For a Magic Pen

By Angelica M. Simmons

Ugaress. There is no questing prince to save the kingdom. A princess is the only heir to the throne and she is not prepared to fight or to follow in the footsteps of her ancestors. A demon wizard and a foul prince have united to try to take the throne and to send the people into an era of darkness long forgotten. The only thing stopping these two: the teenage princess; a guy named Harold; and a quest for a magic pen. Too much to ask of the girl? Or just of Harold.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 14, 2008
• ISBN: 9781477166970

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A Choice

NATASHA RACED DOWN the palace stairs. Her long, blonde hair floated after her on the steps. She ran to answer a summons from her mother. She prayed that her mother bore news of pregnancy. Natasha desperately wished for her mother to give birth to a male heir.

Upon reaching the bottom of the spiraling staircase, Natasha smoothed her long, powder blue skirts and brushed her long, pale lashes upward with her index fingers. Her bright cheeks glowed and her chest heaved from the sprint down the stairs. She placed a delicate hand on her throat and sighed.

Princess Natasha Brusque had just turned sixteen, four months ago. Marrying age, her father had announced. She grunted at the memory of the millions of suitors who had called upon her. Each of them had protested that his love was more undying than the others next to him. Natasha had no evidence stating that they did so, for her sake. She knew that they were vying for her throne. Oh, she knew for a fact that she was very beautiful, as all princesses should be. Her eyes were just large enough to convey emotion and her lips were just thick enough to kiss…

She shook her blonde head clear of these kinds of thoughts. She carefully took her dainty feet out of her slippers and smiled as they touched the cool marble of the floor.

You’re doing it again, Your Highness, a fey-like woman spoke. The wispy-figured lady stood to Natasha’s left side. Her auburn hair shone brightly with health. Natasha envied the woman’s casual grace. You’re smiling uncontrollably. You’re mother wouldn’t like that, the woman’s strawberry mouth lifted at the corners for a smile.

Natasha grinned at her best friend, Eosta. Mother wouldn’t even smirk if Tortan was squished flat by a dragon using one of his idiotic summoning spells, she giggled. Tortan was one of her most annoying suitors. As a wizard, he would be almost as good of a match as MagicianTellis. She smiled dreamily at the picture of Tellis. He was tall and handsome. Tellis was looking for the source of immortality. He had promised that she would be the only one that he would spend eternity with.

Eosta pushed her mistress. You had best hurry to the library. You’re mother promotes timeliness more than anything else. Eosta gestured down the hallway. Your mother says that it has something to do with family business. Eosta laid a hand on Natasha’s shoulder, I pray it is news of what you have been wishing for. She released the young woman and gave her a playful shove. Hurry along now, Your Highness, the lady waved as she left the young princess standing in the hallway alone.

Natasha beamed as her dark blue eyes looked down the stone hallway decorated with tapestries and velvet curtains that fluttered with the wind coming through the open windows. The corridor mirrored her joy at the prospect that her mother would bear an heir and then she would be free of the responsibility to marry. She walked down the hall with a little bounce in her step.

Queen Cantra stood before the northern bookcase of the library. Rested in her hand was an old volume covered with dust that was thick enough to pass itself off as a dirt floor. Natasha snatched the volume from her mother’s hands and began to vigorously shake the dust off it. You shouldn’t be going through these old things in your condition, she scolded her parent. Who knows what this would do to you!

Give me the sneezes for two weeks, Cantra smiled lovingly at her only child. She placed herself in the nearest lounge chair. And to what condition are you referring to? I’m in fine health. She raised an eyebrow. Unless my physician has told you something that he has neglected to inform me about, she viewed her child with amusement.

Natasha wearily eyed her mother. All of her life, her mother had been strict and, most definitely, had not shown a sign of amusement nor had she ever made a joke in her presence. She placed the dust encrusted book in her mother’s lap. Never mind, mother, she said as politely as she could. She lifted the powder blue skirt up enough for her to sit and, as always, ended up falling into the back of the seat instead of delicately perching on the edge of the cushion.

Cantra giggled softly, When you were younger, it took all I possessed not to laugh at your bungles. I had to learn from your teachers how to be stern. She opened the book and began to search for something. Since you became of ‘Marrying Age’, the Prime Minister has been pestering your father and I to wed you to Prince Mouden from across the sea. Natasha visually blanched and felt the bile rise in her throat. I have, of course, protested such a match with the aid of your father.

