In Defiance of the Stars

By Susan Harris

In this thrilling conclusion to a Romeo and Juliet reimagining from Susan Harris, discover if Rowan and Julian really can fight fate and defy the stars.

When teenagers talk about waging war against their parents—they usually don't mean it literally!

Rowan might not remember the last few weeks of her life, but even she knows that something isn’t right. This battle needs to be fought from the inside, and Rowan is determined to find out exactly how she knows the blue-eyed boy from her dreams—even if it means befriending a Montgomery prisoner and finding a strength she never thought possible.

Battling his own demons, Julian will stop at nothing to get his wife back, even if it means losing himself and all he holds dear in the process. With enemies surrounding him and the power within threatening to overwhelm him, will Julian be able to withstand his own trials and be reunited with the love of his life?

“The magical Romeo and Juliet reimagining you didn’t know you needed” ~ Melanie (Melanie’s Muses)

Novels in The Defy the Stars Trilogy by Susan Harris:
A Tale of Two Houses (March 2019- Now available!)
Until Death Do Us Part (April 2019- Now available!)
In Defiance of the Stars (May 2019- Final novel will release to complete the trilogy.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: CTP Publishing
• Release date: May 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781634223683

Susan Harris

Susan Harris is a writer from Cork in Ireland. An avid reader, she quickly grew to love books in the supernatural/fantasy genre. When she is not writing or reading, she loves music, oriental cultures, tattoos, anything Disney and psychology. If she wasn't a writer she would love to be a FBI profiler or a PA for Dave Grohl or Jared Leto.Susan Harris is the author of Shattered Memories.

Book preview

Drops of crimson dripped from my sword as I slashed the throat of one of my own coven, having moments ago stolen the breath from his lungs with the clench of my hands. Wetness drenched my skin. It was not rain that clung to me. We had been engaging my father’s forces for hours now, the death toll rising as the rebels gave everything to the cause.

I searched for hair of silver, and my eyes fell upon Mercy, fighting in full force. With the grace of a dancer, he twisted and twirled, his shadows moving in sync with him as he stabbed and thrusted his blades into the flesh of our enemies. Mercy was making his way toward my father, trying to get to the man who had for many years held such contempt for his son. Mercy was trying to spare me the guilt of being the one to end my father’s life, yet I felt compelled to do it, for what kind of king would I be if I, just like my father, allowed others to meet out the justice that was my responsibility, and mine alone.

A roar of anger sounded behind me, a warning from one of the rebels that carried across the wind. I whirled from where I stood and saw three witches grind to a halt and surround me. One witch clicked his fingers, flames dancing on the tips. Another swung a mace menacingly. The third circled behind me so that I could not see what kind of magic he wielded. They seemed to forget that I could control the elements, and I did not fear death.

Take my hand, Prince. Take my goddamn hand and let me bath in the blood of the Montgomery scum.

Paris’ voice begged in my ear. I was hesitating to use him in this fight. Glancing around, I saw that everyone else was locked in their own battles and would pay no mind to me and my Cambridge ghost.

Try anything funny and I will end you. Understand?

The witch facing me smirked, thinking I was speaking to him, the flames on his fingers rising as he said, I will bring your head to your father and be rewarded for my bravery.

I lifted my hand, concentrating on the flames in his grasp, forcing them inward as I clenched my fist shut. The man screamed in agony and tried in vain to douse the inferno moving up his fingers. The stench of burnt flesh ripened the air. When the man with the mace indicated he was about to strike, I reached out and grasped hold of Paris’ wrist, grinning as the Cambridge pain in my ass winked into our reality.

He wasted no time snatching a dagger from my waist and slamming it into the eye socket of my attacker, who froze at Paris’ sudden appearance. The man staggered back, his screams sending shivers down my spine even as he yanked the dagger from his eye. His hand went to stem the flow of blood, but I knew there was no saving his vision. I granted him some compassion and snapped his neck from where I stood, summoning the air to wrap around the bones and break them in two.

His wailing stopped, but the man with the burnt hands tried to grip a sword in his ruined flesh before dropping it with a groan of agony. I spared a glance at Paris, the ghost of a man who was previously engaged to my wife. He grinned at me with a thirst for blood in his eyes, and I nodded. With my fingers still around his wrist, we moved.

Paris lunged for the man whilst I spun around, my cloak heavy with blood and dirt. My sword clattered like thunder as I clashed with the man who had stood at my back. Just like our swords, our eyes clashed as I recognised one of the soldiers who had once been assigned to watch over me as a child. He was aged now, his hair greyed, and scars littered his face and arms. And just like when I was a child, there was no kindness in his eyes. This man had repeatedly degraded me, struck me when I misbehaved, and tattled to my father if I so much as shed a tear after one of my lessons.

