do the same when he assumed the throne.  What choice did he have?  What choice did his people have?  He was their only shield against Enisyer, their only and last defense against the ire of the darklords.  No matter how contemptible a fate of loathsome servitude, he alone could speak for the needs of his people.

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Chapter 3

What do you intend to do? Vinesta anxiously blurted out the moment Lyrria closed the cabin door behind them.  What is it that you want? 

Lyrria wasn't surprised by the princess's outburst or her fraying composure.  In fact, she was intentionally alarming the girl, hoping the scare might teach the child a little more discretion. 

Do you seek to press my father for gold? Vinesta asked.  Land?

Lyrria sank into the only chair, a solid and uncomfortable construction bolted securely in place beside a bare table, and let out a weary sigh.  Do relax, Your Highness before you raise a storm to rival the one that nearly sank us a few days past.  Lyrria watched the frightened woman before her transform back into the perfectly-poised third daughter of a king, and was reminded of the remarkable control the untrained mage had already demonstrated.  Lyrria was certain that the carefully constructed diplomatic shell the princess now displayed wouldn't be broken again.  The girl had a strong will and indomitable spirit, two characteristics that Lyrria had also once possessed.  She would need both for the trials that lay ahead of them. 

Very good, Your Highness, Lyrria praised somberly.  "The first thing you must know is that I am here to assist you . . . not to harm you.  She waited until recognition and relief flashed in the young girls eyes before she continued.  As I said, I've been watching you for some time.  My teacher, who moved on to her next life a long while ago, once told me of the Queen of Righland.  Though fear roiled in her gut at what she was about to reveal to the princess, Lyrria smiled sadly at the memory of her master and friend.  She spoke fondly of a queen whose magecraft rivaled the once-great magelords of half a century past."

Vinesta sank gracefully onto the coarse blankets of the lower bunk and turned to face Lyrria.  I do not understand, she quietly confessed, her voice still tinged with apprehension.  What is it that you want with me?

What happened today will happen again if you do not learn to control your gift.  Lyrria leaned forward, her eyes harsh and absolute in her certainty of the danger in which the princess found herself.  "Then they will find you, she promised.  They will find you, and they will seek to either bend you to their will or break you of yours.  Lyrria saw the blood drain from Vinesta's face with every coldly-delivered word.  Unsurprisingly, your half-sisters have shown no indication of power.  Your younger brother is too young yet to manifest, but now I can see that you are very strong.  It is obvious that you inherited your mother's gifts."

But I do not want this.  The plaintive, almost-sobbing confession stirred something in Lyrria, something long dormant and assumed dead. 

Perhaps the older woman's forgotten maternal instincts were reawakening, or perhaps Lyrria saw her mirror sitting before her.  She remembered when she had said much the same thing to her own master, and the words of her dead teacher fell from her lips, an echo from her past.  I know, my child, but you have no choice in the matter.  You can only learn to control it.  It was a hard truth, one that had taken Lyrria years to fully understand.  Vinesta had only weeks, perhaps days.  If you do not, then you will not be able to defend yourself or escape when they discover your ability.

Vinesta looked away, tears sparkling in her eyes.  Lyrria knew the fear that the child now struggled with; she understood it with the sharp edge of experience and empathy.  You need not despair, Your Highness, Lyrria urged.  Though she'd intended to remain stern and detached, she found herself yearning to comfort the child and ease her distress.  Vinesta had much to learn, and she was already many years past the prime age for apprenticeship.  Lyrria could not afford to be too gentle.  I know a place that could easily conceal you for a time while you train.

No!  Vinesta's quick reply startled the older woman.  I have a duty to my father and to my people.

Surely you cannot intend to sail any closer to RalStad, Lyrria countered, amazed at Vinesta's remark.  It is controlled by the darklords and borders the dark overlord's lands!  Lyrria let out an incredulous bark of mirthless laughter.  "Your betrothed is apprenticed to a darklord.  You cannot mean to meet him at the end of this journey.  She shook her head sharply.  You would be delivering yourself to the very creatures from which you need to flee!"

Vinesta lifted her chin ever so slightly, her expression allowing no further argument.  This is the only thing my father has ever asked of me, she whispered even as her voice shook with a tremor of dismay.  I shall do what is right for my people.  Lyrria saw the despondency and fear in the princess's eyes but realized that the child would not waver in her resolve.  At least, not today.  I must simply try harder to remain collected and keep my powers concealed.  Vinesta's eyes became distant as her voice softened into finality.  My fate matters little now so long as I can serve my people.

