A Single Spark: The Rise of the Phoenix Book 1

By Tayvia Pierce

In the heart of Isirion, Lady Carys, the unassuming middle child of an aristocratic Taurovan family, is the very essence of resilience and devotion. As she shares her story, both the good and the ugly, the world will soon learn that she's no villain, but a fiercely loving protector of her loved ones, regardless of the cost.

When her family, haunted by unfounded rumors of murder and corruption, is forced to flee to a new land in search of a fresh start, they discover that a simpler life doesn't guarantee safety or happiness. As they attempt to rebuild their lives amidst the mounting peril, a mysterious stranger offers his aid.

But little do they know, an even greater evil swirls around them, threatening to engulf their world in a storm of unimaginable darkness…a malevolence that Carys must protect her family from, whatever the cost.

'A Single Spark' is an enthralling tale of courage, loyalty, and the unwavering determination to protect those we love, even when faced with the most insidious of foes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350901078

Tayvia Pierce

Never dare Tayvia Pierce to write a book, because she'll do it just to prove she can. This was where Tayvia, the imaginative force behind the captivating Rise of The Phoenix series, got her start. Hailing from Southern Alberta, she spent her early years trying to find her place in this world, starting off with a career in tourism, though soon realized that wasn't where her passion lay. In 2005, a new chapter of her life unfolded as she exchanged vows and relocated to central Alberta where her and her husband settled into their new life together. Welcoming two little bundles of joy, Tayvia embraced the role of a dedicated stay-at-home mother, yet still wrestled with finding her purpose in life. It was during this transformative period that she stumbled upon story-rich MMORPGs, and she reveled in the immersive tapestry of the roleplay community in these virtual worlds. The collaborative art of storytelling resonated deeply, kindling her fascination with immersive storytelling, fanned by the lore and historical intricacies of these worlds. A fateful friendship would alter the course of her creative journey forever. Encouraged by a good friend, he dared her to a race to write a book and publish, and so she embarked on the monumental task of crafting her first book. Though met with heartbreak at the untimely loss of her friend, Tayvia had found her passion and purpose. A year later, inspired by a new Muse, she delved into building the world of Isirion and the enthralling Rise of The Phoenix series. In 2018, a new chapter beckoned as Tayvia embarked on a solo journey, returning to her roots in Southern Alberta with her children. Balancing the responsibilities of a medical assistant and a single parent, she achieved a milestone by self-publishing Book 1, "A Single Spark," in May 2019. Ever the avid learner, Tayvia achieved her certification as an editor in 2020. What began as a quest to enhance her writing skills evolved into a harmonious blend of editing and writing, shaping a career path uniquely her own. In 2023, Tayvia became intrigued by the horror and began dabbling in all things supernatural and creepy and is excited to stretch her writing skills into this new realm of writing. With her talent for storytelling and dedication to the craft, Tayvia Pierce is an author to watch.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Nearly the entire population of the city filled the courtyard set in the heart of Perinthas. Caullan Square’s lush, green vista and colorful arrays of flowers had lost the battle for the peoples’ attention to swaying noose as it was tested on the beam of a platform, and a bestial cheer rippled through the crowd as it swung ominously in the wind. The cheers became jeers, growing louder and more fervent as a man, bloodied and beaten, was half led, half dragged onto the platform in chains.

A man — a villager from outside the city walls — gestured to the platform as he explained to the women next to him, The Yehketim are practically bangin’ on the gates an’ bringing their war with ‘em. Filthy mongrels…can’t be strung up fast enough. That warlord of theirs got hisself caught and now he’s goin’ get what’s coming to him. He shouted a cheer of his own, joining the throng and raising his fist into the air in solidarity.

We shouldn’t be here. It was too late to leave, as all the roads were now filled with spectators, trapping us in the restless crowd. The din grew into a roar as the noose slipped over the prisoner’s neck and the crowd pressed in against us, pushing us forward though we tried to hold our ground.

The Captain General looked grim as he climbed the steps of the platform in his elaborate armor, polished to a high shine for the occasion. He watched the Executioner tighten the noose before raising a hand, though it took a minute before the crowd quieted and he could finally speak.

His stentorian voice carried through the entire courtyard, bearing the weight of his authority. "Citizens of Perinthas! We are here for the public execution of this Lightless one, a warlord among our enemies. His name is Jahi, and his list of crimes is too great to list. While our customs do not typically permit executions, particularly public ones, I thought it necessary to send a message to those within our own walls who sympathize with the claims of those who oppose us. Let it be known that this is how we deal with those who would betray us to our enemies. Now, see our victory over this enemy just as we will be victorious over the rest of his people in due time."

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, but I felt sick to my stomach. I had never seen anyone die, much less by execution. Long ago, the Reeve and his council had ruled that public executions were reserved only for the very worst offenders for the most heinous crimes, and then, only the officials and those affected by the crimes were in attendance as justice was served.

The Captain General continued. I hereby charge you with high treason and sentence you to dea-... His last words were cut off by the man in the noose, barely able to stand and yet his voice was heard across the square, ringing with an authority of his own.

Do not be fooled! he shouted, his voice cracking with self-righteous indignation. The rightful King will rule! It’s you who are guilty! We will take back what is rightf-... His voice was cut off as the floor fell out from beneath him, the rope suddenly taut and ending with a sharp snap. The silence at that moment was nearly as deafening as the shouting, accented only by the creak of the rope and its burden moving with the wind before the crowd’s swiftly rising roar of exaltation thundering in our ears.

