unForgiven (The Birthright Series Book 2)

by Bridget E. Baker

  I can’t do it.

  Inara pulls out a dagger and holds it in her right hand. She places her left on my end table and saws off her own index finger.

  She doesn’t even whine.

  I close my eyes and look anywhere but at the blood. How? How could she do that to herself?

  “That was not even close to being fun.” Her heartbeat has escalated, unsurprisingly.

  Death circles my feet, picking up on my agitation, and then sniffs the air, smelling Inara’s blood. When he starts to walk toward her, I imagine him chewing on her finger.

  “Stop, please. Surely that’s enough.”

  “It’s not,” she says. “Not even close, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d take over from here.”

  I really don’t want to, but it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.

  17

  The Present

  “I really want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me,” I tell Ambrosia and Billy. “Truly, I would have had things much harder if I hadn’t found you.”

  Ambrosia is crying, and she rushes over and wraps her arms around my neck. I glance at Roman desperately. He’s laughing soundlessly, the jerk. I finally manage to twist out of her embrace and step backward, toward Roman.

  He slings an arm around my shoulder.

  “I told you he’d be the best boyfriend,” Ambrosia says.

  “Yes, you did.”

  Roman beams at her now. “Thanks. I think Judica needed a little push.”

  “Rosy’s great at pushing people,” Billy says. “Too bad there’s not a major in college for being bossy.”

  “Oh there are classes, alright,” Ambrosia says. “They call them leadership training.”

  “I almost forgot,” I say. “I’ve got something for the two of you.”

  Roman places two envelopes in my hand, heavy envelopes. “I know you didn’t help me for compensation, but I know humans place a lot of value on this.” I pass the envelopes to Billy and Ambrosia.

  Ambrosia shakes her head. “I don’t want anything.”

  I hold my hands out, palms facing her. “I must insist. It’s the end of what Roman brought in case we needed it.”

  Billy’s busy counting, his mouth already curving into a half-smile. His head whips up. “These bills are all hundreds.”

  “It’s only a hundred and eleven-thousand dollars,” Roman says. “Split two ways.”

  Ambrosia splutters. “Now I really, really can’t take it.”

  “I wasn’t kidding,” I say. “We run the whole world. Think of this as a tax rebate for your service to the country.”

  She giggles. I’m going to miss that giggle.

  “It’s time to go,” Roman says. “We need to leave before Melina figures out we aren’t coming after her and starts searching airports.”

  Ambrosia pulls me in for one more hug, and then Billy does too. And then I’m following Roman to the jet.

  “Does my sister know we’re coming home?”

  Roman’s face scrunches. “About that.”

  Oh no.

  “I might have stolen this jet.”

  I close my eyes. “Might have?”

  “I tied a few people up and took it.”

  “Roman.”

  His voice rises. “You were in trouble. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Well, let’s hope my twin’s bottomless mercy works in our favor this time.”

  “She was really upset that you were gone.”

  “As in angry, upset? Or worried?”

  Roman touches my nose. “Your face is the one I can read. I don’t know what she was feeling other than agitated, but she loves you. Otherwise, she’d have chopped off your head or locked you up after that fight. To me, that’s promising.”

  I follow Roman up the stairs to the jet, and I’m shocked when I see two humans sitting in the cockpit.

  “Umm,” I whisper, “I thought you said you flew the jet.”

  “I did,” he says, “but I don’t want to fly it home. I hired these guys before I gave you our leftover cash.”

  Smart. That was smart. Maybe Mother was wrong about him.

  The second we take our seats, exhaustion rolls over me like a wave. I haven’t slept since Melina held me captive. Roman wraps an arm around me and I lay my head on his shoulder gratefully.

  “Let me know if this gets uncomfortable for you,” I say.

  “Oh, you won’t bother me,” Roman says. “I promise. Get some sleep.”

  I do.

  Roman’s shaking wakes me up. “We’re landing.”

  I bolt upright in my chair and rub my eyes. “I slept for eight hours?”

  He looks at me like I looked at Death as a puppy when he chewed on his own tail. “Don’t worry. You only drooled a little bit.”

  My hand flies to my chin.

  “Gotcha.”

  “You jerk,” I say. “I knew I didn’t drool.”

  “And yet you checked,” he says.

  “That’s very bad boyfriend behavior,” I say, my heart lifting at the word. “I hope this is not how you plan to proceed.”

  Roman leans over and kisses me right on the mouth. “How’s that for boyfriend behavior?” he asks when he finally pulls back.

  The landing gear deploys and the plane touches down. The view out of the window is one of the most staggeringly beautiful I’ve ever seen. Ni’ihau may not be the lushest of the Hawaiian islands, but it’s home. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I returned.

  My heart races when I unbuckle my seatbelt. Will Chancery be angry to see me? Happy? Disappointed? My hands are shaking when I stand up.

  Roman takes my hand in his. “It’s going to be fine.”

  We walk out of the plane together, the sunlight momentarily blinding me. As soon as my eyes adjust, I see her. Chancery, flanked by Edam and her pet human, standing at the bottom of the runway. It’s so like when I met her plane a few days ago, and yet so different. Guards still line the runway, but none of them are holding guns or swords on me.

