Keyria: Dawn of the Phoenix, #2

By Erynne Napier

Warren Torreador was the youngest of the Torreador brothers. With very little expected of him, he had taken over leadership and training of the Equites Royale of the House Royale DeMont. He excelled at both his duties with the elite cavalry as well as with his music. Although betrothed to the lady of another house, his heart was lost to another.

Being half-elf, Keyria Korona was part of the lower class, and thus considered little more than an unwanted pest. Thus, when she was maliciously attacked, she had not sought any form of retribution. Instead, she had just fled, taking to traveling with her cousin, Augustus.

Now, Keyria was asked to return to the Manor DeMont and she was very reluctant to do so. Then again, 'twas her friend who had asked her to be her bridesmaid. Although it had been nearly a full sun-cycle since she had fled, memories of the attack still haunted her. And most certainly her attacker would be attending the wedding. Despite having sent her demands to the young bard Warren personally, she was not overly confident that her childhood crush would be able to keep her safe. But, she had learned to be strong while traveling with her cousin. She would need to be strong, now, if not for herself, then for ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erynne Napier
• Release date: Oct 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393841340

Erynne Napier

Writing since she was in the fourth grade, Erynne is quite passionate about her writing and she is able to bring that intensity into her works, often invoking those emotions in her readers. Writing has been Erynne's hobby since 4th grade and her novels incorporated those imaginative manuscripts. Currently living in Des Moines, Washington, just south of Seattle, Erynne is a mother of two and a grandmother of two. Welcome to the Chronicles of Palatia Romances.

Book preview

Stories by Erynne M. Napier

The Dawn of the Phoenix Series

Artemisia

Keyria

Avena

Ania

Ignatia

Dawn of the Phoenix

Other Series in the Chronicles of Palatia Royale Saga

Before the Phoenix

The Phoenix from the Flames

The Return of the Phoenix

The Heritage of the Phoenix

The Legacy of the Phoenix

For Maps, Family Trees, Glossary, and More!

Visit My Website: http://erynnenapier.com

Chapter One

The day dawned brilliantly with nary a cloud to mar the glorious blue of the pre-spring sky. Keyria sighed as her wavering eyes scanned the vista around her. Brushing a few stray strands of her straight black hair behind her pointed ear, she swallowed hair. 'Twas not the earliness of the hour that troubled her so; instead, 'twas evenmares that haunted her even unto the morn.

As her horse, Gianevese, a gentle mare rented for her by her cousin Augustus, walked up to the peak of a slight rise in the path, Keyria's charcoal-colored eyes looked down upon the wheel-rutted road as its ancient cobblestone meandered through a scrubland to an ivy-covered gate guarded by two aged trees. Again she sighed, trying to install some solace for her failing will with the controlled exhalation. She looked to the two massive oaks before her. Their time-blackened trunks grew solidly, proudly from the hard soil around their deep roots; their rich, new foliage spread to the early spring sun. The age-patinated gate itself was metal melded into the still thriving trees by strong Elven magic; tall spike-topped fencing sprouted from the outer flanks of the trees.

Her errant thoughts drifted back...back to the innocent time when the pristine trees had been giant harmless sentinels to some magical kingdom reserved solely for her.

One lazy spring day, she remembered climbing into one of the trees...something that was quite forbidden, but she, in her innocence had given it no mind; she never had. There were adventures to be experienced and mythical creatures to chase!

Keyria, come down from there this minute before you are caught! Her mother's panicked voice faltered halfway between a hushed scream and a frantic yell.

"Amya," Keyria sassed back. She would not be swayed; after all, there was a dragon in that tree that needed a good lecture on being up in that very tree. She sighed, knowing her mother would just not understand her or her need to adventure.

And what do we have here?

Keyria tensed upon hearing the familiar voice. She did not have to look down to know 'twas the youngest son of the Damaá DeMont ... Warren Kristofer Torreador. Instead, she closed her eyes, imagining his chestnut-red locks spewed about his head in waves as irrepressible as wind-driven clouds. His warm amber eyes were the most perfect amber gems mined by the very Dwarves; they always seemed to glow with a strong internal fire.

Trying to protect her daughter from punishment, Keyria's mother stuttered, uh, M'lord...

Feeling Warren's sharp eyes up upon her, Keyria pulled the simple skirt of her woolen dress about her bare ankles.

A fair creature is up my tree, he called up. But, I have seen the likes of her previously.

I...I can explain, M'lord.

Upon hearing the sound of branches breaking below her, Keyria finally looked to see Warren climbing up the tree after her.

The tree is especially slick, Keyria reported down to the young Domithaá.

Warren laughed; he did not seem the least bit winded by his effort. It usually is this time of the sun-cycle. Just after finishing, he situated himself on a large branching fork of the tree opposite Keyria. Now, he huffed. Why are you up the tree, again? I am most positive my mother has warned you of climbing these trees specifically.