A shudder rippled through me, unable to stop the gasp that accompanied the harsh lurch of my stomach as he was silenced forever. Whether it was that I had just seen the man die, or the dreadful surge of excitement of the crowd, I cringed as I covered my ears with my hands and shut my eyes tightly.

My guard remained close as we tried to get through the growing crowd which had begun to press forward even more, nearly pushing me to the ground on more than one occasion.

A scream reverberated from somewhere behind us, the entire crowd shifting hard in response to some event as a few more cries echoed through the street. I turned to look over my shoulder to see what was happening, though my guard pushed me forward with a little more force as he looked over the heads of most of the others. Go. Someone incited a riot. We need to get out of here before we get trampled…or worse. He murmured behind me.

The crowd pushed against us before the tide shifted again and people began to flee the square.

He suddenly ducked into an alley, pulling me along with him, and we halted a short distance later, panting for air as the remainder of my family caught up. The relief in seeing the empty staircase that would carry us to the upper levels and home was palpable, and I, for one, was most eager to reach our villa and leave this horror behind.

CHAPTER 1

I never wanted to be a hero. I certainly never wanted to be a villain. To this day, I’m still not sure which one I am, but I often suspect they are one and the same. I have come to understand that who you are depends on who you ask.

The day my life flipped upside down was the day I watched a man hang. My sister and I, along with two of our guards, had been shopping. The tailors fawning and praising our beauty, each of them trying to get their stylish creations under my nose in the hopes of a compliment or, better yet, to be purchased. Their eyes gleamed greedily with the idea that my wearing of their gown might set a trend among the nobility, making them nearly as wealthy as their patrons.

They certainly understood the preferences and desires of the upper crust, and it was difficult to choose. I had reached the point where I was about to leave with nothing, until Rhian picked out a gown for me, giggling excitedly as she held it out to me. This one, Carys!

The vibrant, sapphire silk brought out the cerulean hues in my own eyes, so at the urging of my sister, I bought it. My overflowing closet is the tangible evidence of her love of picking out my clothes, and one day, when she sheds her gangly adolescence and grows into her womanly form, she will likely take them all. I wonder now if that wasn’t Rhian’s diabolical fashion plan all along.

The darkening clouds on the horizon cut our shopping short and we began making our way home, weaving our way through the crowded streets. Madox and Brynmor, our guards, followed right behind us, but as the street filled with people, Madox moved ahead of me to part the crowd for us, taking the jostling on our behalf.

The scent of the bakery and its freshly baked bread mingled with the smell of spiced meat frying further up the street and Brynmor groaned as the aroma of the food surrounded us. I should have eaten lunch. He licked his lips, eyeing the food stall.

You did eat lunch. Rhian reminded him with a giggle.

Brynmor flashed her a boyish grin. See? Even more of a reason to eat now. I need two lunches! I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my amusement.

The road was soon packed with people as we neared Caullan Square, the heart of Perinthas. It was a vast, lush garden, and the largest green space in the whole city though currently, the serenity of its fountains, flowers, and trees was marred by a crude wooden platform that had been erected on the far side — a noose meant for the enemy of my people.

Watching the life leave Jahi’s body had changed me somehow, as did the screams of fury and elation from my fellow Taurovans. He had been our enemy, and killed many of our people, but it didn’t feel like his execution had delivered any justice for the deaths his army had caused. This experience had taken something from me…some innocence that I didn’t realize that I had.

By the time we reached home, I had mostly stopped shaking and the fear that gripped my insides had slowly begun to dissipate. Iolyn, my brother, greeted us in the foyer with a worried look on his face. Judging by the looks on your faces, you either had a run-in with a temperamental clothing designer, or you went to the execution. I could see the crowd and hear cheering from the balcony, then people started screaming. Is everyone alright? His eyes swept over both Rhian and I and he cast a judgmental look at the guards. Please don’t tell me you let the girls go to that spectacle.

Brynmor waved dismissively. We didn’t go on purpose. We were shopping and got caught at the square on our way back. I thought we could get home before the execution, but I didn’t count on the entire city being there. As for the screaming, that scummy Yehketim traitor’s sympathizer friends weren’t happy about his execution, that’s all. We’re fine, just starving. Iolyn finally rolled his eyes.

Iolyn glanced outside in the direction of the square, commenting. It’s been decades since they had a public execution, and they start with a Yehketim warlord…at least they have style. My brother glanced at Rhian warily, trying to judge how affected she had been by the sight. She was paler than usual, looking frightened, though not sick to her stomach like I was, so I knew she hadn’t seen him die.

Madox shook his head and muttered. He hung, but not without yelling their usual drivel about their rightful King and that we were the true evil before he dangled. Madox spoke with a surprising coldness, a tone I rarely heard in our warm-hearted guard.

Iolyn’s brows shot up in surprise and he barked a laugh. We are villains? Was he a madman? Or did he just forget about the part where those savages sell women and children into slavery and brutally torture and murder people? He shook his head in disgust, though I felt faint. The traitor’s words had bothered me, but Iolyn was probably right…he must have been insane.

Iolyn ran a hand through his light brown hair as his easy smile returned. Well, it’s no matter. Dinner will be served soon, and then Father wants to talk to all of us after. Shall we go have wine on the balcony until then? With his usual flourish, he beckoned us toward the stairs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I went upstairs to freshen up, still rattled by the execution and the dead man’s last words. Father had seen death during his years in the Taurovan army, and he always said that a man’s last words were the most important things he would ever say. What if he’s a madman? Do those last words mean anything then?

I took a calming breath before donning my new gown at Rhian’s insistence. The flattering shape and sapphire color suited me better than I had expected. I ran my hand through my hair to tame my raven tresses a little as the growing humidity in the late afternoon air had encouraged the loose waves to curl more. Having little desire to spend time primping, I ignored the faintly wild look the waves gave me and headed to the balcony where my family was gathering.