  And she’s smiling.

  I take the steps one at a time, but before my feet even hit the ground, Chancery rushes toward me. She doesn’t hesitate, or chastise, or express disappointment or frustration.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive.” Tears streak her cheeks liberally.

  I hadn’t considered my absence might cause her pain. I’m actually surprised she would care enough to be upset. It’s not like I’ve been a model sibling.

  “I’m here.” I release Roman’s hand and wrap my arms around her, too. It feels unfamiliar, and awkward, and strange.

  Probably because in nearly eighteen years of life, I’ve never once hugged her.

  “I’m sorry you were worried,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have called you, or had Roman tell you where I was.”

  She lets me go and straightens, schooling her features into something very near to Mother’s regal face. “What exactly did happen?”

  “Oh,” I say. “I didn’t realize that you didn’t know.”

  Chancery stares at me and I feel practically compelled to share.

  “Angel knocked me out and took me to Melina.”

  She gulps. “Melina?”

  “This is likely to be a lengthy discussion.”

  “And you need to get food and clean off.” She gestures for me to walk ahead of her. “Don’t let me stop you. But as soon as you’re ready, I’d love to hear the whole story. And of course, I’d love to include you in the discussions we’ve been having.”

  Whoa, that doesn’t sound good. “What discussions?”

  “Before we can talk about all this, you need to go get cleaned up, and we need Job to evaluate you.”

  Death’s bark sounds from across the empty field. I crouch down and watch as he sprints toward me, and barrels into me, licking my nose, my cheeks, my neck, even my mouth. I finally straighten up, and he sits on my feet as though he’s worried I’ll disappear on him again.
>
  Roman’s fingers interlace with mine and my heart swells. I’ll always miss Mother. That won’t change, but my heart is more full in this moment than I ever imagined possible. Melina better watch out, because nothing in the world can stop us now that Chancery and I are on the same team.

  The End

  If you enjoyed unForgiven, I’ve included the first chapter of the third book, Disillusioned, as a small bonus. Check it out! It will be out December 15, 2019.

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  18

  Disillusioned Sample

  One week from today, I turn eighteen.

  Six months ago, Mom mocked me mercilessly when I insisted I wanted stargazer lilies for the party. But she couldn’t change my mind, no matter how many exotic options she suggested. Her disappointment in my pedestrian flower choice was nothing to face she made when I told her I wanted bouncy houses. I thought it would be hilariously ironic to have stuff reserved for little kids at my party when I’m turning eighteen.

  She and I spent hours planning this party, and it should be epic. Elegant, posh, delightful for the first two hours, and then the bouncy houses, the snow cone stands, the cotton candy comes out and the ball gowns go in the corner. With all the bad things lately, I should be excited about a party.

  I’m not.

  Because one week ago, on her nine-hundredth birthday, my mom was murdered. So when my chamberlain, Larena, walks into the conference room with cake samples and dozens of new flower choices in vases, I practice the soothing breath techniques Mom taught me.

  I do not want a party for my eighteenth birthday. I really don’t want the party Mom and I planned. In fact, the idea of celebrating anything right now horrifies me. We haven’t even had Mom’s funeral. I close my eyes and shake my head.

  “Before you throw me out,” Larena says, “hear me all the way through. Your mother and I finalized all the details weeks ago. All that remains is the final flower selections and the cake flavor.” She clears her throat. “It’s not all about you. The people need something to look forward to.”

  I should be laughing, and telling my mom that I want stargazers, still. We should be arguing over whether the cake is orange flavored with chocolate frosting like I love, or vanilla and chocolate like most people prefer. I shouldn’t be thinking about my party while I’m planning her funeral. “Cancel all of it.”

  Larena’s lips compress and she sighs slowly. “I think that’s a mistake.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “It’s my birthday and if I have nothing to celebrate, why should I?”

  Larena purses her lips. “If you’re not worried about general morale, consider this. Your mother would be disappointed if you didn’t celebrate your existence. Her whole life changed when you came into it.”

  Yes, it did. Because of me she had to fight a handful of skirmishes and execute her best friend. I’ve been a failure since day one, and now I’m about to be crowned empress as some kind of cosmic joke. “Fine,” I say. “Throw a party and I’ll go, but I don’t care what you pick for decorations, and I’m not going to dicker over the cake. Chocolate. Because this isn’t about me, clearly.”

  Maybe I should make the entire party black. Judica’s either dead, or she’s about to attack me, and I probably won’t know which until I’m blown to bits by a nuclear bomb. A wave of exhaustion rolls over me. I’m not sleepy, but I’m so tired of everything.

  Noah strolls into the room as if on cue, his eyes taking in the haggard expression on my face. “You don’t look so great.”

  “You should not speak to the queen like that,” Larena snaps.

  “Oh, sorry. You don’t look so hot, princess.” Noah winks at me. “Not sleeping well?”

  I roll my eyes. “Not sleeping enough, probably, but I’m fine, really.”

