SpellBreaker

By Connie Suttle

History is written by the victors. Truth is written by the Larentii--Nefrigar, Chief Archivist

Wylend Arden, Fifth-level warlock and King of Karathia for more than twenty-thousand years, had quite a story to tell.

"It began like this," he said, his smile slightly crooked as he lifted his cup of wine to me. "I had an

• Language: English
• Publisher: Connie Suttle
• Release date: Mar 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781939759351

Connie Suttle

Reinvention/Reincarnation. Those words describe Connie best. She has worked as a janitor, a waitress, a mower of lawns and house cleaner, a clerk, secretary, teacher, bookseller and (finally) an author. The last occupation is the best one, because she sees it as a labor of love and therefore no labor at all.Connie has lived in Oklahoma all her life, with brief forays into other states for visits. She and her husband have been married for more years than she prefers to tell and together they have one son.After earning an MFA in Film Production and Animation from the University of Oklahoma, Connie taught courses in those subjects for a few years before taking a job as a manager for Borders. When she left the company in 2007, she fully intended to find a desk job somewhere. She found the job. And the desk. At home, writing.

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Chapter 1

Avii Castle

Quin

There is a song the fierce winds sing as they whip and curve about Avii Castle. I heard its music as I stood on the terrace outside Gurnil's Library, while rain blew into my face and dripped from my hair.

I watched as Commander Ardis drilled his troops in swift, aerial eddies while tourists on three boats observed from the waters below.

Even to someone who'd witnessed the drills many times, the synchronized flight of the Black Wing army was still a marvel to see.

Quin, why are you standing here in the rain? Gurnil stopped beside me. I wore no coat or cloak; he was wrapped in heavy wool against the weather, his blue wings covered by damp, gray cloth.

My hesitation to answer made him breathe a troubled sigh. The past six months on Le-Ath Veronis were a gift. Nothing had demanded my attention, other than my training sessions and those who'd chosen me as their mate. I'd spent the previous night with Bel Erland, who'd had to leave quite early to attend court with his father, the King of Karathia.

If Justis knew I stood on the Library terrace with only Gurnil to accompany me, he'd demand that I have breakfast with him. It would be a sly way to inform me that I shouldn't go about without a guard nearby. For that reason, I hesitated to tell him that something seemed amiss—that those who'd taken Vardil Cayetes' body now troubled my dreams and waking thoughts.

Le-Ath Veronis

Lissa

Erland was correct—I needed wine and his steady hand around mine to hear my grandfather's story.

Wylend Arden, King of Karathia for more than twenty-thousand years, had quite a story to tell.

It began like this, he said, his smile slightly crooked as he lifted his cup of wine to me. I had an older brother, born to one of my father's legitimate mates. His name was Wellend and he was heir to the Karathian throne. On his sixteenth birthday, my father gifted him with the Heir's ring, as was proper. For nearly six thousand years, he stood beside my father as an advisor. He was with Father the day the coup was launched, but managed to get away. Some say he ran at the first sign of violence, but I wasn't there and can't verify anything.

Where were you? I asked.

I was second-in-line to the throne, so I was at the summer palace, my grandfather shrugged. It's where I was most of the time, unless Father summoned me. Erland was with me, he nodded to Erland.

So the coup happened and Wellend got away. Then what? I asked.

Erland and I spent several days looking for Wellend. We wanted to attack those who'd killed my parents, but Wellend was the reigning King at that point. We had to find him first.

Did you find him?

He was cowering in the library of the Queen's Palace, where his mother lived, Erland muttered.

So your mother—my great-grandmother, died with my great-grandfather, then? I turned back to Wylend.

Yes. Helsa, Wellend's mother, seldom stayed at the palace—by her choice. When we arrived at the Queen's Palace, we asked Wellend to join us in our attempt to take back the throne. He wanted no part of it, but didn't stand in our way, either. I told him he wasn't safe where he was—if we could find him, so could the enemy. Still, he refused to fight with us. We left him there, gathered those about us still loyal to my father and attacked the palace. Eventually we took it back, but there were devastating losses on both sides.

What about Wellend?

