by Jordi Burton
But none of these men saw that. All they saw was the throne, the title. Even if they had the best of intentions, which she was sure most of them did, they were overshadowed by the glory of it all. “Win the fair maiden’s hand and become King!” It was like a fairy tale, come to life.
Reaching the throne, she sat and surveyed the room. Lili stood off to the side with Anastasia’s new guards, whispering. The men had clustered together in the large room, staggered expressions of awe and mischief on their faces. Anastasia almost didn’t want to tell them the truth. They were all so innocent now, trusting, excited. It didn’t feel right to take that away from them. Even though she knew she had to, to keep them safe.
“Some of you might have heard of killings going on through the realms,” she said, without preamble. “There is a murderer out there, hunting down individuals of pure bloodlines, with strong connections to their realm.”
A few gasps went through the men.
“You all have ancient bloodlines, that can be traced back to the beginning of Jacqueline. As such, I am hereby placing you under royal protection. You will be moved into the castle immediately, and royal guards will escort you anywhere you’d like to go, so long as you remain on the premises. Your things will be sent here, and your needs will be looked after.”
She expected an uproar. These men were being plucked from their homes, taken from their families, and moved into a strange location. Instead, they seemed to be treating it like an extended vacation.
“Who will be picking up our things?” one of them, Thores, asked.
Anastasia considered him for a moment. He was from Atil, down in the southeast of Jacqueline. She knew him to be staying in the inn in town, with at least two others, one from Eun, also in the southeast, and one from Girrun, in the north. They would need more than what they’d brought with them to Sehir.
“If you give a list of necessary provisions to the royal chamberlain, we will see that they are picked up from your homes.”
Gerrard stepped forward. “And what of our families?”
“If you have any siblings, please also alert the royal chamberlain. They will need to be brought to the castle, as well. As for your parents, grandparents, or extended family, they are all safe. The killer is only going after young people.”
Murmured discussions sprang up just as Celia entered the room. A few of the men made a break for her, rattling off their lists of needed provisions. The other men waited until Anastasia came down from the dais to speak with her. Gerrard caught up to her first and joined her as she moved through the room.
“Just how much danger are we in, Princess?” he asked.
She frowned. “The threat is serious, and we are backing the killer into a corner by taking away the final piece they need for their spell. You should not take it lightly.”
Thores came up on her other side. “Just how long will we be staying in the castle, Your Highness?”
“Until the threat has abated.”
“How will you know when it has?”
She sighed, and then raised her voice so everyone could hear her. “If you have any further questions about what I have just told you, please hold them until this evening. We will hold a welcome feast for everyone, and the floor will be open for discussion.”
Offering a quick smile to Gerrard, she stepped out into the hall. Celia stayed behind to take down their provisions, shooting Anastasia an impatient glare as she left.
Ignoring the men’s startled, anxious expressions, Anastasia moved away from the throne room. Her new guards surrounded her in the hall, making a kind of shield around her. She took them in, all wizened, older warriors, dressed in their violet doublets with slashed silver sleeves. Their presence reminded her of William, of his time apprenticing as her royal guard. Her chest tightened with sorrow.
Motioning to her regular guard, she addressed the newcomers. “This is Gath and Mortam. They have been with me for a year-and-a-half, now. If you should have any questions, they are the ones to ask.”
The older warriors didn’t look to pleased having to answer to younger men, but no one complained.
Turning on her heel, Anastasia headed back to her mother’s study. The people from the census would be arriving at any time, all throughout the day. She needed to try and gather as much information about the killer before then, so she could answer as many questions at dinner that night as she could.
Gods and Angels, she needed a nap.
CHAPTER TWELVE
D inner that night was an interesting event. Usually, Anastasia and her family ate together in the dining hall, but that wasn’t large enough to house everyone. So, the servants set up the banquet hall, filling the room with food and drink. The twelve ancient families of Jacqueline gathered around the table, seemingly speechless in the presence of the entire royal family. Anastasia sat at the head, flanked by her aunts. Bale and Graham sat opposite each other, while her father sat at the other head.
“Did you manage to get everyone?” Calla conversationally questioned as the servants brought out the salad course.
Anastasia frowned. “There were a few I couldn’t.”
She hadn’t been able to locate Durse Follant. Thankfully, he didn’t have any siblings. She’d sent word to Dani and Hayde out in the Sand Isles, requesting that they return to Sehir as soon as possible, but she hadn’t heard back yet. Chris was safe enough in the dungeons, and she’d brought his sister into the castle. But William was still missing.
“Not to mention,” Celia interjected. “It gets a little hairy when you try to trace back marriage records. Just to be safe, we rounded up everyone that could possibly be related to the twelve ancient houses.”
Which left them with thirty-three people staying in the castle. She’d rounded up Gerrard’s three sisters and his four age-appropriate cousins, two Dinas cousins, six Woodsmans, one Toldens—a distant relative of Warrior Surreg Toldens—Ericcen Ros and his two brothers, her Great-Uncle Bale’s three grandchildren, five Bellvies, four Cardens, and a Sophine. It was safe to say the room felt cramped. Thankfully, the castle had more than enough room to fit them all.
