Princess of Terra: Take Me to Iverbourne, #5

By Aelina Isaacs

I've never stepped out of line.

I've never done things I shouldn't.
Until the day I snapped, executing half my family and reluctantly sentencing my youngest brother to prison. Little did I know a certain Keeper of Death would bring him home, and change everything.

After overthrowing a kingdom that is not mine, side by side with the Shadow of Death, I met Captain, and life changed from the first time we laid eyes on each other.

Now, friends have been lost, my home is torn apart by a monster. War is ravaging Iverbourne and the Realm of Giants, and our family needs help.

All hands on deck are needed when it comes to fighting a new, powerful enemy, who once was our friend. Let's hope it'll be enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aelina Isaacs
• Release date: Aug 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223227861

Book preview

Princess of Terra

WW Dark Steampunk Fantasy

Aelina Isaacs

Aelina Isaacs

Copyright © 2022 by Aelina Isaacs

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Preface

Dedication

Old Language

Maps of Iverbourne

Map One

Map Two

Part One

Eyes in the Woods

Howl At The Moon

They're Monsters

The Eternal Machine

Part Two

Ancients Avenge You

Hey, Vi

It's Better He Knows Nothing

And Who Might You Be?

Part Three

Monster!

Last Time I Saw Him

bite and tear and rip

It'll Be Fine

Also By Aelina

About the Author

Preface

Please read before starting your adventure with Princess of Terra.

This is an adult fantasy fiction novel with mature themes such as sex and fantasy style violence, which are described in graphic detail. This is a dark story and has mature elements such as descriptions of physical and mental abuse, grief, loss and intense injury.

*Chapter They're Monsters may be too intense for some, read at your discretion.

Part One takes place before The Eternal Machine. Part Two takes place during The Eternal Machine. Part Three takes place during and after Realm of Giants. If you have NOT read the first two books, Part Two and Three will contain serious spoilers and they are fast paced.

Enjoy overthrowing not one, but two corrupt governments and falling in love with pirates.

To all those who were born first, and worried about last.

Old Language

The Old Language is based on Hebrew, some words and meanings may have been changed to fit the story.

Aryeh – giant lion

got – the giant goat steeds that are native to Terra

havah na'arokhe se'udah – Let us rejoice and feast

ai – yes, an agreement

hashem yikkom dama, aleha ha shalom – May the Ancients avenge you, and may you be blessed with peace

tzel – shadow of death

zemer – a great musician, one with the spirit of music

adira – the strongest and most steadfast

tannin – demon

te'omin – the twins of sylvan

Maps of Iverbourne

These maps represent Iverbourne during The Eternal Machine and Realm of Giants.

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Part One

Eyes in the Woods

Vivvus

16,094 A.C

The day I ascended to the throne I executed half my family, imprisoned my youngest brother, and made love to a woman for the first time. As most stories filled with tragedy begin, this one is no different.

It was a beautiful day.

Beltane is upon us and there is enough dead wood to fuel hundreds of bonfires which could rage for months, but we have nothing to celebrate. Drought, famine and desperation plagues our kingdom, followed by growing hatred of the royal family by the common folk. Well deserved, may I add. Trees will not bud, any seeds coaxed to life shrivel within days. Magic exacerbates the failing health of our land and Panrauth’s Plague haunts Terra for the tenth year.

The gradual punishment from the Ancients due to my youngest brother turning down the throne has peaked, and I don’t know if we’ll survive another year under Father’s careless leadership. Mother is a broken shell of regality, only moving from her tower window to sleep and be guided to the washroom. Otherwise, she stares out at the dead forest surrounding the Great Tree, waiting for her son to come home with untouched food at her feet.

Lhion and Nino make weekly visits, and Father visits her several times a day. Most times, he is quiet and content to sit with her, but there are days when his resolve breaks and he begs her to speak, just once. I have found shattered glass and thrown books many times, but never a hair disturbed on her head. Every morning I attend to my mother’s needs, tell her wild stories from around the Great Tree to fill the hollow space between us. I never mention Pan, afraid I might slip. I know she would never turn him in, but these walls listen.

Hazel curls eerily similar to my own flow through my fingers. I work through her freshly washed hair, braiding it closely to her deep, forest green scalp. Her and I are the only ones in the Firthorn family with such vibrant green skin. My brothers have a varying range of murky green tinting their tawny skin, but their complexion is not as bright as ours. Mother used to say those with wild magic in their veins are more likely to have such beautiful skin, but I’ve never been wild.

My feral soul stopped raging against its gilded cage long ago. I’m the Princess of Terra, and I have a duty to uphold. I was never meant to rule this kingdom, but Panrauth has left me no choice. If he does not return to claim the throne after father dies, I will inherit this suffering kingdom that will not die. Lhion and Nino are hungry for the throne, and none of the Court wants me to rule.

And I want none of it.

I finish the last braid, then straighten the frilled collar of her white laced duster and pick off a stray hair from her shoulder. I kiss the top of her head, then find my errant cup of coffee infused with a creamy alcohol and settle into the upholstered chair of gold opposite her window nook. This upper offshoot of the Great Tree was our school, lending to a wondrous view of Terra for miles upon miles. All us Firthorn siblings were hidden away from the other Fae and taught by our mother. Now it’s a study turned bedroom, decorated with fine velvet green and sculptures of gold.