Rhian had arrived before I did, and she smiled approvingly as she saw what I wore. Her slight form was seated on the marble bench at the railing, her elegantly carved lute on her lap as she plucked its strings. She seemed to have recovered from her fright well enough, for which I was relieved. I took my place on my usual chaise, stretching my legs out over the plush fabric and relaxing as a servant brought me my preferred vintage.

Rhian chewed on her lip, deep in concentration as she practiced playing her favorite song...Mother’s favorite song, actually, though with Mother’s death, Rhian had claimed the song of the woman she idolized as exclusively hers.

I listened absently as she practiced, though my gaze was pulled to the ocean below to watch the waves rolling in. The sounds of the city that stretched out below in all directions soon distracted me further, and now that all sounds of insurrection had subsided, I was filled with pride.

Perinthas, the renowned capital city of the kingdom of Taurova boasted cream and beige-colored stone buildings covered with roof-tiles of brown and orange, all constructed and set into the hill that rose from the harbor like a large, mismatched staircase. Walls throughout the city were graced with colorful murals and fabrics, and white stone roads zigzagged their way up the hillside.

Each structure had its purpose. Simple homes and shops made up the bulk of the lower levels, craftsmen and merchants filling the area in the central levels, and finally, opulent manors and religious temples in the highest levels. Places of scholarly pursuits sprawled at the very highest level, and the military might of Taurova took up the whole Eastern Quarter.

Perinthas was known for the pursuit of the arts almost as much as the sciences (particularly the study of the stars), though our military strength was a strong second. We attracted the most intelligent and the strongest people from the whole kingdom (and even beyond), which made Perinthas the greatest city in the known world.

Caullan Square was the verdant gem that sat in the center of the city, green grass, trees, and flowers of every kind made it the favored place of nobles and peasants alike, and one of the few places it was acceptable to mingle with people of all stations.

The military’s Eastern Quarter contained the massive Keep, their barracks and training areas, and their access to both the plains above and the harbor below made it easy for them to set sail or march at a moment’s notice.

While Caullan Square was the heart of the city, the true sparkling jewel of Perinthas was the palace of the King, perched atop the bluff that overlooked the city. Right now, it shone like gold in the sunlight as a beacon of hope to the weary sea-folk, guiding them to shore. Perinthas was one of the oldest, largest, and arguably the most beautiful cities in all the known world, and it was my home.

I absently sipped my wine, watching the storm clouds as they rolled over the ocean toward the city. The constant shifting of the clouds looked like the storm was alive, lying in wait and biding its time over the churning sea to rush in and drench the city and its unsuspecting inhabitants. I tried to gauge how much time we had to sit outside before the storm would force us to take shelter inside. I guessed we had an hour, maybe a little more.

The knot in my stomach that formed after the events of the afternoon faded into the usual melancholy that I was experiencing more frequently of late. I wasn’t exactly one for philosophical contemplation in my youth, but I was, at least, realizing there was a growing dissatisfaction within me. The reasons, however, were still beyond my comprehension.

I came back to the present to find Rhian staring at me, annoyed. I belatedly realized she had been talking to me. I gave her an apologetic look. I’m sorry, Rhi. I wasn’t listening..

Rhian rolled her eyes and started strumming again. It’s alright, I wasn’t saying anything important, or anything. Her sarcasm was clear enough, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, wanting to defend myself, but I knew that would end up being an argument that I would never win.

I lay back and my long hair draped over the back of the couch as I lounged, finally finding a moment of contentment which lasted only as long as it took for Rhian to strike the wrong chord on her lute. My eyes cracked open a little with a slight scowl and I turned to look toward her. She was giving me an apologetic look, but I had my doubts it was accidental.

I took a calming breath before giving her a wry smile, and I couldn’t resist teasing her. Oops? Rhian wrinkled her nose at me for making light of the error, but then at 15, she wrinkled her nose at me for much less on a regular basis.

I sat up, my legs swinging over the edge of the lounging chair as I heard sniffling. What’s wrong, Rhi? I asked, frowning a little at my sister’s mood change. She stared down at her lute, choosing to pluck the lute strings in no particular order.

I’m sorry. Her shoulders drooped as she continued. That was Mother's most beloved song... Little tears welled up in her eyes as she smoothed her dress over her knees. Is it terrible that I still miss her?

Thoughts of Mother flooded my mind as Rhian spoke, the memories of her last days still a twinge in my heart though after three years, they were more reminiscent than painful. I hadn’t experienced the greatest sense of loss, however, as that fell to Father and Rhian. My relationship with Mother had been strained at best.

Tesni, my mother, had always been hardest on me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was so unlike her, or much too similar. Out of her three children, I hardly shared her temperament, though there was no denying I was her spitting image. While Father was kind about my temperament, calling me independent and strong-willed, most others would simply call me stubborn and pushy, and they wouldn’t be wrong.

I looked down at my hands, gently holding my goblet of wine. Mine were the soft hands of a noblewoman except for their color, the olive brown shade of my skin more like the dark-skinned savages to the South than the fair skin of my siblings.

Father had once loudly growled his opinion that I also shared their warrior-like temperament, and while we laughed about his outburst later, I couldn’t deny the truth of his point. I have never been one to give in easily, a trait that I would one day be grateful for though it would also bring its fair share of pain. It is not strange to still miss Mother, Rhian. I came out of my thoughts to finally answer. She died suddenly...and tragically...It’s only natural to miss her, even now.