Lyrria sighed deeply, knowing she would undoubtedly regret her decision.  Very well, she conceded.  She could not believe that she intended to follow the princess into almost certain doom, but Vinesta had left her little choice.  The princess was the one Lyrria had been seeking her entire life, of that she was certain.  The girl's powers were great, but her courage was greater.  I will train you.

Vinesta snapped back into focus with a bemused frown, and her eyes met the older woman somber stare.  What did you say?

I will train you, but you must obey my instructions precisely, Lyrria insisted.  "Every mistake you make will put both of our lives in danger."

"Who are you? Vinesta pressed, her eyes rounded in awe.  And why would you wish to risk your life to help me?"

Who am I? Lyrria smiled wanly.  "I am you . . . after a lifetime of loss and misery at the hands of the darklords.  Lyrria watched the child across from her, all doubt about her decision to train the princess melting away with every passing moment.  And I am helping you because I want very much for you not to become me."

Chapter 4

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The crew of the Gyrfalcon had given Roark every difficult and unsavory task imaginable, their way of welcoming him to the ship and breaking him in to their habits of hard work and unquestioning obedience.  It had been a hard sell, convincing them that he was fit to replace their crewman lost at sea.  He looked every day of his forty-six years, and was not nearly as fit as the youths under the command of Captain Rhaugh.  He'd been tested, and they'd eventually given in to his persistence only after he'd insisted they could hold his wages until after he'd proven himself.  Though he'd never been so sore or sunburned before, he welcomed the grueling labor they heaped upon him.  It kept his mind busy.  Another favorable side effect of hard, foul work was that the only two passengers on the vessel avoided standing near him or looking directly at him. 

It was good to see Lyrria again.  He found himself watching her when he was banished to the high reaches of the main mast for long hours on land watch.  He had no way of knowing how she might react to seeing him after half a decade of absence.  He knew he was to blame for the strain on their marriage and their inevitable estrangement.  He had made the choice to keep great secrets from her.  She had been right to say he'd withdrawn and become guarded after their terrible loss. 

Roark had always been torn about his decision five years past, but he knew Lyrria.  He knew she would have thrown caution to the wind in her grief.  She would have been reckless, and it would have cost them dearly.  He'd never been able to forgive himself for the tragedy that had driven a wedge of sorrow between them, and he'd never fully accepted his choices back then as infallible or right.  He only knew that they had been greatly wronged and nothing could ever set things right again.  Still, that could not keep him from dreaming of a life with her, of the solace he could take in her.

He'd decided he couldn't endure another year apart and had set out to find her.  Lyrria was clever and careful, and months of fruitless leads and cold trails had left him hopeless and on the brink of despair.  It had been sheer chance that led him to Soreigh, the capital of Righland, where he'd first spotted her in the marketplace.  He'd known right away that she was intent upon some righteous mission, recognizing the fire and determination he'd once thought she'd abandoned.  He watched her watch the Gyrfalcon the weeks before the voyage and had set himself to getting onto the ship somehow.  Whatever she was up to didn't matter to Roark; he just wanted to be near her, wanted to remember how it felt to sense her presence always nearby. 

Roark felt he had grown a lot over the past years in seclusion.  In spite of the void still between them, he had hope that they might mend the severed bonds of their lives.  His heart couldn't endure the solitude any longer, and he couldn't bear the thought of Lyrria's anguish and loneliness.  He wanted to share her pain and carry her burdens with her.  He wanted to hold her to him and tell her all that was still in his heart.  He wanted to tell her the horrible secret he'd kept from her and beg her forgiveness.  Could he bring himself to tell her?  Could he find the strength to go to her?  More importantly, would she ever be able to forgive him if she knew what he had done?

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Chapter 5

Vinesta had never felt so liberated.  She had lived her entire life hiding her gifts and following the stifling expectations of the court and her family.  It did not take long for her to realize not a soul on the Gyrfalcon would correct her if she failed to wear the appropriate number of undergarments or allowed her hair to become disarrayed by the wind.  Lyrria expected her to remain in control and devote most of her time to the rigorous training the mage was giving her, but Vinesta found herself relieved rather than irritated by the long lessons.  She felt as though Lyrria had accepted her in a way that no one else had.  Only Lyrria knew of the magecraft tucked away within Vinesta, and only Lyrria had assured her that it was nothing to be ashamed of.

