Grayflame: An Epic Romance

By Justin Chasteen

In Grayflame, capital to the country of Pestal, Marilla Haste is the royal hook — a bounty hunter bound to King Raymond Haste. While born and raised at Castle Haustfall, it is not coincidence Marilla was groomed to be the royal hook. The King is her grandfather… partially.

Marilla is a bastard. In fact, Marilla is a bastard of a bastard, and has a daughter of her own out of wedlock. While she will never see the throne herself because of her long family history of breaking tradition, she is highly valued by her king.

As the royal hook, assigned jobs relating directly to crimes against the crown, Marilla Haste can bring a different kind of honor to the crown and her family. When the crown is stolen right off the King’s head, Marilla is at the top of the list to find the thief, and the crown, and bring them both back to Grayflame.

Marilla finds herself with quite the company on her journey. Among her trusted companions — and one new comrade she finds intolerable — is Knight Hemmers, a long-time friend and friendly partner in flirtation… and a few other things. Marilla not only finds herself longing to find the man who stole the crown; she soon realizes her good friend may, in fact, be more than just a friend as feelings once dismissed as petty turn out to be quite heavy from both her and Knight Hemmers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Jul 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781094411873

Justin Chasteen

N/A

Book preview

Part One: The Hook

"Hook Marilla Haste. A bastard daughter of a bastard son. Too shameful to put in court, too pretty to shelf away. So, what, they make you the hook, eh? Is that some sort of cliché for your family? A pretty huntress? What’s next, a healthy prince, a sober queen, a skinny King? Hah! I doubt King Haste sits his fat ass on that throne and ponders the great succession of his lineage. His only legitimate heir is sickly. After that, all he has to show is two bastards — and one of them bastards sired a bastard daughter along the way. Didn’t your whore mother leave you as a baby at the castle gate in a lute case? I’m sure the royal family was grateful you lived through that cold night. But what’s one more failure within that blunder? I guess the shit stacks high with you at the bottom. Why don’t you do us both a favor and just let me go before my men find you? I’d hate for the King to lose his only trusted half-half grandchild."

A bard.

Wha…?

I clear my throat and crouch before the bound man, knees popping, ankles aching from the pursuit. I’m far too young to feel old… A bard, I say again. My mother was a bard, not a whore.

Pern Pegnew — yes, his mother hated him so badly she named him Pern — scoffed, eyes pinching shut as if someone had squirted lemon in them. Hey, there’s an idea for next time.

It doesn’t matter, Pern says. "Your entire family is a failure. Put a crown on a pig, they did. What barnyard pest gets the throne after your fraction-of-a-grandfather croaks? Surely not the crippled one… but the bastards can’t."

His eyes light up like two torches, smile stretching to each earlobe. I know what he’s about to say, but I let him say it anyway. Why? I haven’t a clue. Sometimes I like to punish myself.

"That’s right… you have a lil’ bastard of your own! How old is she now? Old enough to know her mom. Shit, her entire family can’t stop fucking out of wedlock…!"

The back of my hand strikes his face, hard. His saliva wets the back of my hand. Pern turns his head and spits a spray of blood onto the ground. Funny: I’ve been doing this job long enough to appreciate that he didn’t spit the blood in my face. But for some reason that angers me. Am I not good enough to be spat on? So, when I slap him again, this time with the backhand of a closed fist, I hit his nose. His eyes immediately water.

I then realize it’s blood on my hand, not saliva — and it’s not his blood. I bleed from where his front tooth had snagged my skin.

It feels good to hit Pern, much better than it had to chase the scum down. He was fast, and I really had to be careful not to sever an artery when I had sliced his leg with my sword. Alas, the bounty was caught, he’ll be hanged within the fortnight, and I might just make it home in time to kill two birds with one arrow.

On your feet, I say, lifting the prick by the clamps that holds his wrists behind his back. He wails in agony, and I feel the tendons in his shoulders strain to their limit, but I don’t care.

Outside, dusk is a swell of heat, the sun descending like a flaming comet comes crashing into the horizon. With all the damn open fields around Grayflame, it’s no wonder they put the castle in the middle of town. The walls that guard the city aren’t tall enough, and I often find myself wishing there were mountains to the west, not the east, because I hate sunsets. They’re often blinding and take too long. Give me moonlight and shadow every hour of the day…

About half-mile from the castle, I wish Pern would start walking on his own; my arms are starting to get tired. Pern kicks and scream and hollers, but does little to disrupt my hold on him. Either he’s lazy or wants his men to come for him.

