The Vow That Twisted Fate

By Katherine D. Graham

Three Queens Scattered Across Time, and a Fate That Binds Them All Together

Born Into Peace...

For five hundred years, young Queen Arlena's people have known only peace. But when an ominous pentagram appears in the sky, it brings darkness with it.

Fear or Freedom...

When an eerily familiar phantasm warns Arlena of an ancient sorceress planning an invasion from an evil parallel dimension, only two choices remain. She can call on a group of legendary Dwarven Warriors from the past to travel forward in time to aid her, or she can face her ancestor's enemy alone.

Twisting Fate...

When allies become enemies, and foes become friends, Arlena must face the dark reality that even she, herself, may not be quite who she seems. As her world spirals toward eternal darkness, can Arlena mend the rift her ancestor left behind without being forever changed in the process?

Find out now in this standalone fantasy epic by USA Today Bestselling Author Katherine D. Graham.

**The Vow That Twisted Fate is USA Today Bestselling Author Katherine D. Graham's debut epic fantasy novel. It placed as one of five fantasy finalists in the 2021 Next Generation Indie Book Awards, and has received 5-star reviews from both Readers' Favorite and IndieReader.**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katherine D. Graham
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9780996984553

Book preview

The Two Queens’ War

Inever thought I'd watch all the good things in my world disappear right before my eyes in an instant.

Not just my loved ones, my castle, or my pretty gowns.

Not just the woods, the flowers, and the waterfalls.

No.

Even the stars in the sky are vanishing.

The hair on my neck and arms stands on end. I barely keep my feet as earthquake after earthquake drags on and on. Rubble rains down from a burnt black sky, slamming into buildings and roads. Smoke and flames rise from the craters now pockmarking the ground. An unpierceable veil of gloom heralds ravenous death, which taunts me from both outside my city’s walls, as well as from within my own flesh, blood, and soul.

A horrifying crescendo of cars squealing and crashing into the rubble surrounds me.  People scramble from their cars, pouring out into the streets despite the danger falling from above, desperate to escape the city. Their fear of the demons within our walls overrules any logic that demons masquerading as light await just as cruelly beyond the gates.

Other cars plummet into cracks growing in the earth. A cavernous divide overflowing with red-hot lava splits the land on the horizon. It cracks in a perfect circle, trapping my capitol city on an island in a molten ocean. Skyscrapers topple. As the towers collapse in on themselves, smoke and ash rain down, suffocating any unfortunate enough to be outside. The ground of our island shines out, a dazzling white, as though covered with snow.

My Queen! Vardish, my Druid advisor, comes running, one antler smoldering bright red and burned down to mere inches above his scalp.

Blood sops through his silken forest green shirt. He collapses, clutching an arrow protruding from his chest.

Vardish! I shout, catching him before he hits the floor.

Ripping open his shirt, I pry the arrow from his chest. My heart sinks into my stomach. A still-red metal brand affixed in place of an arrowhead leaves a charred, oozing rune written in Fairy-tongue on his chest.

Evil, it reads.

Ripping the sleeve off my dress, I press the cloth against the wound. My fists shake, and my jaw aches from clenching my teeth so hard.

Another poor soul branded simply for being different. For being unwanted. It's unforgivable!

I will my trembling fingers to still as my free hand rests atop his charring antler.

Torgren velnar elensia, I whisper in the Fairy-tongue. Douse the flames.

Though darkness washes over me, blinding me for a moment, scant tendrils of teal smoke escape my black-nailed fingertips and soothe the flames beneath them. The antler dulls, then falls from Varnish’s head.

My queen, he whispers, and then his eyes fall shut.

Trembling returns, unbidden, to my hands as I check his neck for a pulse. A breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding rushes from my lungs. He’s alive. 

Maedra!

Seir, my Sworn, kneels at my side. My commander and lover’s long, black hair flows down past his waist, loose despite being in battle. His armor is gone, and his black muscle shirt is torn as though run through with claws. Only one wound is visible through the holes, though.

