Nightmares & Stars: The Witch War Series, #1

By Kat Satava

A decade has passed since the Convergence Massacre that took Princess Alora's father and plunged her beloved Noctourne into war with the fire-wielding Soldaynians. Alora being next in line for the throne, her mother, Queen of Noctourne, diligently shielded her from the fighting for years. But Alora refuses to hide quietly in court while Soldaynia continues to gain footing in their lands. To complicate matters, Alora's 25th birthday is rapidly approaching. If her familiar does not present itself by her birthday then her Royal Ascension would inevitably drive her to insanity. It was the stuff of daymares. Her best friend and assigned protector, General Bist Tinshale, has returned from the frontlines to manage her safety during the upcoming birthday festivities. But there is a new awkwardness between them, one that's charged with feelings forbidden between royal Witches and Tinkers.

Like a wish on a falling star, Alora hears a rumor of an ancient weapon that could turn back the dawning of the Soldaynian forces. When Alora steals the map to locate it. She forces herself and Bist out of the moonlit safety of Luminae Castle and Noctourne into lands they have only heard about from the memories of the ancients. Alora must risk everything to defend her family's throne, their people, and their lands.

Will she survive long enough to rule?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maddening Moon Manuscripts, LLC
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798985347401

Book preview

Chapter 1

Alora

ALORA FOUGHT THE URGE to cough, to spit out the mud and the rainwater mixed with blood from the cut in her cheek. Harder still was quieting her muscles to keep them from taking control, jumping up and running into the bush a few feet away. How long had she been playing dead face down in an icy puddle in the middle of the road? Hopefully long enough for the gold smugglers she planned to ambush to have made it far enough away that it didn’t matter if she was or not. She held in a shallow breath. Calming herself, she released her spirit around her, searching her surroundings with little fingers of magic that increased her senses. She had to ignore the intense smells; the rain amplified everything, even without her magic’s help. From the dirt turning into mud in the road, to the eclipse weed coming into bloom now that winter was retreating, it all stuck to her nostrils like dust. Her magic tingled as it slid down her body onto the road and into the edge of the forest floor. Nothing outside of the natural surrounding drew her attention. She cracked her eyes open just enough so that if someone was watching her, they would still appear shut. Her vision, normally crisp and clear in the night like any night Witch, blurred. The raindrops clinging to her lashes combined with the blinking starlight acted as a prism, filling the road with rainbows. Yet no shadows of a wagon or armed Soldaynian smugglers darkened the road. She wasn’t about to lie in the road until dawn, so she rose enough to scurry backward into the cover of the forest. No hail of arrows followed her into the tree line, so she used the trunk of a tree to get to her feet. The tree also acted as a shield in case she was wrong about being alone in the woods.

She took a deep breath, immediately regretting it as the sharp pain of broken ribs stabbed into her. Tears prickled behind her eyelids like thorns. She leaned her head back into the tree only to snap forward when pain exploded across the back of her head. The forward motion made the forest floor tilt. She grabbed the trunk to keep from being face down in the mud a second time. Taking a few shallow breaths, she reached her fingertips into her plumb-colored braid, then pulled back when she felt the lump at the base of her skull. Blood shone black in the light of night on her fingers. Her left cheek also throbbed as she touched the same blood-covered fingers to it. Her vision swam with each pulse of her heart. Pain radiated from various parts of her body. She needed to address it before anything else. Closing her eyes, using the tree for support, she quieted her mind. When wounded, Alora always fell back on the training she received from Kavene, Master of the Sword.

Calm the spirit by calming the breath, his wise voice echoed softly through her memory. Now find something external to focus on until you can assess the injury from a distance in your mind. She opened her eyes, forcing herself to watch a patch of night blooming lunaros open its layers of white gossamer petals to catch the rain. Picking one bud to focus on, and then watching as it unfolded to the size of a soup bowl. Heavy drops fell on the many petals then rolled to the center of the bloom. As the center filled, the petals closed in around it, absorbing the water. Then the flower began the process all over. It took three repetitions for her to catalog all her injuries. Two of her ribs were broken. She had a lump on the back of her head, causing her vision to blur and balance to sway. Her cheek bone was bruised under her left eye, as well as a cut to the inside of her cheek, bloody scrapes on both palms, and countless bruises all over her body.