Rhian sat quietly, looking over the street below. I just want to make her proud… Her voice trailed off, giving way to the sounds of children laughing and playing in the street below our balcony. One little boy earned himself a scolding by his mother after a little girl let out a screech. Wagons laden with goods rumbled past on one of the lower levels, wheels grinding loudly against the paving stones and drowning out Rhian’s playing.

I watched Rhian lose herself to her own thoughts as she plucked the strings, the flicker of determination finally finding its way to her eyes. She was a late bloomer, not yet having any sort of feminine form, though I was often reassuring her that she would not always look like a twig with hair. Vanity ruled her, however, and adulthood could not happen soon enough.

As much as she didn’t believe me, there was no denying she was beautiful already even at this tender age. Long, shiny black hair with pale skin and light blue eyes the color of the summer skies would have suitors lining up down the street once she came of age. Her delicate features blended with her naive and gentle nature, making her lovely and loyal, and her friendly, youthful innocence endeared her to everyone she met. In truth, she was my complete opposite in almost every way.

Rhian plucked a couple of the lute strings as she mumbled, I only wish we could have given her a proper burial. She sighed as an angry frown formed. Damn pirates...Why Mother? Couldn't they have taken someone else instead? I arched my brow at her, a little taken aback by her language, especially in light of her sarcasm from earlier.

Rhian, watch your tongue. That is no way for a noblewoman to speak. My firm tone gave way to a sigh, wishing I had the answers to give her, but I was just as lost as she was. They are barbarians that kill without thought. I reminded her quietly. They don't need any excuse to kill our people. We have been at war with the Yehketim for years, and that is reason enough. I lowered my voice to avoid having Father hear our talk of our enemies to the South. He had spent half his life in the army, engaged in conflicts with the desert folk, and he tended to get irrationally angry at the mention of them, or the U’sharrim, the elite residents of their capital city.

The U’sharrim were a unique bloodline among the Yehketim, descended from the ancient Velynesians just like Taurovans, though the purity of their blood was greatly waned. Yet, many were gifted with greater strength and the larger size of their predecessors and their savagery was unmatched in battle.

Father used to tell me of their fortitude and of their unrelenting ferocity, even when facing certain death. It was at this point in all his stories that he would grow irritable. A people should know when they are defeated… He would always mutter under his breath as he would stalk off to drink himself into oblivion. He would have been the first to cheer as the Yehketim warlord hung today.

The sound of laughter from the doorway was the only introduction Iolyn and Brynmor needed, the two coming through the doors with a fresh bottle of wine. My brother flashed a grin as he slid into a chair at the nearby table, I see you finally decided to join us, Carys. I brought more wine, just for you. He teased.

I poured myself a little more wine, chuckling at Iolyn’s comments. I gave my brother a quick smirk, the difference in our ages no longer seeming like the gap that it once was. There were five years between him and I, and then another five between Rhian and myself. I often wondered if we would have been closer as siblings if we had been closer in age, but I think our vastly different personalities would have kept us like we currently were.

Brynmor casually took up a place nearer to Rhian where he could watch the doors as well as the scene in the streets below, winking at my sister when she looked up to him, blushing, and Mother was quickly forgotten. I watched Brynmor as he casually leaned back on his hands. He had served as our personal guard for the last few years but had been in services to my family in one capacity or another since his childhood.

Brynmor was everything Rhian was not, worldly, outgoing, and charming to a fault. It helped tremendously that he was tall and good-looking as well, blond hair that had a permanently tousled look, and green eyes that always twinkled in merriment. There were few on this earth who had the mental fortitude to deny him his wish and so he usually got his way, but over the years, I had come to see there was also some need to outdo everyone else around him, and it made him brash, bordering on obnoxious, though had enough sense in his head to act like a dutiful guard when he needed to. Despite his flaws, his care for our family was very real and so we entrusted our lives to him.

Iolyn grinned like a fool at me. My brow arched at him as my lips twisted into a smirk. You look like you have something thrilling to tell us, so out with it. I grinned.

Iolyn shook his head and chuckled. Not really, just happy to see my beautiful sisters. He gave me one of his usual charming winks before casually adding, Brynmor and I were trying to guess what Father’s grand announcement will be. He poured some wine for himself before leaning back in the chair, eyeing me with a mischievous glint in his eye. Maybe he found you a husband, Carys. He wiggled his eyebrows at me, his relentless teasing most unwelcome, and I frowned.

Out of the three of us, I was the last one Father would worry about marrying off. Iolyn would be first as the heir, despite his great reluctance in answering the call to that particular duty. After all, the bloodline needed to continue. Rhian would find no trouble in landing a well-off suitor, and would likely be wedded the moment it was socially acceptable. I, however, would be last, being the difficult match that I was.

I could only shake my head at him, rejecting the idea outright. I seriously doubt that, because if it were true, the tailor would already be up here, tying me to the chair, taking measurements for a dress, and finally lining up color swatches to find the perfect flowers to match my eyes. I batted my eyelashes as though punctuating the statement before sipping from my newly filled glass of wine as I watched him.

If the ladies among the city were polled, they would likely vote Iolyn to be the most attractive among the noble men of the city. Unlike my sister and I, he favored our father. His lighter brown hair, which he kept shorter in length, boasted a slight wave which gave him a somewhat roguish look, which he took advantage of at every opportunity…or so the rumors said. His blue eyes were like my sister’s, and his skin as fair as hers. He was a gentleman, though rumored to have an eye for the ladies, but thankfully, was far more discreet than Brynmor, who preferred to brag to other men of his conquests.