The enemies of the throne found him, Erland explained. Before we could send some of ours to protect him, he died. The Heir's ring was taken from his finger and nobody knew what happened to it. I always assumed the enemy took it and destroyed the thing.

Why is it so important? I asked.

Because if it is placed on the hand of one who isn't the heir, it disappears and finds its way to the real heir. It did not find its way to me or to our younger brother, Wallend.

What happened to Wallend? I was surprised to hear that I had great-uncles to begin with.

Got drunk and died in a fight with another warlock, after claiming he was the rightful heir to the throne.

Are there any other family members you haven't told me about?

Other than Wallend's line, including Daris and Deris, that's it.

So Wallend was married? What about Wellend?

Wellend's two wives had no children by him, Wylend shrugged. Wallend's wife became pregnant right away—with his twins. Why they consider themselves heirs instead of me, I'll never know.

Did Wellend and Wallend have the same mother? I asked.

Bingo, Erland tapped his nose. Helsa was quite the shrew, too.

I can't believe they wouldn't fight beside you, I huffed. What kind of warlocks were they?

Weak ones, Erland sipped his wine. Wellend was barely Third-level. Wallend much the same. Warlend, their father, ignored it when Wylend surpassed both.

What is Deris and Daris' level, then? I asked.

Deris, a low Five. Daris, a strong Four. Both surpass their sire, my grandfather said. I imagine they received their talent from their mother—Valia's line contained many powerful warlocks and witches.

Strong enough to cause a lot of trouble, then.

More than strong enough, Erland agreed.

Is their mother still alive? What about Wellend's wife? I asked.

Valia, the twins' mother and Wallend's only wife, died protecting her husband and children from an attack, if reports are correct, Erland said. Wellend's first wife, Palia, died in the attack that killed her husband. His second wife, Titia, remarried into another line and has great-grandchildren now. She is no threat to us. Helsa, Wallend and Wellend's mother, survived, only to die a short time later.

What happened to her, then? I asked.

She perished in an unusual accident—according to rumor. I never saw the body. Those who found her say it was a spell gone wrong. It destroyed her. Wylend shook his head. If she were alive, I'd be talking to her, now, asking what put it in her twin grandchildren's heads that they're heirs to the throne of Karathia.

King's Palace

Karathia

Bel Erland

Glad that's over, I said, flopping onto a sofa in Dad's suite. Court had taken twice as long as it should have, which was actually a good thing—most court days took three or four times as long as they should.

It was a short docket, Dad grinned before Pulling in a bottle of wine and popping the cork. Want some?

Yeah.

He poured two glasses after Pulling those in as well. The kitchen staff was used to things appearing and disappearing—the place was spelled not to allow anything off the shelf if the taker weren't authorized.

It worked very well—for the most part. Occasionally we'd hear from the head cook if we'd taken something he needed to prepare a meal, but after a while, he'd calm down again. Usually after Dad sent him his favorite sparkling wine and a basket of gishi fruit.

My King, Corolan poked his head in the door. We have the prospective guards outside, and after that, the assistant cooks the head cook sent for your consideration.

Prospective guards? I lifted an eyebrow at Dad.

Yes, he shrugged. You know very well that you and Quin are in need of guards.

Quin won't like it, I said. She likes her alone time. I felt the same and didn't appreciate being broadsided like this, but managed to keep my complaints in check.

She can have her alone time, as long as there's a guard or two within shouting distance. This is my future daughter-in-law, Dad argued. She'll be a target for our not-so-law-abiding relatives, since they're still out there, somewhere. We've seen already that they're not opposed to black wizardry to get what they want. We can't say what they'll cook up next, either. Quin—I don't want her hurt.

Or me, either, I said. I could see it in his eyes—he worried they'd come after me. If they eliminated all others in line for the throne—I realized I didn't want to consider what could happen after that. Still, I didn't like being cornered and forced to accept someone Dad chose for us.

That's why I had to exert so much pressure to bring one of these guards to the palace, Dad added. His eyes twinkled for a moment.

You didn't, I said, squeezing my wineglass so hard it snapped in my hand. Dad waved his free hand and put it back together before a single drop of wine hit the carpet at my feet.

Feeling embarrassed, I gripped the wineglass as it hung in the air before me.