  Noah takes a seat near the end of the table. “Are those snacks for this meeting?”

  Oblivious Noah doesn’t even recognize a cake tasting. “Sure,” I say. “That’s what they are. Why don’t you try that dark one.”

  “Chocolate? That’s a little boring for me,” he says.

  I shake my head. “See the tiny chili pepper on top? That’s chocolate spice.” I lift my eyebrows. “Your mouth will burn for an hour.”

  “Sly, princess, but then you gave up the secret. How will you punk me now?”

  “Punk him?” Larena asks.

  “You know what?” I ask. “I’ve got a solution for you both. Noah, I’m putting you in charge of all details for my birthday party next week. You’ll work with Larena to hammer out anything else she needs.”

  “Princess knows I throw a dope shindig.”

  Larena’s nostrils flare. “Perhaps we can begin by not using the words ‘dope’ or ‘shindig’ under any circumstances.”

  “Oh.” Noah folds his hands neatly in front of him. “It’s one of those kinds of parties.”

  I shake my head. “If I must have a party, I don’t want a fancy one.” I think about the ice sculptures, edible helium balloons and chocolate fountains at Mom’s party not too long ago. I can’t walk into something like that, I just can’t.

  “Dope it is,” Noah says. “Tell me this, boss lady. Do you have any connections for electric bulls?”

  I snort. “Not quite that wild. More like if one of your mom’s garden parties had a baby with the one you threw after that track meet.”

  “I can do that.” He turns to Larena.“Let’s talk right after this meeting.”

  Larena looks like she’s sucking on a lemon, but she says, “Yes, of course.”

  One less thing to worry about.

  The doors open again, and this time several people walk inside. Edam pointedly ignores Noah and circles the table to sit right next to me. Balthasar takes the seat on my other side. Frederick stands by the door like he’s here as a door guard. Inara trails in after the boys and sits directly across from me. Marselle waltzes through the door and takes a seat on the end of the table near Noah. Franco takes the seat on Inara’s right, adjusting his already immaculate, bright red tie, and brushing the lapels of his suit before sitting down. Maxmillian is wearing a suit that looks exactly like Franco’s, but his tie is sky blue and has a matching pocket square.

  Now that everyone’s here, I stand up. That might be unnecessary, but Mom used to stand.

  “If you’re here,” I say, “it’s because I trust you. For some of you, this is a promotion. For some of you, it may feel like a demotion.” I glance at Balthasar, and he closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly. Good, he’s not angry. “But I need each and every one of you. At my coronation tomorrow I’ll announce your names officially, but the real work is already starting. No one is operating under any delusions here that I’m perfectly prepared. I’m not. Mom left things in disarray when she passed, so we have a lot of clean up to do. But Alamecha is the first family for a reason, and we will rise even stronger for this period of chaos.”

  “This is your final Council?” Maxmillian glances around doubtfully, his eyes lingering on Noah.

  “I’m sure I’ll be adjusting things with time,” I say, “but for now, yes.”

  “A human and a half-human?” Maxmillian asks. “What kind of message will that send?”

  I expected someone to complain, but I didn’t expect it to be Lark’s uncle. “Angel is gone. We don’t know the circumstances yet, but it doesn’t look promising. I’m delighted that Lark is willing to step in as my new Food Services Director, even without a lot of experience. As I’m sure you’ll understand, I need someone I trust absolutely.” His niece may not be fully evian,
but I trust her more than anyone else.

  “What about your pet human?” Franco pins Noah with a glare.

  “He’s my new Human Relations Liaison.”

  “That’s not even a position,” Franco protests.

  “Change is always hard.” I pause to let that sink in. “And while I have nothing but respect for Mom’s reign, I am not Enora the second. I am Chancery Divinity Alamecha, and I disagree fundamentally with many of Mom’s policies and laws.”

  “Your mother didn’t create those laws alone,” Franco says. “All evian rulers worldwide agreed on many them.”

  “They had their reasons when they established most of them.” I meet Franco’s eyes. I will not flinch, and I will not back down. “And I have mine now. You all know Alamecha’s motto. Accept the world as it is, or do something to change it.” I spread my hands wide. “It’s my turn to do something, and I won’t shy away from what needs to be done, no matter how unpopular.”

  “What exactly are you planning to change?” Balthasar asks.

  “I’ll be changing a lot, but I will stagger some of it.”

  “Over decades?” Franco asks.

  I shake my head. Sometimes I forget how old they all are. Decades. It’s hard, but I don’t roll my eyes. “No, over several weeks.”

  Inara, Larena, Balthasar, Franco, and Maxmillian look grim. Noah and Edam and Marselle, bless them, remain entirely calm. Frederick is behaving like he’s not part of my Council.

  “Freddy, come sit at the table. I value your opinion. You’re not here to guard my door.”

  His eyes dart from Balthasar to Edam and then back to me. “I’m not clear on what my role is.”

  “You were my mom’s head guard. You’re mine. I’m simply adding that position to my Council, because I value your opinion beyond protection of my physical body.”