Magecraft was difficult and frustrating, requiring vast knowledge and dedication to direct and control.  Lyrria had told Vinesta that a true mage dedicated her entire life to her craft, never ceasing to learn and expand herself.  Vinesta admired the solemn woman whose sole purpose seemed to be training the princess as much as possible before their arrival in RalStad.  Lyrria had insisted that four months was far too short a time to teach Vinesta how to reliably shield herself from magical influences, so she concentrated on teaching the girl the basics. 

Lyrria had announced that she was a magelord of both gray and white magecraft and a master of psymagic, a less common gift among mages.  She spent her evenings placing layer upon layer of protections on the young princess, hoping to ward off detection when they reached RalStad where they would find themselves in the presence of darklords.  Though she did not ask again for Vinesta to betray her duty, her apprehension of the impending completion of their journey was palatable.  Vinesta shared her fear of the darklords, but could not imagine failing her father or her people by fleeing from her union with Prince Mikael.

It had surprised Vinesta greatly that when she'd been faced with the opportunity to turn her back on her duty and be truly free, she had chosen to do what she felt was right.  It was her own courage, her own conviction that guided her, and that was the most liberating realization of all.  For the first time in her life, she felt as though she was making her own decisions for her own reasons.  Her only regret was that she was drawing Lyrria into the same hazard in which she was throwing herself.  Her consolation for the guilt of this knowledge was the acceptance that the mage also made her own decisions and was free to leave when they reached RalStad.

You are trying too hard, Your Highness, Lyrria advised, drawing Vinesta's attention away from the steady flame of a lantern hung from the ceiling of their small room.  "You should feel the magic move within you.  The most powerful magelords require very little if any chanting.  They are so tuned to the energies within that it flows from them with a thought or a mere gesture."

Vinesta sighed, frustrated.  If this is true, then why do I need to learn all of these motions and incantations?

You are training your mind and body to become one with the energies around you and within, Lyrria answered patiently.  These exercises will help you strengthen your bond with the world, and your words will help your mind shape the spell into what it is.  The older woman demonstrated again the fluid hand gestures that caused the flame within the lantern to dance.  Again, Your Highness.

Vinesta bit her lip and stared at the flame, wishing the magic flowed as easily from her as it seemed to come from Lyrria.  After a week of repeating this same exercise over and over, the flame refused to acknowledge her.  She couldn't 'find herself' within the fire, as Lyrria instructed.  She couldn't feel the life of the flame.  Perhaps I cannot do it, she whispered, her heart sinking at the thought.  What if Lyrria was wrong?  What if Vinesta's abilities were limited to affecting the weather?

Lyrria stood abruptly from her perch in the chair and crossed the short distance to where Vinesta stood beside the lamp.  We don't have time for doubt, Highness, she snapped, stopping a foot from the princess's face.

Indignation sparked in Vinesta's chest and she met the mage's fierce glare.  How are you so certain that I can do these things of which you speak?  I have never for a moment felt the sensations you describe.

Lyrria narrowed her eyes.  "Because I can feel your strength, Princess.  If I can feel it, they they will feel it.  You have to find the key to unlocking your potential, and you have a little over three months to do it."

Vinesta's jaw clenched both from anger at the woman's harsh tone and at the fear the simple mention of them always awakened within her.  What if I can't?  What if I never feel the flame?

Lyrria shook her head.  "It is thinking like that that's holding you back.  Don't even entertain the thought that you might not.  I know you can.  The moment you know you can, you will feel it.  Lyrria smiled, her eyes going to the lantern.  And when you do, princess . . . the world will open before you."

Vinesta followed Lyrria's gaze, her tension easing at the certainty and encouragement in the older woman's voice.  I wish I could see this door of which you speak, this door to my 'potential'.  Perhaps then I could find the key.

Lyrria pat Vinesta's shoulder.  You will.  She returned to her seat and eased into it, gesturing impatiently with her hand toward the lantern.  "Again, Highness.  You don't have the luxury of time to waste."

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Chapter 6

Mikael's lessons with Dark Magelord Enisyer began at one o'clock, just after lunch, and often went until the dinner bell tolled at six.  Enisyer was fond of giving Mikael work to study on his own and leaving the prince alone in the small magecraft library for the duration of the class.  When the darklord stayed to serve the position of instructor, he usually sat bored while Mikael performed the same simple tasks and incantations for hours.  On rare occasions, he demonstrated more complex spells for the prince, but usually discouraged Mikael from attempting them on his own. 

