Determined: Four Stars Over Ardatz: Sovereigns, #4

By Kandi J Wyatt

When your nightmares waken, where do you find rest?

Eighteen-year-old Siobhan had lived a sheltered life until the Navwood attacked and a dragon bonded with her betrothed. Living with the remnant terrors of two abductions has left its mark, and that cut is getting deeper as she tries to adapt to life as a queen, a wife, and a mother.

Her husband is more interested in spending time with his dragon than being with her—or fulfilling his duties as king. Siobhan's jealousy over their bond feeds her fear of the draconic features that come and go with his emotions, and the dragon's silver around his eyes is a constant reminder that he's not wholly hers—or ever will be.

But when the Navwood send a kidnapper to steal their daughter, Hest marches to battle, leaving his family under the protection of a palace guard. Unfortunately, the dangers of war are closer to home than either of them realized, and to save herself and her family, Siobhan will have to find new courage in the face of a waking nightmare.

When Hest returns, it'll take all her strength to face the pressures from the court—let alone the changes war has wrought on her husband. Can their own bond survive both the pressures of a kingdom and the fears they both carry?

Determined is the fourth book in the coming-of-age fantasy series, Four Stars over Ardatz: Sovereigns. If you like strongly developed characters, books you can't put down, and engrossing, well-written adventure tales, you'll love Kandi J Wyatt's book!

Grab your copy of Determined to continue the adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kandi J Wyatt
• Release date: Mar 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215867181

Kandi J Wyatt

Even as a young girl, Kandi J Wyatt, had a knack for words. She loved to read them, even if it was on a shampoo bottle! By high school Kandi had learned to put words together on paper to create stories for those she loved. Nowadays, she writes for her kids, whether that's her own five or the hundreds of students she's been lucky to teach. When Kandi's not spinning words to create stories, she's using them to teach students about Spanish, life, and leadership.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Imet my daughter this step. After so many cycles of waiting and imagining her, she was in my arms, and my heart will never be the same again. She wrapped her fingers around mine, and I melted. ‘Tis a blessing I could never deserve but feel I must live up to. My whole world is in her eyes.

~Journal of Blaine, son of Shawnahur, King of Muintir

5811 AI

Cahar, Muintir

6127 AI

"I... WANT... HEST!" The last word came out in a high-pitched scream.

Avril wiped sweat from the queen’s brow. "Now, Ban’frensee, that’d be inappropriate."

Siobhan turned to her mother who stood at her side. You never told me how much this would hurt! she hollered.

Kaylynn only squeezed her hand. "Hush, inene, the former queen answered, letting the accusation pass by without comment. Focus."

Focus—easier said than done, especially as another contraction clenched down on her belly.

A guttural yell, more like a wounded creature than a human escaped her lips and a tear slid down her cheek.

"Inene, you can do this." Her mother blotted the tear away with her sleeve.

As a vice clamped down on her abdomen for what felt like the thousandth time, all other thoughts fled. She sat up and bore down, wailing as the contraction waned, then flopped back onto the pillow. How much more could she bear?

"I’m here, moor’neen." Hest’s gentle voice pulled her eyes open.

You heard me, she breathed and clasped his outstretched hand, leaning her forehead against it.

"I was outside when you called for me. If ‘twasn’t for having to win an argument with the Rittider at the door to get in, I’d have been here sooner."

Aye, they—oh-oh! she panted.

Help her focus on breathing, Kaylyn ordered.

Hest leaned over, grabbing her hand. "Look at me, moor’neen. Breathe."

Siobhan tried to fight down panic as she felt another wave rising. This one was worse than any yet. She writhed, but Hest’s silvery-blue eyes in her view were intent and calming. Somehow, she made it through the contraction, and the next, and the next, her cries dropping low and straining with effort, but the pain stayed out of her voice.

There we are. Avril checked on the progress. I can see the head. Only a few more and this child will be here.

Hest’s face paled, if that was possible. He already had the fairest skin she’d ever seen. She was about to smile at him when something changed, and her body surged in a haze of pure effort. This time, she pressed back into it, yelling with all her might.

"That’s it, Ban’frensee," Avril encouraged her.

"You’re beautiful, moor’neen." Hest brushed a stray strand of hair away from Siobhan’s face.