Now, she knew how hurt she was. Drawing what little energy she had left, she would heal herself enough to get back to the clearing where Nadjay waited. He would get her back to the castle before daybreak. Injured as she was, it would take more than the power she had to heal it all. She was too spent to draw more from the sliver of Melinoe’s moon. Briefly, she wondered about taking refuge in the forest for the day, and returning once the moon rose for the new night. But she discarded the idea instantly. Tonight, the sickle moon carved into the night sky. Tomorrow would be the new moon. The hidden moon of the blind goddess Cecilia, the forest’s namesake, meant no energy source for her magic. Without a Familiar, Alora could not draw enough energy from the stars to heal herself the next night. Either way, if she didn’t make it back to Castle Luminae and her mother found out, she would be under surveillance again for her own protection. It had taken Alora six full moons to earn enough trust to leave Castle Luminae alone after the last time she did not make it back within the inner walls before dawn.

She gathered her resolve, and still hunched over, whispered the healing incantation. The words brushed over her lips, tickling them like feathers, and a compact ball of blue moonlight built between her palms. Pressing it into her side, a slight whimper escaped her—the only sign of how it hurt. It wasn’t enough to completely heal the cracks, but she could now take a breath without doubling over. She repeated the words, taking the last of her magic and sinking it into the back of her head. Again, it wasn’t enough to heal it completely, but enough to get to Nadjay. He would get her home. Stepping out of the protection of the forest, she pulled up the hood of her cloak to block out the freezing rain, and began the trek back to the clearing where she left him.

Her feet felt soggy in her black leather boots. She crossed her arms over her chest, doubling the cloak’s layers to keep out the cold. All she needed was for her shivering to reverse the bit of healing she had managed. Every part of her ached. She wished Bist was there with her. Guilt added to her pain. He would have been with her had she not lied to him and left on her own. Desperate to prove herself, she knew that he would have made her stay behind, ever the protector. He was General of the Noctourne Army, but she never saw him that way. To her he was the boy she had adventures with. The young Tinker who first bested her in sword play, until she met him blade for blade. Her safe place to cry when they both lost people they loved to the Convergence Massacre. She had wronged him by putting herself in danger knowing he was responsible for her safety. He would pay an even greater price if her mother found out that he knew she ran off to stop smugglers. It seemed like a good idea at the time. She would stop the gold from reaching Soldaynia and funding their war efforts. Alora had pictured herself tall and confident in Nadjay’s saddle, the carriage of gold and restrained bandits following behind, and the Queen’s astonished face as she finally saw her as someone who handled herself. Now here she was on some back forest road, defeated and alone without her best friend to help her lick her wounds.

Chapter 2

Bist

BIST’S TEMPLES THROBBED with every heartbeat that passed where she was not in view. The General rubbed the Starfire Medal of Valor pinned to his uniform jacket between his thumb and forefinger, a habit he developed on the front lines. It kept him from pinching the bridge of his nose—a more obvious sign of worry. A sign you never wanted telegraphed to soldiers beside you, or, like tonight, to the guards patrolling the castle walls waiting for their Princess to return as ordered by Queen Isodora. He focused on the ridges of the tooled silver and the smoothness of the fire opal in the center, seeing it with the pad of his fingers. His eyes looked over the parapet wall into the city below while his left hand rested at the small of his back. Slight tWitches of his fingers were the only sign of how hard he wanted to clench his fist. Where was she? He could feel the silver ring of Tinker blood encircling his blue irises until he was sure his eyes must look like mirrors as he glared at the brightening horizon. It was not yet the gray lavender of the dying night. He had watched in terror for the sun to bring with it an army of horrors too many times to not sense its ascension like the rising of the tide. The worst part was that he knew better. He recognized a lie in her promise to wait while he gathered a team to go with her. Even though she lied to him, he couldn’t be mad at her. He knew her like he knew himself, and he knew that he would have lied, too. She had wisely not given him all the information on her potential raid, just questions about how he, the General, would solve the rumored gold smuggling. If he knew which rumor she had followed, then he would have sent out the special Night Guard, the elite guards that he trained in secret specifically to guard the willful and fearless future queen. The medal was not enough to help push back his irritation and worry, so he ground his palm into the rough edge of the moonstone parapet instead.

