Tempest Rising Book 1

Beyond the Shroud is available today in print or eBook for $0.99.

Chapter 1

The mist swallowed us in a milky cloud. Ally snorted beneath me, his gray coat blending seamlessly into the fog as his steps twisted and turned over bends and boulders. The rustle of leaves and an occasional snap of a twig served as signs that there was still life around us. The wind carried with it the chirping of birds, a scent of morwood pine, and the ever-present chill of the mist.

The sweet stench of magic permeated the air. It was old magic, older than Morgania itself. People had tried for years to navigate through the shroud. Most just wandered until they found themselves back at the western road. Even if they did discover the mist, they’d surely perish on the unfamiliar path. It was bordered by cliffs and chasms, masked by the thick cloud that rolled in from the sea and refused to burn away with the sun. But if you were known to the shroud, if it had felt your presence before, it would welcome you back as a mother draws her young ones into her arms.

I was mist-born. The path would never betray the likes of me. Growing up, I found comfort in the protection it afforded my clan. But now the weight of the mist was stifling. I watched it for months, feeling trapped and alone, wishing I was somewhere, anywhere else. When spring came with the snowmelt, I knew it was time to leave the shroud. Something had to change, or we would all be buried in its depths. And it would be my fault.

I emerged from the cloud and into the sunlight that managed to break through the forest canopy. Yellow-green hues hung in the air, the spring foliage dense and verdant. I lingered and watched the tendrils of fog crawl toward me, beckoning me back. But in the end, I turned away.

“Rowyn!” a voice rang through the trees. My heart wrenched at the sound. I was hoping to escape unnoticed. Painful goodbyes had become too commonplace over the winter. But Imor had destined it not to be. My cousin, Ferris, was making his way to me through the brush. My heart sank when I saw his sister riding behind him. They’d been foraging, as evidenced by the baskets of wild onion and mushrooms tied to the horse’s back.

They bore the Blythe characteristics as I did: pale skin, black hair, and dark blue eyes. Pria had relined her imorets this past autumn, black crescents tattooed on the outside of each eye that winged out to the temples and marked us as Morganites. While Ferris greeted me with a smile, Pria’s eyes hardened. She took in my full saddlebags and the weapons strapped to my belt.

“You’re leaving,” she said, dismounting awkwardly.

Perhaps I should’ve lied. It would’ve been easier to give a falsehood. I’d ventured out of the shroud plenty of times over the years to hunt in the forest or raid the caravans and harvest wagons that passed through the mountains. But my conscience wouldn’t let me lie. Not after everything I’d put them through. Not after everything I’d done. They were the only family I had left.

“No, Rowyn would never . . .” Ferris’s voice trailed off when he saw the resolute expression on my face.

“It’s what’s best for everyone,” I said, dismounting. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my breeches. If I wavered, I would lose courage.

Ferris shook his head. “You’re Chief Weldon’s daughter! Where will you go? Where is your place if not with us?”

I battled with myself on how to answer. Though Ferris’s father, Uncle Baylin, would never say it outright, I saw the thoughts written on his face. As our new chief, he would privately rejoice in my absence. It was easiest for everyone if I left.

But who would welcome the likes of me? As a Morganite, the empire would sooner put me to the sword than offer me shelter. No disguise would cover all the tattoos and markings scratched into my skin over the years, and I wouldn’t want to hide them. They were part of me.

“I thought to travel to Horan. The Others may have answers. They may even help me figure out what to do with my failings. I need help, Ferris. I can’t go on like this any longer.”

Ferris knew what I said was true. His face said it all. There was no denying that I was out of control. “The Others were allied with us before. Though it was long ago, they may still have memory of it.”

Pria glared at me. “So you’re just going to let us fend for ourselves then?”

Had the sight of me leaving suddenly warmed her to me after months of coldness? No. Pria was too hard-hearted for that. I wouldn’t be surprised if she took her newfound dislike for me to the grave, no matter what we’d had before.

“You know I can’t stay,” I said as clouds began to darken the once-clear sky. “I can’t stand it here anymore. There are too many painful memories. Too many wrongs. I can’t make them right if I stay. I just can’t.” My voice wavered, but I refused to look away. Ferris met my eyes and nodded, but Pria only scoffed.

“Please, let’s not leave things as they are,” I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Pria’s eyes narrowed. “I was grieving too, Rowyn. She was the only mother I’ve ever known. You stole my grief from me, just like the rest of the clan.”

“Don’t . . .” Ferris muttered, but I shook my head. It was my battle.

“I know you loved her too. I’m just saying we grieve in different ways.”

Pria was not to be deterred. Everything she’d kept bottled up in the dark months we spent trapped inside the cave city came pouring forth like a swelled river after a downpour. “People have always excused you, Imor’s blessed one,” Pria mocked. “You don’t care how your gift affects the rest of us! We haven’t seen daylight for months, but we must simply bow and scrape before you, forgive you for even the worst of deeds. Follow your orders without question.” Pria’s voice broke, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “I’m weary of it, Rowyn. You’ve left me with nothing. I have nothing, and it’s your fault.”

“I’ve asked for forgiveness from Imor,” I said as calmly as I could. “From Imor and the clan, publicly. What I did . . . what happened . . . I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“You’re so selfish,” Pria said, shaking her head. “Imor has blessed you with so much, and yet you want more. Why, you even had . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “And now you want to steal my grieving also. Well, you can’t have that. Things are not what they were between us, and they’ll never be that way again.”

Pria grabbed the horse’s reins from Ferris and began limping away, her foot twisting with each step. The shroud swallowed her figure, but I made no move to follow.

“Pria, she—” I began, but Ferris only shook his head.

“I know. I’ve already spoken to her. She’ll forgive you in time. They all will.” Ferris glanced over his shoulder then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I know you were waiting for Luc, hoping he would come back, but . . .”

I gripped Ally’s reins tightly. “Do you think he will ever return?”

Ferris shook his head. “No, but I know Conal still holds out hope that he will. Pria too.”

No, I couldn’t think of it. If I were to be of any use to my clan, I had to forget the past. I had to move forward, no matter how painful it was. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“The right thing is never right for everybody. You must do what’s best for yourself.” Ferris patted my shoulder. “Besides, you can always come back. I would come and get you myself. Wherever you were, it wouldn’t matter.”

I nodded. Droplets of rain fell around us. Ferris shifted, his eyes back on the mist. I expected him to leave, but he waited, then he held something toward me. Raindrops splashed onto the blade of a dagger. The ebony hilt was smoothed and oiled, the silver blade sharpened to a paper-thin edge. My father had given it to him.

I stared at it. “No, I can’t.”

Ferris placed the hilt in my hand and squeezed my fingers around it. “You will come back,” he said. “You’re blessed by Imor. What’s the worst that could happen?” He seemed to realize what he said.

The rain fell harder as he turned and followed Pria into the shroud, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

It took half a day to reach the western road. The rain continued, but it was no use waiting for it to end. After being cooped up in the cave city all winter, there was peace in the silence of the forest. It was as though I could finally breathe again. There were no restless children underfoot. No mewling cats winding around our legs, begging to be fed. And the whispers. The whispers and eyes that followed me through the corridors, haunting every step I took. I dismissed those unwelcome thoughts. All of that was behind me now, and the only thing ahead was open road.

I stayed in the trees, following the outskirts of the valley road west. Though the only thieves in the forest were from my clan, it didn’t mean I shouldn’t be cautious. A girl traveling alone would draw unwanted attention, no matter how deadly I was.

I tried to let my mind wander. I tried not to think of home, but I couldn’t help it. Conal was probably searching for me unless Ferris had told him already. He might even try to come after me. As Father’s oldest friend, he’d see it as his duty. But Uncle Baylin would stop him; of that much I was sure. Conal was our Imorati. If he left, who would translate Imor’s word?

Apart from him and Ferris, no one would miss me. Of course, it hadn’t always been that way. I had a family. A mother and father who loved me. A doting grandmother who told me old stories as she wove by the hearth in the great hall. One of my first memories was leaning against her legs as she stroked my long black hair, helping the wet locks dry by the fire and wiping the tears from my eyes as I recounted a cruelty I’d experienced at the hands of another child. They were all gone as if they’d been carried away by the mist. I pulled my cloak tighter, letting myself sink into the folds as lightning struck in the distance.

At nightfall, I made camp in a small clearing. There was some dry wood stacked at the base of a willow that I used to build a fire. My stomach grumbled, but hunger was nothing new to me. I had brought enough rations to make the journey across Morgania as long as I hunted, but I’d been too lost in thought to hunt as my memories plagued me of the moment, the very second, that my life and family were wrenched from me.