His own brand from several battles ago glows red.

What happened? I ask. Where's your armor?

With a child who needed it.

Taking my hand in his long, slender fingers, Seir pulls me aside to the observatory window. Oriel, an imp medic, scurries over to care for Vardish.

We're out of time, he whispers, glancing back at the others to make sure they don't hear. Valera's troops are going to wipe us off the face of the earth. If you're going to end this, you have to do it now.

A bright-red ring edges into my eyesight. My head is foggy, floaty.

This? Not again!

I rub my eyes, trying to focus. Trying to keep the darkness writhing within me at bay.

Below me, people flee for the divide between the city gates and the land beyond the lava, but there's no way to cross. My imp allies try to help them, but the Humans we would protect only greet us with fear. The White Queen Valera's armies loose volleys of brand-bearing arrows into the ranks of my soldiers, downing wave after wave of them.

You know the world will never accept us as their rulers, Seir.

I turn to him, my hearing fading in and out. How long do I even have? What will happen if I, like those of the underworld who call me their Queen, accept the invisible brand of evil that Queen Valera has cursed me with?

Even if we win— I whisper, gripping Seir’s hand till my already-pale knuckles go completely white, —you and I will always lose. Our people will never be treated equally.

Taking my face in his hands, he leans toward me. His lips are soft on my forehead. He places my hand against the rune on his chest, then pulls me into a hug.

If standing for you brands me eternally as evil, he whispers, I will follow you into the darkness.

Icy cold black chains creep down my arms from behind me like snakes, coiling around my wrists. When I blink, they vanish. I blink again, and the chains return. Seir's face is gone, replaced by a pair of ravenous red eyes in a face of horrendous black smoke.

The face I’ve dreamt about in nightmares, but always wanted to believe I would never really see. Smoke like taloned hands grasp me around my neck, dragging me forward. The breath from the creature’s mouth scorches my face and sends waves of searing pain down my body, but when I scream no sound leaves my lips.

Leaning forward, the creature whispers into my ear.

It's time.

I blink. The words came from my mouth, not the creature’s.

Though the words are no longer my own, I hear myself speak once more, Bring me the White Queen.

Seir’s face reappears, and he gives me a brief kiss before bowing and hurrying away. Watching him go is like watching him walk into a dark, ever-stretching tunnel. He looks back at me, but then he’s not himself at all. The smoke creature stands in his place, Seir’s bright blue eyes snuffing out for a moment before reigniting as red flames in the smoky face.

I feel myself falling, and darkness overtakes me. Darkness with bright-red eyes.

Chapter One

Ascavenging trip for ancient machines in the valley where my mother, the Queen, once died was probably always doomed to end in failure for me as well. Despite having no ancient machines—or even rusty old parts—to surprise my father with for his birthday, the sun is too warm and the forest too beautiful to remain glum as I ride back toward the castle.

Birds land in the branches to either side of me, whistling good afternoons and other salutations which are translated in my head by the Fairy Magic flowing through my veins.

Good morning, Robin, how are your eggs? I ask the closest Robin, a young female who chittered of recently establishing her first nest.

The young robin perches atop my horse’s head, the horse riding onward without response. Bobbing up and down in a bird’s bow, she turns her head to one side to see me more clearly.

Well, m’lady. Thank ye. If ye would have a mind to bless it, I would be most grateful.

Of course. I have left my Rite at the castle today, as I was to go scavenging, but I assure you that the next time I return, I will bless your hatchlings.

Taking note of the robin’s unique blue-gold chest feathers for the next time I return, I receive her bobbing bow with a nod and a warm smile. Even as her feathers flick away, heaviness settles into my chest.

Without my Rite, a pendant enchanted by the Fairies as a way for the Queen’s of my people to channel the magic passed down through our mothers’ bloodline, I dare not try to grant Wishes. Each Wish I grant comes true, but requires life force—some of the caster’s—in exchange. Without the pendant to temper it, the chances are high that I would spend far too much, possibly succumbing my life altogether.

