“I agree, but his vision requested us to travel, so here we are.”

  “Your trust in the warlock could be your downfall,” mumbles Lord Barrett.

  King Richard makes eye contact with Lord Barrett, seeing no fear in the knight’s eyes. He grits his teeth, wanting to challenge him further, but there is no time because the warlock is impatient.

  “I value your loyalty, Lord Barrett, but don’t second-guess me again.”

  King Richard grips the leather reins, instructing the horse to travel down the steep cliff into the shadows as the horse hugs the cliff wall, keeping away from the edge. The brittle foliage crinkles under the hooves as they descend into the cover of the trees. He hasn’t traveled from the castle in years, not because he fears something, but because he no longer enjoys it. The other two men are several yards behind him once he reaches the bottom.

  The dark fae do not hesitate to serenade Richard as he enters their domain. It is hard to fight off their powers. Richard tries by closing his eyes and thinking of something else, but their song is too much. Her dark hair is braided, with vines and roses intertwined in the loops, and her green dress flows to the ground, accentuating her beauty. Two other fae appear from the shadows, beckoning him to follow them further into the forest. Their blond hair cascades to their waist, and their yellow dresses flow in the wind as they dance around.

  Lord Barrett or Reese calls out to him, but he can’t escape the trance.

  A gust of wind batters the land as an enormous hawk rustles through the branches, flying toward Richard, breaking the enchantment. His talons dig into the dirt as his broad wings tuck against his body.

  The dark fae dash into the shadows of the trees.

  A high-pitched cry from the bird orders the men to follow as it soars into the distance.

  “Warlock?” asks Reese.

  “Likely. Let’s get out of here before the fae return,” says Richard.

  Deer scatter in the distance as the horses scamper down the covered path toward the hawk. It’s unclear how long it will take to reach the warlock, but Richard is determined to return home before nightfall. He shivers, thinking about the darkness and something always lurking, watching, and waiting for its prey.

  THE CHILLY WATER WRAPS around Richard’s hand as he splashes his face. Brushing his hand over the water’s surface, he scatters the water striders and cups water in his hand to drink. He looks at his reflection in the ripples, seeing that all the scheming has tortured his soul and made him appear much older. The sunken cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, and visible wrinkles do him no justice. Sweat beads trickle down his cheeks as the sun scorches the lake.

  He pulls up on the walking stick, steadying himself, focusing on Lord Barrett, who stands several feet away, glaring back at him with his hand on his sword. Richard runs his finger across the hilt of his sword, smirking back at the man, knowing he must be the traitor. Why else would Lord Barrett continue to defy and provoke him? The rumbling of the earth breaks their concentration as each man becomes off-balance.

  The warlock stands at the entrance of a cave hidden in the hills.

  The passageways are narrow, gracing Richard’s shoulders as he tries to keep up with the warlock. The stagnant water assails his nostrils as they travel further into the musty cavern. His rough hand shields his nose, preventing him from sneezing. The path is uneven, and he curls his ankle several times, steadying himself against the slimy wall. Frustrated, Richard feels his face flushing as the ground becomes more unsteady underfoot.

  After walking for miles, they enter a chamber where ten men stand along a wall, wearing brown cloaks and carrying weapons. Torches span the surrounding wall, casting a reddish-orange glow and little light into the room. He knows the warlock would not lead him into a trap, but the thought of the betrayal makes him nervous. He pulls his robe away from his body to reveal his sword. Tapping his fingers on the hilt, he waits patiently for the warlock.

  “Please, gentlemen, take a seat,” says the warlock. “I have recruited these men from King Jonathan’s township to help us take over Splintered Vale. Our plan will be executed on the night of the full moon, as my powers will be at their fullest. I will find your brother’s sorceress to bear me a child, and an imposter will take care of your brother, ending his rule.”

  “Nonsense. Neither my brother nor the sorceress will allow you to get close to her. Besides, how will that help me take my homeland back?” snaps Richard.

  “Unlinking the bond between Nelia and the queen will unravel the kingdom, making everyone vulnerable, especially after your brother’s death. No one will ever second-guess your heritage again, Your Majesty. She goes to the gardens at night, begging for forgiveness for your mother’s death. I will distract her, while one of these men kills your brother.”

  Richard interjects, “I will take care of my brother.”

  “As you wish.”

  Elbas twirls his hand in the air, creating a magical fog that wraps around Richard and the lords, transporting them outside upon the hill overlooking the Forbidden Forest.

  Richard vomits on the ground, trying to regain his composure from the unforeseen voyage. The pressure of the fog still surrounds his body, almost suffocating him as he gasps for air in a way he has never encountered before. He pulls off his robe and tunic to relieve the pressure, but it does not work. He still gasps for air, and moments pass before the magic disappears. He steadies himself against his horse, trying to take everything in.

  The warlock is too powerful, and he must cut ties with him after he receives what he wants, but there is always the chance that the sorceress will take him out first.

  He climbs onto his horse and nods toward the lords who wait for him.

  8

  Richard

  Broken Rest

  At sundown, Richard returns to Broken Rest.