I’d been staring up at the statue of Helen while Conal’s needle worked over my skin. The morwood berry paste we used for ink sat next to him while the heat from the hearth made me uncomfortably warm. At Conal’s insistence, my mother and father allowed him to tattoo a blessing across my collarbone for the harvest festival. So, the morning of the celebration, I found myself in the temple of Imor, remaining painfully still as Conal scratched into my skin.

I noted how Conal’s hair had gone gray from the years of hard living that affected us all. There were many evenings when he and Father would laugh over pints of ale as they recounted the days of their youth, trekking over the mountains together.

“I had a dream,” Conal said. He didn’t let his eyes nor hand falter as he worked, but he was clearly upset. “There are troubling times ahead.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Although Conal was our Imorati, he very rarely spoke about his translations outside of speeches to the clan.

“There was a terrible storm, then Imor rose at noon, blocking out the radiance of Sol.”

“Imor always speaks before a crossroad,” I said after a moment. “What does it mean?”

Conal sighed. “He means to sway our hand. We must watch and listen for more signs, and we may come to know in time.” That meant he had no idea. I’d known Conal long enough to figure out when he was giving a non-answer.

I nodded solemnly, biting back a pert response. Portents had always irked me. They gave few answers and many questions, serving only to stress the bearer, and probably didn’t change much of what was to happen anyway. I would rather just let things come as they may.

Resting my cheek on my hand, I turned away from Queen Helen’s statue and her cold, stone face. “I can’t control this magic, Conal. I’m afraid of it,” I admitted, trying not to wince as he dug in deeper.

Conal dropped his hand for a moment. “Rowyn, you can’t know the forces at work right now—the unhappiness across the land. Your father has a dream that one day we will take back Morgania from the empire—become our own land once more. Villages in southern Adair and The Fens have already started uprisings, and the empire is burned out trying to deal with them, the war in Yliria, and the drought. The army is depleted. Our time is coming.”

He took a clean rag and wiped away bits of ink and blood. Standing me up, he led me to a polished mirror that hung next to the altar.

I studied myself silently. Bright blue eyes stared back, barely giving away the fear that lingered in their depths. Raven hair sat in intricate braids over my shoulders, and on my chest was the new blessing. A black ten-pointed star containing a sideways crescent within, its points meeting neatly in the middle.

“What does it mean?” I asked, tracing the design lightly with my fingers.

“I’ve given you the strongest blessing from Imor. It means that Imor has marked you himself.”

I stood straighter. Mother would be so proud. Grandmother too. It might even make her feel better after being bedridden for a week.

Suddenly, Ferris appeared at the temple door. I thought he was coming to take me to the celebration, but the look on his face made me falter.

“Come, come quick!”

“What is it?” Conal grabbed his staff and hurried to the door. “Whatever is the matter?”

“The river!” Ferris gasped, his eyes on me. “Come to the river and see.”

The memory faded as I watched the fire’s flames. I traced the blessing on my chest, wondering again at Conal’s dream. He’d been wrong. The Morganites weren’t rising at all. It had just been a silly dream. It meant nothing.

A rustle of something far bigger than a squirrel or a bird came from close by. The hair on my arms prickled, and my spine stiffened. I stood, my eyes on the shadows that reached for me over the firelight. Ally whinnied nervously and stamped his foot. I hushed him. Something, or someone, was watching me.

A twig snapped to my right, and I spun, fitting an arrow to my bow and drawing it back, poised to fire.

Voices came from the left, in the direction of the road. I turned the other way and aimed toward the trees.

“Fair e’ening to you, sir! May we join your fire?” a shout rang out. “The kindling’s all wet by the road, and we’d sure appreciate sharing in your good fortune and dry spot!” The voice chuckled. The sound of movement grew louder, and two figures on horseback rode into the edge of the firelight. One was an old Lyrican soldier with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth from an overabundance of laughter. The other figure was hooded, though curious eyes peered out at me from the shadows.

“Why, it’s a Morganite lass, and a whelp at that!” the soldier exclaimed, nudging the cloaked figure next to him. “This forest ne’er ceases to amaze these weary, old eyes. What’re you doing out here all by yerself, young lady?”

“My business is my own,” I said sternly. The soldier refused to acknowledge the arrow very clearly pointed at him. He dismounted from his aged horse and threw something toward the fire.

I glanced down. Three rabbits, freshly shot, tied together by their hind legs.

“You’d best keep on your way,” I said, but my stomach growled.

The soldier chuckled as he pulled off the saddlebags from his horse and dropped them next to mine. “Now, now, missy. You can’t expect someone as honorable as me to let you camp here all by yerself. You Morganites aren’t the only killers on this road. Why, just east o’ here, we found a deer carcass that looked to have been gotten at by a sable panther, didn’t we, Gillius?”

The cloaked man nodded. I could tell he studied me carefully, taking in the tattoos, the weapons, and the single bedroll that I’d placed near the fire to dry.

“Who areyou?” I asked, lowering my bow a fraction of an inch.

The soldier smiled. “That’s more like it. The name’s Bernard, and this here’s Gillius. I’m escortin’ him to Helena as a favor to the consul.” Bernard drew himself up proudly. Apparently, the assignment was an honor. It only made me trust him less.

I pulled the bowstring taut. “If you’re the consul’s man, then we’re enemies.”

“Now, now,” Bernard said, holding his hands up. “You see, I’ve drawn no weapon against you, lass. I’ve spent many a night allied with enemies against evils that dwell in darkness. I’m charged with protecting Gillius here, and it would be a favor to have one more sword at the ready, even if it’s just for the night. Now you’ve built a steady fire; I’ve brought the meat. Where’s the quarrel?”

Indecision gripped me in its clutches. I’d never camped in the woods completely alone. I’d always had Father or other clansmen with me. Bernard was right. There were plenty of sable panthers that prowled the forest, not to mention wolves, bears, and, every once in a while, bands of roving ne’er-do-wells.

The face of Imor peeked down at me as the clouds drifted away. Was it a sign? Although Bernard was Lyrican, and a consul’s man at that, he had an air of trustworthiness about him. As for the other man, he had no weapons on his belt, and no sword hung at his waist. Perhaps it would be as harmless as he said. Besides, who was I to sentence them to death, especially after taking the lives of so many?

I lowered my bow. “You’re welcome to share my fire. But if I sense betrayal from either of you, the deer won’t be the only carcass on the road tonight.”

Bernard smiled and tied his horse to a tree. Approaching the fire, he unbelted his sword and dropped it at his feet, still sheathed.

The cloaked man, Gillius, dismounted and tied his mount near Bernard’s, then began rummaging through his saddlebags.

I kept an eye on Gillius, suspicious of his secrecy. Unsheathing my sword, I leaned it within reach against a log before placing my bow and quiver on the other side. Finally, I took my seat on the fallen tree, watching Bernard lower himself to the ground across from me with a grunt. He began skinning a rabbit with a dagger he pulled from his belt. His hands trembled as he tried to grip the flesh. The man seemed to have some joint affliction brought on with age, and I couldn’t help but pity him.

“Here,” I said when he reached for the second rabbit. He tossed it to me.

“Thanks, lass. I still wield a sword all right, but the smaller things have given me trouble of late,” Bernard said, wiping the blood from his hands on a rag he pulled from his boot.

As I skinned, I nodded at the tower on Bernard’s shield. “You said you came from Helena, but that’s not the consul’s sigil. Where are you really from?”

Bernard smiled, leaning back onto the pile of saddlebags. He held his hands over the flames, letting them warm his fingertips. “My post is in Rudin. It’s a small city on the southwestern border of Morgania. I help man the tower there. But Consul Colman called me to Helena this spring to help fill in after the plague ran through during the autumn.” Satisfied with the heat, he grabbed a long stick and began sharpening it with his dagger.

“Were you Morganites protected from the great sickness?” Bernard asked.

I studied his face, trying to tell if there was a sinister meaning to his question or not. He kept right on whittling, running his hand over the point every now and then.

“I lost both my mother and grandmother to the plague,” I said finally, throwing the second rabbit skin to the side before beginning on the third. “They died right before winter.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I lost a brother meself, though my family was spared the worst of it. My nearest neighbor, though”—Bernard shook his head—“the poor man lost his wife and four children, nearly grown.” Bernard sighed. “I still remember the day the death cart came like it was yesterday. After that, Clem disappeared. Sol only knows what happened to him.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say next. Bernard seemed to be a man who enjoyed conversation, though, and he went on without encouragement.