A small creature scrambles out from the brush, lobbing on all four of its squat legs to keep up with me. I rein in Fleura—my horse—to a more comfortable pace for my newest visitor.

Hello, Badger, what news of the outer shrubbery? I ask. The badgers mind the wild-grown shrubberies and fruit trees deep within the heart of the forest, in exchange for some of our Human-grown produce in the autumn.

‘Tis flowering with blackbrings a’plenty, m’lady. Will be ready to pick on the morrow.

I’ll let the farmers know. Thank you! The badger patters away, only to be replaced with a much faster squirrel, who scampers straight up Fleura’s flank to sit atop her head. Oh! Squirrel, do you bring news of the Nira Queen, Elestine?

Queen Elestine weathered the freeze quite well this year, m’lady. She’ll be remaining in the Grand Gnarled Oak atop Fairystead another cycle.

Fairystead... my eyes turn to the largest mountain far off in the East. My ancestor, Queen Valera the White, once stood atop that peak with the Fairy lords and ladies, begging for aid to bring our land the peace we have now. Since her departure, my family has been forbidden to return. Fairy magic came at a high price, and the abomination of a short-lived mortal imbued with the purest of powers brought the disdain of many Fair-Folk.

My heart longed to see the mythical silver halls where clouds were frozen and lit with starlight. Where magic came and went between all without harming a soul, and music swelled at all hours of the day. As glorious as it all sounded, I knew it would never be. Not for me, anyway.

Very well, I said, forcing my attention back to the squirrel. I shall inform Gerald as such. Thank you all, but I must be off, lest Gerald worries!

The squirrel bows outright in a human fashion, its tiny front arms coming down to both sides as it bends at the waist before departing. A broad smile crosses my lips. No wonder the squirrels had been ambassadors for my family this long; they could adapt to almost any culture.

Fleura, slows to a trot as we exit the towering trees of the forest. Above us, the sky is as blue as a baby robin's egg, though the tinges of the coming evening’s pink sunset have started to stretch across the sky. Below us, the dirt gives way to cobblestones covered in moss. The castle, a bleached-white structure of stone, towers above the walls before us.

We cross the drawbridge over the moat. The setting sun behind me casts an orange glow against the castle's white walls. Only a few steps inside the gate, I am met by the smell of fresh rosemary bread. My mouth waters when we pass the outdoor stone ovens on the edge of the market, where bakers in flour-dusted black aprons stand tending to the staple of this evening’s meal.

Children play, laughing in the streets. The murmur of people trading becomes clearer as Fleura trots leisurely toward the stables.

Welcome home, m'lady! a little girl, around age six, greets me with a smile. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she presents an apple with grubby hands. For you!

Bending down, I accept her gift and blow her a kiss. Her face reddens. Bright-blue ribbons fly loose from her pigtails as she whirls around and skips away hand-in-hand with a younger girl in a simple pink-and-white-striped bonnet.

As we make our way through the market, I greet my people and an occasional visiting merchant. I'm not surprised to see both Dwarven and Elven merchants trading wares with us today; the clear skies and cool breezes make for lovely traveling weather between our lands.

There are some who say I am the reincarnation of one of my ancestors: the White Queen Valera, who vanquished all evil in our world once and for all. Those same people tell stories of a time when our world was polluted with smog and covered with man-made towers of glass, concrete, and metal.

They tell of hideous and wicked creatures who killed for pleasure or greed instead of living in harmony with each other and the earth as we do today. They tell of a war fought with machines, fire, and weapons that laid low entire cities in seconds. Those stories are all just twisted versions of history from the dusty tomes that sit in the castle library today.

And yet the adoration people, both Human and otherwise, show me is a continuing testament to the sacrifice of one selfless queen. A queen whose shoes seem to engulf my every step, leaving me teetering ever on the brink of embarrassing collapse.

