Forsaken Secrets: A slow-burn new adult fantasy romance (Isle of the Forsaken Book 1)

by Olivia K Moto

  They had one of those relationships that everyone dreamed of and few got.

  A rhythmic drumming brought me out of my thoughts, and I looked down to see my fingers beating a staccato pattern on the glass of the display case. I pulled my hand back quickly and stuck both hands in my pockets to keep them still.

  "I can hear you fidgeting, kiddo." Mr. Harlsted poked his head out of the back, mustache waxed into points and hair slicked back, as always. "A Reaper dropped off another shipment, so there are a few new books in the back. Go take a look at them while I make you an offer." He waggled his eyebrows, and I smiled back, relief unknotting my muscles as I turned away.

  "Thanks, Mr. Harlsted."

  "Sure thing. Just promise not to give my nephew too much trouble, okay?"

  I grimaced at the reminder, but nodded, then ducked my head and walked away. Hopefully, the young lordling wasn't too much of a pain in my side.

  4

  Kaiya

  I wandered through the aisles with neatly organized wares, the bolts of cloth and bins of flour in the same places as always. There was a small display of those pearl rosaries that everyone had taken to wearing lately, and I shook my head.

  Definitely not my style.

  Finally, I reached the heavy green curtain separating off the back storeroom from the rest of the store. Checking both ways, I slipped inside.

  The counter was dark, lit by a single lyphos lamp whose orange glow was almost gone.

  I tapped one side of the glass, and the rotund, sluggish creature inside lifted its head sleepily.

  Its whole body began to vibrate, and the room immediately brightened.

  Smiling, I slipped it a food tab and turned to the newly illuminated glass counter, taking a seat on one of the wooden stools beside it.

  I turned to the sorting table and gasped.

  Wow! He wasn't kidding when he'd said they'd gotten a new shipment. This was a veritable treasure trove! I sat my pack on the seat next to me and started sorting.

  Mr. Harlsted liked to sit back here and sort the new inventory in silence. But when I was young, I'd been his little shadow. Many days had been filled with sitting here, swinging my legs, and humming to myself while he'd sorted items into piles and written in his ledger.

  Those early years after my parents died had been hard, but having the Harlsteds made them more bearable.

  Nestled beneath scrap metal and worn art was a small pile of books. My heart leaped at the thick leather bindings.

  The navy leather cover of the first book creaked as I opened it, and I grimaced. Hopefully, the next owner would do a better job of caring for the beauty.

  Proper Decorum for Young Ladies in their first Season

  I cringed and slammed it shut, then buried it back under the pile. If I cared to learn proper decorum, I could attend an afternoon tea with the Ridge ladies. What a waste of a beautiful cover and paper!

  The second book was a rich burgundy with gold filigree around the edges. I carefully opened it, trying not to get too hopeful … and grimaced.

  A Brief History of the Empire, as told by King Tréville the 3rd.

  Ugh. What kind of person would knowingly read this propaganda? I flipped through the first few pages and my stomach lurched at the sight of overly characterized mages being drawn and quartered.

  "To stop the spread of the twisted vileness within the Forsaken, they were broken and then burned. We drove the few remaining back onto their cursed island and trapped them there. Finally, we could emerge from the dark, a renewed kingdom …"

  It continued on, but I refused to read any more.

  The lies made me sick to my stomach. Not all mages were evil or corrupt! I was just like everyone else, except for my broken magic, and that did nothing to hurt anyone.

  No. The real evil were the Seekers and other workers for the Empire, who persecuted anyone with even a hint of power. People who'd done nothing wrong to deserve such a fate … people like my mother. And me.

  I buried the book of lies at the bottom of the stack, trying to release the anger that had risen in my chest, then stared at the last book in the little pile.

  Its leather was darkened with years of wear and cracked in places, but engraved on the front was an enormous dragon with wings extended.

  Now this had potential!

  I tugged on the front cover. It slid open without a sound and I took a deep breath, enjoying that calming scent of paper and ink.

  Turning the first page, I grinned, entranced by the intricate ink work depicting magical creatures all over the inner cover.

  Sfelhink — 1sxl Enlhish

  My heart dropped. Fae? It was written in Fae?

  Gods. Of course it was!

  I flipped through a few pages and ground my teeth, excitement warring with frustration inside me. The gorgeous book was a bestiary.

  How in the seven hells had it ended up here?

  Clutching it to my chest, I peeped through the curtains. The Harlsteds still hadn't returned to the front of the store, and most of the customers had left. Perhaps I could inspect it more closely and take some notes?

  Then again, if I came back later with my little Fae dictionary, I might actually be able to translate some of it.

  No. That book was worth a fortune. Some wealthy collector was bound to snap it up before I came by again …

  I'd copy down what I could and translate it later.

  I pulled my journal from my left pocket and opened to an empty page, then dove in.

  5

  Kaiya

  "Kaiya! Your order is ready!"

  Mr. Harlsted's voice pulled me out of the book. I rubbed my tired eyes, then stretched my sore fingers.

  Gods. How long had I been working?

  I looked at what I'd written and grimaced. It would really help if I could draw worth a damn. At least the words seemed accurate, though.