“Master Gillius was studying the disease at the capital. If only we had more of his ilk in the world.”

Master Gillius finished whatever he was doing with his bags and came to stand by the fire. He pulled the hood of his cloak off, taking care to watch my reaction.

When I beheld his face, I couldn’t help but gasp. A rectangular green stone was embedded between his brows like a third eye. There was no mistaking what he was.

Chapter 2

I’d never seen a sorcerer.

It wasn’t that sorcerers were rare. There were some south of the mountains and even more east, across the sea, but there were no Morganite sorcerers. The empire had seen to that.

I probably should’ve drawn my sword. Then again, would that even matter? Could he strike me dead where he stood? Judging by the gray laced through his wavy brown hair, he was older. His cropped beard and ruddy skin betrayed him as Lyrican, but the threadbare robes gave me pause. I’d always assumed that sorcerers were wealthy, but the patch on his left boot said otherwise. His green eyes were marked by grief. I’d seen that look enough at home to recognize it for what it was.

Master Gillius took a seat on the ground next to Bernard. “I gather you don’t see many sorcerers this far north, do you?” he said in a soft voice, his brilliant eyes studying my imorets and the Morganian rose blossoms tattooed around my neck.

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen one.” Wracking my brain for all that I knew of the art, I asked, “What is it that you do?” From what I’d heard, sorcerers only had one talent. Stories were widespread of people who could turn themselves into beasts, light fires with the blink of an eye, or those with the power to bend others to their will and make them forget who they were. The emperor loved sorcerers.

“I’m a healer,” Gillius replied, “a healer and teacher at a school in Adair. I help others like myself to master their arts.”

Were healers dangerous? He didn’t look threatening. He looked haggard and worn from his trek through the woods.

“What’s your name, girl?” Gillius asked.

I thought to make one up but reconsidered. What would be the point? “Rowyn. Rowyn Blythe of Espiria.”

Bernard whistled with respect. “Ye come from the shrouded city? The men at Helena whisper of it often.”

“The shroud protects us from outsiders, since the olden days, at least,” I said, tossing a skinned rabbit back to him.

Bernard took his stick and began to skewer the creatures. “Indeed, I see you bear the mark of Imor as well.” He nodded toward my imorets, the black crescents tattooed around my eyes. “You don’t see that too often, even here in Morgania.” Holding the rabbits over the fire, he began roasting them on his makeshift spit.

“Where are you traveling to?” Gillius asked. “And why do you ride alone?”

“I’m going west,” I answered simply.

I could tell from their expressions that they wanted to press for more, but I set my face, hoping they wouldn’t. “You say you’re a healer?” I asked Gillius, determined to change the subject.

“Indeed. I can show you if you like.” His eyes urged me to stay calm as he drew a short knife from his boot. My nerves clanged a warning, and I gripped the bloody dagger in my hands.

Gillius slashed his palm. “Watch,” he ordered, holding his hand out for me to see. Blood oozed from the wound and dripped into the fire with a sizzle.

The gem between his eyes glowed, giving off a green light. His tanned skin was knitting together. The wound closed within seconds, leaving nothing but a smear of blood.

“May I?” I asked, reaching to touch the spot.

“Go ahead.”

His hand was rough, but there was no trace of the cut, not even a scar.

“Is there anything else you can do?” I asked.

Gillius’s gaze shifted to the fire. “I can see the power in others. Kinsmen, who can bend magic to their will, provided they’ve learned, of course.” His eyes bore into mine.

He knew.

Could he read my mind? Could he see the terrible things I’d done? I was leaving to escape all that. I was trying to save others. Could he see that too?

Gillius’s eyes flicked to Bernard, who whistled happily as he turned the rabbits, then back to me, and he gave the smallest shake of his head. What in all the gods did that mean? Would he not give me away?

“Certainly was cloudy today,” Bernard said, looking up to the sky. “One minute, you think it’ll be a beautiful day for once, and it up and rains the whole afternoon.” He smiled at me despite the suspicious look I was shooting him. Was he blaming me for the weather? “It’s been horribly dark all winter. I’ve got a mind to go south, maybe see some sunlight in my lifetime. So much dreary existence, all for one’s lord.”

“Our winter has been a dark one,” I said, “but summer is nearly here.”

“Aye, summer is here, which brings the start of raiding season, so there won’t be much opportunity to enjoy the sunlight.” Bernard cast a sidelong glance at me, his meaning clear. The raiding he would blame me for.

“Sir Bernard, I won’t apologize for what my clan has had to do to survive.”

“Call me Bernard, lass. I’m no knight.”

“At least you’ve had rain,” Gillius said, sheathing his knife. “Everything south of Morgania is dry as a desert. The harvest has either been meager or failed for the past five years. The same goes for the eastern shore. You should celebrate that you were spared from it.”

“Very true, Master Gillius, very true.” Bernard nodded. “Sometimes ’tis hard to remember that there are always others who have it worse.”

Gillius turned back to me. “What did you do in Espiria, if I may be so bold as to pry?”

I thought for a moment. “I often fought, with the raids and such. We mostly targeted the tax carts on their way to DarkPort.”

Bernard chuffed, resettling his weight. “Ye seem a bit young to have been involved in much fighting. How old are ye?”

“I have sixteen years to my name.” I fiddled with my sword hilt. “Father said a leader must feel the weight of battle first and leave the battle last. I was by his side, mostly.”

Gillius tilted his head to the side. “Who was your father?”

I stood and placed another log on the fire, my stomach clenched in knots, but I refused to let my emotions show. “Weldon Blythe. He was chief of Espiria.”

Bernard whistled again. “A Morganite princess. Imagine that.” Bernard nudged Gillius. “The likes o’ us, meeting a princess on the side of the road. By Sol above, this beats all. My granddaughter won’t believe me when I tell her of this.”

Though his words were meant to be kind, I still blanched at hearing them. “I’m no princess, sir. Please don’t address me as such.”

“Ye just said yer father is chief. Would this not make ye a princess?”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said firmly. “Besides, my father is dead. Uncle Baylin is chief now.”

“A lady then, at the very least—an Espirian warrior-maid.” Bernard whistled then turned to Gillius. “They’re rumored to bear a sword as well as any o’ their men.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re few enough in numbers that we can’t be picky over anatomy. If you can hold a sword, you can fight.”

Bernard laughed outright at that. “Ye certainly are a fearsome thing, aren’t ye. No wonder Espiria has withstood the empire for so long.”

Uncomfortable, I opted once more to change the subject. “You must miss your family, being away for so long. Are they still in Rudin?”

“Aye, I was blessed with four beautiful daughters and a son. My granddaughter comes from my eldest; a little spitfire she is. You remind me of her, though she doesn’t know the fightin’ skills. Anya will be delighted to hear about you. She’s a romantic at heart.”

We ate, still making small talk as the darkness crept closer around us. After Bernard had his fill, he rose and stepped into the forest to visit the latrine I’d dug earlier.

As soon as Bernard was out of earshot, Gillius leaned toward me, his eyes bright. “I know what you are,” he whispered.

I wasn’t shocked at the statement. I’d suspected Gillius could tell what was wrong with me before but was just too honorable to mention it in front of Bernard. That raised him in my esteem.

“And . . .” I whispered back. I could have denied it. My father and mother would’ve both encouraged me to, but throughout my life, I realized that pretending my curse didn’t exist did no good. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“I had no idea there was a sorcerer in the shrouded city. How does it happen—you calling the rain?”

It had been a long time since I’d been with someone I could be honest with. Someone who might understand. I’d left Espiria to seek help, after all, and here I was with a sorcerer. “I don’t know how I do it. It just happens . . . without my control.”

“Have you always had the gift?”

I shot him a dark look. “This gift has been with me since I was very young. Father told me that he tried to hide it for a while. He worried the others wouldn’t understand. They caught on eventually. Every time I had a tantrum, it thundered and poured. It didn’t take long for the whispers to start.”

Mother and Father had always said it would get better with time, something neither lived to see. Though I hated seeing my clansmen’s eyes dart away when I walked by or hearing the hushed whispers that followed me down the halls, in a sad way, I was grateful for it. They would’ve cast me out were it not for that fear. We found out last winter that they had every reason to be afraid. In the end, I had to leave, or we would have all perished one day.

“There are many who see the magical workings within the empire,” Gillius said. “By all the gods, how did we miss a weather sage?” He was silent for a moment, watching the fire, then nodded. “The shroud,” he murmured. “It must have blocked you from our sight. Have you tried to control it?”