Enisyer would cast disparaging remarks about the prince's minuscule abilities and tendency to tire easily, and complained incessantly that training such a weak pupil was a waste of his talents and time.  Threats and insults were a majority of the conversation he offered the prince, and he only used Mikael's honorific titles with derisive sarcasm. 

In spite of daily vilification, Mikael bore the abuse with as much patience as he could muster.  He devoted the entirety of his attention and energy to every lesson and spent hours after dinner reading on his own.  When he knew Enisyer to be out of the castle, he practiced more advanced spells than the darklord permitted and read books on magecraft to which he had not been assigned.  Only when he knew Enisyer to be occupied with a meeting or on assignment with a task from the overlord did Mikael dare to practice white magecraft from a small chest of books left to him by his mother.

Every night he would read or cast until he was shaking from exhaustion and required Henrik's assistance into bed.  He refused to let his physical weakness interfere with his training.  Mikael felt in his heart that someday he would need to be stronger than Enisyer imagined he could be.  Someday he would need the lessons the darklord referred to as a 'waste', and the training he was doing on his own.  When the time came for him to defend himself or someone he cared for he could not afford to fail.

The past months had seen a marked increase of Mikael's ailment.  He awoke exhausted in the mornings and so lethargic he could barely dress himself, even with Henrik's help.  He ate breakfast in silence with his father and numbly performed his duties as prince of the realm and regent during his father's illness.  If he had an hour to spare before lunch, he would sneak a nap in between his duties and his training and skip the second meal all together.  It disturbed him greatly that his two hour naps in the afternoon refreshed him more than the seven or eight hours of sleep he received at night.

The prince's reflection began to show signs of strain.  He lost significant weight, his skin gradually lightened from its healthy color, and his eyes became deeply shadowed and red-tinged.  Mikael started to dread his daily lesson, knowing if Enisyer stayed to instruct he would be forced to further tire himself with repetitive and pointless exercises.  On more than one occasion he had blacked out and awoke to find himself in his bed the following morning, unrested and unable to rise.  Henrik, who had never before discouraged Mikael's training, began to urge the prince to rest more.  The days bled into each other, and not even thinking of the impending arrival of his bride could awaken Mikael's enthusiasm.

You appear as a ghost, Henrik commented when Mikael retired to his chambers.  I am worried for your health, Your Highness.

Mikael sank heavily into a plush chair before the large oak desk in his study.  He left the lesson early to do a task for the overlord, the prince muttered wearily, his voice harsh from the hours of incanting Enisyer had overseen.  He crossed his arms on the desk and lowered his aching head for a moment of rest.  I will need my mother's books.  Though he couldn't see Henrik's face, he heard the slight intake of breath and the concern in his servant's voice.

May I speak openly, Your Highness? Henrik entreated.

Of course you can, Mikael answered without shifting from his half-prone position.

The king's energy wanes daily and your people look to you to hold the kingdom together . . .  Though he'd been given permission to speak his mind, Henrik hesitated nervously.  Your kingdom needs your strength; they need you strong, Your Highness.

Mikael sighed and sat up to face his servant and friend.  That is why I am doing this, he hollowly countered.

Henrik knelt beside the arm of the chair, his expression heavily distressed.  What of your bride, Your Highness?  Think of who she will meet when you receive her . . . a shadow of the great Prince Mikael.

Mikael nodded and sighed.  I hear you, he agreed.  But she comes to the home of an enemy riddled with the disease of serpents and scoundrels beside the throne.  The prince turned his eyes to his hands resting on the desk.  They were the hands of a man much older than himself, pale and haggard.  I have heard rumors that she is a lovely woman with rich auburn hair and eyes like the leaves before a fall.

Henrik nodded and smiled.  I have heard that she is gentle and quiet, but strong.  She will be a good match, Your Highness.  Should you not greet her as your best?

Mikael chuckled sadly and shook his head.  What if I need tomorrow what I would have learned tonight?  He looked back to his servant with a tired smile.  I shall be all that defends her from Enisyer and the darklords that frequent the palace.  If the worst should happen, as I have suspected for some time that it shall, I must be her shield.  She deserves a man who can master himself and his abilities.