She didn’t know how he could say that when she was covered in sweat with her knees pulled up to her ribs, but it made her love him all the more.

Breathe, he coached her, as the tension in her belly ebbed. She pulled in air, settling her mind and readying it for the next wave. He made it possible. Having him at her side made anything possible.

One more, Avril said with an inexorable surety.

It came, and the world disappeared as she clenched her eyes shut and gave her all to the work her body demanded. Distantly she heard her own voice, hollering like a warrior on the charge; exhaustion vanished, power flooded in behind it, and with a final cry the pressure suddenly abated. She heard Avril exclaim with uncharacteristic delight, and something slid along her leg.

’Tis a girl. You have a princess! Avril proclaimed as her hands brought a squirming body up onto Siobhan’s chest, blotting the blotchy red skin with a clean towel and then patting the little one on the back to elicit a first breath. Squinting eyes tightened against the light, pudgy fists flailing, the baby’s tiny mouth opened in a small gasp that turned into a wail, even as Siobhan wrapped her arms around the little life. Her daughter.

Hest kissed his wife on the forehead, long, lingering, and proud. She’s beautiful, just like her mother. He blinked back tears.

Avril continued to prod at the newborn, while Siobhan just stared, fixated, at her perfect little features. She reached out and caught one little hand that curled around her finger and squeezed.

Baby girl, Siobhan called gently, and the squalling cut off mid-cry while her daughter searched for her mother’s voice. Baby girl, she said again, and this time dark eyes, too dark to even name their color, opened wide and settled on Siobhan’s face.

If the world hadn’t already stopped turning six thousand synods ago, ‘twould have stopped then. Creation and all its rhythms froze in place while Siobhan stared into the eyes of the new, untouched life in her arms. Then the moment broke, and her daughter resumed her wailing. Siobhan laughed without breath and rounded her shoulders inward, enveloping the little body against her chest as she pulled her closer.

Avril nudged her elbow aside to run a finger down the baby’s spine, then stepped away, and Siobhan finally looked up again to see her mother smiling down on them both.

Oh, Mother, look at her.

"I have, inene, I have. She’s wonderful, just like her mother. I’m so proud of you." Kaylynn brushed her hand along the crown of the baby’s head, drawing Siobhan’s attention to its downy coating. She stroked a single finger over the brown fuzz of hair, and for the first time, experienced the tender satisfaction of feeling her child’s muscles relax against her, distress disintegrating in a mother’s embrace. Her cries died down, and she looked up, studying Siobhan’s face as if she knew it but couldn’t place the memory.

She’s so soft. She whispered the words to Hest as she kept running her palm over their daughter’s head, watching her blink each time Siobhan’s hand landed, then wiggle when it lifted to find something new to look at. After a few strokes she craned her little neck back and found Hest’s face. He stared back, brushing her palm with his fingers, and Siobhan watched them connect—five tiny, perfect fingers latching onto his rough, calloused one.

You should hold her, Siobhan suggested, opening her arms a little to let him take her.

I— Hest protested.

"Aye, Moregot, if you’re to be a father, putting it off will do you no good." Avril scooped her up and placed the baby decisively in his arms.

Siobhan smiled at the sight. His blond hair had escaped the tie that held it back and slid over his shoulder while he stared down at their daughter with a perfect alloy of wonder and fumbling confusion. Despite his awkward posture, the image looked right, as if he’d found his place.

"Moor’neen, look at her. His voice was barely above a whisper. She has little toes."

Aye, she’d better, Siobhan laughed. Where’s Father? she said, as she realized he should be here as much as anyone else.

Kaylynn gave a delicate chuckle and nodded toward the door. I’m sure he’s somewhere very close by. He’s been pacing the corridor the entire time. I’ll go fetch him.

The little one squirmed, and Siobhan shifted her arms, trying to find a position that was comfortable for them both.

I was summoned? Athair smiled down at Siobhan from beside Kaylynn.

Aye, Father, come meet your granddaughter.

He took the baby in his arms, his expression softer than Siobhan had ever seen it. To her surprise, he appeared completely comfortable with the little bundle, as if he’d had years of practice. He cooed and murmured to her, bouncing gently from his knees and seeming utterly unaware of anything else in the room.

Am I going to get her back? Siobhan smiled quietly to her mother after several moments of watching him rock the little girl around the room.