Aye, Marilla! One of my favorite voices chimes through the inner city. Caught ‘im! Come by for a drink, on me!

You always say that and make me pay anyway, Cheth.

Ah, you wound me with these lies! At least try my new ale!

I can’t help but smile at Cheth. Combined with the growing number of city-children tossing rocks at Pern as I drag him, it’s turning out to be a decent night after all.

We’re gonna gut you! Pern yells, but I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or the children, so I drop him on the ground like a sack of potatoes and let the kids hit him with sticks for a bit while I quickly try Cheth’s new spiced ale.

His men never come. Either he has no men, or they fled Grayflame the moment Cheth’s face was drawn on parchment and nailed to the tavern boards. They usually don’t stick around, and my King makes me travel too often to go chase them down. Luckily, in this case, they only want Pern here and no other suspect.

I hand the mug back to Cheth and give him a quick hug before striding back to Pern. The kids disperse with more laughter. One of them yells something about Sophila’s mom while a few others say, "Nuh-uh!"

Are you going to walk now or are you going to make me drag you all the way to your cell?

Drag me, Pern spat. You sliced my leg. How can I walk?

I rip my blade from its sheath and hold it to his groin; Pern begins to crawl backwards like a crab.

Looks like your leg works just fine. Now get up, or I’ll slice something else.

Section Break

I feel odd about getting a little emotional while turning Pern over to the dungeon keeper. It’s not like I knew the man well, but he was the first person I’d ever caught way back when I was the new hook at sixteen years old. Of course, I’d caught him once or twice after that, but he’d never had a death sentence like this time. Usually he just would have to stay in a cell for half-year or take his lashes. Death, though… it’s so final.

I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it. Pern killed a jeweler down in the blue district of Grayflame. The blue district is all high-end merchants — jewelers, mages selling legal spell craft assistance, rare wine, even a market that sells imported dragon meat of Lyseria Isle — and any attempted robbery or even an accidental murder meant death for the guilty. I think I feel so upset about it because Pern never learned his lesson. It was clear he hated the crown and all that goes with it, and therefore he hated me by association. No matter how many bastards Pern left throughout the Realm of Pestal, the only bastards that mattered were the ones that shamed the crown: my daughter, myself, my father and uncle. Pern is a murderer who deserves to die. So why do I feel like the guilty one? We all make mistakes, and we all have our faults — especially in the clutch of passion — but why would a murderer look down on me because I never knew my mother? The man who knocked me up when I was fifteen never deserved to know his daughter. And damn him if he ever thought twice of trying to get to know her, either.

As I climb the limestone steps, taking two at a time, I try to clear my mind of the day, the words, the hunt, and Pern. Nightfall was upon us, and I had just enough time to level this awful day with the company of my favorite person.

Section Break

There’s a loud clink in the other room and I awake somewhat startled. I’d fallen asleep in her bed again. My heart always races when I awake with her on my lap, and the only thing that soothes me is running my hand through her golden hair. My sweet Sophila is getting so big — eight years old now — and I wonder how long before she stops letting me hold her during bedtime stories. Soon she will be holding me and telling me of her day…

The hearth is still ablaze, candles flickering from the evening breeze that creeps through the window, curtains flailing and falling flaccid over and over, so I know I haven’t been asleep long at all. I slide from her bed and pull her covers up to her waist. She always gets so hot in the summer months with the blankets up to her shoulders. It makes me paranoid for some reason.

I grab my sheathed sword from the corner of her chamber and amble my way into the short hallway, shutting her door behind me. Living in the castle had never been an extravagant part of our lives. We had servants to clean after us, three meals prepared each day, random people bowing to us, and a tutor for Sophila. My uncle, one of the other bastards mentioned earlier, stays with her some evenings or when I am away on a bounty. My uncle is a good man — a bit simple from getting kicked in the head by his horse when I was just a young girl, but he’s clean, caring, and silly. Sophila thinks the world of him, and he’s a big part of the reason I’ve never settled on any man of my past. Why settle for a man not worthy of my daughter’s love when her great-uncle Pejman filled the void — even if he was empty between the ears (but really, what man isn’t?).

I step into my chamber and immediately pull off my hard leather tunic and black leggings, skin irritated and pruney from the sweltering day. Much like Sophila, I sweat when I sleep, so it’s even worse than normal now. Sunrise to sunset, the leather keeps my tits pushed together and somehow keeps my ass from bouncing when I chase the bounties, so I shouldn’t despise armor as much as I do, but Gods, does it feel good to remove it all.

I feel strong arms wrap around my body and rub my breasts, a hard