Bound By Magic

By Rose Andrews

Zina Pajarinov, illusionist mage of the Red Hand, has only known a life of strict secrecy and unquestionable obedience to her assassin family. Directed to slay a monarch, she enters his castle disguised as a dancing minstrel. She soon falls for the court mage, a man of power and prestige who holds the key to her escape from a violent and oppressive existence.

Matthias Otto, Royal Wizard of Ilesia, has served the kingdom with unshakeable loyalty like his father before him. As a man who values magical talent, he becomes intrigued by the new dancer's illusions. Stopping at nothing to win her affections, he is astounded to learn this beauty isn't an innocent artist but an assassin sent to destroy the very crown he protects.

Drawn together by an appreciation for magic and one another, their love will be tested by the bounds of duty and revelation of secrets threatening to tear them apart. She will fight bondage to an oath sealed in blood. He will forsake allegiance to an ancient lineage. All in the name of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Andrews Mythobooks Publishing
• Release date: Feb 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386855781

Rose Andrews

Rose Andrews writes about marriage, mountains, and adventure. She enjoys crafting stories about arranged marriages, marriages of convenience, and mail-order-brides in Western and 20th Century Historical Romance. Her sweetly toned, faith-inspired stories are about sassy heroines who wed good-humored heroes and live happily ever after. She is fascinated with history, especially the vintage years and the Old West.  She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and family, reading historical and fantasy romance novels to her heart's delight. Connecting with readers is her favorite part of publishing fiction. 

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Again but slower this time.

Yes, Mistress. As you wish. Zina dropped to one knee in a slow, graceful bow. Like this?

Antonia shifted in her seat, crossing her opposite leg, smirking in satisfaction. Beautiful. Almost perfect except your gaze must connect deeper with the prince. After all, the privacy of his chambers is your single aim.

Zina rose, her bare toes curling on the cool dirt floor. The very thought makes me nervous.

Well, you won’t be bedding him if that’s where your thoughts are going. At least, not unless you want to.

Laughter erupted within the limestone walls of their cavern home as the onlooking members of the Red Hand family responded to her blushing. They were at ease because of simpler assignments: bards, miners, commoners to kill. But hers was the most important blood contract of them all: the assassination of Prince Adrian of Ilesia. It was the gravest offense in the kingdom punishable by death if she were caught. But it would all go as planned. At least, that’s what they kept telling her and she wasn’t sure yet if she believed them.

Your dancing must be captivating, said Fabian, her older brother although not by blood. Look, just like this.

Amidst the cackling laughter and sheer enjoyment of the others, Fabian lept out to the center of the room and began kicking his legs in an awkward dance. His red ponytail swished to the sides and soon his freckled cheeks grew pink from the excitement.

You’re a horrible dancer, Tatiana chimed in beside the hearth. How is she supposed to entrance that poor fool of a prince if she dances as awfully as you do?

Fabian paused mid-dance and made a face at Tatiana. I don’t see you doing any better. No. All you do is ridicule everyone else trying to help her.

Zina shook her head. She knew what the unpleasant look on his face meant and didn’t want to be caught in the middle of any drama.

Antonia rolled her eyes. You idiots. She’s practicing her curtsies and bows, not dancing. Besides, minstrels sing. What she should be working on is that awful voice of hers.

Zina bit her tongue. Answering back to the matron never ended well for her although sometimes she cursed her out in her head.

But her audition is mostly dancing, Fabian argued. I don’t want her to miss the rhythm of my lute.

And you’re the least likely person to teach her anything of benefit, said Tatiana with a taunting laugh.

Also sitting by the hearth and eating a bowl of beans was Sven, dark haired with olive skin just like Tatiana and with much more patience than anyone in the room combined. Zina, your curtsies are perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Antonia sat up straight. They’re only as perfect as I say that they are. How are we to trust that she’ll make it as far as his room if she cannot pass the simple test of an experienced performer of the court first?

Zina massaged the bridge of her nose. While they bickered, sweet time passed by to better learn her routine. And they had not even discussed the plans of her escape after she committed the unthinkable.

Or the fact that she did not want to get involved with killing a prince at all.