I nodded. “I’ve tried to hold my feelings in, not to let things affect me as they should, but I slip.” My mind strayed. Father paced the halls, his eyes pleading with me. The others huddled around their meager fires as we slowly froze, buried in the cave city. I pushed back the memory, the feeling of helplessness.

“Did Espiria cast you out? Where are you really headed?” Gillius asked.

“No, they would never . . .” I stopped. That wasn’t true. Plenty wanted to.

Bernard was returning. I could hear him noisily clamber through the brush.

“I know what you fear,” Gillius whispered before Bernard stumbled into the firelight. He took a swig from the bladder hanging over his arm before eying Gillius and me.

“I think I’m ready to turn in for the night,” Bernard said, kneeling and grabbing his bedroll. “Do we need to keep watch?”

He was looking at me.

“I think we should be fine,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure how much I could trust them.

We all set up our sleeping gear and turned in for the night. I sat awake, brushing out my black hair and replaiting it, even after Bernard’s snores could be heard over the crackling of the fire.

There was a rustle in the brush behind me. I turned and eyed the darkness but dismissed the noise when it didn’t return.

I watched Gillius, who slept with his back to me. Why would a poor sorcerer from the south take notice of a renegade like myself? Even with my curse, why would he bring himself to care?

“Ye should join us,” Bernard said as he hoisted saddlebags onto his horse’s back. “It’s nice to have a change of company, isn’t it, Gillius? We’re traveling the same road.”

I fiddled with the strap of my quiver, uncertain. The men had proven themselves trustworthy the night before. I woke up all to rights, tangled in my bedroll. After performing a cursory inspection of my bags, I found everything just as I left it. In truth, there was no reason not to join them since we were headed in the same direction. Gillius and Bernard had said they were bound for Helena, which the western road ran through as it stretched across Morgania.

If I were being completely honest with myself, I welcomed the company. Bernard was friendly, and I found my spirits considerably lighter with the soldier’s presence. Being around the two men helped keep my mind off of home, and I was grateful for the distraction. Not only was Bernard funny, but he seemed delighted by me. It had been a long time since anyone had really enjoyed my presence. Then again, he didn’t know the worst of what I’d done. Perhaps if he did, things would be different. So I resolved not to speak of my past, even though Gillius watched me with a sharp eye.

The eye of Sol shone down, causing the puddles in the road to steam lazily. The smell of morwood pine and sweetgrass filled the air, and we joked as we rode, enjoying the sunlight and company.

At midday, we stopped to rest the horses. Bernard had gone into the woods to relieve himself while Gillius took the opportunity to question me further.

“Did your parents take you to Sol’s temple to have you looked over? There are priests there who are trained to seek out the gift in others.”

“I’m a Morganite. I’ve never stepped foot in a temple of Sol.”

Gillius’s eyes turned somber. “You have great power, Rowyn. The gods have smiled on you.”

I knew he meant to be kind, but I couldn’t endure it. “Whatever power this is, it’s done nothing but bring sorrow to my life.”

His voice was stern yet gentle. “Be that as it may, you’re in dire need of training. I see the chaos around you. Holding in your feelings will only make it worse. It could cause the magic to lash out in unexpected ways. It’s for the good of all to get you trained. How will you ever truly control yourself without it?”

I shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, my eyes farther up the road. “What are you saying?”

Gillius continued softly. “I teach at an academy south of here, on the coast of Adair. It’s called Solridge. We could help you.”

“The empire is my enemy. How could you ask me to seek help from Lyricans?” I scoffed. “Who am I to you anyway?”

“A liability if you go untrained—to me, to your people, to the whole of Morgania, even. We can’t have an untrained sorcerer dwell in our midst. I’m surprised something catastrophic hasn’t already happened at Espiria with you there.” Master Gillius’s eyes turned sorrowful, as though they looked within. “We’ve seen it before.”

I refused to meet his gaze, fiddling instead with my braid, but Gillius didn’t look fooled.

The faces of my clan filled my mind, reduced to gaunt, shivering skeletons. I was helpless then, just as I was helpless now.

Gillius frowned. “You can tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Nothing.” What was taking Bernard so long?

“Unless I miss my guess, your clan has already suffered under your gift.” Gillius leaned toward me and put his hand on mine. “I only want to help.”

But something was wrong. I pulled my hand out of Gillius’s grasp and unsheathed my sword as a large band rounded the bend.

They were soldiers bearing the crest of Helena. Seeing me, there was a half-second shocked pause. Then, they drew their swords as well.

“Wait, Rowyn, don’t do anything rash,” Gillius said, pulling his hood off and turning to face the band.

“I have to protect myself,” I said as clouds began billowing above us.

“Halt, by order of the consul!” one of the soldiers shouted. “Sheath your weapon, or prepare to be arrested.”

“Rowyn, put it away!” Gillius hissed, but I refused. They’d arrest me anyway. This much I knew. Bother Gillius and all his words. I’d left home to find peace, not be thrown into a Lyrican dungeon. Turning Ally, I kicked him into the forest and away from the road. We wove through the trees as the soldiers followed.

“Lose them in the trees,” Father had said, “especially if you’re alone. Don’t try to take them on as a unit. Scatter them so you can pick them off one by one.”

A man on horseback came galloping toward me. I turned Ally to meet him. At the last second, I leaned to the side and kicked the soldier off his horse. His foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged a few feet, but I managed to grab his weapon from the forest floor before jumping back on Ally’s back and losing myself once more in the brush.

I stopped to collect myself, and an arrow sprouted in the tree to my left. Another soldier shouted to the others, holding a bow. Lightning flashed through the sky above as thunder rolled through the trees, sending rain streaming down upon us all.

I dodged another arrow and took cover on the other side of a large tree. Grabbing my bow, I shot the man in the leg. He screamed in pain and cursed at me, even as I sent another shaft into his shoulder.

I turned Ally and bolted once more, doubling back to cross the road. As we came out of the trees, I surprised a soldier who’d dismounted. His horse must’ve thrown a shoe.

The man gave me an astonished look before reaching down for his sword hilt, but I was faster. Pulling a knife from my boot, I sent it soaring into the soldier’s hand, pinning it to his side as he let out a cry of pain. I nudged Ally into the shelter of trees on the other side of the road and galloped west as another roll of thunder sounded above.

Chapter 3

 I rode hard, cursing my stupidity for leaving the shelter of the forest to travel the road with Gillius and Bernard. They’d been nice enough, but it wasn’t worth the hassle of the soldiers. I kept to the trees, not slowing until late in the evening when I finally resolved to make camp.

There was no fire since it attracted attention. My meal was simple, dried nuts and apples that I’d packed in Espiria. As darkness closed in, I curled up against Ally’s side, feeling lonelier than ever.

Ally whinnied and nudged my shoulder just as I was nodding off to sleep.

“Shh, it’s all right, boy.” I buried my face in his gray mane and patted his neck. He tensed and snorted a couple of times. After giving him a piece of apple, I rose and grabbed my sword.

It was dark, and Imor shone through the leaves while fireflies flitted about, their bright signals lighting the brush.

Then I felt it again. The hair on my arms rose, and my spine stiffened. I stood still, eying the darkness.

The leaves danced in the light breeze. An owl called into the brush. My heart quickened when I heard the unnerving hoot again. No squirrels were scampering over fallen leaves, no rustle of birds, nor hum of crickets. All were silent and watchful, as if they, too, were as fearful as I. The uncanny silence filled me with dread.

Slowly, I took a step. A twig cracked beneath me, and I froze. My breath caught in my throat. The wind picked up and rustled the branches.

“Hello?” I called, twisting to check behind me.

Silence.

Had Bernard and Gillius found me?

Was I followed by the soldiers?

I crept forward then paused to listen. Probably a sable panther, I thought, frozen in a crouch.

Ally screamed as a blade sank into my ribs.

I turned, wrenching away from a shadowy figure behind me. Instinctively, I raised my sword and gutted him, then ran through the trees.

How had they found me? I’d been so careful to cover my tracks.

Dizziness overtook me, and I dropped my weapon as my stomach churned. Gasping, I stumbled in the direction of the road before I fell to my knees, taking deep breaths and trying to get myself under control.

Lightning crashed, blasting the tree to my right with a roar and throwing me to the ground. Tendrils of black clouds ballooned into the sky, blocking out the stars and any hope of light. Chills shot up my back like arrows while I tried to stay conscious. I gazed at the sky, gulping in air to quell the burn and push it back. Rain beat down, and I prayed to Imor to bring death quickly instead of letting me suffer in the mud, away from home.