General? General Tinshale? Bist didn’t know the soldier behind him by name, but his voice was Familiar. He knew the older man was wondering what the General was doing there. Bist typically walked the castle walls during shift change, but that had passed some time ago. Hope of Princess Alora’s return during that time so his waiting for her would not be as obvious had died a little with each passing minute. As was usually the case with Alora, she rarely did what was hoped of her. What frustrated him about Alora was also what he loved most. He made one last intense scan of the city below and the road leading to the castle gates before turning to the uniformed day watch guard with a pleasant smile.

Yes... Bist trailed off, trying to remember the guard's name.

Harlan, sir. It’s Harlan. Bist would have bristled if someone didn’t know his name. The guard did not seem to mind, which only made Bist more frustrated with himself. He rubbed his jaw, the long stubble not as distracting as the moonstone had been.

Harlan, I just came out here to think, end of a long night and all, Bist gave him a chummy dimpled half smile. You can return to your post. Harlan nodded and turned to go. Bist was briefly distracted by the day guard’s pitch-black uniform, contrasting with the bright white of the moonstone that they constructed the castle out of. As the sun rose, the castle’s moonlight would recede, and the walls would turn to a black as dark as the guard’s uniform, hiding him from castle observers. The night watch uniform was a pearlescent white for the same camouflaging reasons. Bist’s uniform was a dove gray like dusk and dawn—as were the other high-ranking officers’ uniforms. It would be dawn soon, so he would fit right in with the ombre sky. He might want to find a window to hide in from the Queen if Alora did not return before the sun rose above the horizon. Harlan pivoted sharply and took his post. Bist cast one last look over his shoulder, then stomped to the opposing tower door, not caring if Harlan watched him the entire way.

He descended the tower steps two at a time, while he unhooked the silver buttons on his gray doublet. He was hot, and the double layer wasn’t helping. Alora knew, like he did, that her mother would never approve of her going out on any trip that even hinted at Soldaynian involvement. So, she had taken off on her own, and he had watched her go, helpless as she ducked out. He stood in the main hall giving the most recent report to the Queen from the front lines. The War had shifted in the Wildemon Moor’s southeast region as Soldaynian mercenaries learned the Wildemon clans’ tactics. He watched Alora in her icy blue gown move through the tiered court’s second layer. Long ago, he learned how to maintain the appearance that he was not watching her every move when she was in his presence. Her hand brushed an arm in greeting here, she gave a smile for a young child that brightened her whole face there, then she exchanged conspirator's glances with her maid, Ceila, as they worked their way toward each other. In retrospect, he should have called to the court guards to stop her, outing her in front of the Queen and the court. Instead, he had made eye contact with her just before Ceila ushered her through a servant’s door on the second tier. She had mouthed, Sorry, and slipped out, none the wiser but him. By the time he could break away from the court and make his way to the stable, he was greeted with nothing but Nadjay’s empty stall.

Bist kicked his door closed behind him with renewed frustration. Standing in the center of his sparse room, his eyes darted from one useless thing to another. It didn’t take long before they settled on his reflection. You are the most useless thing in the room, friend. He raked his hands through his cropped hair, lacing his fingertips behind his head, and groaned. Feeling helpless was not something he was accustomed to. She had never not come back. In the past, when she had run off trying to prove her abilities as a warrior—not just a Witch—she had always come back. Fear pricked at the back of his eyes. She wouldn’t leave him to face her mother alone. She knew the horrors that she would put in his head if anything should happen to her heir like visions of losing her, or horrible things happening to her. Queen Isadora would twist his love for Alora into the perfect torture device if she found that the Princess left with his knowledge, and he didn’t stop or betray her.

He had dumped his doublet on the back of his reading chair when he walked in. Doing routine actions while trying to figure out plans was how he had been trained to ignore fear, so he picked up the doublet and hung it in the wardrobe while he tried to think of what to do. His father would say that fear always impedes a good plan. He could not think about what may have gone wrong or if she was hurt. Those thoughts would only get in the way of finding her. He removed his boots, polishing them in methodical circles while his mind played out scenarios. The plan came to him as he finished dressing out of uniform. He would head to the seldom used southeast entrance to wait until sunup. If she wasn’t back, he would head out and search the way his heart took him. He buckled his sword belt. Then he messed the sheets of his bed. That way, if they came looking for him it would look like he had gone to bed unworried that there was a missing Princess. He threw open the door and came face to face with Princess Evangeline, Alora’s younger sister.

Where is she? Evangeline’s face was chiseled in ice.