Found as a toddler by Antonia, Zina owed her life to the Red Hand. They had given her a roof over her head. Food. Trained her in the ways of magic and survival in the harsh climates of Davina’s mountainous territory.

The blood contract on Prince Adrian had been given to her solely because they all believed her to be the one capable of getting him alone under the illusion of beauty. From what they knew of the monarch, he was very fond of pretty women. And so it had come down to a common sense decision.

Antonia was too old.

Fabian and Sven were men and hideous at best.

And although young and beautiful herself with dark chocolate hair and bright green eyes, Tatiana had no patience for men, and much less for nobles. She enjoyed disposing of powerful men in rather artistic ways but killing the prince of the land required more refined approach.

At the end of the short list was Zina, selected for her ability to charm others by conjuring illusions. Rare was the target who didn’t fall to her subtle yet powerful sorcery. In the end, all she cared about was making a quick escape to another province since public hanging would not suit her.

So far, the others had promised her this would happen. Yet she still worried. Her death was a sure thing if she was caught.

It’s why you kill him with discretion, Tatiana had said on numerous occasions.

As if it were really that simple.

Certainly, I’ll be able to get Prince Adrian alone and fulfill the contract without ever being discovered by his guards.

It didn’t make sense but arguing was fruitless. No one cared to listen to her concerns. They just wanted gold. And as such, Zina soon realized how little she mattered to her family.

Everyone, stop, Antonia yelled and slid forward to the edge of her seat. Enough with all your foolish, pointless arguments. The perfect execution of this contract remains in our Zina’s hands. Does it not?

The room quieted and they all turned to Zina, who stood angering at the thought of her own demise.

Well, let’s continue. Antonia motioned at Fabian. Grab your lute and do something useful. I want to see her dance again.

No. Zina shook her head. I’m too tired and nearly dead from boredom.

The performance is tomorrow and you’re still not prepared, said Antonia. Need I mention again the entire future of this family lies in your hands?

But my magic has waned. I can’t cast my illusions when my mind isn’t clear.

Do you realize how serious this is? Antonia’s tone took a grave turn.

The others stared, entertainment glowing in their smiles. Life at an assassin sanctuary was mostly dull but as the days crept closer to the audition, moods had been at an all time high.

Let me rest, Zina said. Or I won’t do it.

Gasps and whispers ignited the room.

Calmly, Antonia swirled the wine in her glass and sipped, gaze locked on Zina. Rebellious child of mine. Fine. But you’ll be awake before sunrise to practice. Is that understood?

Zina nodded. As you say, mistress.

"Go."

With permission granted, Zina rushed to the safety of her quarters. There, breathing and thinking would be easier than having everyone laughing at her predicament. None of them understood how nervous she was about auditioning at Prince Adrian’s court. It made her queasy.

She wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders and shivered. Her lips quivered, legs trembled. Would she really have to do this? Was anyone on her side?

The expectation for an assassin of the Red Hand was simply to comply with her orders and not get caught. Of course, she had done her share in dispatching of targets before and quite expertly, if she could say so herself. It was a way of life she didn’t enjoy, which made her feel rotten and worthless. But she had no other family and no place to go. Comply with orders she must.

And there was also the case of the guards caring less about dead commoners. It would be a different story with Prince Adrian.

Comfort came in the form of her straw bed, lined with tattered furs and the old quilt Antonia had found her with in Davina’s marketplace. This had always been home. If she achieved the difficult task of being selected as a minstrel for the royal court, Castle Bertalan would be her temporary new residence.

Zina slipped under the furs, her toes reaching the soft, furry depths. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. She only wanted to sleep and think of how, after all was said and done, she would save herself.

***

The rune on Zina’s left wrist grew hot with magic. Covered in moonlight, she absorbed the radiant glow of silver into her skin, mentally preparing for the task ahead. How many times had she been commanded to kill, bound to a blood oath sealed for her before she was even old enough to hold a dagger?

She shifted on the grass, sighing down at the rune. Slaying Prince Adrian of Ilesia would be her biggest mission yet.

A fool’s errand was more like it. Caught, she faced certain death. Her best performance was expected in order to complete the mission. But who would want the poor monarch dead?