It was Toby who had stood up to him for me, defeating the soldier in swordplay, a very embarrassing moment for the man. It was Toby who declared that he would be the only soldier needed to protect the future king and sent all of the minders packing.

I should have smothered you with a pillow when you were a child.

Perhaps. It matters little now. Death has come calling for you.

The soldier laughed and jabbed his sword at me. I blocked his advances by yanking a root of a tree up and catching his blade in the thickness of it. Casting it aside with a wave of my hand, the soldier sucked in a breath. In that moment, I knew he was going to use his magic to send a gust of wind at me and attempt to break every bone in my body. But I was way stronger than he ever could be.

I yanked my hand free from Paris’ wrist; the wraith screamed in frustration at his early departure from the fray. I drew in as much of my magic as possible and closed my eyes, driving my sword into the ground and opening the earth at my feet. I sensed the soldier let go of the breath he was holding. The gust came at me, but I did not feel it.

When I opened my eyes, a crack had appeared where my sword penetrated the ground. The soldier was nowhere to be seen, but as much as I could feel the earth beneath my feet, I swear that I could sense the soldier drawing his last breath from far below my feet.

Gods damn you, Prince! Put me back in.

The wraith’s anger flooded through my veins, and I snarled, my lips curling up to bare my teeth at him. You do as I ask of you, Paris. Not the other way around. Remember I am the one with all of the power here, not you. It would be wise to consider that before uttering your demands at me.

Paris grinned as if I was being funny and said, You are not the only one with power, Julian.

He let loose a shrill whistle. Suddenly, it was me who could not breathe. Pain lanced my head, forcing me to my knees as the voices of the dead bellowed in my mind and issued a demand to be let into the fight. I grasped my head in my hands and tried to block them out, even as I failed to halt the scream that ripped from my lips. The earth trembled and wind slapped me across the face as if I had been struck. It was my magic on the loose because I did not have it in me to control it.

My vision swam. I attempted to get control of myself once more, but I was failing miserably. I grunted out, Remember that you are only here because of my guilt, Paris. The moment I remember what a bastard you can be, or I master my powers, then you are no more.

I ignored the contingent of soldiers heading my way to seize the opportunity to strike me while I was down. I hissed at the pain in my head, and ghosts blinked into existence all around me. Reaching for the strain of magic that tied me to the spirit realm, I took hold of Paris. He flinched as I invaded his mind and compelled him to punch himself.

As he did, he let go of the fragile control he had and winked out of view. I was unsure if he was gone for good. Probably not; I could never be so lucky.

The ghosts of the dead, who seemed frightened at Paris’ sudden departure, fled. The pain in my head left me so suddenly that I splayed on the ground, my hands sinking into the grass. I gulped in a breath and tried to clear my vision and gain control over my body once more.

When I lifted my head, I was surrounded by at least a dozen men and women. Approximately half of them wore a conflicted expression, leaving no conviction which way they would wield their sword. A young woman stood to my left, her eyes filled with fear as she glanced down at me.

I do not wish to fight, your Highness.

Her voice in my head was timid and mild, like a caress against my mind. Despite having a battlefield worth of dead in my head moments ago, I was more afraid of this girl who could force her words into my head.

Then lay down your sword and stand with me. I will not force you to fight should you not wish it.

I took stock of her, realizing that she was not someone I had seen before. Hair the color of fire, her eyes so dark they were almost black. Freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, and her lips pressed hard together, cracked and red. It must hurt when she opened them. She was young, perhaps only a mere thirteen years old. She nodded at me.

Her black eyes closed, and suddenly, the crowd turned around and strode back into the fray without so much as another glance in my direction. The girl held out her hand and helped me to my feet. I lowered my head in thanks, taking her sword in my hand as I promised.

That is the last time you will ever have to hold a sword unless you wish to do so.

Thank you, your Highness.

It dawned on me then that she could not speak out loud, and my heart broke a little. I heard my name shouted across the battlefield and rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder, my gaze wandering to see where Mercy stood. He held a blade to my father’s throat, and the shadows that were once commanded by the monarch now held him hostage.

With eyes of silver shining wet with tears, Mercy was silently telling me what he felt he must do. My heart rebelled against my head, and my entire body stiffened. The cheers of the rebels were deafening as the Montgomery soldiers laid down their arms and knelt in my direction.

The first steps of war were over. We had been victorious.