Bookshelves that Aiden painted the year before He left are dusty once more, ancient tomes and painted mandalas of green and gold are hidden by depressed, dust filled air. Mother illuminated all the books in this room herself, all stories from the first Ancient of Earth and our ancestors. Originally passed down orally through generations of Firthorns until she put it to words, and paintings. Aiden takes after her, as does Panrauth. Nino and Lhion are father’s shadow, one is always with the other and since the Spark, I hardly know who they are anymore. I am nothing like either of my parents.

The third and fourth born Nino and Lhion were reserved as kids, always clinging to the other and watching, listening. Nino especially loved my wild tales, he and Lhion both would listen with wide eyes and an occasional twitch of a smile. With only a few years between them, they were often mistaken for twins, especially with how inseparable they were, and still are. Now, especially since He left, all that’s left is formalities and detached relations between us. Like an old friend you used to know and you think of them every year on their birthday, a bittersweet nostalgia.

Aiden is far kinder, perhaps a touch too soft and feels he has something to prove. He used to visit every morning with me, but I’ve seen less and less of him lately, contributing to my loneliness in this forsaken place. I know he still visits her at least a couple times a week, evident by his casually discarded trail of coffee mugs and one of mother’s books flipped open to where ever he left off reading aloud to her. But I always catch the ghost of him, nothing more than what he left behind. I have Mother, but it’s not the same.

I study how her once round cheeks are now caved in and her emerald eyes are dull. Her knees clad in black trousers are tucked to her chest and she hugs them, watching the world go by until the day her youngest son comes home. I rest a hand on Mother’s ashen one for a moment, her stare on the outside world unwavering as I do, then stand and straighten my dress. Knee length and billowing fabric of gold and orange and red, an ombre sunset for what should be a joyous occasion. I cross the room once full of life and childish laughter and take hold of the brass handle. I pause, steadying myself, then open the study door, revealing a beautiful warrior on the other side, dressed in standard gilded armor.

There’s no time for smiling or awkward flirtations, a sheen of sweat covers her forehead and her heavy chest heaves. She takes hold of the door frame with one hand, the other she rakes through her cropped brunette hair as she catches her heart. The back of my hand gently finds her clammy cheek thick with freckles. Bonnie, what’s wrong?

She waves me off. Ah, its nothing. Bit of a fever is all.

I roll my eyes, patting her cheek. Well, sleep then, you fool!

She grins, a lopsided thing. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Where are you headed off to in such a hurry? I bite my lip and look away, saying everything and nothing. Ah.

I nod, then move to slip past my mother’s sentry. Father has one assigned to her at all times. Bonnie happens to be a childhood friend and quite recently the victim of stolen kisses and chaste embraces in dim halls. Her shift is during the day, and at night I am watched like a hawk. I have no shame, despite Father’s lashings when he discovered my last lover. He would always ask me, ‘Why Vivvus, why are you so unnatural? We need an heir to replace your brother, why are you so selfish?’

I nearly told the old prick off, but instead said nothing. Not even, ‘Yes, Father.’

Mother was too far gone to care, not that I think she would (does) mind anyway.

Bonnie takes hold of my bare arm, electrifying a gasp out of me. She whispers into my pointed ear. Be careful. There are eyes in the woods, now.

I give her a slight smile, unable to push a promise past my red lips. She doesn’t bother telling me not to go, she knows me better than that, but the look in her pastel green eyes is one of desperation, begging me ‘not today.’

But I don’t heed the words she doesn’t say, and leave for Foglehollow.

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I have always admired my ability to swiftly change from gown to riding pants. They are soft and form fitting, tucked into tall leather boots and hiding the hem of my earthly tunic tucked into a high waist. Gold paint stripes my cheeks and dual moons hang from my ears on a chain, tinkling in the wind. Just because I’m on an adventure doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice style.

Gifts are hidden in the leather satchel upon my back, wild coils of hazel ride the wind as I canter down a familiar trail leading through the backwoods of Terra. South. My heart always pulls me South and lightens immensely with the increasing distance from The Great Tree. The strongest rays of the mid morning sun bounce off my toned arms and I throw my head back, reveling in the warmth of freedom and the smooth gait of the pitch black mare between my legs.

It’s not often I’m relieved of my royal duties, but holidays prove excellent to escape the stifling life of Princess. I spend every one I can at Panrauth and Weylin’s place, but I wasn’t able to visit during Ostara. I lower my face from the sky at the thought of the note jostling along with the gifts in my bag. Maybe he’ll listen this time, he’s had enough time to play house.

I can’t do this anymore.

We weave between millennia old trees and towering neon mushrooms. Fiona’s strong back end launches us over a felled tree eaten away by termites and she tosses her head when we land, crunching into forest debris. I’ve raised this mare since she was weaned from her mother, and I’m not sure if there’s anyone else who knows me like she does. As we approach the end of our unmarked path I gently tug on Fiona’s reins, bringing her to a trot, then an eager walk. Despite running on and off for miles, she shows no signs of slowing. I pat her muscled neck, my fingertips come away with sweat and horse dander. Easy girl, we’re almost there.

Foglehollow is a mediocre village of cottages and small-time farmers who specialize in fiber animals. Most of the thread, yarn and other textile goods in Terra come right here, from the High Fae hiding away in the deep forest. Wild Fae live here as well, but that’s as diverse as it