I did, Dad said, continuing his conversation. I had to wave the royal arm to do it, but he's here.

You know—this could work, I said after thinking about it for a moment. Ilya Ironsmith is just as private and closed-mouthed as Quin ever was.

Falchani-trained—with blades and hand-to-hand, in addition to being a strong, Fifth-level warlock. I doubt many could stand against him, Dad said. I want you to choose one more guard—one you think Quin will accept.

That may be tougher than you think, I snorted. Corolan, send them in. I'll take a look and ask questions. Lots of questions.

King's Palace—Karathia

Zaria

I waited in line with the rest of the prospective assistant cooks. I'd been wandering aimlessly about for more than six moon-turns, but as most planets had a variation in the number of days that actually was, I didn't bother making an attempt to sort out exactly how much time had passed.

It was time to take a job and settle myself. I could cook and this was a good way to get to the palace. With forged paperwork in hand, proclaiming me a strong Third-level witch, I imagined that I'd have just as good a chance as any other.

After all, the head cook had been pleased with my cooking skills in the kitchen; I merely had to pass the inspection of King Rylend Morphis and his son, Prince Bel Erland.

That's when I saw him, waiting in a separate line ahead of mine. He never looked back, either, standing solid and patient until called into the King's presence.

By the time I could get my breath back, he'd disappeared into the King's private study.

WhatshouldIdo? WhatshouldIdo?

With my heart squeezing in my chest, I worked desperately to calm down before my group of assistant cooks was called in to see the King.

Bel Erland

Ironsmith. That's the only one I'll accept, I said. The rest—completely unsuitable, I added after Dad dismissed the last of the prospective guards. I didn't like any of them, and Quin certainly wouldn't like any of them.

"Then I expect you to find another guard—one I find suitable, before you go back to Avii Castle, Dad snapped. Corolan, bring in the assistant cooks."

I wanted to argue with my father, but he'd outmaneuvered me by calling in the next round of potential servants. Silently fuming, I stood beside Dad's desk as seven walked in. Four witches, three warlocks. I scanned the paper list that lay on Dad's desk and noticed there was nothing there above Third-level. Most were Ones and Twos.

A glass paperweight held the list down on the desk. It was clear—the glass—and contained a real dragonfly, its body an unusual, deep red, its wings perfect and outspread. The paperweight was a gift from Uncles Drake and Drew, when Dad took the Karathian throne.

Dad was quite fond of the bauble. I lifted it off the paper and hefted it in my palm. Heavy, too, I noticed.

Heads up, I shouted and threw the paperweight as hard as I could toward the waiting seven. Yes, I admit I was pissed at Dad, and fully intended to halt the paperweight before it actually hit anything—or anybody.

Before I could produce the spell (which only took a fraction of a second), the paperweight was halted in midair by one of the assistant cooks while the others cringed. She stepped forward, plucked the paperweight out of the air and brought it to me.

It was set on Dad's desk with a firm thump.

That was unnecessary, she hissed at me. A Fifth-level, tossing shit at his underlings? Really?

I gazed into bright-blue eyes that blazed with anger. She shoved a swath of black hair away from her face as she continued to glare at me.

You're hired, I blurted. As a bodyguard for my intended.

Ilya

Ironsmith, this is Zaria Keppler, the Prince introduced the woman to me. She will be the second guard, he added.

I looked her up and down before coming back to the Prince.

Had he hired her for her looks? That was my first concern. She wasn't even dressed as a guard. She wore black, loose pants and a white, double-breasted, long-sleeved shirt, which would look better in a kitchen.

It hit me, then. The cook's assistants had lined up behind the guards. This woman was one of them. The Prince did hire her for her looks. I refused to acknowledge her and turned my gaze away from both.

Well, you'll get to know one another after a while, the Prince said uncomfortably. You're both going with me tomorrow morning to Le-Ath Veronis. I'll arrange for you to meet Quin at my grandmother's palace. Pack your things tonight and be ready to go at six bells.

Avii Castle

Quin

Justis went with me to Queen Lissa's palace; Bel Erland said he wanted to meet us there for breakfast with his grandmother. I imagined there was more information coming, but I didn't say it when he sent mindspeech.