There was a dragon, Keyria sighed, looking down upon her dangling feet.

A...dragon? Warren laughed. Let me see. The time previously, 'twas an ogre. And the time prior to that, 'twas... His voice trailed off upon seeing Keyria's distress. For a moment, he just looked upon her.

'Tis a little one. He does not know any better. He just wanted to climb and hide away from the world. She brushed a stray lock of her straight black hair behind her slightly pointed ear.

"Are you sure 'twas not you would wanted to hide away?"

At this, Keyria turned to look upon the young lord.

Upon meeting her gaze, his soft lips curled up into a slight smile. The tender grin itself was not overly showy, but the dancing light within his brilliant eyes blazed with something that Keyria could not discern. She turned her glance away. 'Twas then when she saw Ignatius Eridanus, a Manór Guardsman talking with her mother at the base of the tree. Keyria could see her mother, Bianka trying to cover her embarrassed face in shaking hands. Her side of the conversation was muffled by her shaking palms.

Ignatius, for his part, was trying to calm down nearly hysterical Bianka. Keyria knew all he wanted...all that he had ever wanted...was to get her out of the tree, hopefully before the Damaá DeMont found out.

With a rustle of the leaves, Keyria's eyes shot over to see Warren falling back. She immediately screamed just before he flipped about and dropped to his feet. Overcome with relief, her eyes fell closed; she was able to breathe again.

Domithaá Warren, your mother will be most put out if she found out you were in her tree as well, Ignatius scolded, setting his gauntleted hands upon his hips.

She will just lecture me as she always has, Ignatius. Warren dusted his leather breeches off. You and I both know that.

Still, M'lord, you should respect your mother's wishes.

We were... Warren stepped to the tree trunk. Setting his thereon, he turned his attention up. What were we doing with that dragon, Keyria, again?

"I was talking with him." Keyria called down across her lap.

Warren pulled from the trunk and rearranged his silk vest as he stepped back to the Manór Guardsman. We were talking with a dragon, Ignatius.

Keyria's disapproving growl came from above. He does not like you, Torreador.

Ignatius's body started to jiggle slightly as his right hand covered his growing smile. Instead of finding humor in the situation, the mortified Bianka hid her face in both of her shaking hands.

And why does he not like me? Warren crossed his arms across his chest and stopped his right foot.

Because you are a boy.

Warren's eyebrows crunched together in his confusion. But, is not our dragon friend a boy, too?

Aye, Keyria snapped back. "But that does not mean he likes you. And he is my friend, not yours!"

Letting his hand fall, Ignatius sighed and advanced upon the tree. Once at the trunk, he looked up. Has your dragon friend turned invisible, Damithá Korona?

Keyria looked off toward the distant trees and sighed. He cannot be seen by grown-ups, Legatá Eridanus.

That is common among your friends, 'twould seem. Now, my dear, please excuse yourself from your dragon friend's company and climb down. 'Tis unseemly for a lady to be up a tree.

I am not a lady, Keyria immediately retorted as she wrapped her arms about her chest. And I am not coming down...ever again!

Bianka's voice scowled, Keyria Beatrís Korona!

Ignatius turned toward Warren. Can you get her down, M'lord? She seems to listen to you more than she ever would either of us.

Do you have an axe? Warren shrugged his shoulders.

Keyria cawed down. You would not dare!

Warren just happened to look down and see a few dribbles of water track through the grass at his feet; 'twas traveling from the small pond a few feet away. Ah, shit! The water then formed up into a wave, growing in height and continuing toward the branch upon which Keyria sat.

Hey, Keyria exclaimed as she was lifted up by the wave. Although 'twas well and truly water of which the wave was made, she did not become wet because of it. After allowing the branch to pass through it, the wave stepped down slowly, gracefully until the ground where it coerced Keyria onto her feet.

Crossing her arms across her chest, Keyria huffed.

I had told you not to climb those trees, Hekatia's voice admonished as the Damaá DeMont marched up to the gathered. She swept her hand about and the water trailed back to the pond. "There are a million other trees on my lands you could freely climb."

Although both Ignatius and Bianka had given honors, Keyria and Warren did not. Keyria simply turned her chin away, tightening her arms across her chest.

Upon hearing the gate opening, Bianka tried to usher her child to the side. Instead, Keyria stepped behind Warren. I do not like him, she whispered to her clueless guard as a carriage from the House Royale DeTierre rumbled and bumbled in. Her shaking hand had come to rest on Warren's shoulder.

She remembered Warren's confused eyes meeting hers.

That was all before those trees became forbidding ogres from some childhood delusion.

She drew a harsh inward breath as her cousin pulled his horse beside hers.

'Twould be best to keep moving, Keyria. Bandits in this area are known to be brazen enough to attack even with us this close to the Manór DeMont. His soft baritone rumbled protectively as she adjusted the bundle hanging from her shoulder. The soreness of her movement was not lost on Augustus. "You know I do not intend on being such a slave driver, but alas, needs must when the devil drives."