Brynmor finally looked at Iolyn and I, arms folding casually against his chest. You don't suppose it has anything to do with those rumors, do you? He had tried to sound casual, though the question itself led us both to frown deeply at our guard.

Everyone knows those are not true. My mood shifted, my body stiffening with resentment. Don't think I haven't heard people start talking about it all over again lately. I frowned, becoming defensive. The only way Father would announce anything about the rumors would be to inform us of their truth and that he was finally making the choice to face the consequences. A knot of dread began to form in my stomach at that thought. The rumors aren’t true! They cannot be.

Brynmor's hands came up as though surrendering to my logic. Of course, Lady Carys, but people still talk because they have nothing better to do. His voice softened a little and he added, Lord Llew is a good man, and everyone knows it. These latest rumors will blow over soon enough when some nobleman spills his soup on someone more important than he, he said dismissively. He was probably right, but as it was a matter of my family’s honor, the rumors that persisted were an understandable sore spot.

I had been eleven when Father was first implicated in a man’s death; the accuser, the man’s wife, had demanded justice a few times over the years, but when her evidence had been proven falsified, we thought the matter was dropped at last. It would seem we were wrong, however, as out of nowhere, she once again came forward with claims of new evidence. The truth of the matter had yet to be determined, but we tried not to worry. Those, like every other ploy, will crumble into dust and he will once again be cleared.

I was slowly beginning to realize that it was not just his freedom and honor that was at stake with the damage dealt by these accusations; it was the future of our family and the strength of our House that would suffer the most.

Iolyn was long past the age when he should have married, and I had reached mine a couple of years ago. Iolyn had a few dalliances, but never desired to settle down with any of them. Rhian had caught many eyes, yet wasn’t yet of age to marry. That left me.

While I had a few young men that caught my eye over the years, talks of marriage rarely went very far, and promptly ended as soon as they learned of the rumors. Now, with those old accusations resurfacing once again, there seemed little hope for any such talks in the near future. Nobody would want to be tied to a family with such dishonor hanging over their heads.

I wish I could say this upset me greatly, and I knew that it should, but I longed for the freedom to find and marry a Great Love, not out of some duty to wealth, family status, or political gain, but desire. My favorite tales had always been those stories of passion; stories that fueled my desire for a devotion that ran so deeply that it could withstand even the worst ordeals. That longing now had been burned in my heart and soul, and I knew that I could accept nothing less.

But, I am an aristocrat, and that meant I would marry whomever I was told to marry. I would birth his children, go to parties on his arm, laugh at his jokes, and find a way to survive a loveless union. The mere thought of this possibility caused my stomach to twist.

I couldn’t quell the dismay of such complacency in what should be the most important and valued relationship of my life and so the thought of arranged marriages left a sour taste in my mouth. Of course, it is possible to grow to love him, as I have heard of such things happening. Quiet love, I called it, and it was the exact opposite of what I wanted.

A faint thunder echoed over the growing waves of the ocean below as the thunderclouds rolled towards us, storm gray clouds twisting and folding over each other as they clawed their way closer to the city. Lightening flickered within the approaching storm and the escalating breeze caught the hem of my silken skirt, causing it to ripple and wrap around my legs. I watched with an odd fascination and foreboding as the storm continued its tumultuous advance, goosebumps rising on my skin despite the warmth of the sun still upon me.

I drained the wine from my goblet just as a bell rang lightly to signal the family for dinner, and I rose, smoothed my long silken skirts over my hips, and tried to leave all thoughts of my inescapable future behind me.

CHAPTER 2

A second, and even a third glass of wine couldn’t shake the sense of disquiet that had grown steadily since the execution in the square. The storm hit near the end of dinner, fueling the dread that lay in my heart, and an unrelenting chill led me to find a warm wrap before I headed to the library where Father and the rest of my family would be awaiting whatever announcement Father had.

A gust of wind shook the house, and the splatter of the rain hitting the windows sent another chill down my spine. The house had darkened quickly with the gathering storm, and now our servants scurried around the villa to light all the lamps. The smells of dinner mingled with the scent of rain as the humidity permeated the air.

The fire blazed in the library and Father stood near the hearth, brows tightly knit together in his brooding state. Lord Llew of the House of Egon was his title, but to me he was simply Father. He was not one for making grandiose announcements, unlike most of the aristocracy who thrived on theatrical speeches. His many years on the battlefield made him prone to bluntness and practicality and while he curbed his tongue well enough in social situations, he failed as often as he succeeded and regretted the dramatics that typically followed.

That was one trait I shared with my father: diplomacy was not his strong point, nor was it mine though I did try. My redeeming quality was my abhorrence of drama even more than Father.

Father gripped a goblet of wine, the cup already nearly empty as he worked up the needed determination to make his announcement. Liquid courage, we had often jested, though I knew the few times he needed his liquid courage were well warranted. This announcement is no small matter, I realized as I took a seat on the couch. Father glanced at me, giving me a weak smile though he said nothing. He took another sip.

Iolyn sauntered into the library with Brynmor, chattering quietly and chuckling at some private joke before they split, Iolyn settling himself comfortably into a seat at the desk. Brynmor wove his way through the furniture to find a place behind me, opting to lean casually against a table laden with books.

Rhian came into the library meandering slightly in her path as her head swiveled to look around the room. Fidgeting as she made her way past Iolyn and Brynmor, she slowed only a little to give Brynmor a slight smile and a polite curtsy. Brynmor flashed her a grin and gave her a little wink, and I couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. I suspected Rhian was developing a little crush, and him encouraging those feelings was becoming problematic.