Whatever it was, he wanted it to remain secret until he could tell me when we were alone. I understood that. Drake and Drew arrived in Justis' suite to transport us; Justis ran a hand down my feathers, which were still as black as his once were, then nodded to the Falchani twins that we were ready to go.

Bel Erland and Queen Lissa were there to greet us, but standing behind Bel were two others. I read the first one—the man. He was trained extensively as a bodyguard. The other? I couldn't read her.

That made me blink stupidly for a moment. I turned back to the man and read in him that he thought her weak and ineffective as a bodyguard, as she'd been a prospective cook's assistant before Bel hired her.

I then turned to Bel and saw what he'd seen—that he'd launched a heavy paperweight at her and the other cook's assistants, and she'd stopped it in midair before he could. The other six had cowered away from Bel's anger.

I wanted to laugh at what she did next, thumping the paperweight on the King's desk and scolding Bel Erland—a Prince—in front of his father.

These are your new guards, Bel announced. Because Dad insisted.

I think they should join us for breakfast, I said, surprised that I'd spoken out of turn.

That's fine, Queen Lissa smiled at me. Shall we?

You applied as a cook's helper? Queen Lissa turned to Zaria—that was her name—as we sat eating breakfast.

Yes. I thought I'd be whipping up omelets for the King, the Prince and anybody else who came along, Zaria shrugged. Until I jumped on the Prince in front of his father. I imagined I'd see the door shortly after that.

It was funny, Bel Erland admitted. I don't think anybody outside the family has ever told me off like that.

You deserved it, Queen Lissa rounded on him.

I know. I was pissed at Dad and worried about Quin at the same time. It was stupid.

Worried about me, or what I'd think? I asked.

Sweetheart, Bel held up a hand.

I think the scolding Zaria handed you was sufficient punishment, I said. She has my permission to do it again, if you deserve it again.

Bel and Lissa burst into laughter. Justis smiled; Zaria, sitting opposite us and next to Ilya, ducked her head. I noticed then that he was right-handed, and she was left-handed. She likely had to work to keep their elbows from knocking during the meal.

I was beginning to accept the idea that they'd be my bodyguards; they felt as if they belonged in a way I couldn't explain.

Ilya

I was invited to spar with Caylon Black when we returned to Avii Castle. I'd offered to transport the five of us, but Prince Bel Erland performed that duty.

I imagined that Caylon wanted to feel us out—to determine how skilled Zaria and I were. I had no doubts about my skills.

Zaria's? I had many.

Bel Erland informed us that we'd begin our duties the following day, before allowing servants to lead us toward our quarters. As expected, those quarters were on either side of Quin's, where the Prince would also be staying when he visited Avii Castle.

Dena, a talkative yellow-winged servant, took us through the castle until we arrived at our suites. I merely wanted to change into sparring clothes in order to meet Caylon.

Zaria, on the other hand, wanted to explore everything. I almost laughed at the prospect of her lifting a blade—I doubted she'd held anything more dangerous than a filleting knife in all her years.

I still hadn't spoken to her; I'd gleaned my information from the conversation she had with Dena. Dena was quite excited and offered to take her about. Zaria accepted. I held back a snort at life's inequities.

I imagined that Caylon Black would find her unsuitable immediately and Bel Erland would be forced to admit the mistake he'd made in hiring her.

Zaria

Yes, asshole Ironsmith had stuck around to see how long it took Caylon Black to wipe the grass with my remains. If he'd been the least bit polite, I might have assigned a less judgmental name to him.

He insisted on being an asshole, which not only upset me greatly, it made me question—again—why I was and where I was.

I have not trained with blade or bow, Sursee Black, I said, bowing properly to him in the Falchani way. All I have is the power granted to me by my race and a sharp tongue, if the Prince is to be believed.

Caylon Black stood, unmoving, on the grass within Avii Castle's great, glass bowl. He studied me carefully. When he moved, he moved swiftly, throwing the knife so it would graze my ribs.

It would have left a shallow, bloody cut behind—if it had hit me.

It didn't.

The knife stopped halfway between us; I'd left it hanging in midair. With hooded eyes, Caylon stepped forward to retrieve the knife, only to yelp and drop it to the ground—I'd heated it, handle included, hot enough to burn skin.