What–

Don’t make me use it, Evangeline would use her magic to pull the truth from him, even if it cost her. She was angry. He could feel it coming off her in waves, turning her pale white skin pink and making her deep blue hair sparkle with electricity. Looking at her brought summer storms to mind. He sighed and turned back into his room. She followed.

She heard rumors of gold smuggling. He turned to see Evangeline’s wide-eyed expression before she masked her face. She lifted an eyebrow to encourage him to continue. He missed the days when she was little, and he could just pick her up and nudge her back to her dolls. But that had been long ago. Evangeline and Alora looked like twins now, and less like the five-year difference that existed between them. What do you think she did, Evangeline? I know. Check the library. She might be there looking up spells to dump the smugglers in the square. He knew it was mean, but he was frustrated, too.

She isn’t in the castle at all! If she was, do you think I would be here with the sun getting ready to rise? The anger drained from her without a viable target to direct it at, and she crumpled into the only chair in the room. I have been trying to distract mother all night. First, she leaves during the planning meeting for her Birthday Celebration, and then to not return before dawn? Evangeline’s eyes were glassy. She would not cry, but her eye tWitched slightly with the strain of holding the tears in the blue pools of her eyes. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and looked down on her like he had when she was little, always trying to get Alora and his attention. He noticed then that she was in riding gear and not her sleeping gowns.

Evangeline, why aren’t you dressed for bed? He was too tired to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

Why aren’t you? She looked up, defiant. It was a trait they inherited from their mother if Bist believed the tales his father told.

She will make it before sunup, he gave her a hand up, and angled her toward the door as if she were once again ten years old trying to get Alora and him to take her with them to explore outside the castle walls. I am going to the southeastern gate, which is her usual route in and out of the castle. My guess is she will already be in the stables by the time I get there, brushing Nadjay down like she never left.

I will go change and placate my mother, she froze then and faced him for emphasis. Bist, the Queen has given orders to the guards that they are to notify her immediately upon Alora’s return. Her eyes told him that if they didn’t, the Queen would not be pleased. She could be very dangerous when she was not pleased.

They will let her know, he continued with Evangeline out the door into the hall.

What if she doesn’t—

Sh, sh, now she will, she always does. He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a slight bow. I will have the guards alert you as well, Princess, upon your sister’s return. He turned on his heel and exited the hall without looking back. The Princesses had been part of his detail since before he was the General of the Noctourne Army, back when he was the only one brave enough to spar with Alora. If she didn’t make it back before dawn, he would go after her. Nadjay was impossible to miss. It wasn’t likely that she had gone around all the local villages. He would start there, rousting poor exhausted farmers from their day’s slumber to track her down.

He made his way across the courtyard between the stables and the tunnel gate. The brightening sky had yet to touch the courtyard. The horses in the stables called out to him, and the stable boy lifted a greeting hand, then dropped it, seeing Bist’s scowl. He knew the Princess was not within brushing down her beast, because the boy would have been waiting on her. It was so close to dawn he could feel it like a blister trying to burst. She would be too tired to care for Nadjay properly, and she would need help. He got to the iron gate locked by the retiring night guard and opened it, the hinges mercifully quieter than he had expected. On his way out of his room, he had grabbed an apple, but the idea of eating it made his stomach roil. Leaning against the wall, closed his eyes and said a prayer. Mehreen, Goddess of the Full Moon, hide her from your sickle moon sister, Melinoe the Dealer of Death and Nightmares. He prayed that his Princess made it back alive so he could strangle her.

Chapter 3

Alora

NADJAY! SHE CALLED out as she approached the clearing she had left him in. She stepped through the bush, Come on, boy—