How can a young queen who has known no evil in her life ever hope to live up to such a legacy?

As if sensing my hesitation, thunder booms in the distance. The sky is clear overhead, but dark clouds linger on the distant northern horizon. Pausing by the stable, I hold up a hand, closing my eyes to test the wind. Fast. Warm, but fast.

A storm is brewing.

M'lady, Cliffen, the stable hand, greets me with a bow.

He takes the reins from me and lends me a hand down.

Thank you, Cliffen.

Fleura snuffles and snorts, shoving her nose against my shoulder. Laughing, I slide a handful of dragonberries from my pocket and let her gobble them from my palm. Sticky purple and pink juice dribbles onto the white cobblestones below.

Above me, the sky is shifting from light blue to a swirling dark gray. Ominous clouds creep in our direction. Humidity hangs in the air, but there’s a tinge of coolness on the wind despite the warmth of the summer day.

Cliffen leads Fleura away toward the stables while I make my way to the castle's kitchen entrance nearby. Swinging open the metal door and stepping inside, I'm immediately enveloped in the scent of roasted carrots, leeks, and tomatoes.

The Lesser Chefs, six apprentices under the Head Chef, greet me with quick but brief smiles as they bustle to prepare for the evening meal. The Head Chef must be in the Grand Hall cooking in the fireplace, the sole source of heat in the castle.

I try to stay out of their way. Stepping to one side, I look around for my advisor. Normally, he would be sneaking some blown-sugar candies from the drying racks around this time—candies made specially for the children.

Gerald! I call out when I don't see him in the room.

Arla! My younger sister Elzie bursts into the kitchen from the Grand Hall.

She throws her arms tightly around me. Seven years younger than me, Elzie is still in the prime of her teenage years having just turned thirteen. Standing back, her bright-green eyes peek out at me beneath the mop of red curls tumbling into her face. Two yellow ribbons hang limp in her long, thick hair.

Jumping up and down, she claps her hands, gushing, A storm is coming, you know! Gerald just told me!

It most certainly looks like it, I laugh.

I take her hand and spin her around. The hem of her blouse flutters out of her skirt. Tucking it back in for her, a brief memory of our mother doing the same thing when Elzie and I were growing up comes back to me.

And why does that make you so giddy? I ask her.

Everyone can stay in the castle tonight, right, Arla? Elzie begs.

A couple Lesser Chefs glance up from their work, smiling in our direction. Pulling the useless ribbons from Elzie's hair, I turn her to face away from me. I pull her bushy curls into a single, simple braid down the middle of her back like I've done a thousand times before.

Of course, I say, turning her to face me once more. Why don't you go let everyone know they can join us in the Hall for dinner. The Dwarven and Elven merchants, too.

Yay! Thank you!

She gives me a peck on the cheek before darting out the back door.

That won't be a problem, will it, ladies? I ask the Lesser Chefs.

Of course not, m'lady, one of them laughs, shaking her head. Go on into the Grand Hall, m'lady. Ye may find Gerald waiting for ye there.

Thank you.

Stepping out of the kitchen into the Grand Hall, I barely have time to sidestep the Head Chef.

Sorry, m'lady, she calls, barreling into the kitchen with a hot tray of wheat buns.

The corners of my lips turn up a little. I try to stifle a giggle, turning to look for Gerald. Tables are being set out in preparation for dinner. Visiting merchants line their unsold wares against the back wall.

The Grand Hall doubles as both a banquet hall and a throne room, though a throne hasn't been used here for hundreds of years. The smooth granite floors shimmer in the light streaming in through the windows. Murals of woods, skies, and mountains carved into the floor almost seem alive in this light.

Queen Valera the White, who ended the ancient war and banished evil from existence, loved living things too much to bear the destruction of the trees. It is said that not a single piece of wood was used in the castle's construction. However, my study of history taught me that not many trees were left at the end of the war. I suspect the use of stone was more a necessity than a statement of value for life.