“Rowyn!” a voice was shouting in my ear. I was surprised to find Gillius next to me. “What happened?” His face was bathed in the soft green light emanating from his gem.

“A man was here.” I gasped. “Someone snuck up behind me.”

“What man?” Bernard was holding a torch. He stood over Gillius, who’d kneeled next to me, his face drawn in concern.

“He’s over there. I killed him.” I pointed to the charred remains of the tree. Bernard disappeared, and Gillius rolled me to my stomach. There was a wrench. Magic poured through me, dulling the pain and lulling me nearly to sleep.

“Stay still,” Gillius murmured above me. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

He kept his hands on my back a few moments longer then sat back and helped me sit up.

“Did you get a good look at him?”

I shook my head. “It was so dark . . .”

“Master Gillius. I didn’ find him.” Bernard had returned, his brows knit in confusion. “Did ye say ye struck him? Are ye sure it was a killing blow?”

“I nearly cleaved him in two!”

“I found yer sword.” Bernard inspected it in the torchlight. He dipped his fingers in the dark liquid and rubbed it between his fingertips then smelled it before daubing some on his tongue.

“Mud.” He returned the sword, hilt out, to me.

Gillius looked grimly resolute. “At least we got here before it was too late.”

“How did you find me?” I asked, rising slowly to my feet. “I thought I lost you all for good.”

Gillius brushed off his robes as he rose and accepted the torch from Bernard, who’d drawn his sword, his eyes on the trees.

“We guessed lucky,” Gillius said. “We figured you’d continue west instead of risking leading the soldiers back to Espiria. When the lightning struck, we took the chance that you were nearby.”

“Did one of the soldiers find me? Is that who that was?”

Bernard shook his head. “We sent them on their way. After they were mended, of course.” He smiled at me. “Ye did quite a number on ’em, lass.”

“Then who was it?”

“There are all kinds of people who can track magical happenings and those who influence them.” Gillius studied the trees around us. “Was your gift a secret in Espiria? Perhaps another has discovered your power, especially since you’ve been venturing beyond the shroud as you’ve gotten older.”

I shook my head while wiping the mud from my sword and sheathing it. “Everyone knew, but they were scared to speak of it to my family.”

Gillius frowned. “You shouldn’t have left us the way you did.”

“They would’ve taken me to prison,” I scoffed.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. It’s happened often enough to the members of my clan who’ve ventured beyond the shroud. They would’ve found some reason to imprison me, then I would’ve been punished. Maybe they’d take an ear, a hand, or even my head.”

“You should have let me speak to them.”

“Oh, and what would you have said? You met me on the road, a Morganite wandering around the forest by herself. You know next to nothing about me. What’s more, who are you to me? A stranger, nothing more.”

Gillius glared at me. “Then let me be someone to you. You need me, Rowyn. I feel it in my bones. You will continue to be a slave to your power unless you allow me to take you to Solridge. The other sorcerers and I could help you there.”

Bernard was watching the conversation, confusion written across his face. “The storm was ye? The rain? I was wondrin’ why the weather here is so odd.”

I glared right back at Gillius. “I could never trust a Lyrican.”

“Er, I’m going to find a dry spot to camp,” Bernard muttered, looking from me to Gillius. He shrugged when he didn’t get a response and left to busy himself.

The rain had ceased, letting the night grow warm and hazy. Though there were still a few clouds skirting across the sky, Imor was out once more, watching us from the heavens.

Gillius held out something to me. I took it and noticed the knife I’d left in one of the soldiers from earlier. “Where are you going? Why are you on the road?”

“Horan,” I said. “I was going to seek help in Horan.”

“Horan,” Gillius repeated. “What in all the gods were you going to do there? You think the Others would help you?”

“We were allied in the past. I’d thought . . .”

“No,” Gillius interrupted. “The Woltari have never been kind to outsiders who wander into their realm. Their control of magic is completely different from ours and wouldn’t be able to help you in the least.”

My heart sank. “Then I could go south, to Shea Innes maybe, or—”

“No.” Gillius shook his head. “I don’t think you understand the perilous position you’re in. I know that your power was a curse in Espiria, but there hasn’t been a weather sage in over a hundred years. Word spreads through the empire like water through sand. It’s only a matter of time before someone perceives you as a threat. Sol has sent me here for a reason. We met on the road for a reason. Whatever attacked you tonight is only the beginning.”

“Who would be a danger to me? Who would care?” I stepped away from him and tried to rally my courage, but Gillius’s words were starting to frighten me. Especially when his brilliant eyes hardened.

“Please trust me when I say there are those in this realm with the ability to wield magic neither of us can even comprehend. They can see your power. I promise you this. They see you, they will try to find you, and they won’t be as kind as me. Would you prefer bearing your power as a curse or wielding it as a weapon? It’ll only get worse with time.”

I threw up my hands. “I have no money for schooling. I left home with nothing.”

“I can sponsor you,” Gillius said. “The sorcerers at Solridge take care of their own.”

“I don’t know,” I said, watching Bernard try to light a pile of wet wood. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’m a healer. Sol has put me on this earth to save lives,” Gillius said, dropping his voice to a murmur. “Let me save yours.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. I believed him. Perhaps it was because his hands showed the calluses of work and toil, or maybe it was the kindness in his eyes that seemed to know the terrible things I’d done. For whatever reason, I trusted him.

I brushed the tears away, not wanting the rain to fall again. Poor Bernard had started cursing to himself when the smoking wood refused to light.

“I’ll go with you,” I said. Unexpected relief washed through me, strengthening my resolve.

I lay in my bedroll the next morning and couldn’t help but think back to the man from the night before. How did he survive a killing blow? Could he have found me in Espiria? Who was he, and why did he attack me?

I hadn’t even been gone long before I found my life in danger. I had some power but no control over it. I was a good fighter, but I could be easily outnumbered and overwhelmed. I’d be surprised if I lasted to the end of the next week, let alone on the long trip to Solridge.

Then again, I’d left Espiria with the barest wisp of a plan. It was easy to let it go now that I had a purpose. I would go to school. I wouldlearn control. All my emotions from before were still there: uncertainty, fear, longing. But there was something else. Something new forcing its way to the forefront of my mind in an attempt to drown out the others. Hope. As the feeling strengthened, I grew more confident in my choice to go with Gillius.

“As soon as we reach Helena, I’ll find you a maidservant who can act as a chaperone,” Gillius said later over a breakfast of roast bird.

“Aye, there’s many lookin’ for work in the city,” Bernard agreed through a mouthful of food.

Something finally clicked in my brain. “Wait a moment . . . we’re headed for Helena? Where are we staying?”

Gillius looked confused. “Well, at the citadel, of course. Where else would we stay?”

“Ye’ll like it there, Rowyn,” Bernard grunted. “Now I’m not a Morganite an’ all, but the carvings in the citadel is somethin’ special, no doubt about it. The pride of Morgania it is.”

I snorted in exasperation. “I could be arrested there. Executed, even.”

Gillius rolled his eyes. “No, I’d never let that happen. Besides, we can’t take the road to Solridge alone.”

“More soldiers?” I asked.

Bernard bristled as if Gillius were unsatisfied with his fighting ability.

“No, we’ll need more than strength in numbers to deliver you safely. Trust me, Rowyn, this is the safest course.”

Gillius was either very foolish or had reason to believe he’d power enough to sway the consul in my favor. Neither prospect thrilled me. Still, I resolved to trust Gillius as I said I would.

“What are the other students like at this academy?”

“Almost all of them are from the Western Empire,” Gillius said, referring to the conquered lands west of the Ballerian Sea. “It’s the only school of its kind here.” There was a tinge of pride in his voice.

“And there are no other Morganites?” It was probably too much to hope that another member of my clan attended the school. After all, Gillius had said himself he knew no Morganite sorcerers.

“No, and the only other student from Morgania is Destrian Everett.”

“Do you speak of Lord Destrian? Heir of Helena?” By all the gods, that was Consul Colman’s son!

Gillius nodded. “Indeed. Surely you’ve heard he’s a sorcerer. Espiria can’t be so far removed that you hadn’t known of his talent.”

“We’d heard. I’d just never thought . . .”

But Gillius shot me a chiding look. “You’ll be a novelty where we’re going, as few true Morganites journey south. Prepare for stares at your markings. SeaPort doesn’t even have a temple of Imor anymore, so I’m afraid there’ll be no place for you to worship either.”

“Are there many common folk?”

