Greetings, fellow readers!

Today, I am excited to share with you a special treat from my book, “Storm and Sparks“. I know there are those of us that can’t resist an alternate point-of-view retelling from the MMC’s (main male character) perspective. “Storm and Sparks” is essentially the first part of book 1, Beyond the Shroud, retold from Destrian’s POV. I wanted to add more depth to his character as well as background around the magical hierarchy within Lyrica, which Destrian provides through his thoughts when Rowyn first makes herself known in Lyrica. Destrian’s unique perspective as a skilled magic user offers new insights and a richer understanding of the forces at play throughout the series.

Please enjoy this sneak peak of Storm and Sparks. Order book 1.5 of Tempest Rising today!

Chapter 1

The welcome my father planned for me in Morgania was worth slogging through the war-torn desert. We’d been drinking and carousing and partying for days by the time I’d realized that Master Gillius’s visit was overdue and that I should probably be worried.

Why did Gillius insist on coming anyway? When Lord Alexander and I unexpectedly met the sorcerer in the capital, I’d been surprised but not overly concerned—even when he’d insisted on traveling to Morgania and to expect him before the spring melt.

The spring melt was a week ago.

But it was hard to be worried with all the diversions my father had planned for me. I’d thrown myself into them with abandon. It was sickeningly easy to forget the war I’d witnessed on my quest to retrieve my gem, like slipping off my dusty tunic and slipping on the overcoat that depicted me as nobility. I had my gem now. A ruby, exactly like the one my grandfather had, and his father had before him, and so on and so forth in the long line of fire sorcerers, my ancestors. As my father’s heir, it would grow our prestige in the Western Empire. Not that we needed it.

I couldn’t deny that my life seemed to be moving along a track of undeniable fortune. I had found my gem, a quest that had been in no way assured. My position as the sole heir of my father, the consul, meant that one day, I would inherit the position, stepping into the role as naturally as Sol rises in the east. It was a role I had been groomed for since birth. The thought was almost dizzying in its enormity, and grueling in practice, but it was a position I was ready for.

And then there was the matter of my wealth. As the richest nobleman west of the sea, my coffers were filled with more gold and precious gems than most people would see in their lifetime. I had fruitful lands under my name, the finest castle in the region, and a retinue of people ready to fulfill my every command. Materially, I wanted for nothing. I’d even managed to catch the eye of the daughter of one of the most prominent families in the empire. She was smart, beautiful, and accomplished – the epitome of an ideal noble lady. Her presence by my side further elevated my status, painting a picture of a future that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

Yet, I wasn’t naive enough to believe that my position came without challenges. The political landscape of Lyrica was a place where power, cunning, and ruthlessness were the key to survival. I would have to fight, with every tool at my disposal, to secure and maintain my seat among the vultures waiting to pick at the carcass of the weak. But at that moment, with the taste of success fresh on my lips and the promise of a prosperous future in sight, it was hard to feel anything but satisfaction. My life was far from simple, but it was pretty damned perfect.

So, when Gillius turned up on the night of one of the feasts my father had thrown, I was filled with relief, having only just realized I should have been worried.

“Gillius, what took you so long!” I shouted with a grin, standing and rushing toward him in welcome, all the while hiding the guilt that I’d forgotten about him. “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.” Depending on the season, Morganites could be an annoyance on the road, though they mostly targeted trade wagons and supplies. Still, it was early, yet, for them to be raiding.

“When they told me you’d traveled here with a mountain heathen, I’d not dared believe it.” Father’s voice carried behind me.

The relief was immediately replaced by apprehension when I noticed that very person standing beside him. I looked back at Gillius. “You have a companion?” The girl was slight, like a shadow, her face twisted into the most beautiful scowl I’d ever seen. Her hair lay in a thick rope over her shoulder, so inky black it seemed to drink in the light. Her stormy blue eyes carried a defiant spark as she glared at me. On the corner of each eye a crescent tattoo winged out, the symbol of the Morganites who still bristled under the empire’s reign.

“Gillius?” I asked, turning my eyes to the older sorcerer as he strode toward my father, a determined look in his eyes. The girl studied me as though she found me wanting.

“I know that you weren’t expecting me to arrive with anyone, but the girl will need to accompany me to Solridge to be tested,” Gillius said, his voice low. He handed Father a parchment, which he opened, and I read over his shoulder.

The Articles of Clemency state that any person who displays an affinity for magic will be granted safe passage and proper boarding while seeking instruction and control of their skills to be used for the betterment of the Lyrican Empire. All banners who hold oaths to His Imperial Majesty are required to harbor and assist these individuals in attainment of training, either at Solridge Academy or the Academy of Somme. Any banner who does not comply with this order will be subject to penalization by the Emperor’s Council.

Any stray magical renderings that occur from an untrained sorcerer by accident will be granted leniency under the Council of Five.