M'lady Arlena. Gerald rushes over to me, ushering me toward the stairs just inside the doors. I implore ye to heed my words and not go out so close to dusk. The Queen Mother met her death in such a way...

I give the poor elderly man a hug, holding him close.

I'm fine, Gerald. I'm sorry I made you worry.

M'lady, he sighs, hugging me with arms trembling from age.

Gerald has faithfully served our family ever since he was appointed as my grandmother's butler during her reign. The tender-hearted man later became my mother's advisor when she ascended the throne.

Mother... The thought of her death sends a shiver down my spine.

We were very close, but I don't have many memories of her or my father before Elzie was born when I was seven. I'm unsure why. Mother passed away after a tragic land-slide accident while adventuring in the woods. Elzie and I were both children at the time; Elzie had not even learned to read yet. Gerald stepped in to aid my ill-equipped father with raising us, bringing us up as future queens on my mother's behalf.

Do you know where Father is? I ask him as we take the stairs to the upper floor.

He's out helping the merchants turn down their stalls and store their wares before the storm, m'lady, Gerald says.

Good, I sigh. That's better than eating up all the food before dinner.

Gerald chuckles behind me. He stops outside my bedroom door, in the middle of a long hallway between the Royal Suite and the staff bedchambers. Opening it for me, he stands back a respectful distance.

I need you to organize tonight's stay for me, Gerald, I say, taking his hand. I am only one person; I can't do it alone. We don't know how long the storm will last. I don't want anyone to worry.

Of course, m'lady. His coarse salt-and-pepper beard tickling my knuckles as he kisses them lightly with respect before standing to leave. I will make sure that each guest brings a bedroll and clothing from their homes before entering for the evening, should a need arise for them to stay within our walls.

Thank you.

He bows once more before returning to the Hall below. Already, voices echo up the stairs as people make their way in for the evening. Closing my door, I cross my room to a black wrought-iron rod on the far wall that holds my clothes.

I slip out of my riding clothes, which are still striped with green from vines and grass and smudged with mud and clay from digging in the nearby valley. Dumping the dirty clothes into an empty bucket by the door, I change into an ankle-length sky-blue gown.

I comb out my waist-length blond hair, looking myself over in the mirror to make sure nothing is out of place.

Arla, they're here! Elzie bursts into the room, beaming.

Her hair is hanging halfway out of her ribbons again, and her skirt is smudged with dirt.

I know, I sigh, reaching out a hand to her. Come on, you can't go down to dinner looking like that. Especially on Father’s birthday. You’re going to sing for him, right?

Of course!

Going next door to her room, I send her to her own dress rack to pick a different outfit. Outside the balcony's glass double doors, the sky is a dark charcoal color. A thick curtain of gray hovers below the clouds in the distance.

Something in me is uneasy at the sight of the rolling clouds creeping in our direction. Dark auras I haven't seen before swirl within them.

It's already started raining, I say.

I know! Elzie giggles, oblivious to my unease. It was sprinkling a little when we were bringing things inside. How about this?

I am not surprised to see her wearing her favorite green velvet dress, one with a golden hem and belt and bright-red roses embroidered around the neckline.

Beautiful. I smile. Wanna wear my gold necklace again tonight? It's so pretty with that dress.

Elzie bobs on her tiptoes before hurrying out the door to retrieve her favorite piece of jewelry from my room. She returns moments later with a simple gold chain and delicate, white-gold rose pendant in hand.

Talen, the Elven crown prince and an elite warrior, gave me the necklace when he pledged himself to my service. The day he, a teenager at the time, became my Sworn protector, I myself was still only a child. His father, the Elven king, had assigned him to guard me for life, nonetheless.

The Elvenkin are a skeptical and long-living race. Their soldiers never cease training for war, despite all threats from the past having long since vanished. Our Human volunteer soldiers, a formality more than a fighting force, were surpassed ten-fold the day Talen joined their ranks as a mere boy.