Just then her daughter began to fuss, and the whimper quickly escalated into a wail.

The greatest guarantee that they’ll be returned, Kaylynn laughed back, is always that cry.

"I think she wants something only you can give her, Inene, Athair said as he passed the baby carefully over to Siobhan. I’ll look forward to spending more time with her when she’s not so hungry, but for now I’ll leave her to you. Hest, would you like to join me?"

In a bit, Hest answered over his daughter’s cries.

While Athair slipped out of the room, Kaylynn added some pillows to the bed and helped Siobhan sit up, and Avril instructed her on how to position the little one against her. Once they were settled in and the baby began to nurse, a completely different wave of pain washed over Siobhan, and she yelped.

’Tis normal. Avril patted her arm. ’Twill pass soon.

Siobhan blew air through her nose and tried to release the tension in her muscles. Just as Avril had said, the pain soon disappeared, leaving Siobhan free to gaze at the miracle of life in her arms without distraction.

What are we going to name her? Hest brushed his stray strands of hair back to the tie.

Without pausing to think, Siobhan blurted, Mairead.

Hest repeated the name while looking at their daughter. Mairead turned her head toward him.

Aye, Mairead, ‘tis, Hest affirmed with a gentle smile.

I’ll let your father know. Kaylynn slipped away as Siobhan stared into Mairead’s eyes.

Why Mairead? Hest sat on the edge of the bed. ’Tis a family name?

Siobhan didn’t look up; images of a round face with red hair and smiling green eyes filled her memory.

Mairead was my mother’s mother, and by the time she died, I was ten synods and completely inseparable from her.  It just felt right.

"Aye, moor’neen, it does. She even knows her name."

Their daughter lost her latch and began rooting, grunting, and Siobhan guided her back. Could there be anything more wonderful than holding Mairead? Her heart was content—her daughter in her arms, her husband beside her. Mairead’s suckling slowed, and she closed her eyes. Siobhan watched as the little one fell asleep.

"Let me take her, Ban’frensee. Avril bent over and lifted Mairead into her own arms. I’ll watch over her while you get some rest. You wore yourself out bringing her into this world. She turned to Hest. And don’t you stay too long. Let her sleep."

Hest pursed his lips and averted his gaze as he nodded; she could see that he almost laughed, but Avril wasn’t a person to take lightly. Aye, Avril, she’ll get her rest. I’ll make sure of it.

Without Mairead in her arms, Siobhan felt at a loss. She shivered, and Hest tucked the blankets up around her. He glanced to the door, making sure Avril wasn’t in sight, and kissed her. She warmed at his lips on hers.

Jeeah has blessed us; you’re both safe. So now you can do as Avril said: relax. Hest adjusted her pillows.

Siobhan wanted to fight, to say she was fine, but she felt weary. ‘Twas as if her energy had been poured out of a cup, not even a drop left. She sank back into the bed and closed her eyes. How ‘twas possible to be so exhausted? She thought back on the last step, and the pain faded like a dream upon waking.

Maybe that’s why Mother never told me about it. It just doesn’t matter once they’re in your arms.

Chapter 2

Deeply troubling events have a way of lurking in the memories and commandeering the senses, sometimes at the most mundane provocations. My patients describe losing their touch on reality, while their body reacts as if the event were recurring in that very moment. It seems that some wounds can be inflicted on mind, body, and spirit all at once.

Due to its severity, healing can be a slow process and, for some, may never be wholly realized.

~Bedwyr’s Journal of Known Medicine

5992 AI

Cahar, Muintir

6127 AI

SIOBHAN SHIFTED ON her stack of cushions; even having padded the throne as best as could be managed, ever since Mairead’s birth the seat had been uncomfortable. The little princess lay in her arms, swathed in a ridiculous amount of purple silk that trailed over Siobhan’s elbow and draped down to her waist. Siobhan grinned despite herself. The garment was absolutely foolish, but she loved it, however oblivious her daughter might be to the import of the moonstep.

Lugh stepped forward, his white beard and hair shining in the light streaming through the windows behind the assembled guests.