Henrik rested his hand on Mikael's arm and met the prince's eyes.  And if that man is too spent to defend her? Henrik countered firmly.  What of her shield then?

Mikael frowned as Henrik's words ate at his resolve.  He opened his mouth, but his servant squeezed his wrist and interrupted his thought.

Highness, do you believe with all of your training that you could offer any semblance of a fight in your condition?  Could you even lift a sword?  Could you cast?

Mikael closed his eyes and turned away.  Henrik was right.  He could barely carry his own weight, let alone cast a spell to rival Enisyer.  What am I to do, Henrik?  It was not often that Mikael admitted to the weakness that ate at him every day, but fear and growing hopelessness made him desperate for advice.

Henrik pat his wrist.  "Rest more.  Do not skip meals.  Henrik stood and held out a hand to help Mikael to his feet.  Most importantly, Your Highness, no matter how weary you may be, never give in to despair or doubt."

Mikael looked to Henrik's outstretched hand.  I cannot afford to lessen my training, he despondently confessed, "but . . . I cannot go on as I have been.  There must be a way to overcome this . . . this malady that weighs me down.  He availed himself of the older man's help and struggled to his feet.  I know my body can be strong, he insisted as Henrik led him to the bedchamber.  I feel as though I am a breath away from shedding this cloak of fatigue that consumes my energy."

Henrik pulled the coverlet from the large feather mattress and helped the prince strip down to his breeks.  Perhaps the answer is in your mother's books?

Mikael sank gratefully down into the plush comfort of his bed and shook his head.  No.  If I use white magic to energize myself, Enisyer will know.

Henrik smiled encouragingly.  "I have faith, Your Highness, that the solution will present itself if you remain vigilant and strong."

Mikael thought to thank Henrik for his advice, but sleep stole him away the moment the covers were pulled to his chin and the black oblivion of dreamless rest claimed him.

––––––––

Chapter 7

Vinesta cast a mournful eye to the docks shrinking into the distance.  After being aboard the small sailing ship for three weeks, she had been eagerly looking forward to stretching her legs and doing a little shopping in the local market.  The scheduled resupply stop was at Tindale, the south-most port in Righland, and was the last opportunity Vinesta would have had to use her father's name as credit.  She'd drifted off to sleep the preceding nights imagining what simple luxuries she would acquire there: fresh fruits, fine cloth, and books.  It had been a devastating blow to her hard-found cheer when the captain had ordered only crew essential to expedite the loading of goods were permitted on shore.

I think I shall go mad aboard this tiny, miserable, splinter of a ship, Vinesta lamented to Lyrria.  It was the first time she had insulted the Gyrfalcon, and she instantly regretted her remark.  The ship was a thing of beauty, but even it was at the mercy of her foul mood.

I had also wished to go ashore, Highness, Lyrria grumbled.  We were in need of fresh ingredients for your next lessons.  Now I must wait another month before providing you with examples of components.  Lyrria leaned against the rail, every bit as crestfallen as Vinesta.  It is for the best that we weren't allowed ashore.  Lyrria's voice lowered to a whisper.  "There was an uprising near the border here.  They were involved and undoubtedly now lurk the streets in disguise, seeking signs of malcontent and rebellion."

Vinesta contemplated Lyrria's words for a long moment before turning silently toward the hatchway.  She didn't suffer from the usual jolt of fear at the thought of the darklords.  Instead, a steady fire of fury was building in her with every mention of their evil deeds.  Lyrria followed her down the narrow stairs and into their quarters.  When the door was closed, the princess broached the subject she did not wish to discuss above deck.  Father always insisted the affairs of the kingdom were not of my concern, she quietly revealed as she sat upon the lower bunk, her usual seat. 

Lyrria sat across from her at the chair and table.  That is good.

Vinesta frowned.  That comment surprises me coming from you, Lyrria.  You are a very independent woman, a magelord who challenges the will of the darklords with your very existence.

Lyrria quickly shook her head.  You misunderstand me, Highness, she returned.  "As the third daughter of a king, you would likely never be expected to take on the responsibilities of queen.  Then there is your younger brother who will inherit the throne.  The fact that you were considered below the need to understand diplomacy is likely the only reason you were overlooked by them.  Lyrria leaned back and stretched her feet out before her.  I believe as princess, no matter how distant you are from the throne, you should lead by example and actively seek to better your kingdom and the welfare of your people