  I closed the book and returned it to the pile.

  "Kiddo?" Mr. Harlsted popped his head through the curtain and laughed. "Of course. I should have known you'd still be back here."

  I quirked my brow and shrugged. What could I say — he knew me too well.

  "What did you discover?"

  "I couldn't translate much, but there are SO many creatures in there! More than I've ever even heard of. It'll be worth a fortune if that monster hunter sees it."

  He twisted his mustache and looked down at me. "Well, if you get a chance, you're welcome to come back and try again."

  "I'm just in town today to grab supplies and drop them off at the shop. Then I need to get work done at the estate. Aunt Grace is pushing hard with the Season around the corner."

  "Fair enough. I'll try to keep it around as long as I can, just in case."

  My stomach twisted. "You really don't need to do that." I slipped my journal into my pocket and grabbed my bag before meeting his eyes again. "What permit was it under, though?"

  How had someone found something like this? I'd searched everywhere and only found dust and overgrown trees.

  He chuckled. "The Reaper didn't say — you know how they are. But I got the impression it wasn't from around here. He just said the Empire didn't want it, so I gave him credit for it instead. I figured it would be a unique addition to our collection here, if nothing else."

  I rolled my eyes. We both knew it would sell within a few days of being shelved. Artifacts like that were too rare to stick around long. Even though magic and the histories about the Age of Mages were publicly taboo, there were several collectors on the Ridge, and they, with their deep pockets, bought up every artifact the Empire didn't confiscate.

  I followed him to the front counter, surprised to see that the shop had gotten busy again. The storm must have passed.

  "What were you two talking about back there?" Mrs. Harlsted's cheerful voice asked.

  "Oh you know, solidifying our plot to take over the world," he said.

  I laughed and glared at him before leaning onto the counter and meeting Mrs. Harlsted's twi
nkling eyes. "So, what's the verdict? Is it all junk?"

  She cocked a brow. "Of course not. We sold it all to you in the first place! Unless you think we sell junk?"

  I looked pointedly at a display of gaudy pearl rosaries and jewelry and winked. "You? Junk? Never."

  Mr. Harlsted let out a bark of laughter. "Fair enough. Take a look at this price sheet and let me know what you think." He withdrew a small sheet of paper from beside the cash register and passed it to me.

  I let my eyes skim the long column of figures written neatly there, stomach clenching tighter with each new line.

  "Just what do you think you're doing with this?" I said. "It's more than I paid, and they're now used items." I slid the paper across the counter and leaned back, crossing my arms across my chest as I awaited their explanation.

  "See. I told you she wouldn't let us do it." Mrs. Harlsted elbowed her husband.

  "It was worth a try, and you know it," he said, shaking his head and pulling a small silver pen from behind his ear.

  He sighed and crossed out each line, replacing them with much more reasonable numbers.

  He'd barely started marking it up, when the bell over the door rang and the store went silent.

  My stomach dropped, and I turned around slowly.

  That billowing, blood-red gown could only belong to one woman. It was decorated in creamy lace and what had to be hundreds of pearls.

  I mean, it was stunning … in an over-the-top kind of way, but it was completely out of place in the Harlsted's General Store.

  Lady Ellingsworth's lips curled into a tight smile when she saw me. "Well, what do we have here? Miss Maderoth, are you already preparing for your next payment?"

  My eyes slid back to the slip of paper, and I grimaced. The timing could not have been worse.

  "Yes, my lady," I said, sure to keep my voice demure as I dipped into an awkward curtsey.

  She scoffed, then stepped closer and leaned in until we were almost nose to nose. Her floral perfume made my head ache. She'd obviously never learned that scents should be applied sparingly.

  My mouth went dry as her ice-blue eyes drilled holes in my skull before dropping to my (admittedly messy) walking dress.

  I held my ground, though, and forced my smile to remain steady.

  She would not get the best of me today.

  Inspection complete, the stately woman stood and a small smile twisted her lips. It made my stomach clench.

  She never smiled.

  "Mr. Harlsted." Her hand reached out for the paper. "What is that paper you have?"

  I stared, wide-eyed, as he paused and glanced at me. I kept my face blank. The last thing they needed was to get in trouble for me.

  Finally, he handed it over.

  Her lips pressed together as she studied the page. "I see."

  She passed the paper back and shifted her glare to me. "Your junk is worth this much?" She looked me up and down again. "You had this small fortune just sitting under your roof, and you dared ask for extensions to your payment?"

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I shook my head. "N-no, my lady. It's not what it looks like. They were just trying to — " I looked between her and the Harlsteds, heart racing as I tried to come up with a sufficient excuse.

  "I don't care what they were trying to do, Miss Maderoth," she interrupted, turning to Mr. Harlsted with her lips curled. "You will give me this amount instead, so that I may deduct it from her debt."

  My breath left in a whoosh. We needed that money to buy sewing supplies for the Season and repair the siding on the house before winter! Had I just sold my tools for no reason? Legs weak, I leaned against the counter and watched Mr. Harlsted pull money from his drawer and pass it over, cheeks bright.