Signed,

Duke Agramon of Solin

High Seat of the Council of Five

I glanced at the girl, who still stood back at the door, now looking awkward and angry about it. She was clenching the sword at her waist as though she were ready to pull it out and start lopping off the heads of our dinner guests. Alongside her sword was a dagger with a hilt as black as her hair. I glimpsed the outline of a marking on her neck, a sign that she hailed from a clan. Some Morganites had tried to conform under Lyrica’s reign. They still marked themselves with imorets, but otherwise they tried to work within the rules and laws of the empire. Clansmen, on the other hand, were the dregs of society. They insisted on living outside of my father’s rule, thieving and pillaging whenever they saw fit. My father had been battling them for dominance for years and still hadn’t seemed to bring them to heel. Sometimes I wished the army would just come and take them out, once and for all. Maybe then we’d have some peace.

My gaze settled on Gillius. As the son of the consul, I was expected to maintain a respectful and polite countenance when it came to the sages at Solridge—they were my teachers after all—but the thought of this Morganite angered me. What game was he playing? It was an insult to me and my father to drag her into our hall and put her defiance on display for all our subjects to see.

“My Lord Consul, may I present Rowyn Blythe of Espiria,” Gillius said, holding out his hand to present the girl and waving her toward us. She marched forward, now glaring at Father. If Gillius was brandishing the Articles of Clemency, that meant she was a sorceress. I saw no gem, so she was still untrained, but I worried about how she looked at Father. You never knew with magic. I wondered if she could kill someone with a blink of an eye. It looked like she wanted to. Despite my misgivings I was curious. Curiosity quickly morphed into concern. We’d never known Morganites to have sorcerers before. What did that mean for the clans? Had they become more formidable in my absence at school? How would we control them with magic added to their arsenal?

“You must be mad, Gillius,” Father said with a frown. “She’s hardly fit to enter our halls.”

I couldn’t agree more. Though our castle was not without coarseness, we were still nobility, still the wealthiest consulship west of the sea. We had manners. Our women certainly didn’t prance around in worn tunics and breeches with patches over the knees. I hated the way her clothes clung to her, making it impossible to ignore the curve of her hips, the slender strength in her arms. I looked away from her, pushing back those unwelcome thoughts.

“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?” Gillius asked, his voice stern.

“I don’t make it a habit of hosting traitors in my castle,” Father replied.

I nodded, affronted by Gillius’s manner. He had told me that he was coming to visit Morgania. He’d said nothing about dragging mountain traitors into our halls and forcing us to harbor and entertain them! The only Morganites in the castle were those in the jail where they belonged.

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

“Was that a threat?” Father asked.

“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.”

“What of the countless laws she’s broken?” I snapped, hating the way Gillius was speaking to my father, as though schooling him. Father was a consul. Gillius, though I respected him as a very talented sorcerer and healer, was still a commoner. He had no business lecturing us about the laws of the empire. My family had sat in the seat of Helena since the Western Conquest over a hundred years ago. “Espirians are known traitors to the emperor.”

Gillius glared at me. “The Articles of Clemency protect Rowyn, just as they protected you.” I froze at Gillius’s implication. Sure, I’d had mishaps with my magic. When I was younger, I had a hard time getting my temper under control. Accidents always happened with sorcery. It was a part of the deal. Magic could be useful—it could make you wealthy and powerful—but it all came at a cost. A cost usually paid in your youth. But I was past that now.

Gillius went on. “Since she is now under Solridge’s tutelage, the only ruling body that can try her is the Council of Five.”

Father considered Gillius. “Blythe, you say? That’s the name of the chief, is it not?”

The girl, Rowyn, turned her icy gaze back to Father. She raised her nose straight into the air and spoke so forcefully that I almost took a step back. “Chief Weldon was my father.”

By Sol above. The girl that Gillius insisted on dragging into my home couldn’t just be any old mountain traitor. No, she had to be the daughter of the veritable king of traitors. We would have to increase patrols in the hallway tonight just so that everyone could get a good night’s sleep and not worry about having their throats slit in their beds.

“Was you say? Could it be I’m finally rid of the man?” Father asked.

Rowyn hesitated. Something flickered in her eyes, some spark that wasn’t the anger nor the caution that had lurked there in her introduction. “He died over winter.”

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

Gillius’s eyes were on me. He raised his brows in silent question. I pointedly looked away. How dare he ruin what was supposed to be my grand homecoming. I’d been at Solridge several years now, away from home, away from my father who I knew sank into his vices and ailments in my absence. Gillius interrupted what precious little time I had with him, before I was to leave for school again, with this Morganite business. I was angry. Angry for myself. Angry for Father. Angry at Gillius to presume to involve us in such a farce.

Father motioned to the table. “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.”

The girl bowed, her back stiff, angry defiance written in every movement. “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.”

I couldn’t believe the audacity of this girl. My father was going against every instinct of his nature to allow her to stay, and she openly mocked him? I could feel my fingertips growing warm, the temper I’d tried so hard to control for most of my life brewing beneath the surface. I shot a furious look at Master Gillius. How dare he do this to us.

Rowyn and Gillius took a seat farther down the table, blessedly away from me. I tried to ignore the girl as much as possible, but I couldn’t help but sneak a glance every now and then. My eyes lingered on the marking on her neck, the faint outline of black peeking out from beneath her hair. I wondered what it was. I secretly hoped she would shrug her braid off her shoulder so I could see, but she was too tightly wound for little movements like that. She was looking around as though the ladies and men sitting in silk beside her were going to start shooting arrows.