Greetings, one and all, and thank you for your attendance as we welcome the crown princess of Muintir. On this step, we present the hope of Muintir’s future, the joy of our dragon king and queen. He spoke first in Atsegenian, and then in Axelian for the benefit of visiting dignitaries. Even those from the darklands would speak the trade language—not that Siobhan particularly expected anyone from Hest’s half of the world to attend. When Lugh had finished giving the second iteration of the words, he motioned to Siobhan and she stood, bearing Mairead to the front of the dais.

Lugh held a stone in his hand which imparted its glow to his hand and wrist. As he moved to hold it over the infant, Mairead grabbed his finger and the jiddee’adar smiled. Siobhan couldn’t help but reflect his happiness with her own smile; Lugh was dear to her, and his affection for her daughter warmed her heart.

Princess Mairead, heir of Muintir’s throne, may Jeeah guide and protect you. May your steps be filled with the light of Graen, and may your synods be many upon Ardatz.

The light intensified, and the princess squeezed her eyes shut, squirming away from its brightness. Then, as if a box had closed over the stone, the glow was extinguished. Mairead opened one eye, making sure ‘twas safe, before opening the other, then startled in Siobhan’s arms when the guests started applauding.

A shadow crossed the windows in the back of the room, and Siobhan looked up expectantly. Usheen had arrived to bestow his own blessing on the little one.

Those in attendance murmured as Goshkeah opened the door for Usheen to enter. The dragon passed through the crowd, down the wide aisle prepared for him. He ducked his head to avoid the chandelier, then settled in front of Siobhan. Despite her familiarity with the creature, she still felt intimidated by his vast size—half again as tall as her husband, who was already significantly taller than most of her people. Mairead, on the other hand, didn’t have any fear of the arc lukesure. She reached out her hand, and Usheen set his muzzle against her little fingers. She giggled, breaking the awed silence of the room.

Ah, a true daughter of the dragon king. Usheen’s voice rumbled through Siobhan’s mind, and from the buzz of voices in the room, the rest of those in attendance also heard his words. Crown princess, one step you will rule in your father’s stead. May you find the grace to do so with wisdom, to lead your people in Jeeah’s paths. The way will not always be easy. For that, I give you a heart of an arc lukesure, as well as twenty of my scales. From these your smiths may forge for you a shield, so that as your father is protected by the breastplate and sword created from my own bratnoor’s scales, so you will be protected by mine.

The crowd gasped, and Siobhan turned to Hest. Had he known of this?

From the look he gave Usheen, she suspected not. She didn’t hear his question, but Usheen’s answer was clear in her mind.

Aye, heart of my hearts. ‘Tis a worthy gift for the offspring of my bondmate.

Lugh bowed. "Thank you, arc lukesure. Truly, ‘tis a gift of honor."

As Usheen returned the way he’d come, Siobhan pondered his words. What had he meant by ‘heart of an arc lukesure’? She sincerely hoped ‘twas only figurative—that her daughter would have the courage and integrity of a dragon.

Once the back doors were again sealed, Lugh continued, Honored guests, we are pleased to receive you now, as you bring your greetings to our king and queen and our new princess. He nodded to Siobhan that she could sit down again, but she shook her head quietly at him—standing sounded better for now.

Hest joined her and slid his arm around her, the distant expression in his silver-blue eyes the only hint that he was communicating with Usheen. She watched until he smiled at her, and the silver retreated to the rims of his irises, relieving the subtle anxiety she still always felt when he was in the bond.

Your majesties. A stocky man with Graen-kissed skin bowed at the foot of the shallow steps and beckoned for his attendant who carried a bolt of fabric. Prince Ahlan at your service. I present the finest silk made in the warrens of Twilli. My father, King Amortan, bids me convey to you our warmest congratulations at the birth of your daughter, and regrets that he could not be present himself to meet her.

Thank you, Prince Ahlan. Siobhan nodded as Lugh received the bundle for them and set it on a long table nearby that had been prepared for the inevitable gifts such an occasion would incur. ’Tis exquisite; please return our gratitude to your father for this noble gift.

Indeed; our weavers are some of the best in the world, and this will make a wonderful gown.

It certainly will. We’ll ensure the princess knows of your generosity when she has occasion to wear it.