Not to say that Brynmor and I didn’t have our own friendship. Knowing him my entire life had lent itself to him being more like an older brother than a guard. His reaction after I slipped out of the house to meet in secret with a boy that I had fancied, catching (and interrupting) my first kiss with humiliating flourish was far from guard-like, though eventually I forgave him. Mostly.

Rhian sat next to me on the couch, worry in her eyes. I patted her hand reassuringly before giving it a squeeze and she relaxed a little, her thin frame losing a little of its stiffness. I was glad that her anxiety could be eased so quickly, my own growing and bringing a restlessness that would not fade.

Father cleared his throat, lifting himself from the mantle to face us with a grim visage. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked ominously in that moment, perhaps nature itself knowing what was to come and voicing its own warning before he could bring himself to speak. It felt like an omen, and I wondered if the gods themselves were frowning upon this twist of fate.

I have decided that our family will leave Taurova and head West. Father stated bluntly, his gruff voice resounding more than usual, and we stared in shock. As I’m sure you have heard, the old rumors have come back to haunt our family once again and I have come to accept there is no freedom from them. The widow of my late comrade has once again set the eyes of the City Guard on me, claiming new evidence of my guilt in his demise. It will be proven as nothing like every other shred of so-called evidence she has managed to muster up, but the damage has long been done, and we must accept that she has, in a way, won. His announcement was met with utter silence.

He took a breath and let out a weighted sigh as he kept going. That, and with the enemy infiltrating our very haven of safety and the riots that ensue, I fear for our wellbeing. I wondered if he had been at the execution earlier, and knew more than we did about the chaos that followed?

There is no longer a life for us here. He continued with a gentler tone, looking around to meet the gaze of each one of us. There are no marital matches for any of you, as nobody wishes to involve themselves with our problems. With every round of rumors, the willingness of other families shrinks all the more, and now there are none who will even consider linking their House to ours. There is but one choice left, and we will take it. Begin packing your things, taking only what is needed. The remainder of our things will be packed or sold and will be sent once we are settled in a new home. We depart in two weeks.

None dared to breathe as our minds worked to comprehend his words. I could only stare at Father as the full magnitude of what he was suggesting finally settled heavily on me, that pit of dread now a solid stone in my stomach. Leave Perinthas? Leave Taurova? This is our home! Our birthright! How dare he even suggest leaving?

The sense of foreboding increased as the rain pounded against the windows, and I couldn’t breathe. Another, even more unwelcome, thought penetrated my confusion. Exactly how far West does he mean? All I could do was hold my breath as the room seemed to erupt around me.

H-how can you do this? I d-don’t want to move! Rhian sniffled next to me, using her sleeve to dab at her eyes, though I had nothing left in me to provide her with any solace. Brynmor slowly moved in behind her to rest a comforting palm on her shoulder, handing her a handkerchief. Rhian stammered. I like living here! All my friends are here! She sniffled and took the handkerchief from Brynmor, dabbing at her eyes quickly, trying to hide her distress.

Father’s tone grew acerbic. Yes, this has been our home for generations and while we are a proud noble House, what has it gotten us, child? Rhian went quiet, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. His words were a stark reminder of the history of our House, each past generation had made it all the stronger both in wealth and influence. They had built so much from so little, but with the accusation that wouldn’t die, our name was vastly weakened, and the power of our House was diminishing swiftly.

He turned, looking now to the stone-faced Iolyn who sat rigidly with his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Father’s voice was controlled as he asked for Iolyn’s thoughts. And what objection do you have, son?

Iolyn gritted his teeth before saying tightly. All of my friends are here, and I am trying to gain acceptance into the Jewelers’ Guild. I could become one of the greatest crafters of fine jewelry, Father, but that will never happen if I am uprooted and moved to some gods-forsaken town.

I’m sure wherever we end up will have a forge and a hall where you can continue your hobby. Father grunted, placing more emphasis on the word ‘hobby.’ As for your friends, they are lazy, gambling drunkards who prevent you from being useful. Good riddance to them! he said sourly. Iolyn looked affronted, lips parting to argue, though his voice halted, knowing arguing was pointless.

What if Father is right? What if there really is nothing left for us here? The silence in the room was thick, punctuated only by the sounds of the storm outside. Father continued softly. We have a chance to make a fresh start...to begin in a place where people know nothing of these accusations and of our dishonor. It is our only hope of finding acceptance again and our only way to find spouses for you three and prevent our family line from dying out entirely. Rhian gave Father a miserable nod and looked down at her hands in her lap. Iolyn’s lips pressed together, and he stared at the hearth.

Father’s eyes fell to me, his gaze holding my own as he awaited my temperamental opinion on why this was a dreadful idea. He awaited my condemnation and anger, my indignation and outright refusal, and while I felt each one of those things, I was silent. Our eyes remained locked, and I had a clear choice before me. To object or to accept the move.

A thousand thoughts ran through my mind, all the reasons to stay screaming at me, their volume equal to their reasoning. We are Highborn! This is our home. We hold beautiful land in the provinces. We have friends and family that we would be leaving behind. Where could we possibly go where we would have a life such as this? I knew our history — our realm was established when the first Velynesian settlers came to this land, fighting and dying to claim it as our home and despite all our adversity, I couldn’t imagine leaving the legacy we had earned behind, not after everything my ancestors had fought so hard to achieve. This is our birthright...we cannot leave.

The silence hung heavily in the room as everyone awaited my response. I released the breath I had been holding. I will go pack my things, I said with a controlled calm that I did not feel. My words surprised even me, as all the reasons to stay seemed perfectly valid, but I knew they were not so much reasons as excuses, and I hoped that leaving here to begin afresh elsewhere was what this family needed. We had run out of options here.