It was interesting to ponder. Anastasia had never before known about the ancient houses, nor had she really stopped to think about it. These people could trace their ancestry back to the very beginning of Jacqueline, and yet none of them had seemed to know it. Now they knew. Now they were marked. Vaguely, she wondered if any were Ancients. But without the List, she couldn’t possibly know.
Thores, the young man from Atil, cleared his throat. “So.”
He sat with his three cousins, all younger than he. Though they had a few similar features—such as the shapes of their noses and the fullness of their cheeks—they didn’t remarkably resemble each other. Unlike the Bellvie siblings across them from who looked like they could be quintuplets.
“You said we may voice our concerns, or questions, rather, at dinner.” He opened his arms. “Well, here we are.”
Anastasia inclined her head. “Yes, you all may ask any questions you have.”
Little Kane Woodsman, seated a few people down from Anastasia, popped up. “Is it hard being a princess, Princess?”
Thores made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. “Are you serious?”
“I just wanted to know.”
Kane shrank back. Beside him, Chris’s sister, Alex, rounded on Thores. “Are you always so rude, or is this special because you’re in the castle?”
As they fell to arguing, Anastasia blew out a breath. She’d severely underestimated what it would be like to have a group of people, their ages ranging from Kane’s thirteen years to Ryke Toldens’ twenty-four, gathered together in such close quarters.
Thores vehemently shook his head. “I want to know when we’ll be able to return home!”
A few of the others nodded in agreement.
“I’ve been away from home for weeks, now.”
Gerrard chuckled. “And what did you think would happen if you and Princess
Anastasia hit it off and you became King? That you would both go live in Atil together in your parents’ house?”
Thores looked uncomfortable. “Well, no, but—”
“You should be looking at this as an adventure,” Ryke Toldens intoned.
“But this isn’t an adventure! We’re being hunted!”
Ryke shrugged. “Either way you’re staying in the castle with a chance to not only spend time with the royal family, but also woo the Princess. I’d say, kick back and relax before she realizes you’re not worth it and delivers you to the killer on a silver platter herself.”
Thores turned fearful eyes on Anastasia, as though thinking she would actually hand him over to the killer. A handful of others joined him. It was at that moment that Anastasia realized that her people didn’t know her, not really. She’d been gone for ten years, and in the time since she’d returned, she’d spent most of her time with other royals. Not a single person in this room, outside of her family, truly knew her.
She vowed she would change that. She’d make her aunt put it on her schedule if she had to. The royal family used to spend time amongst their people during celebrations, and she remembered a time when her grandparents would have people over for dinner. Why hadn’t she and her parents reinstated that practice when they returned? True, the threat of Adrian and the Shadows, and her illnesses, and the attempted poisoning of her family during a feast had thrown a wrench into things. But this was Sehir, the royal city, their home.
Pushing back from the table, she addressed the room. “I know we pulled you from your homes, your families, but that is for your safety. We are working to identity and apprehend the person responsible for these murders.”
Her father nodded. “Once we do, you all will be free to return to your homes.”
Thores protested. “Yes, but how long will that take?”
“We don’t know,” said Anastasia. “But we are doing everything we can to make sure that it happens quickly. Until then, the castle is open to you.”
One of Gerrard’s sisters inclined her head. “We are very grateful for your hospitality and protection, Your Highness.”
A chorus of others chimed in with their thanks. Though Anastasia smiled outwardly, accepting their gratitude, inwardly she felt odd. It was strange, having the power to pluck people from their homes without facing any real resistance. She was just glad her family was here to support her.
Anastasia frowned. “Are there any other questions?”
It seemed that they hadn’t really comprehended that they couldn’t return home yet; most of their questions were surface ones. Could they go out into the palace gardens? Of course. What would they do for meals? They could join the royal family; they ate at the same times every day. If they missed those, they could always speak to the servants about food. What would they do about their laundry? The servants could pick it up for them and return it, much like they did for the royal family. How could they spend their time? Any way they pleased, so long as they stayed within the castle.
When their questions finally died down, pleasant conversation filled the hall. Anastasia’s family excused themselves. She supposed they didn’t want to be in a room surrounded by thirty young people any longer than they needed to.
As he pushed back from the table, her father shot her a wink. She grinned, waving at him as he left. Everyone around the table shot to their feet as the royal family rose. It took Anastasia a moment to remember that that was customary. It then struck her as humorous that William and Chris hadn’t ever done that when they were together. Perhaps, as warriors, they followed a different training?
Gerrard didn’t miss the opportunity to move closer to Anastasia once her aunts had vacated their seats. He scooted closer, bringing his plate with him. She found herself smiling at the action.
“So,” he murmured. “This is the castle.”
She nodded. “It is.”
“Is it uncouth of me to ask how this whole thing will affect your… husband search?”