I know. Keyria swallowed her fear, raising her quivering chin against it. Your only intention is keeping us safe. You have told me thus several times.

Then, I pray you! Tell me what ails you so. Certainly not the earliness of the hour. You have always been an early riser.

Keyria stayed silent, and this troubled Augustus. She had been such a boisterous child; there was nary a rainy day that could dampen her lively spirit. However, ever since she had come to travel with him and his helper, Placidius Eridanus...elder brother of the Legatá Ignatius Eridanus, that portentous sun-cycle previous, she had turned melancholy and reclusive, avoiding every question put to her concerning the matter. Then, there was the unexpected bundle she now carried with the grace and pride of a woman twice her age. He smiled upon remembering her infant's beautiful face.

Augustus turned from her and from the subject that troubled her so. You both shall be safe within the Manór DeMont, he reassured her, not noticing her sudden tension. Get your horse moving, Keyria...please. I do not relish the idea of having to notify the Damaá DeMont that her daughter-in-law-to-be's bridesmaid has been torn to pieces by bandits and the remains taken off by wolves.

The horrid idea settled into Keyria's mind almost pleasantly. 'Twould relieve her mind to return to Jehovah who created her; 'twould ease her heart to not have to fret so about the warm bundle safely snuggled against her.

But then again, how would he, the Domithaá Torreador, react to such news? He had always been so easy for her to bully; of course, she had meant no harm in it. 'Twas merely the actions of a child learning to be an adult, a girl growing into a woman. Now she wondered if he let her bully her so. Nevertheless, she knew she had always been enamored with the youngest male child of the Damaá DeMont, but she knew her low birth status would preclude any sort of marriage. Even if her morals did allow it, she could not even hope to become his concubine. Perhaps 'twould be better for her heart to be lost to the wolves.

She forced her forbidden tears away and followed her cousin's order, knowing that in stressful times such as these, his temper often shortened, and his patience had been known to fade quickly.

Keyria clicked her mount to an easy trot to catch up to the caravan before a tiny hand pushed out from the now-wiggling bundle. Easy, Bæría, my dove. We shall arrive soon enough. Then I shall let you kick to your heart's content.

A soft coo answered her with gurgles and a tiny giggle. Keyria could not fight the smile growing with her voided heart, even if she could find the desire to do so. It still amazed her how so precious an unexpected gift could come from the evenmare she had to endure that too-short sun-cycle previous. But she vowed never to regret the child's conception or even the child's existence, no matter the circumstances. The child was just so magical to her.

Keyria easily maneuvered the mare toward the giant oaks before a memory struck as lightning.

It had been a dreary, drizzly even, with a thick blanket of black star-dampening clouds overhead. 'Twas so late that even the full moon peered from under the clouds, just touching the western horizon, promising the coming day. It did not help that Keyria was dripping with the bone-chilling cold as she found herself at that very rise in the path. The tall oaks had spread their branches out to embrace her as she heard it...a crack of the tiniest branch behind her in the midst of the inky even. 'The sound 'twas not from the trees a head of her.

Horrifying dread clawed at her tightening throat. What exactly had happened? Had her mount thrown her? She could not remember where she had been, but she knew safety lay ahead, if she could just outrun the increasing danger threatening her from behind. She knew she could find sanctuary at the Manór DeMont if she could just get there in time.

Despite the fatigue tearing at the solidness of her legs, she forced herself forward, finding speed as she neared the oaks. Still, the noises continued from the forest behind her, gaining ground on her despite her ever-increasing speed. She felt her heart skip into a fast beat, painful in her chest. Even breathing became harder and harder.

She threw herself upon the gate, only to find it locked against the ever-present bandits. She could not cry out to the ever-present guard. No words seemed to come from her dry mouth. She could feel her heart leaving her as, out of desperation, she brought her hand behind her back and dropped her dagger into it from its wrist sheath, turning to face down her opponent.

Keyria? A familiar voice brought her back to pained reality.  Are you alright?

What? Keyria's glassy eyes focused upon her cousin. She tried to still her racing heart.

"'Tis amazing to me how a well-trained horse can continue on when his...or, in this case, her rider is thus distracted."

Augustus's gentle laughter brought a tentative smile and a light blush to Keyria's cheeks.

Ah! There is still hope for you, my cousin! I pray a comfortable bed and warm food shall bring you around to your normally sanguine self!

Keyria turned from him, returning to her troubled dream.

A mounted rider with a lit lantern had met her at the gate. Keyria? Oh, by the Goddesses! What cruel fate brings you in such a poor state to my doorstep?!

Keyria felt herself falter at the comforting voice, but she could not allow herself to faint. I...I cannot remember! I think I was followed!

Furious concern hit her companion's face as he took two gigantic steps to encase her upper arms in muscular hands. Followed? By whom? A figure with warm amber eyes and damp chestnut red hair soothed her.

She sighed, knowing she