The clearing was empty. No massive black stallion greeted her. She looked back the way she came. Maybe she had gone the wrong way, or left him in a different copse of trees foraging through the patches of snow for new green shoots. She looked down at the forest floor, seeing deep hoofprints in the mud already full of rain. He had been here. This was the spot she left him in. So where was he, she thought. At the edge of the copse, the prints were extra deep, and mud splattered the trunks of the trees like something had spooked Nadjay. Maybe he had gotten startled when she didn’t return. She prayed he had headed home and not been snatched by bandits, who according to reports from Bist to her mother, were moving north from the Borderlands. She had rallied at the perspective challenge. Her mother would never allow her to take the battle to them. The Queen had crushed her dreams to lead her legions in the spirit of the warrior queens of the past, proud and unafraid of the sun’s fire. But if the battle was brought to her, she could finally show her Queen mother that she was not a precious Princess to be locked in a cage—albeit a beautiful one—sheltered and protected. Now, for the first time in her life, an enemy had attacked and injured her. The thought stopped her in her tracks, heading north toward home. Sure, she had been injured in practice plenty of times, but there was always a healer waiting in the arena to mend her within moments should her sparring partner get a blow in. There was no healer by the side of the road when she got knocked unconscious. There was no comrade watching her back when she snuck up on the bandits smuggling gold from their mines back to Soldaynia. She had caught up to them. When she realized they had slowed and then stopped, she had left Nadjay, slipping into the shadow-filled forest's edge to get closer. She had a fresh problem: Getting back into Noctourne Proper before sunrise without her mount. She couldn’t get lost in her shame if she was going to make it to the edge of the forest and the nearest farmhouse.

Please Mehreen, Mother of the Full Moon and Giver of our Gifts, she turned her face to the night sky, the stars winked behind storm clouds and their raindrops, bring me back Nadjay. Her voice hitched on his name, and she took in a deep breath. She resumed her trek north, knowing the goddess had heard the words she couldn’t give sound to. Again, she pulled the hood down to block out the rain. Nadjay had been her father’s. He had left his favorite horse in her care as a concession for leaving her behind when he left for the Convergence ten years ago. He never came back, and Nadjay became hers. She was thankful now for the rain, its wetness on her face. She should have prayed to the goddess Melinoe to ward off her nightmares for at least one more night, but invoking Melinoe was to draw her sickle your way. She ached everywhere, and again she wished that Nadjay was her Familiar. If he was, there would be nowhere in the world he would not hear her call. Had Nadjay been her Familiar none of this would have happened to begin with, because he would have shape-shifted and been by her side to raid the smugglers. Not to mention her upcoming birthday celebration would not be the nightmare she was sure it would be. Witches who reached their twenty-fifth year without bonding with their Familiar never found a Familiar. Instead, their magic burned out their sanity. A Princess without a Familiar could never be a queen. As if on cue, she heard a nicker from up the road. She looked up, and there Nadjay stood in all his glory, pawing the road.

Well, what are you waiting for, she said to the huge beast, her voice a husky croak in her effort to maintain her joy at seeing him. He approached her slowly, then let out a snort as he searched her for injury with his wet muzzle. Knocking her hood back, he shoved his snout through the opening of her cloak. Once satisfied she wasn’t dying, he pulled back, and she held both sides of his massive head, meeting his forehead with hers. I am all right boy, but you could have warned me he was coming. You are a warhorse. He pulled back and snorted again as if to defend his actions. Alright, alright I get that you are a bit out of practice. He snorted again, this time stepping out of her reach, clearly disagreeing with her perspective on the situation. Forgive me, did you go to get help? He nodded his muzzle and stomped his front hooves. It made her smile to think he understood her. Well, I am glad you came back. She winced as she reached for the mud-covered reins. Then she threw herself into the charmed saddle, feeling her body adhere to it, locking her in place. She felt secure, but her ribs ached. Now that she was safe atop Nadjay, she felt the adrenalin drain out of her, and she fell slack. The rain had hardened since she had started walking, and now each drop hit her like the sky itself were pressing her to death. Take us home boy, as fast as you can, take us home. Nadjay spun around and took off toward Noctourne Proper, Luminae Castle, and her gilded cage, his hooves pounding the earth matching the thunder for dominance.

Chapter 4

Alora

ONCE SHE EMERGED FROM the forest, she rode past Familiar farms. Some still had farm hands scraping the last of the night to work their crops. The rain calmed to a light drizzle, and they took advantage of the reprieve. She held a seat on the Agriculture Advisory Committee, reporting quarterly to the court on the state of the farmland and its production and maintenance of the crops and livestock throughout Noctourne. She knew that the winter had been harsh on the farmers’ production, not to mention the loss of their holdings in the Borderlands. The death of her uncle, Border Lord Teroyne, five years ago had left the lands without leadership; the only thing that had grown according to Bist’s reports were starving, desperate masses. Fewer products had made it to markets, driving up costs, leaving everyone a little hungrier. She knew many of the farmers and their families she galloped past. If this had been any other night, she would have waved to the workers in the fields, or stopped into the outposts to share a late-night drink with them as they finished their work. The smell of soil clinging to them, and their muddy hands always made her feel close to the land. Alora prided herself that she continued to honor King Hilal’s tradition of being one with the people who made up their populous. Blue- and purple-haired Witches, silver-eyed Tinkers, shape-shifting Familiars, or humans all were vital, and should be treated as such; it wasn’t just an ideal, but the cornerstone belief of the Luminae royal family. Not tonight, though. She urged Nadjay on when it felt like he may slow, hiding from the glances beneath her hood. The Healers—Witches that wanted nothing of the court life, but wanted the quiet simple life of using their magic only to cure or cultivate—they would help her, but she would not make it back in time. Then she would have to lie to cover up the cause of her injuries. Lying was not something she was good at.