“Not particularly.” She shrugged. “I suppose we’ll postpone the whole thing until everything is resolved. It doesn’t seem right to continue in light of recent events.”
“Right.” He whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t want to give anyone an unfair advantage.”
She smirked. “Yes, that’s it.”
He sobered, reaching to hand her the decanter of wine. “Just how do you feel about all this? About your family gathering the eligible men of the realm to find you a husband? About the transparency of it all?”
She knew exactly how she felt about it. But she couldn’t very well tell him that she had no intention of marrying any of them. She took the decanter from him, busying her hands to buy some time. But as her hand brushed his, her entire body froze. She had a but a moment for concern before an image exploded in her mind:
We stand together at the water’s edge. The sun has barely risen, its soft light filtering through the clear sky. It’s breathtaking. Gerrard takes my hand and warmth spreads through me. I look over at him, marveling at the way the light plays upon the stubble along his jaw, the way it makes his dark hair shine.
“What are you thinking?” he asks me.
I smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
A noise down the bank draws our attention. I watch, filled with a supreme sense of rightness. I feel whole, swollen with happiness. This feeling grows as Anabel races up the bank, holding a paper boat.
“Mommy! Mommy, look!”
She looks so much like my mother it astounds me. But there’s a little bit of Gerrard in there as well, with the turn of her mouth, the slope of her nose. And when she careens into me, shoving her boat into my face, I see a little of my grandmother, as well. She laughs, and I nuzzle her neck, earning squealing laugher.
Anastasia came-to with a startled breath. She stared at Gerrard, alarm flooding through her. Had that been a premonition? It surely had been the future. They were married, had a child… did that mean she was going to marry Gerrard?
“Are you all right, Your Highness?”
She quickly shoved her panic away, forcing a smile to her face. “Fine.”
Pouring herself some wine, she took a long drink, collecting herself. She needed to talk to Valdon. He could have an answer about this.
“As far as your question goes,” she said, glad her voice didn’t waver. “I don’t mind the transparency. It gives us a chance to be honest with each other.”
He considered her for a moment. “I guess you’re right.”
Seeing an open seat across from Anastasia, Ryke Toldens dropped into it, a grin on his face. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and thick, curly red hair. And though he didn’t resemble his distant uncle in the slightest, there was a familiar gleam in his eye that was usually present in Surreg Toldens.
“I see you’re monopolizing the Princess, Tomlin,” he intoned.
Gerrard flashed a sly grin. “I saw an opportunity.”
“Do you two know each other?” Anastasia questioned.
Ryke laughed. “We’re neighbors. Our families have lived next door to each other probably since the beginning of time.”
Though Ryke was joking, Anastasia figured it might be true. Both families were old. Come to think of it, most of the people around the table seemed to know each other in one way or another—even the ones that didn’t live in Sehir. She wondered how much of it was because of their families. She didn’t know the history surrounding the founding of the realms—having heard stories of Queens and magic as a child—but she supposed the twelve ancient families must’ve known each other at that time. Prior to the founding of Jacqueline.
Anastasia turned to Ryke. “So, what do you do?”
He smirked, pulling up the left sleeve of his tunic to reveal an orange tattoo. “Warrior strategist, Your Highness.”
“Though why they let him plan anything, I’ll never know,” said Gerrard.
“You’re one to talk! Your first bui
lding collapsed!”
“It was a blanket fort and I was seven.”
Ryke shook his head. “We lost a good stuffed animal that day. Poor Giffy.”
Anastasia raised a brow. “Giffy?”
“It was a capras whose fur would change colors with different temperatures. Tomlin, here, took it everywhere.”
Anastasia chuckled. A little part of her was jealous, however. These people had childhood memories, stories of scrapes and pretend games, of sneaking out at night to play, of daring each other to try and climb the temple tower in town. Anastasia’s childhood was filled with learning, of books and scrolls, of memorizing history passages and vocabulary words, of being groomed to take the throne.
She had memories with Vlad and Mohan, of course, but those ended abruptly the night her grandparents were killed.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Anastasia looked around. Everyone seemed ready to turn in. She understood; it had been a long day. But she’d forgotten that they couldn’t leave until she dismissed them. There were a lot of customs she didn’t remember.
“Everyone,” she called. Attention immediately went to her. “You are more than welcome to retire to your rooms if you wish.”
Ryke leaned forward, a rakish smile tugging his lips. “And where are you off to tonight, Your Highness?”
“Sleep,” she deadpanned.
He shook his head. “I sincerely doubt that.”
But he didn’t press her. Instead, he held out his hand. She took it and he pressed his lips to her fingers. Before she could pull away, her entire body froze again, like it had with Gerrard. Panic fluttered in her chest, but she was unable to do anything about it as an image exploded in her mind:
A dagger soars by my face, so close I can feel its wind upon my cheek. I lean away, avoiding the blade, just as another flies towards me. This one I catch, feeling the vibrations through the metal as I clasp it between my flat palms. A shout sounds across the field and Ryke launches himself at me. I barely have time to flip the dagger in my hands before he is upon me.