Not likely, though a few would’ve liked to. This wasn’t the Morganite wilds; this was Helena, and we had standards of behavior. And yet, even as I thought it, I felt a strange pull. We had just met, and already, she was under my skin. I swallowed the strange sensation, forcing it down, trying to ignore the feeling, and her, for the rest of dinner.

As the candle wax began to drip on the tables, Gillius nodded to me and gestured toward the door. I knew it would come to this. My father was known to be stubborn and pigheaded. By Sol above, all of us Everetts were. But he would listen to me. He always listened to my sisters and me. Gillius would use me to try to appease him. I was all the more angry at him for it.

I followed Gillius into the hall, feeling righteous indignation with every step until we rounded the corner and Gillius turned to me.

“Why?” I growled. “Why did you have to bring her here? You know how we feel about the Morganites. You know what they’ve done, and you brought her here and just shoved her in our face! What is the meaning of this, Gillius?”

“Rowyn will die without help,” Gillius murmured. “She needs protection. You must make sure to ward her, every night.”

“And who will protect us from her?” I snarled, thinking back to all I’d seen of the Morganites. Their ruthlessness. Their lack of honor for laws and justice. “The wards fail if she leaves! What if she goes wandering the halls in search of silver or gold to steal?”

“She brings the rain, Destrian. She controls the weather, and her control is as volatile as I’ve ever seen. She’s in trouble.”

“So?” I scoffed. “I don’t see how that’s my problem! Why didn’t you just go back to DarkPort and sail to Solridge if she’s in so much trouble. It would’ve been faster!”

Gillius sighed. “Did you not just hear what I said? She is a volatile sorceress whose emotions influence the weather. You think it would be safe to take her out in open water on a ship? You see how angry she is. We would have been at the bottom of the sea within a day’s time.”

He had me there. “I still don’t see why you had to bring her to Helena,” I ground out. “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.”

But I was angry. I could feel the burning from the gem on my brow—the sparks alighting on my fingertips. I had come hoping to have a peaceful visit with my father, and Gillius was threatening to ruin it all. “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?”

His words brought me up short. We were lucky was why. We were farther north and by the sea. Perhaps it was our proximity to Horan, and to the Others who dwelled there. After all, they were known magic users, too, with powers that we were still ignorant of. Any number of things could’ve been the reason why Morgania remained the most fruitful part of the empire. It didn’t have to do with a girl, barely the height of my chest, and her petulant feelings that I cared nothing about. “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.”

Footsteps echoed in the hall. I turned and found the scowling girl behind me.

Gillius held out his hand. “Rowyn, may I present Lord Destrian Everett, heir consul to Helena and the lands of Morgania.”

This had to be some cruel joke of the gods. I watched as she made a vague attempt at a curtsy that nearly sent her to the floor when the point of her sheath met with stone. “Really? And you expect her to get along at Solridge?”

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

I sighed. Obviously, I would not have a choice in the matter. All of our talk meant nothing when the Articles of Clemency were thrust in our faces. The only thing to do was be a nobleman and fulfill my obligation. No matter how distasteful it was.

“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.”

She met my glare with her own icy gaze. “You’re a cad, aren’t you?”

I bristled at the slight. This little mountain wretch called me a cad?

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

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

I couldn’t help but laugh. Clearly Rowyn agreed with our sentiment about her presence in Helena. She didn’t want to be here either. “Keep your hose on, Gillius. It’s no matter.” I turned and led them down several corridors until we reached the guest wing. “You may stay here,” I said, then warned, “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.”

Rowyn still looked extremely put out when she replied, “Thank you for your kindness, my lord. It won’t be forgotten.”

I shrugged, then Gillius nudged my shoulder. “I’ll ward your room so that, gods forbid, no harm should befall you.”

She barely thanked me before slamming the door in my face. I placed my hand on the door and let my power flow into it before turning to Gillius. “You’re making a mistake with her.”

As I strode to my own room, I thought back to the pleasantries and laughter I had shared with my father during the precious few days I’d been allowed to relax in my homeland. The elaborate parties, the soothing rhythm of my daily life—all were about to be disrupted by Rowyn’s arrival. This was no trivial matter. I had just been rejoicing in the splendors of my seemingly perfect life, and now, it was being threatened.

I let out a sigh of frustration. It wasn’t just about my life being disrupted. I was being forced to play the role of protector for a person who threatened to ruin everything I’d been working toward. The irony of it all was almost laughable.

I could feel the heat from the gem in my forehead intensify as my emotions threatened to burst. A part of me wanted to reject it all. Yet, another part of me, a part I wasn’t fully willing to admit existed, understood the implications if Gillius turned out to be right. Life as I knew it had taken an unexpected turn, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. It was as if the dream I was living was slowly fading away, being replaced by a reality that was far less pleasant.

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I hope you enjoyed this sneak peak into Destrian’s mind. If you’re interested in more, read “Storm and Sparks” today!

Warm regards,

Elliott VanDruff