But why did I not feel like I had won even in the slightest?

Mercy must have sensed the hesitation in my stance and dragged my father over, shoving him down on his knees before me. Malcolm Montgomery sneered up at me, blood staining his teeth, his fine apparel torn and tatty, his movements tense but his expression deadly.

He spat blood on the ground and glanced from me to the girl who stood at my shoulder. I see even in the midst of battle, you still were able to find your sister. Blood really does call to blood. What have I done in this world to deserve such children from then gods? The usurper and the bastard.

Shock snapped my head to glance at the girl who returned my stare as if she too were hearing this for the first time. However, I would not put it past Malcolm to utter lies so close to his death. It was a delaying tactic; that was all it was.

I had little time to question him. Hoofbeats sounded in the distance, and a bruised and battered rebel came into view. From his expression, I knew that something had gone terribly wrong back at the rebel encampment. My heart beat a tattoo against my chest while the rebel slipped down off the horse and stumbled toward me.

I reached out to catch him, realizing that he was severely injured and must have exasperated the injury by riding to us. I dropped with him to our knees as he rasped out.

We tried to stop it; the general rescued all of the children…. The rebel gulped in a breath, obviously struggling to breathe, yet I had to refrain from shaking him to get on with the story. Mercy rested a hand on my shoulder.

The queen caused a distraction so we could get free. Her mother freed the siren. The general tried to stop it, he surely did, but alas it was not enough.

I rested the palm of my hand on his cheek. You did well to come find me. What happened to my wife? What happened to our brother?

The Cambridge bitch took her, took the general. Plans to do to Tobias what she planned to do to the Shadow. They were both unconscious as they were carried out of the caves.

Bile lodged in my throat, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check as Mercy swore. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he took his last breath. I shuddered and felt his spirit leave his body. I laid him down on the ground, and even as my knees threatened to buckle, I rose to my feet and addressed the crowd.

This battle is over. We have been victorious. I paused as a raucous roar rang out, lifting my arm to quiet them. We must regroup and assess our strength. The rebel base has been compromised. We must march on to Montgomery and take what is rightfully mine. My wife has been captured by her mother, as has our general. Once we have rested. Once we are armed once more, we march for Cambridge, and I will claim what is mine once again.

Long live the king! One solitary voice rang out and was soon joined by others.

Jules? Mercy called my name. When I looked at him, he had so many emotions in his eyes that I felt I would break. What do I do with him?

I glanced at Malcolm. I wanted to use my anger and sadness as an excuse to end him, but I still had questions that must be answered.

Use the magic suppressant cuffs and bring him with us. He may be of some use to us yet.

Once Mercy cuffed my father and handed him over to a bevy of soldiers who will guard him on the trek back to Montgomery, I turned and faced Mercy, my hand on his shoulder.

We will get them back, Mercy. We will take back what is ours.

A hand on my shoulder dragged me from my slumber. A moment later, I have withdrawn the dagger from my waist. Mercy grasped my hand, muttering my name under his breath as I blinked to clear the sleep from my eyes.

He flashed me a coy smile, knowing that my reaction is justified. Since we arrived back in Montgomery some weeks ago and claimed this place as our own, there had been various attempts on my life. I rarely slept and was exhausted as I tried in vain to get some news about Rowan or Tobias, interrogating Malcolm and adjusting to my new role as king.

As I take in my surroundings, I realized that I must have fallen asleep in the throne room, slumped on the throne after one of our late meetings to discuss our next course of action. Sitting in the throne that had once terrified me as a child, I still did not feel comfortable there. It was worse now that I carried the weight of a crown on my head.

Clearing my throat, I put away my dagger. Any news?

My best friend did not have to ask what news it was that I sought because it was the same thing I searched for every single day since learning that those we loved had been taken from us.

Mercy shook his head. I am sorry.

It is not your fault, Mercy. Kendra is playing it smart, keeping the castle lit and free of shadows. We knew she was a brilliant tactician.

The Queen Mother would like a word.

I sighed, knowing exactly what it was that my mother wanted to speak to me about. She urged me to make a decision about our former king who now resided in the darkest dungeon below the castle. It was where he had been kept since we had returned, but I could not bring myself to think on him now.

Tell her that I will speak with her later.

As you wish.

Mercy made to leave when there comes a loud banging on the door of the throne room. It sprang open, and William, the little boy who Rowan had grown so fond of, raced toward me, nearly falling over as he tried to bow and rush forward at the same time. Mercy had to reach out to stop him from stumbling.