  “Your Majesty, your brother is in the courtyard waiting for you,” Sir Raphael informs him. Raphael has been Richard’s first knight for several years.

  “There was no announcement that he was coming,” Richard rasps.

  “No, Your Majesty. He does have several knights with him.”

  “Warn the guards and bring me my sword.”

  King Richard journeys to the courtyard, where his brother sits on a bench and waits for him. He wears a red velvet robe, a tunic with their family crest, and his crown tucked in his thick brown hair. His youthfulness is still present, as if he has found a fountain of youth, but Richard knows he has been lucky and endured less trauma than he has.

  “My wife and I bring blessings to your family,” says King Jonathan.

  “I hear Constantina is expecting another child. How is my nephew, Kyle?”

  “Kyle is doing well. Yes, we have been blessed with another. I am here to make peace, for both our sakes. Accept my offer to settle our family’s differences.”

  “Nothing can take away the pain our mother caused. Look around at my fallen kingdom. The stone walls are crumbling, unveiling the weaknesses within my threshold and the rats who have eaten our grain and brought disease to our home. The pantries run low on food, creating panic in the surrounding villages, and all I can do is reassure my people that there is hope. Why do you even care what happens to my homeland?”

  “Join me, brother, and take the pain away from your loyal subjects. The land of Splintered Vale is prosperous and can feed your villages, preventing starvation until we can rebuild your homeland.”

  “I promised our father I would never surrender our home, no matter the cost. I also made a vow that my children would rule Splintered Vale.”

  “Why can we not rule together, sharing the riches of our lands?” Jonathan asks. “Think of the security we can bring to our world by joining forces.”

  “Our parents destroyed hope our family would reunify, separating us like we were the pick of the litter,” rants Richard. He gestures toward a few knights to join him. “You have been a thorn in my side since our birth. I will not join forces with you. I will take what is inherently mine.”

  “The hatred toward me is one thing, but threatening my family will bring disastrous consequences. If you bring the war to my homeland, I promise I will not be merciful,” warns Jonathan. “Your stubbornness will be your downfall.”

  THE CANDLES FLICKER IN THE wall sconces as the wind shrills through the large cracks in the foundation of the main hall.

  He grits his teeth, rubbing his finger against his temple to ease his throbbing head, but that does not alleviate the pain. As much as he wants the feud with his brother to end, it is not as simple as making an alliance. The damage from his parents is too great to be repaired. Nothing will get in his way to protect his unborn heir, not his wife, his brother, nor the shadowy figure that haunts him.

  “Richard, I saw your brother in the courtyard,” Victoria says as she approaches. “Is everything well?”

  He dodges her touch.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The pounding is getting worse, and the voices are too much.”

  “Richard, you’re hurting me!”

  He quickly releases his grip, not realizing he had grabbed his wife’s arm. His handprint is visible on her pale skin, and he takes a few steps away as she reaches for him.

  “It would help if you spoke with the physician about what is happening with you. I know you don’t want to burden anyone, but you are not well.”

  “Victoria, I am late for a meeting. Please forgive me.”

  “Richard!”

  Refusing to continue with the conversation, he walks toward the Great Hall, not wanting to deal with people having no choice in the matter.

  At age fourteen, he ascended the throne without an advisor, and people were wary of him but had faith that he would honor his father’s legacy. The marriage between him and Victoria was intended to build an alliance between their regions, but his father lied about the union’s intent, having other plans. The inadequacies of her not giving him an heir have made it impossible for him to trust her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, especially with her carrying his child.

  The rumors of his madness portray him as an unfit and incompetent leader, but he ignores the gossip, going about his business. He knows the infection ravaging his body is punishment for his adulterous acts, and one day, he will lose control. Until that time, he will not allow anything to get in his way.

  RICHARD ENTERS THE GREAT HALL to see nobles and lords from the townships of Broken Rest in the room. He sits at the head of the long oak table, and the conversations among the people trail off. He notices the warlock in a corner alone, with his arms crossed, as he leans against the wall.

  Richard takes a drink of wine and starts the meeting.

  “We are having trouble collecting the taxes from our townsfolk,” a nobleman, Bartholomew, informs.

  “Do you have a remedy for the problem?” asks Richard. Placing the goblet on the table, he continues, “Do we arrest every townsperson in default and lock them away in the dungeons?”

  “It’s not that we want everyone locked away. It’s merely a matter of our land not generating the supplies to bring in money,” Bartholomew responds.

  “We can take the firstborn to build an army.” The warlock smirks.

  “How will that solve the problem?” snaps Bartholomew.

  “What you are asking is outrageous,” Lord Barrett interjects. “Taking workers from the towns, for no reason will increase the hardship we are already facing.”

  The warlock responds, “This will provide an opportunity to rebuild the royal army and provide workers to restore Broken Rest.”

  Lord Barrett counters, “Your Majesty, this plan he is proposing will only cause more pain to your people.”

  “Our kingdom has always had poverty and been scrutinized by other towns for the lack of produce. Bartholomew, you are tasked with finding rich soil for our gardens and discovering how the other towns prevent diseases from destroying their livestock.”