As our eyes met and held fast, I could see the flicker of relief in his eyes. Rhi, Iolyn...I suggest you do the same. I added, knowing that a word from me would do more to gain their acceptance of this change than any further arguments from Father.

I left to start gathering my things, my family still sitting in dumbfounded silence. There was a lot to do in order to be ready in two weeks, and finally, as I reached my room, the foreboding lifted.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next two weeks passed all too quickly as we sorted through all of our belongings, deciding what we would bring with us, and what we would ship after we found a place to settle. Staff were all given the choice of whether they wanted to join us or stay behind, and many chose the latter, though a few adventurous souls were excited about the opportunity. Almost as much time was spent with friends as we said our farewells, though saying goodbye to my group of friends didn’t sting like I thought it would.

Now, on the eve of our departure, the pile of dresses on my bed had become frighteningly tall as I narrowed down my last choices of which to pack. How had I let Rhi talk me into purchasing half of these? I wondered in exasperation, most not even remotely to my taste. In fact, as I looked at most of my clothing in general, extraordinarily little of it stood out as being inherently me.

Most of my things had already been packed tightly into trunks, my traveling coat and trousers laid out and ready to be donned in the morning. I bought new leather boots that would be more suitable for our long journey, often finding myself running my fingers over the supple leather in thought, musing about the many roads they would carry me on.

Introspection aside, these were much more practical and comfortable than the slippers I usually wore, in fact the whole travel outfit I deemed to be more in line with my personal tastes than silk gowns.

The chatter that reached my window grew a little louder in the last light of the day, servants hurrying to load as much as they could into the wagons as everyone took care of their last-minute packing.

We were set to depart in the morning, and I was understandably anxious. Leaving the city was rare enough on its own, much less leaving the whole kingdom. As much as I had studied the neighboring lands, I had never left Taurova, and so every nerve was stretched taut as I thought about the dangers of the road ahead. The others seemed to be just as nervous…some even forlorn as most of the family and staff completed their tasks with a grim acceptance.

As the wee hours drew closer to morning, I considered myself packed as well as I could be and pushed aside the mountain of dresses, sending a few silken sheaths fluttering to the marble floor. I caught the sapphire gown before it fell to the floor, letting my thumb caress the smooth silk before I laid it out on my bed again. It was a beautiful dress, but it would have no place in my life once we left Perinthas. I sighed and made just enough room for myself to lay down, not even bothering to undress as I caught what little sleep I could.

The pit of dread that had come with the storm two weeks ago had never entirely faded and seemed to grow as the sense of doom drew nearer. I was afraid to leave Taurova, and I clung to my life and to the memories that I had here. I had friends, though I couldn’t ignore the painful realization that my so-called friendships weren’t what I thought.

My friends delighted in talking about men, parties, fashion, more men, and whatever voracious gossip they could dig up, none of it having any consequence in the larger picture of our world. Was I as small minded as they were? Was I so arrogant that I thought there was nothing of consequence past my own hollow little world? Much to my shame, I had never once considered that I could be anything more than I was.

At some point I drifted into a restless slumber, waking at first light with a yawn that made my jaw crack. I rose wearily with a long-drawn-out groan, shedding my rumpled dress and changing into my travel attire. As much as I looked forward to wearing it, my trepidation of the journey ahead robbed me of the joy I thought I might find.

The night of contemplation had awarded me with one thing, at least. I knew that my life here was lacking the hope of growing into anything different or better. The disquiet I had been feeling became understanding at last, and finally I knew why I had spoken the way I did the night of Father’s announcement — I had no true reason to stay.

Everyone was quiet, if not sullen as we ate a quick breakfast and gathered the last of our belongings. Anyone who dared to speak said nothing above a hushed whisper as though afraid the villa itself might collapse at the slightest noise.

One of our servants brought my last pack out to the courtyard as I followed a minute later, our entourage was gathering and growing with every minute. Madox took my pack to load into my wagon, offering a slight smile as he did so.

I tried to give him a smile in return, then did a slow turn to look up at our villa for the last time. I loved this manor…it had been my home since we moved from Highbend Manor in the Provinces to the capital nearly a decade ago, and my throat closed in without warning as I thought of leaving it behind.

This situation was surreal, like I was watching from the outside looking in; disembodied and detached and watching my life up-end from some place far away.

The precious few guards and staff who had chosen to come on this journey with us moved off to their family and friends, beginning their tearful final farewells to those staying behind. The wagoners finished securing our belongings, and climbed up into the drivers’ seats while other servants held the horses steady. It was time.

Father’s voice rang out as he called out. Let’s go, everyone! Mount up or find a place in a wagon. He steered his horse around, having said his goodbyes in the privacy of our villa, unwilling to show such emotion in front of the household who looked to him for strength.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was feeling at that moment, but I suspected it was the wrong thing. Relief, perhaps? Numbness? Looking around, everyone else was somber (if not grim), and I couldn’t blame them; we were saying goodbye to Taurova forever. I took a deep breath as I climbed up into the back of the wagon, taking a place next to a tearful, blotchy-faced Rhian.

I wrapped my arm around her in comfort, taking pity on her. Change was never easy, but even less so for her. Come now, Rhi, I said softly to her, forcing an encouraging smile, though it was a small one. Think of this as going on an adventure like one from your books. The kind you always daydream about. Rhian wasn’t mollified and only narrowed her eyes at me irritably.

This isn’t an adventure, Carys. She snapped at me in an unusual display of boldness. This is a nightmare and I do not want to leave. She huffed and turned her back to me, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and choosing to stare out over Perinthas and the harbor below.