“Only a handful. Solridge isn’t just a school of sorcery, after all. There are far more students who attend simply for a Lyrican education. Though, it’s only open to those who rank higher in society. The only commoners allowed are sorcerers, like yourself, or students who have purchased their way through various means. The friendships to be made at Solridge are coveted among those aspiring to be great, so there are some wealthy merchants’ children, sons of generals, and the like who study warfare.”

This new information didn’t make me feel much better. The reigning families of old had been slaughtered in The Cleansing and replaced by high-born Lyrican officials and war heroes. Throughout my brief history, those people had always been regarded as enemies and traitors.

My anxiety must have shown, for Gillius went on. “I’ll warn you, I wouldn’t speak ill of the empire at Solridge. Most of the families there don’t hold with that kind of talk. Lately, the issue has gotten even worse with the rebellions, so I’d steer clear of the topic altogether.”

I nodded as if that made me feel better. It didn’t, but I was trying to be kind to Gillius, since he was being so helpful and all.

Chapter 4

Helena was known as the City of Stars. It was the northernmost city in the Western Empire with only seven hours of sunlight each day. The motif ran throughout the city. Stars and crescents were hidden in carvings, embedded over stone doorways, and painted onto shop signs. Gifted artisans had found a way to make the silver paint shimmer, so wealthy shopkeeps had placards that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

The muddy streets that led toward the citadel were bordered on either side by stone houses and extensive outbuildings. The sounds of drunken men and women gaming, smoking, and making merry made their way through the street as we passed. Stray dogs and cats scurried into dark alleyways while the glow from the leaden-paned windows made it seem as if the city were teeming with life. It was a queer sort of beauty, though I couldn’t see how people could live all crammed together. No trees, no grass—only mud and dreary gray stone.

We rode through the castle gate and into the ward where I dismounted and studied the home of King Philemon and Queen Helen the First. It was the most beautiful building I’d ever seen. I recognized the great stone gargoyles from my grandmother’s stories. The statues seemed to consider me in the moonlight, their snarling mouths agape, keeping watch over those below. Unlike Espiria, Helena was huge, with towers reaching toward the sky, bordered by a wall with large arched windows, two stories high. The grand stone citadel held secret passageways, grand halls, and beautiful paintings within. But of course, it wasn’t the Morganites’ castle anymore. The Lyricans had governed it for the past fifty years.

My innards twisted into a state of panic. What fate awaited me inside the hall? Would the consul be as welcoming as Gillius claimed? Or, more to reality, would I be thrown into a dungeon to await judgment? After all, renegade Morganites were considered treasonous to the empire. And we Espirians were the worst of them, dwelling forever out of their reach.

“Master Gillius. Lady,” a soft voice said to my right. A servant stood there, half-bowed, his eyes on the markings tattooed around my eyes and neck. He spared a glance for my bow, dagger, and sword as well. “We’ve notified the consul of your arrival. He has just sat down to dinner and bids you join him in the great hall.”

“Just lead the way, good man,” Master Gillius said with a smile before turning to me. “Leave your bags. The servants will take care of them.” He studied me for a moment then added, “Stop scowling. You look as though you plan on slitting throats.”

“Am I that threatening?” I asked, refusing to see it as anything but a compliment.

“I wish you’d thought to change before we arrived.” Gillius sighed. “Do you have a dress?”

I’d taken some care with my hair. More so than I had all winter, to be honest, knowing we’d be in the city by nightfall. It was tied in several neat braids, some wrapped around my head while a few fell down my back. It was the most intricate style that I could do myself anyway. Not only that, but I’d worn my best tunic. I told Gillius as much, but he shook his head.

“A dress would’ve been more appropriate” was his glib reply.

I rolled my eyes when he turned away, then Bernard snorted beside me. He tried to mask a chuckle with his large hand, but clearly, it was at my expense. I smiled, shaking my head before trailing after Gillius into the grand fortress.

The corridors were somberly lit with torches as we made our way toward two intricately carved wooden doors. The servant seemed a bit too keen on his job; he opened them with a flourish and announced our arrival as “Master Gillius and retinue.”

The hall hushed as those dining stopped eating to crane their necks for a better view. The air was thick and smoky, carrying with it the scent of roasted goat, stuffed eggs, honeyed bread, and pigeon pie that sat heavily on the tables. My mouth watered at the promise of a delicious feast.

“Gillius, what took you so long!” shouted a young man who rose from the head of the long table. He was tall, with auburn hair trimmed just above his shoulders, short-cropped facial hair, and large muscles that bulged under a blue velvet overcoat. Like Gillius, he had a rectangular gem embedded in his brow, deep red to match his hair. I admired how it caught the light glinting from the torches. I confess it frightened me more than a little. Given that he was the only other sorcerer in the room, it could only be the consul’s son, Lord Destrian, whom I would have to study with at Solridge.

He clapped Gillius on the back and beamed in a relaxed manner. “How was the journey? We hope you had no trouble on the road. Father has tried to make the going safer, but you never know with the Morganites.”

I hung back, happy to be ignored. Few residents of the hall were armed, which was a welcome relief. My fears slowly began to subside into a false sense of security.

“When they told me you’d traveled here with a mountain heathen, I’d not dared believe it,” said a gruff voice.

I clenched my fists, color racing to my cheeks. The voice belonged to the man seated at the highest point of the table, whose corpulent belly strained the laces of his tunic. He was older, maybe in his sixties, and the hair he had left was a pale red mixed with white. His cheeks were mottled from too much drink, and dark, beady eyes studied Gillius with a sinister gleam. He might as well have had “I’m the consul” tattooed on his fat, balding head.

“You have a companion?” Lord Destrian asked. His eyes fell on me and my markings. The smile faltered. “Gillius?”

I approached while Master Gillius handed the consul a piece of parchment that he read with disdain.

“My Lord Consul, may I present Rowyn Blythe of Espiria.” Master Gillius swept his hand toward me.

“You must be mad, Gillius,” Consul Colman answered, eying my breeches and frowning. “She’s hardly fit to enter our halls.”

I scowled. That was a bit rich, given that the grand halls were built by my ancestor’s hands. One could argue that my presence was significantly more entitled than his.

Gillius shot me a look of warning, accurately reading my expression. “My Lord Consul, Rowyn of Espiria is under my care, therefore she is protected under the Articles of Clemency. You understand the consequences if you don’t treat her with respect. Do you accept the terms or not?”

Consul Colman’s beady eyes flashed back to Gillius. “I don’t make it a habit of hosting traitors in my castle.”

“I don’t think you want to ignore my warnings, Consul. She’s in your care for her time here.”

Consul Colman studied Gillius, his face coloring an even deeper shade of red before he replied in almost a whisper. “Was that a threat?”

“That’s a warning, Consul. You should consider the person giving it. The Council of Five isn’t known for granting leniency to those who break their laws.”

Lord Destrian frowned. “What of the countless laws she’s broken? Espirians are known traitors to the emperor.”

Master Gillius turned to Destrian. “The Articles of Clemency protect Rowyn, just as they protected you. Since she is now under Solridge’s tutelage, the only ruling body that can try her is the Council of Five.”

Shocked whispers broke out at the table.

“Do they have so few quality brothels in SeaPort that the sorcerer must take in mountain sluts?” someone murmured behind me. I turned to find the speaker, but none would meet my eyes.

Consul Colman’s piercing gaze studied my face. “Blythe, you say? That’s the name of the chief, is it not?”

Gillius started to speak, but I interrupted him, my head held high. “Chief Weldon was my father.” I refused to shame my family by hiding behind the words and promises of a southerner.

Consul Colman was mulling my words, a smile at the corners of his lips. “Was you say? Could it be I’m finally rid of the man?”

“He died over winter.”

“You bring good tidings then. In that regard, I suppose I can offer you safe quarter . . . for a few nights, at least.”

Grinding my teeth, I fought back a hateful retort. I thought of breaking the consul’s nose with the butt of my dagger, but the feeling was brief. First, Gillius would never forgive me. Second, I wouldn’t live through dinner, and the scent from the roasted goat was intoxicating. No, it was not to be. Escaping Helena alive was far more crucial than hurt pride, so instead, I chose to skewer him with my eyes rather than a blade.

“I’m required to let you stay, but you aren’t allowed to leave the castle unless you have a chaperone, either Gillius or a guard.”

I breathed deep, letting the anger ebb away as I exhaled. Curtsying would’ve been foolish as I wasn’t wearing a gown, so I settled for a short bow, smiling at the consul through my lashes while imagining my sword stuck in his gut. “My lord, as a humble Morganite, I’ve heard of your hospitable nature. Know that I’m grateful for your protection, and the manner it was given.” Now I wanted to stab myself.