She continued on past the fields, through the back roads around the tiny villages of Io and Quacey where Nadjay’s massive presence would definitely be notice if they barreled through them. Dawn pressed in as she entered the outer wall of Noctourne Proper. She could not avoid the glances of the night guard manning the gate, so she waited until they were focused on a merchant wagon that was exiting before riding into the city. The soldiers would recognize Nadjay. That couldn’t be helped, but she used her hood to cover the bruises she was sure flowered across her cheek and jaw in black and gray. She picked up the pace again as she made it closer to the center of the city. The marketplace at the city’s heart was deserted as the shop owners had gone to turn in for the day with their families. The colorful awnings of the shops rolled away, and store fronts locked down. Although she was thankful that she didn’t have to use the alleys to avoid being seen, Nadjay’s hooves echoing around her had an eerie effect, like they were the only ones in the world. Towering above the city was Luminae Castle, its moonstone walls and spiked towers still luminous against the night sky. She had seen the awe on the faces of tourists as they gazed at the Star of Noctourne glimmering above the capital on their first trip. Some wept from the beauty of the ornate architecture that tricked the eye into believing it was delicate, fragile. She wished she could see it that way, but she had lived her whole life within its glittering walls, save their summer trips to Lake Luminae. If she wept when she saw the embellished archivolt and buttresses, it was because she knew those delicate pearl white walls were a cage, a jail for her future self.

Eventually, she passed over the stone bridge to the castle gates just before dawn would send everyone to bed, aside from Daywatch. She spotted the youthful man leaning against the wall beneath a torch sconce at the end of the south tunnel entrance before he spotted her. She would know Bist in utter blackness. They were raised together; him being the surviving son of her mother and father’s most trusted Tinker adviser, Chancellor Vehlor. Even from a distance, Alora could see his hard jaw work as he bit into the silver crest apple’s gray skin. She knew that he was worried from the way he was trying to look nonchalant, like he was just out for an end-of-the-night stroll.

He looked up as he dragged his hand through his short, ash-blond hair. Spotting her, his face transformed with relief, and a grin deepened the dimple on his left cheek. Then his face hardened as he remembered he was supposed to be mad that she had gone alone, that she had put herself in danger, but most of all, that she had made him a knowing accomplice. Alora knew had she not made it back before dawn, the Queen would have shredded his mind looking for whatever he knew. He approached her like all was normal in case any guards were watching for her return. She saw his face change again as he got close enough to make out her face in the black tunnel that housed the southeastern gate. Giving him a slight shake of her head, she winced as her brain seemed to slosh in her skull. His face corrected itself, and he looked at her as if welcoming her home. She gave him a half-hearted smile, letting him know that she would fill him in once they were in a more private place. His blue eyes continued asking silent questions as he absently fed the rest of the apple to Nadjay. Alora watched the spikes of silver in his eyes bleed into the light blue. She wondered if his Tinker blood was showing him how hurt she was by how she sat in her saddle, or what blows she had received that would leave the injuries he could see. Alora wished she understood how Tinkers’ gifts worked, how they could see things that even Witches couldn’t see. It made them deadly warriors, insightful strategists, and mind-blowing inventors. It made her question how the Witches had gotten the upper hand over the Tinker nation during their mythological rise to power, enslaving them and then assimilating them. She took a ragged breath. That was a question for a scholar and another time.