I sighed softly, not about to argue with someone irrational and irritable so early in the morning. As the wagons lurched forward, I indulged in one last look at our villa. The tan-colored stones and colorful canopies were unlike any other city in the known world, and as we moved away, I committed the view into my mind’s eye. After all, I would likely never return.

The crunch of the wheels on the stones heralded our departure to anyone within earshot as we pulled out of our courtyard and into the street.

Slowly our caravan moved through the winding streets of the capital before we passed through the outer gates and out of the city. Our lives were now at the mercy of the gods and all I could do was pray fervently they would provide something good for us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The first day of our journey was spent in relative silence, our wagons spreading out a little once we departed the city. Only Father made his rounds to each wagon to engage in quiet conversation with his family, guards, and servants. He promised hope and a solid future once we settled in a new home, even though we had no idea where that would be.

Our journey was more arduous than I had expected, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t my first multi-day journey, but the overall mood was filled with trepidation, making everyone restless.

Rhian proved herself to be a most proficient pouter, spending her entire days in an impressive brooding silence. I wish I could lie and say her ability to glower even in her sleep didn’t impress me a little, but as she clung to her sullen mood, it grew tiresome.

I watched the road behind us, Perinthas and its towers long passed from sight, but what relieved me even more was to watch the blackened jagged peaks that separated Taurova from Mor’aat Raan growing slowly smaller as we journeyed West. The Eastern Mountains that acted as a border between the two nations rose from the lush greenery of the Taurovan woods in a harsh range of craggy, lifeless rock, and I was happy to put more distance between us and the dreadful lands of our enemies.

A permanent dark haze had long settled over their lands, and the most superstitious Taurovans swore the haze was evil itself. The god, Xeyruhn, known as the Dark One and second in power only to Kaeus the Creator, had declared himself the Supreme being and seized Mor’aat Raan for his own. He eventually gained control of Yehket to the South by making promises of glory and revenge in exchange for their loyalty. It had fueled the war for years, and I was relieved we were leaving behind the dangers that came with it.

Other than Rhian’s consistent petulance, the moods of everyone else began to improve over the next few days as we continued through Taurova, thoughts turning from what we were losing to what might be gained with this fresh start.

The relentless bumping of the wagons on the road gave more aches and pains than the most grueling of horseback rides and I was certain that my backside would be permanently flattened from the wooden bench. The tarp provided some shelter against the elements, but being perpetually windblown, and sleeping in tents on thin bedrolls were as brutal on a person’s body and soul as the jarring bumps of the wagon.

On the fifth day we crossed the border, leaving Taurova behind to greet a new country, Vjorgyn. The small mountains and hills of my homeland flattened into fields of gold as we descended the pass. The stems of wheat and oats bent and twisted in the wind, their ebb and flow mimicking the waves of the ocean that we had left behind. A sharp stab of homesickness hit me unexpectedly, and I longed for the sounds, smells, and sights of the sea that I would likely never see again.

Spring was turning into summer a little more every day, much to my relief, and as we moved further inland, the air warmed enough to allow us to shed our coats.

The smell of rich soil and growing grains filled the air around us, and the occasional odor of livestock. Farms and ranches dotted the landscape, and spirals of smoke curled up from ranch house chimneys.

We caught our first glimpses of the Vjorgynfar that called this land home, and it seemed we were as strange to them as they were to us. Carts laden with produce and bundles of grain rumbled down the road, steered by cheerful farmers who greeted us in Sirric, the common tongue. They were shorter and stockier than Taurovans, their fair skin, and blond to red to brown hair so vastly different from our darker complexions, and I doubt any of us in our entourage could stop staring.

I could count on one hand the number of blond-haired people I had ever glimpsed in my life, and I didn’t think I would ever tire of seeing the flaxen locks. Our lands might have been neighbors, but there seemed to be very little that we had in common.

I knew from my studies that this realm was one of Taurova’s biggest trading partners for cattle, horses and grains. Their hills and plains had some of the most fertile soil on this side of the Scarlet Ridge, but what I was even more interested in were the rumors of their legendary meads and ales, hailed as the best in the world. I wanted to try some for myself, if we stopped in a town long enough to give me the chance.

Three more days of travel through their rolling hills and plains took us to Kjaransvik, their capital, and I was amazed at its simplicity. It was nothing like Perinthas: most of the city was constructed out of wood instead of marble and tile, yet the Hall of their King was indeed a wonder, boasting waxed and polished pillars inlaid with gold, silver, and bronze. Statues of their greatest heroes were carved from massive trees, and stood vigil over the stairs to the palace, and while it was nothing like the Palace of the King in Perinthas, it was equally beautiful.

We drew a fair amount of attention with our arrival, our large caravan and trunk-laden wagons triggering whispers of the wealthy Taurovans passing though, which quickly spread, drawing a crowd that had no qualms about staring openly. While some of us were uncomfortable with their perusal, Rhian loved it, offering the townsfolk warm smiles and polite nods like she was a royal guest.

For all their staring, it turned out they were friendly and helpful, several folk taking the time to direct us to the inn and stables and listing places where we could resupply. Their inn was more comfortable and spacious than I expected, and within the hour, we were settled in our rooms. They were nothing fancy, but simple and comfortable, and a lot better than sleeping in tents.

We stayed there for several days, using the excuse of resupplying, but I was certainly Father just wanted a few more days in a comfortable bed. I didn’t argue, realizing how much I had taken thick, soft mattresses for granted my whole life.

It had been only a week and a half since leaving home, but it felt more like a year. After our brief time on the road and enduring the elements, I hadn’t realized how much of a privilege it was to feast on a hot meal, accompanied by a vast selection