I could have done so much more, including a poison that would have rendered his hand useless from now on, but that I held in reserve.

What the bloody hell? Ilya thought to intervene. I slapped a bubble shield about him—one meant to rotate as he attempted to walk closer. Like a hamster in a ball, he walked in place until he realized the trap. I had no intention to hurt him; I only wanted to stop him in his tracks.

Sursee Black, is there anything else you'd like to see? I asked.

You see this? he held up his burned hand.

Aww, I can fix that, I declared. Walking forward, I took his hand in mine and healed the burn, leaving pink, healthy flesh behind. He blinked as he flexed his hand—the pain had disappeared.

Karathian Witches who can heal are extremely rare, he breathed.

Yeah. I get that, I said. It's just a sideline.

I believe Ilya is shouting, Caylon pointed out. I turned toward Ilya, who was still inside his bubble and fighting to get out. And he's a Fifth-level, I muttered, removing the bubble with a thought.

When in the bloody history of Karathia were you last tested for talent? he shouted, once the shield was down.

Not since I was a child, I snapped. My mother died in Didge when I was seven. She used the last of her power to send me to safety. I never saw her again, and as I grew up on Tulgalan with an aunt, there wasn't anybody willing to take me back to Karathia for reassessment.

So Third-level is your assessment after the power was awakened? Ilya's voice went quiet.

Yes. It's on my application; that I haven't been tested since.

There is no need to have this argument where the entire castle can hear you, Caylon warned.

Shall we sort this out over dinner? Ilya demanded.

Not without a referee, I snapped back.

Ardis has arrived, Caylon announced, breaking up the argument.

Ahem, the Black Wing Commander began as he folded long, jet-black wings and frowned at us. I—and every other Avii in the castle—can hear you quite clearly, he said. While I find it entertaining, I really would prefer that King Justis not discover what polar opposites the Karathian guards for his Queen are.

Sorry, I apologized.

My apologies, Commander, Ilya gave a half-bow.

Showoff, I sent to Ilya.

He didn't raise his head for several seconds. It took me that long to realize he was struggling not to laugh.

Unbelievable, I muttered and folded space to my suite.

Quin

I heard there was an argument on the lawn, Justis noted as a plate of food was set in front of him. Your new guards, if I'm not mistaken.

They've worked together one day, I said as a plate was set in front of me. You can't expect perfection in a matter of hours.

If Caylon hadn't passed on both of them, Justis cut into the chunk of meat on his plate, I'd have sent them away myself.

But I like them, I said.

You like them? Justis' fork was poised halfway to his mouth as he blinked in surprise.

I do. Zaria wastes no time in telling males off. If I have her as a guard, I'm hoping to learn from her.

That doesn't sound promising, Justis muttered before stuffing the chunk of steak in his mouth and chewing.

If I am forced to have guards, then these are the ones I want, I declared.

I'm not sure you need to learn anything from Zaria, Justis remarked after swallowing. I think you have things well enough in hand already.

I didn't reply, I merely rustled my wings, letting him know what I thought of his assessment.

Le-Ath Veronis

Sun City

Terrett

Berel and I had been out all day, in Sun City. Sun City was the closest large city to Avii Castle, and Justis had asked us to shop for agricultural equipment and supplies for the Avii farmers.

Everything we'd selected would be delivered by boat the following day; neither of us had the ability to transport ourselves by folding space.

Therefore, we had to send mindspeech to Justis when we were done, thinking that Salidar, Caylon or someone else with folding talent would come for us.

We were quite surprised to see who did come.

Zaria, she held out her hand. One of Quin's new guards, she added. She studied me for several moments as we clasped fingers, before turning to Berel and offering her hand to him.

You're Karathian? Berel guessed.

Yes, as is Ilya, the other guard. The Karathian King insisted on two guards for Quin and the Prince.

I'm surprised you lasted a day, Berel grinned. Quin doesn't like guards.

But I'm so likable and nonjudgmental, Zaria grinned back.

I like her, I sent to Berel.

Me, too, he replied.

Ready to go? Zaria asked.

Absolutely, Berel grinned.

Avii Castle

Quin

"Honey,