Duty And Honor

By Melanie Hatfield

Tina the Terrible is dead and buried, but her ghost still haunts Princess Azedeh. The future queen longs for a life of action, but cannot risk exposing the truth behind her double life. When a magical enemy threatens her kingdom, she must learn how to protect the land without the disguise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Hatfield
• Release date: Mar 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370631964

Melanie Hatfield

Melanie Hatfield spent a decade in Los Angeles with hopes of becoming a television sitcom writer. That dream did not come true, but she learned how to write like a pro. She wrote her first fantasy series, Kingdom of the Snark, to incorporate her two favorite genres of comedy and fantasy. Her second fantasy series, The Chronicles of Turrack is an action-adventure spin-off from Snark. Ms. Hatfield currently lurks in her hometown of Kansas City and writes whatever she pleases!

Book preview

DUTY AND HONOR

BOOK 4 OF THE CHRONICLES OF TURRACK

Melanie Hatfield

Duty and Honor: Book 4 of The Chronicles of Turrack

By Melanie Hatfield

Copyright 2018 by Melanie Hatfield

Smashwords Edition

Cover art by JoshuaJadon.com

Digital edition produced by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, taping, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner except in the context of reviews, quotes, or references. To obtain permission, contact the writer through her website at www.melaniehatfield.com.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Anything in this novel that is anyway similar to your own life and/or work is coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author

Chapter One

I crawl through the wild grass like a beast in the hunt. The towering blades sway before me, bending to my every movement. The morning dew soaks through my clothing, and my skin tightens from the chill.

I shift my weight as I crouch, the heels of my boots sinking into the moist ground. I remain motionless, controlling my breath as I close my eyes. Sight serves no purpose when lost among the wild grass, swaying above my head like towers. I stretch my hearing, only to be surrounded by the sounds of wild creatures in their morning routine.

My nostrils flare as her pheromones rush toward me.

I take a vertical leap; the hunter is a blur beneath my feet. She is gone before I land, and I am left alone with the sound of my breath flooding my ears. My body screams from my efforts, and I realize my endurance shall run out sooner than later. The only way this could end is if I take the offensive stance. In these situations, to accept one’s position as prey is the equivalent of digging one’s grave.

Upon that realization, I rush after her.

I ignore the scratches of wild grass in my pursuit, and it is not long before the backside of a brown leather uniform bobs before me. I fumble as I reach for the hilt of my knife, for running and grabbing is a delicate skill. When I find my grip, I am too anxious in the moment and throw my weapon before making calculations. My aim is off, as I begrudgingly expect, and my prey dodges it with ease.

Air forces its way in and out through my mouth like a billow upon the hearth. My legs tingle like needles pricking a pin cushion. I pump my limbs, but I am falling behind. I keep my eyes on her, keeping track of how her body sways as she runs. I know where the right side of her back will be by the time my knife reaches her, and when I throw the weapon I am not at a loss.

She disappears in the grass as my knife follows her. A yelp emerges, but it is not high enough to determine the damage inflicted. My prey vanishes, yet I still follow her from the trail of bent blades.

The wild grass comes to an abrupt end. My momentum causes me to stumble when I stop, and I roll upon the ground. I summersault to gain control, propping myself upon my knees.

I am near the dead center in the circle of flattened grass. I get back upon my feet, spinning around to gather my bearings. The golden sky of the dawn has shifted into blue, with only a few puffy clouds above to mock my predicament. My breathing swallows all other sound, but when I hold it, my heart thumps in my ears.

All air escapes me when she slams into my back.

With one hand, she grabs the back of my head and buries my face in the dirt. The muck invades my facial orifices, but gagging is impossible. Something wiggles down my nostril, making its way into my mouth. The huntress digs her knees into my hips, and a stab punches into my back.

You were just slain by your own weapon, Mother says.

She gets off me, and I push my face upward. I spit out a worm before I gasp for air. I roll over upon my back and she stands above me, holding one of the knives I threw at her.

If this is how you show restraint, I pant, I hate to think how poor Azedeh suffered.

My mother chuckles, taking a canteen from her belt. She takes a swig before she offers it to me, allowing me to regain my breath. I drain the remaining liquid, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my free hand.

