Heroe

By Bree M. Lewandowski

Love ignites the willpower and courage to change fate in the heart of war.

In a world ravaged by conflict, hope flickers dimly amidst the shadows of despair. The war against the Rubiconds threatens not only the royal city of Geneva but the very soul of Meridionalis. As destruction looms, Linah, Kohl, Abra, and Saya must embark on a perilous quest to confront the ruthless king of Rubra and uncover the truth behind the bloodshed that has torn their lives apart.

However, despite their determination, the men are ordered to retreat, leaving Linah and Abra to navigate the treacherous landscape alone. But the strength of a woman's heart is a force to be reckoned with. Armed with newfound knowledge from a secret letter, the women band together, discovering that the path to peace lies not in swords but in understanding.

As they delve deeper into the shadows of the war, secrets unravel, revealing unexpected alliances and unbreakable bonds. Their journey is fraught with danger, but the power of their love and friendship will guide them through. With time running out, Linah and Abra must summon their inner strength, proving that they are more than mere pawns in a game of war—

They are the architects of a new destiny.

In this breathtaking conclusion to the saga, courage and love intertwine as the fate of their kingdom hangs in the balance. Will the women succeed in their quest to end the bloodshed, or will they succumb to the chaos that threatens to consume everything they hold dear?

Discover the transformative power of love in the conclusion of Heroe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bree M. Lewandowski
• Release date: Apr 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781540155887

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

White-crested waves split in two against the metal prow of the royal steamship. Plumes of white smoke crowned their wake and billowed outwards from the vessel. The steely waters of the Reliquit Sea clawed and snapped at the sides of the ship, resentful of being cloven and pressed aside.

In the king’s arsenal of personal liners, this was the fastest, with more than double the usual number of furnaces aboard. The journey from Meridionalis to Rubra, on such a ship, should have taken no more than three days, but the captain confessed it would take them at least five, for the waters and the wind were stubborn and hostile. Sailors did not trouble with the Reliquit when the months dwindled into winter. The heavy waters soaked in the frigid air and relished obstructing those foolish or proud enough to try and sail through.

At the prow, with little apparent care for how the wind tore at his clothes or ripped through his hair, Kohl stood alongside Saya, each man lost to reveries very different.

One knew he raced to reason with a madman, the needs and lives of his own countrymen dependent on him, their cries lingering in his ears. The other sought to stifle fears of seeing faces he might recognize and who might recognize him, perhaps accusing him of what he was—a traitor to his birthland. A betrayal he’d commit again, a thousand times over.

Both stood with their backs towards closed doors where they’d left delicate figures, buried beneath heavy blankets, at last asleep from the tension and strain of the past few days. Each had pulled himself from the side of his bride, his body aching for the solace her shape and feel and taste afforded.

There would be time for succor later, when the wounds of this country were healed. 

Honor demanded recompense now. 

When both emerged from those quarters, dawn’s light not able to push the gray rise of a winter’s morn from the clouds, their greeting to one another was minimal, despite there being so much to discuss.

And perhaps fear.

Had this all began with threats from the Rubiconds no one believed? The treaty signing they had not been invited to?

How long ago that now seemed.

The treaty intended to bring prosperity and peace to three nations instead delivered panic and bloodshed.

Kohl groaned and the sound was inhaled by the wind.

Saya heard and posed the question both had asked of one another the night before. What if this was all a con to lure them into an ambush?  Despite the terrified sincerity of Rubra’s dictator, Elias Helm, in correspondence with Prince Seager before they set out, neither man could deny this would be a fine trap.

The winds pushed conversation from them for some time more.

Meridionalis was in ruin. In order to keep the palace safe and portray a stronghold for people to have faith in, militia had been pulled back from the outlying areas, leaving small towns and villages to fend for themselves. That decision had been deeply discussed between the prince and his vizier. Each knew the people must see control and strength when all was crumbling. Yet, the cost to show such power was mighty.

Innocent lives.

The previous morning had found Kohl and Saya poised similarly on the ship’s deck when Kohl steeled himself into asking what Saya had seen of the country, coming in from Easton.

His account was painfully brief, devoid of the fear Saya saw in gentle eyes, lacking in the way shaking pedestrian hands wielded weapons. He did not need to describe the shrieks in the night. He did not need to remind Kohl how the odor of singed flesh churns even the strongest stomachs. Instead, all he told this man to whom he owed his life was that Meridionalis needed freedom.

Are memories of your homeland clear?

Aye.

Then recount to me what life is like behind the great stone wall. And tell me what you remember of the emperor. Didn’t your mother serve him?

Serve is hardly the word for someone paid to clean the latrines of his concubines.

Didn’t you grow up in the bastion?

No. None of the servants who scrubbed and washed lived in the fortress or near it. Emperor Gil feared the waste they removed soiled their person and he ordained none abide within his eyesight. We lived in a shanty area.

Your accent is less now than when you came to the Court.

I should’ve hoped it was completely gone.

Lay into it when we arrive. I don’t know how welcome the sight of me may be.

You’ve met Gil before?

Years ago. I was still a squire and in service to my superior at the time. We were en route to Dheen and his ship and ours happened to dock for repairs in the same harbor. I didn’t know he traveled incognito, or who he was even, when he made mention of my pedigree. I promptly shoved him onto the ground.

Saya grinned. You ill-tempered mongrel.

I was reprimanded and made to apologize, but I doubt he’s forgotten.

He hasn’t and he might make mention of your humble cross-bred beginnings once more.

Only I can’t shove him now. Our country depends on me swallowing my pride.

I have no country. I’ll happily shove his neck into his ass.