From the look on the consul’s face, he wanted to respond but thought better of it. “Take a seat,” he grunted before shoveling food into his mouth. Lord Destrian was obviously unsettled by the ordeal if his darting eyes to Gillius and me were to be believed.

Bernard waved us over to the end of the table where he already had a plate full of food. “That went well,” he said, his mouth full of stuffed pigeon. “The consul seems to have taken a shine to ye, Rowyn.”

I snorted while piling food onto my plate. Grabbing the wine pitcher, I began to pour, trying to fill the goblet to the rim until I was stopped by Gillius, who shook his head.

“You’re not my nursemaid,” I mumbled, taking a sip. I delved into the goat that lay before me and took another sip of wine. I thought briefly about batting my eyelashes and trying to look innocent but decided against it. After all, how innocent could I seem with eight blades strapped to my person?

“Don’t worry. The consul can’t harm you. Even he must bow to stronger forces,” Gillius whispered, reading my thoughts.

I nodded but found the words offered little comfort. After all, here I was, sitting in the consul’s castle, outnumbered entirely with no one but Gillius for protection. How was the sorcerer so confident in his powers to keep me out of harm’s way? “What forces do you speak of?” I whispered back.

“As I told you before, sorcerers are valued in this realm. The emperor demands deference for anyone able to study the art, with one or two exceptions, of course.”

I urged Gillius to continue, but he glanced at the other people sitting around the table and shook his head.

I let out a gust of frustration then took another bite and asked, “What more can you tell me about Solridge? What am I to expect from my studies?”

“Well, you’ll learn many things. I’ll work with you to help you master control and focus your power. There are also other lessons to be learned. We instruct in governance, healing, war arts, and dancing . . . among other things.”

I glanced at Bernard, sitting across from us. Even though his eyes were cast down to his plate, I could tell he was drinking in Gillius’s every word.

“Have you ever learned mathematics?” I shook my head while Gillius went on. “Well, Fin could help you. She’s a master with numbers.”

I raised my cup to my lips and drank while I scanned the table around us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Bernard lean toward me.

“So, tell me, was there a lad for you in Espiria? A boy to wait and pine at your absence?”

I blushed. “No, most of the boys were afraid of me.”

“Afraid of what? Being bested by a skinny girl with a sword?” His eyes showed that he meant to be kind, but still, thinking of my past only brought me pain.

“Something like that,” I said when it was clear he was waiting for an answer.

“An unseemly hostility, wearing your weapons to dine,” muttered an elderly man seated near Bernard, his crotchety eyes on me in measured distaste.

In one motion, Bernard drew a dagger from his belt and flipped it into the air before catching it by the handle. “I’d not begrudge ye yer daggers at dinner.” He speared a piece of meat from his plate and ate it with a mischievous smile. “Most of us men are armed.”

“Thank you, sir. You’ve got a unique mind,” I said with sincerity.

Bernard grinned, his mouth full. “Yer a rare lady; you’ve nothing to fear from me.” He leaned back. “After all, can it be deemed a rose if it’s got no thorns?”

I laughed while the consul and his son turned to stare at me. I hushed before asking, “Are you involved with much of the Morganite fighting?”

Bernard shook his head. “I deal more with the rebellions to the west. There’re still one or two roads haunted by clansmen. ’Tis a pity that peace can’t be had in Morgania.”

“We share the same mind in this,” I said, eating a bite of roasted meat. I was grateful that even in a viper’s den, I still had a friend.

Next to me, Gillius was straining to catch Lord Destrian’s eye. The young man glanced his way, and with a nod, they both rose and left.

The sorcerers’ absence made me nervous. It seemed that talk quieted, and the consul’s eyes were burning a hole in the side of my head. I tried to finish my dinner, then opted to down the rest of my wine. When they still didn’t return, I could take it no longer. I rose quietly, taking one last bite, and followed them into the corridor.

I heard their voices before I saw them. Approaching the turn of the hall quietly, I listened.

“My father is extremely displeased with this. How can you ask him to harbor an infidel? It borders on treason!”

“That’s why I need your help, Destrian,” Gillius pleaded. “We have to make sure Rowyn stays safe until we get to Solridge. You can’t even comprehend how much is at stake.”

“No . . . she may be a child, but the law is clear in this matter. She should be put to the sword with the rest of the barbarians. Furthermore, Sol will fall from heaven before my father willingly harbors a traitor.”

Gillius’s voice turned hard. “Are you so willfully blind that you don’t see how much you and your father already owe this girl?” he asked. “How can you think it a coincidence that Morgania was the only land in the empire spared from the drought?”

“You can’t mean . . .”

“I do. The Consulship of Helena owes this girl all the wealth you’ve gained in profit for your land. This is no jest, Destrian. You might as well hold the sword to your own throat if you let something happen to her. For when she falls, Morgania will fall with her. The drought that has plagued the empire will finally reach Morgania, and you will be to blame.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turned the corner. Gillius straightened and said, “Rowyn, may I present Lord Destrian Everett, heir consul to Helena and the lands of Morgania.”

I tried to do my best curtsy but stumbled as I went down, tripping on the sword at my waist. Destrian scoffed and shot Gillius a dark look.

“Really? And you expect her to get along at Solridge?”

“I ask this of you all the same,” Master Gillius answered.

Lord Destrian sighed then turned to me. “As you’re in my home, I vow to defend your honor and person to the best of my ability. Please forgive my offensive language, as Gillius has made me aware that it’s beneath my rank to say it, and yours to hear it.” He said all of that with as much eye-rolling as humanly possible.

I placed a hand on the hilt of my sword and studied him. “You’re a cad, aren’t you?”

“Rowyn!” Gillius gasped. “Apologize at once!”

“Oh, please, it’s not like he really apologized,” I muttered.

Destrian laughed. “Keep your hose on, Gillius. It’s no matter.” He turned and led us down several corridors until we came to a walnut door. “You may stay here,” he said curtly. “Mind my father’s orders, though. Don’t leave unless you’re being accompanied, and don’t make a fuss, or you’ll see how far my father’s hospitality will get you.”

I nodded. Though I detested Lord Destrian and everything he and his father stood for, I decided it was probably best that I was cordial. You know, since my life was in their hands and all. “Thank you for your kindness, my lord. It won’t be forgotten.”

Lord Destrian shrugged. “I’ll ward your room so that, gods forbid, no harm should befall you.”

“Thank you. I can’t even begin to tell you how reassuring that is,” I said before letting the door shut in his face.

My pack had been placed at the foot of a large bed. Unbelting my sword, I hung it and my clothes on the hooks placed on the wall.

Suddenly, the door glowed a deep scarlet. The light traveled across the walls and over the windows until it faded away.

“By all the gods,” I muttered.

Perhaps I’d be able to sleep soundly after all.

Chapter 5

“My love . . . my queen.”

I heard the words whispered to me, but I didn’t recognize the voice. My vision was fuzzy as if a painter hadn’t filled in the lines to his masterpiece. A brush against my cheek, feeling altogether like a kiss, faded into darkness.

I turned over in bed, feeling a weight at my feet. Mother? Had it all been a dream?

The weight on the bed lifted with a creak, and a wisp of hair was swept off my cheek. I smiled, relishing the moment as I turned and looked around.

I was alone in the room.

Startled, I sat up, my heart racing as I glanced at all the corners.

“Hello?” I asked the darkness.

No answer.

I rose and tiptoed to the door, listening carefully outside for footsteps. There was nothing.

It must’ve been a dream, I told myself. I dreamed of Mother because I missed her. That made sense.

Still, the weight on the bed had felt so real, as if someone had perched there to watch me sleep. I shuddered. It couldn’t have been real, could it?

I decided I was going crazy from the stress of being in a new place, surrounded by enemies. I yearned for my old routine.

My dream faded with the morning sun. Just because the other warriors weren’t with me didn’t mean I couldn’t still practice my weapons work. Father had always told me that to lie still was to welcome death, so I resolved to fashion a new routine for myself, starting with some morning drills. I began with exuberance, bending, and twisting, stretching myself until I was limber and quick. I picked up my sword and leaped, thrusting it through the air, envisioning I was shredding the consul’s face with each sweep while the exertion helped clear my thoughts. As I worked, I thought again of Mother and Father, wishing I were back home with them, the way it was supposed to have been.