I clip the necklace behind Elzie's neck.

Thank you, Arla. What about you? She turns to me. You could wear the Queen's Rite!

I rest my hand on her head, my smile fading slightly. The Queen's Rite has been passed down from queen to queen in my family ever since my ancestor, Queen Valera the White, ruled. The fine, white-gold necklace and delicate angel pendant may be light in make, but are heavy on my soul.

It was pure Queen Valera's ultimate Wish that banished all evil from the world, sealing it away in a world all its own. In exchange for such a great Wish, she surrendered her own life. It is said that Queen Valera's only sister, Mikael, was presented the necklace after the White Queen's death. It has been worn by every queen since.

And every queen since bears Queen Valera's legacy on her shoulders when she wears it, I sigh.

I don't like to wear Mother's jewelry. I attempt a lighter explanation, pulling Elzie close to me in a hug.

But the Rite is yours now, you know, she counters. Besides, you look just like the paintings of the White Queen Valera! Everybody thinks so!

Pulling away from her, I peer down into her face. Her bottom lip puckers out a little, her eyes scrunched up, pleading. For a moment, I forget she's only a few years younger than I. I can't help but laugh, nudging her towards the door.

Okay, I'll wear it for you.

Elzie fetches a silver, velvet-lined box from my room. The Queen's Rite rests inside. I push my hair to the side while she fastens it around my neck. The moment the angel pendant rests against my chest, a weight settles on me.

I try to shrug the heaviness off. I'm opening my mouth to thank her when a clap of thunder deafens me. Shivers run down my spine. Elzie clutches me, shuddering, and lightning strikes somewhere in the forest. Goosebumps rise on my arms. Something eerie rolls in with the storm—something my intuition can't ignore.

Chapter Two

Trying to brush my fear aside, or at least not display it for others, I pull Elzie out the door and downstairs. Outside, the sky dumps a deluge of water in torrents against the side of the castle. A few village men, Gerald, and my father, work together to fasten thick crimson drapes over the windows.

Women work together, laying out trays of food for the evening potluck-style meal. Children dance in front of the grand fireplace. Some older children contort their bodies to twist their shadows into animal shapes on the walls. Younger children laugh at them, pointing and clapping.

Princess Elzie, come sing for us! the girl with the pink-and-white-striped bonnet calls out. The little kids are scared, m'lady! Come sing a song?

Elzie takes the girl by the hand, and a few other girls join her. She skips with them to the warmth of the fireplace. The last flapping drape is fastened down snugly over the windows, muffling the raging storm outside. Cheery laughter and conversation fill the Hall.

Aye, Arla, Father booms from behind me, good thing ye made it home 'fer the storm hit, eh?

The pungent scent of mead lingers in the air after he speaks. I can't help but smile at his farmer’s accent, so much more noticeable after he's had something strong to drink. Swaying a little, he makes his way to an oversized armchair by the fire that is always reserved for him.

Sing, lass, he drawls to Elzie, flopping his imposing frame down into his chair. Sing fer the young'ens.

Elzie shoots me an awkward glance. Father kicks his booted feet up onto the ottoman. His thick, red, curly hair, so much like Elzie's, bobs down into his green eyes. He grins at his younger daughter, who bobs up and down on her toes as she waits for the room to still.

I clap, and the room falls silent. All eyes are on Elzie's dark silhouette in front of the fireplace.

Her voice is smooth, deep, and echoes off the walls as she sings:

All hail the angel, Queen Valera the White,

Guide of our people through our most desperate plight!

A beauty like none other, slender and pale,

Locks of gold flowing like a princess in tales.

All hail the angel, Queen Valera the White,

For whom the Dwarvenkin rose, and for her pledged their lives.

Whom the Elven warriors sought from beyond their great trees,

And for whom Fairies gave magic to answer our pleas.

All hail the angel, Queen Valera the White,

To save our world from darkness, she gave up her life.