Sighing with visible relief, Natasha straightened up in her chair. Why would he want me to marry that repulsive scab? She cringed at the image of Prince Mouden that came again to her mind. He was rude, quick to temper, and possessed all the appeal of a toad sleeping in the noon day sun on her favorite dress.

The queen smiled becomingly. His lands are vast, not to mention the size of his shipping fleet. He would be a good match to give Ugaress a better sea-faring military, and he is very rich. Our forces would be very strong, but, her eyes glazed over, your marriage would be a terrible one. He is crude and crass when he should be a diplomat. As it is he has been demanding that we wed you to him. He has even gone as far as to claim that you are his betrothed. Cantra frowned.

Princess Brusque patted her mother’s hand. It’s alright. I wouldn’t even marry him if the powers that be demanded it. She watched her mother’s face brighten.

Be that as it may, you will, still, have to make a choice, Cantra’s smile faded. Your father says that I must be the one to bear the news. You’ll have only two months to make your decision. Either way, in two months, you won’t be mine anymore. Cantra’s eyes began to water.

Natasha struggled out of the chair and kneeled, very unladylike, before her mother. She laid her head on the lap that was once used to drive away her bad dreams and soothe her into a restful sleep. What is it, mother? Has father settled on two suitors to have me choose from? She feared that this would be the case.

Cantra stroked her daughter’s fair hair, No, no, that isn’t it at all. Your father has been looking for a way to avoid having you enter the marriage ring. The people and the court have been pushing for you to wed. The pressure to force a decision from you has been enormous. She pinched the bridge of her nose, We’ve discovered only one outlet for you.

Natasha looked at her wearying mother. For the first time, she noticed wrinkles and worry lines upon her mother’s face. What is it? she asked softly.

The queen smiled softly, A quest, to be chosen by my husband and myself. She hugged her daughter. In two months time, you will have to choose either a husband to wear the king’s crown or to quest for something of your father and I’s choosing.

The princess froze. Questing done by the royal family was usually reserved for princes and future kings. Princesses rarely, if ever, quested. She quailed against the thought that she would either have to sleep on the ground or in a marriage bed of an obviously unwanted suitor. Why only two months, why not a few years? Why… Queen Cantra wrapped a hand about her daughter’s mouth.

There is a need for the people to be assured that the Brusque line will continue. The Brusques have always had one family member on the adjoining throne. The people need to know that their princess will produce heirs with… , she trailed off and handed the book on her lap to Natasha. Read through this and make your choice in two months. She rose from the chair and left Natasha alone within the royal library, horrified at the prospect of the choices that had been laid at her daughter’s feet.

Natasha lifted the book to within reading distance and wiped off the cover with a corner of her skirt. The cover was blank. Her brows drew together as she opened the dust gathering called a book. On the first page was the title of this volume; Quests: Items of Magic, Searches for Honor, and Royalties in Search. She sat peacefully on the floor and read from the yellowed pages.

She did not notice the passage of time until it became too dark for her to read. Her backside hurt from pouring over the book’s information and the paper cut on her ring finger stung irritably. She licked the bleeding wound while protesting at the grievous infection bound to swallow her fingertip. She rose uneasily to her feet. She carried the volume with her from the room, intent on finding food and a well-burning oil lamp.

Creeping around after sunset without an escort, Your Highness? the voice coming from behind her chilled her to ends of her hair and tips of her toes. She turned to find Prince Mouden in the hall leaning against the wall and twirling his favorite gentleman’s cane. It was not that she found his looks unappealing. On the contrary, he was rather dashingly handsome, but the cruel gloat in his eyes warned her as to his ugly personality. He opened the door to the library a crack and peered inside, You’re not hiding a lover or meeting one, are you? His voice was cold and coated with distaste.

Natasha resisted the unladylike temptation to sneer at his pompous face. No, Mouden, she tried to sound as innocent as possible, but, you forget your place. It is not for you to ask where I go, or what I do, for that matter. She looked him square in the eye. And, as for an escort, I require none within my own family’s castle. She turned to leave and was harshly pulled back. She did not even get a chance to yelp in protest as Mouden slammed her against the wall and pushed himself against her. She started to struggle, Release me, you craven horehound.

The next thing that Natasha felt was a striking blow on her right cheek that stunned her into silence. Quiet, Lady, Mouden hissed. I did not give you permission to speak. He looked both ways down the hall before pulling her back into the library. Mouden threw his captive to the ground and locked the library doors. You will pay for your disobedience, woman. He straddled Natasha and lifted her up by her waist.