Political upheaval approached. She could sense it. No one unimportant hired assassins. Someone wanted the crown and if she had to guess who the likeliest bet lived right inside Castle Bertalan. Zina inhaled the crisp night air, goosebumps rising on her skin. She needed to absorb magic just a bit longer and then she’d be ready to travel.

The Red Hand always traveled at night. Living on the fringes of society meant doing things differently than most. But she liked the night and appreciated its mysteries. Shadows hid those who didn’t want to be found quite well. Footsteps crunched behind her.

Good evening, sister. Fabian sat beside her and stared up at the moon. Are you excited for your big performance?

She wrapped a handkerchief over her wrist. Tell me, brother. How should I take out this prince?

Fabian enjoyed discussing options of this sort. Poison in his wine?

I’ve done that before.

Ah, right. Well, a poisoned dagger in his belly?

Zina shook her head. Too confrontational.

He tapped his chin, lip twisted. Oh, I know. What about dropping something on him?

Ideas began taking hold in Zina’s head. Like a block of some sort?

Doesn’t Bertalan have stone gargoyles?

I’ve never been there so how could I possibly know?

Every castle in Mirovinia has gargoyles.

Well, assuming that it does how would I loosen it and have him walk underneath at an opportune time?

Fabian tied her handkerchief. Good point. What about poison in his soup?

Surely he has tasters.

Seducing him to death?

She grinned. That’s more Tatiana’s trick than mine.

It worked well with the pirate. Fabian leaned back on the grass.

Only because he caught me slipping something into his drink. I had to lie and say it was an aphrodisiac.

She shivered at the memory.

Come, Fabian softly beckoned her. Zina lay next to him. Don’t worry, sis. I’m certain you will come up with just the right fit.

Don’t you wonder who wants him dead? She couldn’t stop postulating. I know Antonia won’t ever tell me who the contract is with but aren’t you afraid of a political change?

I welcome it, he answered with a smile. Chaos. Upheaval. More contracts.

Suppose everyone would want to be in control.

And if they all want to murder each other, that would mean more money for us.

Zina turned over on her belly. I tire of killing.

Fabian chuckled. Tire? But it’s such a thrill to hunt from the shadows. Tell me that still excites you.

It didn’t. Never had. She wasn’t like the others in that regard and she’d long ago reconciled with the fact.

Don’t you wonder what else is out there? she asked with a dreamy sigh. What kind of world exists beyond our cave? Beyond secrecy? Wouldn’t you like to be yourself?

A killer is what I am, he said. It’s what I was raised to be. You as well.

Our birthrights were stolen, Fabian. We don’t belong here.

Antonia has given us everything. Food, shelter, money. How could you ever want something else?

Because I desire to see the world. Perhaps fall in love someday.

Fabian laughed. There’s no life outside of the Red Hand.

Bound in blood.

Forever.

Silence fell between them.

Crickets chirped beyond the trees, their chorus faint and distant. Night had its advantages, its beauty. Moonlight brushed the forest in silver. An owl hooted nearby. A cool breeze raised goosebumps on her arms. This would be her last evening here for perhaps ever.

You won’t tell her, will you? she quietly asked.

Are you planning on running away?

Where would I go? We’ve been shuffled around from cave to cave all our lives, visiting the city on rare occasions. I don’t even know what lies beyond the forest.

She’d said too much. Damn it. Babbling had always been a weak point for her. Planning an escape from the Red Hand had been at the back of her mind for awhile but she’d never solidified anything serious. Mystic’s Forest was too vast, covering the scope of her tiny, hand drawn map. The one she’d made from fading memories.

But there was hope yet. Castle Bertalan sat on the cliffs above Josephine Bay, right on the outskirts of the forest. If she managed to flee unnoticed after slaying the prince, the midnight tide would take her out to sea. The Red Hand would never find her out there. It also meant she would have to steal a boat.

This is our home. Our family. Fabian sighed up at the stars. Isn’t it beautiful? You. Me. The night.

Zina rolled sideways. I’m turning in.

Aw, but things were just getting romantic.

She rolled her eyes.

Don’t throw away a good thing, sis.

Goodnight. Resisting the urge to glance back at him,