It was a bold move to follow me, she remarks, but it proved to be a fatal mistake. You are supposed to defend yourself from trouble, not go running after it.

Death comes to those who wait, I pant.

It comes faster to those who pursue it.

Our agreement was to teach me self-defense, but the best way to eliminate a threat is to get rid of the enemy. Should I be ashamed of myself for breaking the rules, or do you want me to die by them?

Her face of stone does not reveal her judgment, until a smile breaks through.

You should be proud of your efforts, Mother says as she sits next to me. If this were a real blade, I would have gone down and you would not have tasted dirt.

Do I now have bragging rights about that yelp I got out of you? I tease.

Mother arches an eyebrow. I feel like I shall sink into ground, but she snorts a laugh.

These practice knives may not draw blood, she replies, but they still have a bite.

I nod in agreement, rubbing the throb where Mother inflicted her blow upon my back.

We fall into a restful silence. The chirps of the insects melt into a meditative white noise. I close my eyes, controlling my breath as my twitching muscles simmer down. I wake myself up with a sigh, stretching my arms as I stand up.

Mother keeps her gaze upon me as she follows. A grin splits her face, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders.

Mother, I moan as she plants kisses upon my forehead. I hope you do not inflict your mirth upon me if I should happen to be on an actual battlefield.

If such a hypothetical situation would occur, she says, I shall lift you upon my shoulders and declare, ‘My precious baby is all grown and kicking backside.’ However, as these exercises are merely to teach you self-defense and not to enlist you in the Golden Guard, I deem you shall be safe from such humiliation.

I shake my head before speaking, We should start heading back to the castle. We are still expected to be fresh when we arrive at the breakfast table.

Mother releases a loud whistle. Our steeds cry out in the near distance, and they find their way through the grass in a few moments. My body refuses to obey any more of my orders for movement, and Mother gives me a boost onto my horse’s saddle.

We flick the reins, and the beasts take off like lightning in a storm. I wrap the leather straps around my hands, squeezing my shaking thighs into my beast’s sides. The Golden City looms as we approach the back gates. Mother does not have to shout for the guards to open. They must have seen our approach through their spying glass. The gate rises to the top before we approach, and thusly we ride through without slowing.

Weariness numbs my body by the time we approach the stables. We slow our horses to a trot. Stable hands open the entryway for us, taking the reins from our hands. I require assistance to dismount, but Mother leaps off like a playful child.

I look ahead, seeing the source of her sudden mirth.

Good morrow to you, my dear Vencel, she coos at Father.

He stands in the entrance, already dressed in his uniform of crimson leather. He smiles upon us, wrapping his arms around Mother’s waist when she is in reach.

I cannot start my day without you, he whispers into her ear.

I blush as they embrace. Their lips interlock, and the stable hands keep their gazes away as they take the steeds. I have no doubt they are glad to leave the spectacle behind.

If only I could do the same.

No need to greet me, I quip, turning on my heels as I dash toward the exit.

Just one moment, young lady, Father snaps.

I freeze in place, turning around to see him approach me.

I cannot start my day without either one of you, he says as he hugs me, lifting me off my feet for a moment.

I return his embrace, glad to have his support. The filth of my exercise rubs onto his uniform, leaving a streak of green across his golden chest. He does not ask me of my training, but I suppose Mother fills him in on the details. Perhaps he would rather not envision his daughter getting her backside kicked, like so many guards he has broken through training. Father squishes my face in his hands, keeping my head still as he kisses my brow.

I am glad to see you, Father, I advise, but the filth of my activities is starting to make me nauseous. I would prefer to see you again in a cleaner state.

A father cares not for the stench of his children, but for their affection, he replies as he kisses me again. And you shall not be dismissed until you reply in kind.

I stand upon my toes and kiss him on the cheek before I leave. He does not wait for me to fully exit before I catch him speaking to Mother. You, on the other hand, do not get to escape me so easily.

I pick up my pace as their interactions become louder.

The weariness of my limbs slows me down after a while. I eventually make it back to my chambers, glad to avoid any interactions beyond a nod or a wave to those I pass by. Getting through my door is a pain, and I flop upon my bed when I make it there. My sweat stains my sheets, so I get up to avoid any other transfer of my filth.