  He guzzles wine.

  “I agree with the warlock. The army needs to be stronger, and we need to rebuild our kingdom. Please inform your townspeople who can’t pay the taxes will need to hand over their eldest child to join the ranks of our army. This will not fall to the townspeople, but to the noble and lord families who also fall into hardship.”

  Whispers erupt among the men.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I have other business to attend to.”

  KING RICHARD SITS UNDER A dogwood tree, admiring the scenery, waiting for his wife. The fragrance of the flowers in bloom assails his nostrils, and he recalls their first kiss in the gardens shortly after she arrived at Broken Rest. They were both young, inexperienced in all aspects of life, and both heirs of royalty.

  Victoria is escorted into the gardens by two knights. The flowy white gown clings to her body, showing off her pregnancy. Her long blond hair flows to her waist, and her green eyes glisten in the faint light.

  He embraces her hands as he gently kisses her cheek.

  He whispers, “There are rumors that you are conspiring against me. Rumors you are planning to return to your homeland with my child.”

  “Only rumors, Your Majesty. My alliance is always with you,” she says.

  He tightens his grip as she tries to struggle free. “I wish you did not lie to me. We have arrested Lord Barrett for conspiracy against the crown.”

  The two knights flank Victoria as Sir Raphael drags Lord Barrett from the darkness and tosses him at her feet. Raphael places a dagger under Barrett’s chin, forcing him to look at her.

  Richard continues, “I don’t understand why you, of all people, would betray me. I have given you everything. At first, I thought you were having an affair but finding out you committed treason is unforgivable.”

  He brushes his hand against her cheek.

  “Do you deny conspiring with Lord Barrett to flee to your homeland with my heir?”

  “This allegation is nothing but false accusations in the attempt to destroy our kingdom or, better yet, make you paranoid about who you can trust.”

  “The truth has already been uncovered, my love. Treason is punishable by death, yet here we are, and you have done the unthinkable, but don’t worry, Victoria,” he says, brushing her hair out of her face. “I will ensure your family receives your remains.”

  He places the dagger against her throat.

  “This atrocity will not end well, Your Majesty. I demand that you release me,” she orders. “I am your wife and the queen.”

  The warlock interrupts, “Your Majesty, I must remind you she is carrying your heir.”

  “Warlock, your timing is unwelcome. Begone.” To Victoria, he says, “Did you also warn my brother of my intentions to overthrow him?”

  “I admit nothing. You murdered my maidens, ripped my family away, and left me alone as you bedded mistresses. You are delusional about what you think you know,” she harps, refusing to break eye contact with him.

  “There is only so much torture a person can take. Lord Barrett has implicated you in everything. What do you have to say about this?”

  Richard watches the tears swell in her eyes and flow down her cheek. He never imagined that she would betray him, not after everything they had been through and the love they shared.

  “Your Majesty, your army awaits,” the warlock interrupts.

  “Princess Victoria, House Brenton, heir to the crown of the Fiery Region and the Queen of Broken Rest, you have been found guilty of treason, and your punishment is death.”

  A powerful blast of magic knocks the dagger out of Richard’s hand.

  “Warlock!”

  “As I said, Your Majesty, she is carrying your heir.”

  Richard and the warlock lock eyes as he steps away from his wife.

  He clenches his teeth, saying, “Lock her in her chambers and get rid of Barrett before I return.”

  He storms off to meet with his knights, not wanting another conversation with the warlock after he belittled him in front of his wife and knights. This day has been disastrous, from his trip to the Forbidden Forest, his conversation with his brother, finding out his wife will flee with his child, and now, the warlock.

  The shadowy figure sits on a bench in the garden, mocking him.

  9

  Nelia

  Splintered Vale

  In the northeast tower of Splintered Vale, Nelia listens to the wolves howl in the mountains as she takes in everything that has happened in her absence. It has been a few days since her arrival, yet she has not seen Charnell, not because she doesn’t want to. Maybe, they are both avoiding each other.

  Does he want to see her, or is he keeping his distance to torture her as she did him? It doesn’t matter, or does it? She must keep her head high, not torment herself any longer, and focus on her tasks, such as defending the royal family. There must be a way to figure out what the warlock is planning, but uncovering the truth will not be easy.

  The cauldron bubbles, and vapers escape into the air as Nelia flips through pages of a book. There must be a spell to help decipher what has happened to her after arriving at Port Welch. It’s almost as if she is suffocating, unable to focus on the here and now. There have been no visions. No visions.

  Vapers from the cauldron caress her hand as she chants, trying to unlock any vision.

  Black smoke fills the room, and a man’s silhouette becomes visible as the smoke evaporates. She stumbles back into the table, and several books fall to the floor as she tries to distance herself from the warlock. Their eyes lock, and her hands become unsteady as she sees her nemesis before her.

  “Why are you here?” she says, quite sternly. “You should not be here.”

  “You summoned me,” he reminds her. “I was not expecting to be here either, you know. Your home is more inviting than mine, but you do need to tidy up the place. There is dust everywhere.”

  He traces a path through the thick dust on the table.