When I finished, I could do nothing but dally, trying to keep my emotions high, but still feeling idle. I attempted to neaten my room. I made sure the weapons were tucked away on my person or hanging on the wall where they could be easily grabbed. I soon found myself pacing, waiting for some signal as to what to do next.

Boredom set in quickly. At home, there were always a hundred things to help with: patrols, lugging water to the temple, and hunting in the forest. Even in winter, when it was too cold to leave, I still managed to find ways to fill my time. Whether it was helping to carve out new family quarters or reading one of our few books to Grandmother as she wove, I was very rarely bored.

I gazed longingly out the window at the city below. A book might suffice. I’d always enjoyed reading, though there wasn’t much time for it. Surely there was a book or two somewhere in such a giant place.

Thankfully, I heard a knock on my door and opened it to Master Gillius. My spirits plummeted when he glanced down at my breeches disapprovingly.

“Today we go shopping,” he said. It was evident from his expression that he thought the concept would make me happy. But, even though it did give me something to do, I was offended.

“Why?” I scowled, throwing my bow and quiver over my shoulders. “Why must I dress up for people who’ll never like me? What does it matter what I wear?”

“Rowyn, sometimes it helps to dress the part. If you want any chance of being happy at the academy, you should try to blend in.”

I thought long and hard about having a tantrum, but in the end, I decided against it. I needed to help my clan by learning to control my power, and if I wanted to succeed at Solridge, I had to trust Gillius’s advice. At least that’s what I told myself as I belted on my sword and joined Gillius at the door. He acted as though he wanted to say something, but he resisted, which was kind of him.

Markets were new to me. I could hear the din from the crowd before we’d even reached the gate. Merchants shouted their wares to a variety of passersby as street children and beggars speckled the crowd, asking for money with one hand while plucking an apple from a stall with the other. Vendors of all kinds crowded into the road selling everything from leather goods to vegetables to animals. Shoppers bustled about, bartering and carting their purchases as they began the day. Rotten garbage, roasted meat, and the pungent aroma of herbs filled the air, a cacophony of smells that assaulted the senses as I tried to absorb it all.

I turned in my saddle to get a second look at an exotic bird when I spotted a guard from the castle. I caught his eye, but he looked away quickly as if he didn’t want me to see him.

“I think we’re being followed,” I muttered to Gillius, but my words were lost to the din.

“What did you say?”

“We’re being followed,” I shouted, trying to reach him above the noise.

“Followed?” Gillius repeated. He turned in his saddle to look behind us. The man was still there, trying to appear nonchalant as his horse took a drink from a nearby trough.

“It’s to be expected, Rowyn. As long as we behave, no harm will come of it,” Gillius said, then added sternly, “Stay close.”

I nodded before peeking behind me once more.

When we got to the fabric vendor’s stall, the merchant smiled while holding out different bolts of cloth. Gillius let me choose the colors, so I motioned to the blue wool for a new cloak. When Gillius made it clear that he expected another, I chose a deep red. He motioned his hand for more.

“How many new garments do I need?”

“Several. I told you we would supply you with a wardrobe.”

“How much is this costing you, Gillius? I can’t accept such an expensive gift.”

He cleared his throat as he rummaged in the large purse belted to his waist. “You worry too much. I told you this was custom, that you would be well provided for, and I meant it.”

I glanced at his tunic that bore more than a couple of patches but finally just shrugged and pointed to several more colors I liked.

The merchant’s wife took my measurements, and Gillius had words with them over how soon my clothes could be ready.

“No matter the cost,” he was saying, “get as many tailors as you can on it, for we’re to leave in a couple of days.”

The merchant assured him that he had a large family and that the garments would be ready.

We rode back using a different route to explore the city. I’d never seen Helena, and Gillius’s thoughtfulness was not lost on me. There were a few other Morganites, the imorets making them easy to find. We nodded to each other as I rode past, their eyes on the rose blessing tattooed around my neck.

We reached Temple Row, and Sol’s temple was bustling with activity. The golden dome reflected light into my eyes, making me squint. Robed men, their heads bowed, entered the temple to pray while others shouted outside about paying for Sol’s mercy. One of the robed men, holding a golden cup filled with coins, noticed me, and his brows knit in anger. He shouted something I didn’t hear, but given his expression, I knew it to be unkind. Others turned at his words and watched Gillius and me ride by.

Farther down the road, I slowed Ally, shocked at what I found. The temple of Imor was in ruin. Many of the stones had been removed, leaving the façade broken. The path leading to the front door was reduced to dirt, and the silver plating on the crescents that made up the doorframe had been peeled away.

“What’s happened?” I asked, anger boiling within.

Gillius frowned. “Many of the temples of old are deconstructed to build other dwellings. I’m sorry, Rowyn.”

“They took everything else away from us. They didn’t have to take this,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

Helena had been a Morganite stronghold, our most magnificent city. To see my faith reduced to a pile of boulders was heartbreaking.

We rode back in silence, clouds dimming what was once a bright and sunny day. A spattering of raindrops fell over us, not heavy enough to soak but not light enough to ignore. I fell back into the folds of my cloak, donning the familiar burden of grief.

Slow fury burned inside of me as I dismounted in the ward, but I was loath to return to the boredom of my room. “Is there a way I could obtain a book or two for the time in my room?” I asked, turning to Gillius after handing my reins to a stable boy.

“You’ll have to ask Destrian where the library is. This isn’t my home, Rowyn.”

I gritted my teeth and headed for my room in a huff. Catching myself in the looking glass, I resolved to change for dinner. I was still the first member of my family to sit in the halls of Helena, so there was no reason why I couldn’t at least try to make my family proud. The Lyricans had to see that, despite their best efforts, we Morganites were still a force to be reckoned with.

Gillius’s words echoed in my mind as I went through my bags and picked out the only dress I owned. It was dark blue, with black embroidery that my mother had painstakingly stitched for my last nameday. The sweet scent of morwood pine emanated from the fabric. I held the folds to my face and breathed deeply, feeling homesick and sore with the memory of wearing it during a happier time.

Someone knocked on my door. I let in a maid who curtsied.

“Good e’ening to you, miss. I was sent in by my lord to help you dress.” She glanced at the dress in my hands, and I smiled.

“I’d be grateful for your help,” I said, pulling my tunic over my head and letting her help me into the dress. When the maid’s back was turned, I tucked a dagger in each sleeve and a knife in my boot for good measure. It was probably too much to ask to bring my sword with me, so I left it on its hook by the window.

I sat at the looking glass and watched as she worked on my hair. When she began to pull it back in a coil, I stopped her.

“Leave it down, please,” I said, turning my head from side to side. The maid, Daisy, nodded, humming to herself.

When she stepped back, I admired her work. My blue eyes were complemented by the color of the dress. The neckline was lower than I was used to and revealed the blessing that Conal had tattooed over my chest.

“Much better,” Gillius said when I opened the door to him. He stepped back to admire me, proud as a new father.

When we entered the hall, I noticed that most of the seats were filled except two near the head of the table. Lord Destrian stopped talking to his companion long enough to nod a greeting and register my new attire before turning back to his conversation. The consul simply ignored me as he ate heartily from the plates before him, stopping only to draw breath or respond to queries.

I waited for a break in Lord Destrian’s conversation to inquire after a book, but it seemed the young knight he was speaking to held his rapt attention.

Lord Destrian finally stopped to take a bite. Cloaking my courage around me like a shield, I pasted on a sweet smile and cleared my throat.

“My lord.”

Lord Destrian glanced around. “The lady Morganite addresses me?” he asked in mock shock, the spoon frozen in mid-air.

“If it pleases you, my lord, I’m in search of a book. If I could but read to pass the time.” It amused me to think that my mother would’ve been proud that I was at least trying to be amenable.

“You can read?” he asked, the lilting tone gone. If his eyebrows crawled any higher, they’d disappear into his flaming hair.

My face sharpened, and the soft façade disappeared in a flash of annoyance. “By my lord’s pleasure,” I said dryly.

Before Lord Destrian could answer, he was cut off by his father. “Nothing would please me more than to hang you Morganites from the gates as a warning to other rebels. It’s favor enough that I let you live. Ask for any more, and I’ll mark you for impudence.”

“I’m forever indebted to my Lord Consul for your hospitality.” I met his eyes with a scowl before shifting my gaze back to Lord Destrian. “The book, my lord. May I borrow one, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“I’ll escort you to the library after dinner,” he said before dipping the now-cold stew into his mouth.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said quickly. After expecting him to say no, my lips curved into a genuine smile.

Enjoying the story?

Check out the full novel here!

Beyond the Shroud is available today in print or eBook for $0.99.