We raise our voice, and we raise a glass

To the queen who brought goodness to the world at long last.

The room erupts in applause, but a tear rolls down my cheek. The tune itself is a lighthearted ballad of celebration, passed down since the early days of peace following the war, but the words have always left me with a dark sense of foreboding.

M'lady, the food is ready, the Head Chef says.

Thank you, I say, brushing my tears away.

Everyone spreads out around the tables. They stand, waiting behind their chairs until I take my seat at the head of the center-most long table. When I sit, everyone else sits as well.

Elzie takes the seat to my left, while Father chooses the one on the other side of her. The chair to my right is empty, reserved for Talen, who will only join us from his post at the door once everyone else has been seated. Gerald sits on the other side of Talen, and the Head Chef sits beside Gerald. Visiting Dwarven and Elven merchants are also sitting at our table—six of them in total.

My Elite, Talen announces as he arrives at the table.

Talen, I greet him, my spirits lifting at his arrival.

Bowing on one knee beside me, he extends his hand to me, lowering his head. He keeps his eyes fixed respectfully on the floor. His long blonde hair typically flies loose, but today it falls in a single braid over his shoulder and almost touches the floor when he bows his head.

The bow is expected of the Queen's Sworn when greeting the queen at court or formal dinners. He is my bodyguard and the captain of my army. Only a Throne-Keep, the queen's chosen husband, has a closer bond with the queen than her Sworn.

Though his actions are customary, tonight, my heart pounds inside my chest. My face warms when he takes my hand, briefly kissing the top of it. We don't normally stand on ceremony when the family, Gerald, and the chefs are the only ones at the table.

The heat doesn't leave my face, though, when he raises his head and meets my eyes with his deep, forest-green ones.

Returning to his feet, he takes his seat beside me. Reaching for a platter of salad, he leads the way for the others to fill their plates.

Wind and rain battering against the walls draws my attention away from dinner. The Hall is cooler than a typical mid-summer evening—even an evening with rain to cool it. The ominous foreboding about the dark auras in the storm hasn't left me.

Taking the platters offered to me, I serve myself before handing them over to Elzie. My hands tremble slightly with each clap of thunder. Occasionally, flashes of lightning peek around the drapes, drawing my gaze around the room.

I pass the last platter to Elzie and set my shaking hands on the table. I force myself to smile, hoping no one notices my unease. Talen's hand casually falls on my own. He wraps his fingers around mine, though he doesn't look in my direction or say a word.

My face is burning now. I glance around the table to see if anyone's noticed. Only Elzie raises an eyebrow ever so slightly in Talen's direction. No one else seems to notice the uncommon physical contact, so I let it slide. His warm, slender hand anchors my mind to the dinner taking place.

Good food gives way to good conversation and laughter, which then gives way to quiet candle-lit musing. Children curl up on mats near the fireplace to sleep. The storm outside continues to whip rain against the walls and windows.

The Head Chef is the first to dismiss herself from the table. Her departure signals to the other chefs to set about clearing tables. Father stands, returning to his chair by the fire. Elzie follows him, climbing up into his lap just as she did as a young child.

I study the two of them for a moment. Their matching hair, bright-green eyes, and red, cheery, freckled faces are so peaceful, it brings a smile to my face. Father is a monster of a man in size to be sure, but his tone is soft and kind as he shares stories with the teenagers.

Just like the gentle kindness of his heart, I think.

I'd say ye resemble yer mother, Gerald says, still sitting with Talen and me at the table, while Princess Elzie most definitely resembles yer father.

My fingers trace the angel pendant as I think back to my mother. Unlike my father, Mother was timid, petite, and fair. I, by contrast, am tall and lanky.

I may be fair, but I wouldn't say I resemble Mother...

Of course, I agree. Talen interrupts my thoughts. Your mother carried the blood of queens, after all. It is understandable that her firstborn heir would share those traits.

He squeezes my hand gently before rising. He helps the men move the tables back against the walls for