Ayla stood in the doorway, her eyes staring at the floor even as her red hair shone in the candlelight. The frightened girl who had saved my life on the battlefield had proven to be my half-sister, yet she refused my mother’s offer of pretty dresses and a princess title. She clung to my side like she was afraid I would disappear, yet she had formed a friendship with William quite recently that seemed to be helping her.

We still had no idea who her mother was or if the woman was still alive, but knowing Malcolm, there was no doubt in my mind that Ayla’s mother was long since dead.

William shoved a piece of paper at Mercy and bowed again before he left the throne room. Ayla held my gaze before leaving with him.

With a sharp gasp, Mercy crumpled the piece of paper and growled. I held out my hand, but Mercy refused to give me the piece of paper.

I had heard the rumours, but I did not want to tell you in case they were untrue.

Tell me now.

Mercy sighed. It seems Emilee was holding back her power. Much like when Rowan was a child, Emilee has used her magic to remove Rowan’s memories of us. She thinks she was kidnapped, a blow to her head affecting her memory.

The world around me froze, and I could not catch my breath.

My spy within the Cambridge castle tells me that Emilee has to keep repeating the process over and over again as Rowan starts raving about a boy with blue eyes who loves her.

I wanted to ask more about Rowan, hope a fragile spark in my chest. Alas, Rowan was not the only one who was missing. Toby would certainly be in a worse condition by now than Rowen ever could be.

And Toby?

Eyes closing, his silver lashes grew damp. The queen has yet to fall pregnant, and the whisperings are that her fertility mages have told Kendra it is not Toby’s fault.

Silence lapsed as we bore the burden of the losses we had been forced to endure. Yet, they were both alive; I suppose that was something.

Worry not, Mercy. We must hold onto the hope we will see them again. It is all we have to keep us going.

Mercy merely nodded, not believing the words I spoke. He was used to seeing the worst in the world and knowing that not every story had a happy ending. And if I were being truthful with myself, I scarcely believed my words either.

Hope was a fragile thing, easily broken, easily dissuaded.

And right now, we were just too broken ourselves to grasp hold of it.

I kept dreaming of a boy with ocean-colored eyes and hair kissed by the sun. When he smiled at me, I felt as if I were the most beautiful girl in the world. When his lips ghosted over the skin at the base of my neck, my body awakened with fire and a hunger I did not know I possessed. He uttered my name, and I could not recall his to groan out. His fingers gripped my hips, and I could barely stand it.

His lips touched me in all the right places, as if he knew exactly what to do to make my body come alive. We were fused together, body and soul, but when I reached for him, he disappeared. I screamed in frustration when I woke alone in bed with a desperate ache in my chest and the overwhelming sense that I was grieving for someone who was nothing but a mere dream.

Now, I lay awake, and the early rays of sunshine flowed through my open window. Gripping the sheets in frustration, I swallowed the scream that was stuck in my throat. Screaming got me nowhere; my mother was using magic to subdue me. It left me in a comatose state anytime my mind played tricks on me. She told me it was for my own good, yet, I could not shake the feeling that she was lying to me.

Sitting up in the bed, I hugged my knees to my chest, the image of my dream boy lodged deep in my mind. My mother told me that the boy I mentioned was one of my kidnappers, the ones who took me away from my home, stealing me away before I had even landed in Saor, and forced me to do many things against my will.

Paris, Mother said, had been killed coming bravely to my aid. However, I struggled to determine whether I was even bothered by this. My emotions were conflicted; a warning deep inside me told me not to trust my mother or those closest to me. Never one to withhold my opinion, I often screamed my reactions to anyone who would listen, and then mother would step in.

My mind had been traumatised by my experience, Kendra explained, and had begun to play tricks on me. Then, she brought Emilee into my room, and I was no longer conflicted. Everything made sense for a time.

But I learned from my experiences, keeping quiet when I needed to. I returned home after my ordeal a few weeks ago, and now everything felt different. I remembered feeling that I did not belong here–a princess in this castle. I still felt it.

While I once had the freedom to come and go as I pleased, now I had a platoon of soldiers guarding my door, standing below my windows, watching me with hawk eyes for fear of my mother’s wrath should I slip free of their watch. A few days after my return, I managed to get a foot into the forest before I was captured and returned to my mother. The soldier at my door lost a hand for falling asleep on the job and allowing me to escape.

A loud crash came from my mothers’ rooms, followed by a flurry of activity. Slipping from the bed, I dressed quickly in loose pants and a tunic. Not bothering with shoes, I pulled open my bedroom door and came face-to-face with two frowning soldiers. I made to step