When this is over, I’ll let you. But for now, go on about your old life.

There were few who remembered life before the stone wall. Its erection, built on the backs of men, was over a dispute regarding land lines and kingdom boundaries decades earlier. The emperor decided his people must be safe from the encroachment and natural growth of a nation. Perhaps, at the time, he was right to want to preserve Rubicond culture and life.

But ten years later, when no eyes who looked west could see anything aside from stone, the wall took on a bloated importance. The Wall was an extension of their benevolent and powerful leader’s compassion and strength. Without it, without him, their safety and way of life would be lost.

Perhaps. But lost to inclusion. Lost to a country becoming whole again.

While locomotives and motorized-assisted carriages brought commerce to the rest of Rubra, the Rubiconds stagnated in all areas, with the only exception being weaponry, much of which was stolen in sanctioned night raids. After all, bows and arrows could not compete against guns and cannons, and the emperor was constantly in belief those outside his nation were only waiting on a chance to invade.

Brighter light illuminated the clouds before them and Saya continued.

Perhaps Rubra was ruled by a dictator and the word held unpleasant associations, but Helm was nowhere near the crazed individual Gil was. Food prepared for him was tasted first by a rotating number of men, for the emperor feared one individual might develop a tolerance for poisons. Concubines summoned for intercourse or general sexual explorations, (the emperor took heightened pleasure from touching a woman’s body,) were made to bathe three times. First in tepid water with soap, then a scalding bath with vigorous scrubbing, and lastly a submergence in iced water.

Before bed each night, the emperor stripped and was brushed to remove that day’s layer of skin. Upon waking, scented oils were applied to him from head to foot, after which he was wrapped in fabric that he wore underneath the day’s clothes, for he did not believe in body odor of any kind.

His militia made regular patrols of the villages, needing no permission to walk into a house and inquire of taxes paid, partake from the family’s foodstuffs, or indulge in time with any female who lived there. From sunrise to sunset, doors could not be locked under penalty of a fine changed at the soldier’s whim.

I forgot to unlock the door one morning when one of those bastards came by.

Was your mother’s pride the fine?

Aye. If she had any left by then.

Silence mulled between them.

This is madness.

Aye.

I confess, I don’t know what this will accomplish.

Your prince didn’t entertain the possibility that Gil might refuse to grant us audience.

Kohl groaned. I know.

The Court of the Rising Sun should’ve lifted their swords by now.

Kohl remained silent.

Why haven’t they?

An expression colder than the wind about them draped over the vizier’s features.

I don’t want to know.

Has twilight fallen on the Court?

His mouth open to reply, their conversation was interrupted by one of the ship’s mates who informed them breakfast would be served shortly in the common room.

The steam-liner had been used in calmer years when King Mathias toured the coastal towns and boasted a generous dining area, furnished as a royal vessel ought to be, with leather arm chairs and velvet divans. Sleeping quarters were graced with large beds and thick carpets. Below the upper decks, where the business of navigating a ship took place, meticulous engineering had gone on to ensure one might almost forget they sailed on an ocean at all; even the rumble of the engines, their might and metal chugging the craft onward, could not be heard.

Linah and Abra had slept deeply. Awakened by their lovers with whispered words and tender touches, each woman rose to remember where they were and what they sailed towards.

Each woman woke to the way her name sounded on the lips of a man who carried burdens she could not lighten. Each blinked back the haze of sleep to see a beloved face with cares she could not ease.

Linah pulled herself from the duvet, mumbling how she felt very little like eating and smiled at Kohl’s gentle reprove that he had too much to worry about to also worry his wife might faint from hunger.

Letting the modest nightgown slip from her body, perhaps taking time she did not need to braid her hair, she reveled under the black-eyed stare and was coy enough to smile when Kohl mumbled that perhaps he wasn’t hungry for food either.

Across a narrow hall, Abra felt blankets pulled away from her and was tugged from sleep, lifted into her lover’s arms. The pressure of his lips on her forehead, the sensation it drove down her frame, rendered her barely able to answer his question of whether she was hungry. When he set her down, he admitted she made him question his current honor and duty in the most desperate way.

His voice rich and warm in the quiet dark room, lit only by a weak lamp’s glow, was too much for Abra and she pulled his face down to hers.

Linah’s hair nearly braided, hard hands caught her shoulders, spun her around and bent her back towards the bed, cursing whether breakfast was served or not.

Abra’s lips barely touched Saya’s before he caught her in his arms, and both sunk to the floor.

When this is over...

Both women heard the same promise, whispered between kisses.

We’ll sail away, Abra.

I’ll take you far from Meridionalis, Linah.

Arched under the way their men pulled pleasure from them, each gripping onto sculpted bodies to keep from dissipating, biting their lips to stifle desperate cries of need, the promise each man made to his wife swirled in their heads like a hope and a threat.

When this is over...

What then?

When this is over...

Will it ever end?

For nothing had gone as it should.

By the time both couples emerged, feminine cheeks were flushed, and modest eyes remained cast down while the men looked barely satiated.

Flustered servants raced about, promising to brew fresh hot tea and toast the yeast rolls once more, if the Sirs and Madams would be patient enough to wait.

Porcelain pots were brought and the contents of each quickly poured into sizable mugs, one of the servants offering the anecdote of how the king believed in drinking vessels worth more than two sips. The newly toasted buns were placed on the table, alongside shallow bowls of clotted cream, lemon custard, sugared plums, and blackberry jam. Tureens of porridge were accompanied by cups of dried berries, and brown sugar.

When the table was set, Kohl waved the help away, ordering they not be