Natasha touched her fingertips to her lips and felt the blood welling up from the corner of her mouth as Mouden lifted her into the air. She was tossed into a chair and held there by Mouden. His expression was smug and, worst of all, angry. She gulped nervously, Let me go this instant. She reached her hand to her face to wipe away the blood beginning to drip down it. Iron-gripped fingers were fastened around her waist, causing her to stiffen in fear.

Mouden whipped his dusty champagne coloured hair from his face and turned his emotionless green eyes on her, I told you to be silent. His grip tightened and she yelped with the pain. The seventeen year old youth leaned over towards her face. He stuck out his pink tongue and licked the blood from her chin and lips. She clenched her teeth and squirmed frantically. He grinned at her discomfort. We will be married soon, lady, he hissed. So, there is no reason to wait for the nuptials.

Natasha frantically looked around the room and could find no way out. What are you going to do to me? She pleaded to any deity willing to listen to help her. Mouden’s face mirrored pure evil at her questioning.

He placed her knees between his as he leered down at her and then licked her ear. He bit down on her earlobe. I intend to teach you how to please your husband. Mouden dipped a finger into her bodice and allowed the other fingers to slide under her chemise in pursuit. The teenage boy began to laugh as he ripped away at the top of her dress.

Natasha gasped, bit her lip, closed her eyes, and brought her right knee up as hard as possible. She felt the impact into his nether regions and smiled in triumph as she pushed him away and made her dash to freedom. The princess passed nary a soul as she fled from the library and to her room.

Inside her chambers, she tossed herself into the white covers and pillows of her bed. Tears flooded from her eyes. Natasha did not stop crying until she began to hiccup. She sat up in her large bed and took stock of her bodily state. The dress was ruined; the skirt had small tears in it from the rough handling; and the bodice was basically shredded. She removed the garments and tossed them into the small fire burning in her fireplace. Almost naked, she approached her full length mirror covered with carvings of flowers and woodland creatures to survey Prince Mouden’s handy work. Her cheek was turning purple as well as the small area on the right side of her mouth. She gently touched the bruising and winced at the pain. Natasha trailed her left hand over the bruises on her collarbone.

That warthog! she heard Eosta’s voice shriek. The woman wrapped her arms around Natasha’s shoulders. The princess could see tears sliding down her best friend’s cheeks in her mirror image. I went to the library to bring you an oil lamp and a meal. Instead of you, I found Prince Mouden lying on the floor with his hands between his legs, moaning. The half-fey woman rubbed her cheek into Natasha’s shoulder. "I saw pieces of your dress on the floor and got an idea of what happened.

Natasha turned around and hugged Eosta. Together, they crumpled to the ground in a heap. He didn’t hurt me too bad, she tried to console Eosta. She petted her crying friend, I hurt him at least twice as bad as he intended to harm me.

Eosta’s auburn head rose, Good, because I poured hot onion soup over that arrogant warthog’s head and a truncheon of hot cider on his legs, before I ran up here to find you. The auburn haired lady stood up. She helped her charge to her feet and then approached the wardrobe. I will help you dress and then we will both go to your parents. Natasha refused to wear anything blue. And so you shouldn’t, her friend agreed. Together, they chose a rose coloured gown.

Once clothed, Natasha and Eosta left the room and walked straight into the Prime Minister. Minister Juleis was grinning from ear to ear. He clutched both females to him, I’m so glad, Your Highness, that you have agreed to marry Prince Mouden. Both of them froze. He told us how you, two, lost your senses and consummated the marriage before the nuptials.

But… it’s not true, Natasha tried to say as she was buried in the folds of the minister’s robes again. She choked with the thought that in his eagerness to congratulate her that he heard not a word that she said.

Minister Juleis held the females out in front of him. Natasha decided not to spoil his joy for the moment. My parents will straighten it out soon enough, she thought. Although you two should have waited, he said sternly, there’s nothing we can do about it now, but marry you as soon as possible.

The princess gasped. My parents, Minister Juleis, where are they? She grabbed her friend’s arm as she was told that they were in their salon. Before she and Eosta could vanish down the hallway, Minister Juleis grabbed a hold of Eosta and pulled her near him.

I’m afraid Eosta can’t go with you, Your Highness. She is to be punished, he gently shook the woman in his grasp. The Prime Minister began to drag his charge behind him. Now, you’ll get what’s been coming to you, he growled at her.

Princess Brusque threw herself before