Usually Blythe licks every exposed surface of my skin when I lie down, but she is nowhere around. I call for her but do not receive so much of a whimper as a reply. I dash through my chambers with all haste—when this sort of thing happens, it usually means she is in my lab trying to ingest something. I can only hope she leaves the explosive stuff alone as I force my limbs to rush.

I enter my closet, sliding the secret wall exposing the entryway. My chest tightens and my eyes sting from the glare of fully lit torches leading the way. I never allow the flames to burn when I am not around, which can only mean that someone is down here. My hairs stand up from the back of my neck as memories of last year’s abduction return.

I glance down, finally observing the rose petals carpeting the hallway. I release a breath, steadying my shaking body. If someone were here for nefarious purposes, it seems doubtful he or she would create a romantic setting. My blood tingles, but I am cautious as I make my way toward the lab. One slip on these petals would cause a nasty fall.

A curtain of ruby beads prevents me from seeing my lab when I approach it. It is not something I have installed, yet it seems too lovely for some foul person’s sinister plot. I part through it easily, and my breath gets caught in my throat.

Hundreds of candles light the room, encircling Ozzie. He wears a high court uniform of sky blue, the images of Delphiniums and Clovers sown in silver across his chest. The color scheme is traditional, along with the mixing of house emblems… and a lump forms in my throat.

Evangeline, he says as he approaches me, I am sorry if I have frightened you, but… He chokes up for a moment, swallowing hard before he continues. I never could have imagined someone like you ever speaking to me, let alone becoming a part of my life. I was an orphan, living in the sewers without hope of a future. Your cousin brought me into the light, but you guided me out of the darkness.

Ozzie makes his way toward me. He gets down upon one knee, taking my hand into his. We both shake with anticipation, but I do not dare interrupt.

We have only known each other for two years, but my heart knew the truth about you within two moments. I love you, and if I live to see the ends of the world I shall never give my heart to anyone but you. You are the sun in the sky, the air in my lungs, and the courage in my heart.

He looks back as he whistles. Blythe pads toward us, glad to receive the command. Her coat glimmers in the candlelight, groomed to enhance her fluffiness. Silk bows are tied around her ears, although not tight enough to cause her pain. A pillow has been tied upon her back, and something shiny is tied upon that silk white cushion.

Blythe licks Ozzie’s hands when he unties the object. He scratches her ears, and she lies down from joy. He lifts the ring toward me—a diamond block surrounded by rubies. His forehead glistens with sweat, and my cheeks burn.

Lady Evangeline Delphinium, he says as if all air has left his lungs, shall you permit me to be your spouse?

The traditional wording of a Turrack proposal is not of a romantic nature, but tears swell in my eyes. They flood over, and my mind becomes empty, lost in this moment. My throat tightens, and all I can do is cry. A smile breaks across his face as a small tear builds up in his gaze.

I open my lips, and a hiss catches my hearing. I glance to my left and notice a spark near my green jars. They erupt in a blaze, and I realize too late the dangers of this romantic atmosphere.

Oh, no, I gasp.

Ozzie’s face falls. That is not something a man in my position wants to hear.

Run, I scream, grabbing his hand.

He jumps onto his feet when the first jar explodes. The force throws us through the beaded curtains. I wrap my arms around my head, landing hard upon the hallway. Ozzie throws himself on top of me, spreading his body over mine as the other jars burst.

Blythe barks as she rushes past us, smart enough to get out without command. Smoke billows into the hallway, the cackling of fire threatening to consume the entire lab.

Evangeline, Ozzie coughs, turning me upon my back.

I am alive, I hack, but we need to get back to my chambers.

The smoke is too thick for us to breathe. We crawl upon our hands and knees, coughing for air as we escape. Sizzling emerges from my lab like a napping dragon from an ancient tale. The heat of the fire dies down, but the smoke grows as a phantom in the dark.

The light from the torches is lost in the fumes. It strangles me and Ozzie, and I can no longer tell if I am crawling. I feel weightless, and the warmth of Ozzie’s arms around me is the only evidence I have of his presence.