The guests came one after another, an endless line of well-wishers, the majority of which spoke in Axelian. Although she’d refreshed her skills in the language in the cycles leading up to the event, Siobhan still felt awkward and fumbling trying to converse in it, especially when most ‘twas diplomatic and therefore somewhat lacking in sincerity; Mairead would be uncaring of who gave her which fabrics when she was crawling around in them. Prince Ahlan’s father didn’t regret sending his son, but he could hardly have been expected to neglect his kingly duties to make the trip.

She’d been raised to navigate conversations such as these, but three cycles’ worth of short sleep were taking their toll, and while her feet were tiring out the visitors were starting to blur together.

But then a tall man approached, his blond hair a stark contrast against his purple cloak trailing the floor, and her interest was immediately piqued. He almost looked like he might have been from—

Greetings, king of Muintir. The Skymnian words confirmed her instinct, as well as Hest’s look of shock, quickly followed up by excitement.

Ovar Melkar? He bowed. It is an honor to meet you again.

So, you are of Skymnian blood, as the merchants and mercenaries claim. Ovar Melkar chuckled, the expression softening his severe face. The uncouth squire who once knelt before me, and now he sits on a throne.

Aye, Hest’s Atsegenian colored his first language. When I rode with Colonel Ooverstea from your capital, I could never have imagined the fate that would catch me here!

I admit I am curious about all that has transpired since we met, Melkar nodded. Perhaps, though, when there are no other guests waiting to get their look at your young one. He wiggled his fingers before Mairead, who stared up transfixed at them.

Of course, your majesty, Hest answered eagerly. I invite you to break your fast with me when Handi rises again.

I accept your gracious offer. He turned his pale blue eyes to Siobhan. My lady, you have a beautiful daughter. If you could find the time, I would be honored if you would join us for our meal.

Thank you. Siobhan stumbled over the words. The princess will decide on the step whether I can attend, but I would be glad to if she allows it.

With a nod of sympathetic amusement, Ovar Melkar stepped aside to allow the next visitor forward. Only then did Siobhan realize he hadn’t offered a gift.

Mairead fussed, and Siobhan gently shifted her to an upright position, leaning on her shoulder. She was starting to think that sitting down might not be so bad after all, but the next guest had already approached. He opened a carved wooden box and drew out a chalice that changed from maroon to gold and back to a ruby red as the light caught it turning. Hest sucked in his breath beside her.

Your majesties, greetings from Wendallhall of Aeguskey. Although our country is small, we wished to bring a gift for the princess all the same. He set the box aside and held out the goblet with both hands, the colors swirling together in a hypnotic whorl between gold and crimson. Our glass is renowned for its beauty. May the princess have great joy in its use.

Thank you; this is... ‘tis stunning. The reputation of your craftsmen is well-earned. Hest inclined his head, and Mairead gurgled.

Ah, the princess approves. I will return to my country with this news. The glazier will be glad to know she was pleased by his work! Laughing congenially, the messenger tucked the cup away into its lined box and relinquished it to Lugh.

Hest stiffened as the next noble strode forward. If Prince Ahlan was Graen-kissed, this man was charred a deep brown. His ebony eyes took them in, weighing their reception.

Your Majesties, a click replaced the ‘t’ sound, I, Diboko, bring you greetings from the Watu.

Siobhan shared Hest’s reflexive caution. These were the people who had twice threatened her family.

My people send you this gift on the occasion of your daughter’s birth, as a token of their gladness for your joy. He proffered a tiny pouch to Hest, no bigger than Siobhan’s hand. She leaned over curiously as Hest loosened the drawstring. The contents trickled into his palm—sparkling gems in a rainbow of colors, scattering their hues up onto his face—a kingly gift. He gasped.

These are beautiful.

"They are also given in gratitude. We know that Nwa’s actions could have brought war to us, but you gave us peace. This will not be forgotten, Moregot. May your daughter live in Graen’s light and dwell near to shade; may she have rest from her enemies all around." He bowed low, touching his hand to his forehead.

Blinking, Hest inquired before he could step away, And your people—they are well?

"Aye, those who returned from Boulick told the tale of Nwa’s defeat. We agreed that his execution was just and have chosen another—his cousin Tsepo—to lead us. He has vowed to employ no nature-changer, whether sanyalee or jiddee’adar. He glanced aside to Lugh. No offense is meant to those present, of course."

Lugh nodded amicably. None taken.

I thank you for this gift and all that it represents, Hest told him.