Alora let Nadjay’s reigns drop, knowing she may cry out if she had to lean over. Bist gave her one last look of concern, his eyes touching on her cheek and jaw, then glancing around to make sure she hid her face beneath the hood of her cloak to anyone who may watch them. He took up the reins and led them toward the stables just past the gate and small training courtyard. Now that her panic to get home in time no longer held the pain at bay, it flared and pulsed throughout her body. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep from moaning in anguish, and watched Bist lead her horse through the muddy courtyard. If she wasn’t so sore, if this had been a normal ride then she would have just dismounted and walked even with him. Because she didn’t, Bist had to know she was really hurt, more than a few bruises. She knew from years of sparring with Bist that he was listening to her every breath. She could see it in the rigid set of his broad shoulders and the stiffness of his steps. Swooning, she dropped her eyes and head, focusing on the pommel of her saddle to keep her upright. The light from the stable doors flowed down Nadjay’s neck, telling her they were almost there. The stables were her favorite place in the entire castle. Alora breathed in the smell of hay and leather as Bist led them inside. It was warm for the horses, an ill horse was a dead horse, so the stable boys kept a warming fire going always. The adolescent boy in charge of that task—Stephen, if Alora remembered correctly—was prepping the fire for the day before he retired. Alora waited atop Nadjay for him to finish, making sure her hood hid the bruised side of her face.

Good day, Princess, the boy said with a blush as he left the barn for his bed.

Good day, Stephen, the boy’s head snapped back at her, surprised she knew his name. The blush spread down his neck, and he streaked dirt on his forehead while trying to push oily, dark brown hair out of his eyes. He gave a brief bow, and exited the stables before he got any redder. Bist chuckled as he watched the boy practically run out the stable doors. He turned back to her; his blue eyes sparkled with temporary amusement. The dimple in his left cheek confirmed he found her awkwardness cute.

Shut up, and help me get down, the hint of pain in her voice sobered Bist’s face. He lifted waiting arms and worried eyes to her. The intensity of his concern increased as she gasped from the sharp pain in her side that flared as she threw her leg over and slid down into him using Nadjay’s bulk in front of her to keep from falling. She shut her eyes and counted to ten, taking shallow breaths. She was aware of Bist’s form as it snugly fit against her backside. His chest felt hard against her back, and she tried to focus on that, to shut out the pain that had seemed to have grown to a crescendo due to the lengthy ride. She rested her forehead against Nadjay, looking down at the light freckles on Bist’s forearms as they circled her waist to steady her.

The pain subsided enough that she could turn and face him. Back up. I can’t breathe.

Bist stepped back as if she had slapped him. She could see rejection blistering his demeanor, but right now she didn’t care. The dampness of her cloak weighed heavy on her shoulders, and her gear was tightening as it dried, both causing claustrophobia. Bist embracing her just made the feeling worse. She took a step forward. The floor moved, and her world tilted for the second time tonight. She almost met the floor with her face, but Bist shoved aside his hurt feelings and grabbed her arm to steady her.

Alora, what happened? How hurt are you? Here sit down, He shot questions at her, not waiting for her to reply. She threw up her spare hand.

No, I need to get to my room. I have a healing stone there, she said between clenched teeth.

Well, if you don’t want me to carry you, Alora glared at him through wet tendrils of purple hair that had come loose from her braid, then you better be able to fake a healthy walk from here to there. The Queen noticed you left during dinner. Apparently, you were supposed to announce your upcoming birthday celebration. She has every guard reporting your return condition to her regardless of time of night, he paused for emphasis, or day. She pulled guards to search the castle, but they only confirmed you weren’t just hiding out in the library or the stables. Sidra has been circling for hours. Your timing was perfect, he paused again looking over his shoulder, making sure her mother’s Familiar and closest confidant since the death of her father, wasn’t staked out in the rafters in her owl form, she had just flown out of the tunnel.

Alora groaned. She had forgotten the announcement of her twenty-fifth birthday feast and games when she had overheard Chancellor Vehlor grilling a servant girl about the rumored gold smuggling. The girl had heard about it while in the marketplace. Of course, her mother would assume that she wanted nothing to do with the whole ridiculousness, that she had once again avoided her royal duties to play adventurer. She had to name a champion, honor her Familiar, and wear a dress. Even her mother knew that she was a better spell caster, rider, and sword fighter than pretty much every male Witch in Noctourne. Choosing from what she considered to be her lessors to essentially die for her in combat seemed ridiculous. Then there was her Familiar. One might argue that her magic was weaker because she still had not found her Familiar, let alone bonded with him or her. How was she going to stand before all the people of Noctourne, and point out she was a Witch without a Familiar? They were at war! The people needed to know if something should happen to the Queen, then her eldest daughter was ready to rule,