We have to get out before the vacuum kicks in, I heave.

The what? he mutters before my warning flows into motion.

Ventilation shafts in my lab suck in the air. The smoke reverses, as if the world were spinning in reverse. Ozzie keeps his weight upon me, keeping me from flying back.

Blythe is not so fortunate. She yelps as she is pulled against her will. The claws of her paws clack in vain as she tries to regain her footing. Dresses from my closet fly into her, and she gets tangled up in the cloth.

Ozzie reaches up, grabbing the skirt of the gown. He pulls it down, bringing Blythe along for the ride. I grab her collar, pulling her into my chest for safety.

What is this? Ozzie yells above the roaring air.

It is part of my emergency fire system, I yell back. Water pours from the ceiling to put out the flames, then the ventilation goes into reverse to suck out the smoke.

This was developed by Turrack contractors? Ozzie asks, his face twisting upward with confusion.

I designed it, and Una helped me create it.

That blasted wizard, Ozzie mutters before adding, And how long does this…

Ozzie’s question is cut off by a cry of alarm. I no longer feel his weight upon me, and I risk a glance over my shoulders. He is gone, and I slide backward.

A loud thump cuts off the system. I stop moving, and the air becomes still. I let go of Blythe, who scampers her way back to my chambers. I jump upon my feet, calling out for Ozzie.

No need to worry, Evangeline, his replies. Things are looking up.

I glance at the ceiling—Ozzie remains stuck upon the grates, the vacuum keeping him trapped up there. He grins, but his amber eyes quiver with embarrassment.

I am so sorry, Ozzie, I cry, at a loss for how to help.

No, he replies, you have nothing to apologize for. I was the one who placed open flames near chemicals I knew nothing about. I am afraid I do not share your scientific mindset, my Lady Evangeline.

The air system clicks, and in a moment Ozzie falls. He is not high enough to maneuver his body, and he falls upon his face.

I scream as I race toward him. The back of his uniform was shredded by the vent, as if a monster had clawed him. He moans as I turn him over. Blood streams from his nose, cascading down his full lips. My emotions spill over, and I cannot stop from weeping.

Are you able to walk? I inquire. I do not know if I have the strength to carry you.

I shall be that strong if you answer my original question.

He grimaces as he digs in his pants pocket. His fingers shake as he pulls out the ring, shining in his hand like a star. Tears mix with laughter when I see it, and I stretch out my marital finger.

Yes, I choke out.

He slips on the ring, yet all I can focus on are his twinkling eyes. I fall onto my knees, forcing my lips upon his as my body weight knocks him off balance. Ozzie rubs the back of his head, suppressing any noise of pain caused from my physical affection. He smiles as I peel off his clothing.

Forget the family breakfast.

Chapter Two

My elbow slips from my chair’s armrest. I snap my head back before I tumble over, taking a quick glance at Mother. Her stony expression does not reveal if she saw what I did. I shrug my shoulders back, imitating her proper posture.

The weeds took over my crops, the farmer whines. His yellow and black checkered suit swallows his gestures, but at least he took some effort in dressing up for court. All my gugorluan berries sprout fuzz now. The farmer takes a cloth out of his trouser pocket before asking the nearby guards, If I may show the Queen and Princess my evidence?

The guards turn toward Mother, as do I. She nods at the farmer, who unwraps the cloth and reveals the fuzzy fruit underneath.

That is a nasty blight, Mother replies after taking a look.

The farmer shoves the berries toward me, but I hold up a palm. I saw it just fine, thank you.

The farmer bows as he steps back.

I do not need to hear anything else, Mother says, keeping her eyes firm upon both parties. It is obvious that Mr. Dandy was careless with disposal of the weeds, which destroyed Mr. Berry’s crops. I rule that Mr. Dandy compensates Mr. Berry for the full amount of the income lost.

But that would ruin me, Mr. Dandy cries, the soil on his face filling the crevices of his expression.

Then perhaps you can make other arrangements with Mr. Berry, Mother replies, her tone revealing no preference to either farmer. "Indeed, if you had both set your pride aside, you could have compromised, as opposed to traveling all the way to the Golden City for a judgment