  I couldn't blame him, though. Our hands were all tied when it came to Lady Ellingsworth.

  "Well, that's a start, at least," she said, lips twisted in a cruel smile.

  I curtseyed and nodded, stomach tightening.

  She stepped closer, angular jaw clenched as she pinched my chin. Sharp nails dug into my skin and I tried to hide my grimace. But she didn't care, turning my head from side to side like I was some sort of animal.

  Rebellion boiled in my stomach, but I complied, forcing my face to stay slack.

  "You know, we really should have been the ones to take you in all those years ago. Perhaps then you'd have a real chance at a happy life." Her eyes swept over me again, tightening as she took in the stains and general mess that was me. "Yes, you could have been beautiful — maybe even the diamond of the Season." She paused and leaned closer, picking at a mud stain on my sleeve before grabbing my chin and turning my face side to side. "But instead, you're the niece of a common seamstress and doomed to a life of drudgery."

  Satisfied smirk on her lips, she dropped my chin and stepped back, focus shifting to the hulking manservant that always followed her around.

  I stood frozen in place, but my body was on fire. I could taste blood where I'd bitten too hard on my cheek, and I wanted to rage, to demand an apology.

  How DARE she?!?!

  My body ached to lash out, but now was not the time. Not yet.

  We'd repay our debt within the next year, and then we'd be free. Until then, she held our lives in her venomous little claws, and I had to keep myself under control.

  So I just curtseyed as prettily as I could at her back and said, "Yes, my lady," before turning and walking towards the back of the store.

  Gods, that woman made me angry!

  "Kaiya," A low voice whispered from the back room, making me jump. Mr. Harlsted stepped out of the shadows, a sad smile on his lips, as he passed me my pack. I didn't even realize I'd left it at the front.

  Smiling gratefully, I slipped it over my shoulders and turned to go, but he held out a hand to stop me. "You should have everything on your shopping list in there, but let me know if I missed anything."

  I tried to object, but he stopped me with a sharp look. "Don't worry. I took it out of the amount before giving her the total. I couldn't just sit by and watch her ruin all your hard work. Besides, I doubt she'll even notice."

  Grateful, I smiled at him. "Can you send me a receipt for how much you gave her? Knowing her, she'll take that money, then claim we haven't paid a dime."

  His gaze hardened, but he nodded, and I gave him a quick hug before stepping out into the alley behind the shop.

  6

  Eli

  "Where is it?" I muttered, staring at the ruins. The shapes in the sketch were completely different from what I saw with my own two eyes.

  I really should have known better. The journal was from before the Fall.

  It should be here, though.

  I stepped back and again surveyed what I could see of Gleyma.

  Across the bay was the market district. It was all that was left of the Fallen Capital. Most of the people in Gleyma lived and worked over there. They'd reworked the ruins into new structures and turned the major thoroughfare into a pleasant area, with shops, parks, and dining areas. I hadn't ventured beyond that to Ellesmere or the business districts yet, but from what I heard, Ellesmere held more of the old Capital's charm … and danger.

  A thin bridge stretched across the choppy water, bridging the old and new parts of Gleyma. The locals called this new side The Ridge. It was full of large estates owned by the snobby aristocrats who vacationed from the Capital.

  I returned my stare to the ruins that weren't where they should be.

  The crumbling tower stood mysterious and beautiful against the stormy sky. It loomed high above me, broken and patchy in places. But the original beauty was still apparent in the carvings on the light brown stones.

  It had survived the destruction of old Ellesmere; but almost a thousand years had passed, and erosion and time would soon send the beautiful structure into the ocean.

  Far beyond it, at the back of the beach, was Fort Gleyma. It was mostly deserted these days, but a few guards continued to patrol the area, keeping
the main ruins safe from scavengers so Reapers could collect their relic bounties.

  Of course, that was largely a waste of time as the ruins had been cleared out decades ago.

  I shook my head and stared out at the ocean beyond the bridge.

  Angry clouds rolled over the water, hiding the Forsaken Isle from view, as always.

  Home.

  I wouldn't admit it out loud, but damn, I missed it. How big would Mirrim have gotten by the time I got back?

  This mission was taking a lot longer than Dimiri had predicted when he'd assigned it to Jaiel and me.

  Though that probably wasn't helped by my inability to focus on the damn scrolls. They were just so excruciatingly dull! Hours cooped up in my room translating hundred-year-old ship manifests were not my idea of a rewarding career.

  This, though …

  I grinned and stepped up to the tower, letting my fingers trace the carvings slowly.

  … this I could do forever.

  It amazed me they'd survived so long — especially on the coast like this!

  Shifting the pack on my back, I reached inside and removed the little leather journal. I'd painstakingly copied every page from the original, safely tucked into my shelves back home.

  I opened the book to the section on the Fallen Capital, Ellesmere, and read the entry again.

  "I cannot wait to show her what I've found. Finally, we'd have a way to use elemental magic. All our tests indicate that we could share it through bonds, too! She's so enthralled with him, though, that she refuses to even answer my messages …"

  The message just ended and there were no more entries past that point.

  What had the owner found? Was there really some way to use elemental magic? If so, we needed to find it before the Empire did.