Taken By The Passion (The Academy Series)

by Mansfield, Maxine

  “Hark Ye! His Majesty, Prince Adan Zeth Conner Hammerstrike, heir apparent to the throne of Alaria, and his princess and future queen, the Lady Lizbeth, have entered the hall. All bid them welcome.”

  A cacophony of applause and greetings from every corner of the room broke out. She tightened her grip on his arm and for a moment forgot to breathe.

  “Relax, Lizard, this is something you’ll get used to. It happens quite often.” Adan’s chuckle against her ear and his misguided assurance had her not only wishing she could escape, but actually glancing around for alternative exits. The applause died down, and for the count of a dozen heartbeats or so, there was silence, then the music began once more and so did the dancing.

  Adan patted her hand. “See, just a formality. Shall we mingle?”

  Almost everyone who was anyone was already there. Headmistress Seychelle, dressed tonight in skin-tight red leather with silver stud accents, held court in one corner of the room while her pet, Ray, lounged at her feet. Lark and Sarco stood off to the side, deep in conversation with Uthiel and Briar, while Laycee, Leeky, and Laycee’s brother O.T.T. were busy helping themselves to the spirits and ale table across the room. Just as Adan and Lizbeth made their way past a table heavy with all manner of treats and appetizers, the Master Steward spoke once more.

  “Hark Ye! His Royal Majesty, King Alfred Zavier Caden Hammerstrike, and his queen, Her Royal Majesty, Allanna Zanlynn Calista Hammerstrike, of the kingdom of Alaria, have entered the hall. All bid them welcome.”

  A shiver ran down Lizbeth’s spine as she turned. Though the ballroom was already near to overflowing, Lizbeth knew it was her the Queen sought. Her mother-in-law’s eyes bored into her, and the look she gave Lizbeth held no hint of kindness, only spite. Her stomach growled with dread for what she had no doubt was coming, and Lizbeth popped a small tart into her mouth to quiet her nervous tummy and help bolster her courage as she waited for the inevitable.

  Just before the King and Queen got within hearing distance, Adan leaned down and whispered, “Please, my lady, for the sake of my relationship with my father, I beseech thee. I know my mother can be…more than a little difficult at times, but for this one night only, try and ignore whatever she says. It is my only request.”

  Lizbeth didn’t know what to say or even how to feel about what he asked, and the Queen was almost upon them, so she simply bit her lip hard and nodded.

  “Lizbeth, my dear, I see you’re already eating this evening, or perhaps it’s that you haven’t stopped? And with your fingers no less. How unbecoming of you. Also, a girl of your…size, should really watch what and how much she consumes, don’t you think? The wife of the future king of the Barbarians should care about how she looks at all times.”

  Lizbeth gulped, trying to swallow the delicate crust that refused to go down. Coughing and choking instead, her face reddened, and she knew she’d just made the situation worse.

  Adan patted her on the back. “I like how she looks, and as far as I’m concerned, if she’s hungry, she should eat. I don’t ever want my wife to go without. If you’d bother to look around, Mother, you’d see she’s quite petite for a barbarian female. If anything, she could use a little more meat on her bones.”

  The Queen sighed. “Don’t make excuses for her self-indulgence, Adan. The girl has obviously never gone hungry a day in her life. But it’s not her fault she’s the way she is, I suppose. After all, she can’t be held responsible for her upbringing. Although, God Draka knows, I tried my best to see that she was properly educated. Alas, it seems even poor, dear Master Seiger failed in his attempt to turn an Alarian boar’s snout into a silk satchel.”

  She couldn’t breathe. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room and it had become a vacuum. To make matters worse, her hearing must’ve been affected, too, because she couldn’t believe what her husband was saying.

  “I’m not going to argue with you tonight, Mother. This is a social gathering and we will act civil or else. Now, as far as Master Seiger goes, how is that sweet old man?” He turned toward Lizbeth, his face aglow and smiling widely. “For his years of invaluable service, my parents awarded him a manor house on the castle property when he retired. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Lizbeth had no choice but look at him, freeze what she hoped was a smile on her face, nod, and listen. It wasn’t easy to hear anything but the pounding in her head and the ringing in her ears.

  “I’d forgotten you met Master Seiger, Lizard. What did you think of him? Isn’t he something? He was my favorite teacher when I was growing up. He used to read me stories every night and take me for walks, even taught me how to swim. My sisters didn’t seem to overly care for him, especially Lark, and I never knew why. Guess he just related better to boys.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to blurt out what the monster of an instructor had done to her, but this was neither the time, nor the place. At the same time, she didn’t wish to lie to her husband.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with your sisters on this one.” The words almost choked her, and she had to force them past her lips. “I didn’t overly care for the man much myself. You’re probably right though, he most likely did relate better to boys.”

  The Queen glared at her. “Perhaps it wasn’t so much Master Seiger related better to one gender as opposed to another in general, but that he has such a keen sense for true quality and intelligence that even the sight of those so low class and not very bright, like your family for instance, must’ve been horribly offensive to him.”

  Adan stiffened beside her. “That’s entirely enough, Mother.”

  Lizbeth clenched and unclenched her fists, determined she would not shout from the rafters what a hideous creature the white-bearded, old instructor had been, but that the Queen herself was even worse. There would come a time when she would sit down with Adan and tell him everything, but not this night. This night she’d given her husband a promise she meant to keep, even though it had been given with no more than a nod. Silently she vowed, no matter what the queen might say or do, she wasn’t going to give in to the temptation and verbally spar with her.

  Instead, Lizbeth plastered on her face what she knew to be her most sickeningly sweet smile and curtsied deeply. When she rose once more, she batted her eyelashes, tilted her chin, and exclaimed in her sweetest voice, “Yes, Your Majesty, whatever you say, Your Majesty. I’m sure you know best, Your Majesty.”

  She had never seen, let alone felt, pure hatred pour from another being before, but she did now, as the Queen glared. Lizbeth shivered with a sense of foreboding as she recalled another childhood lesson she’d learned the hard way. If you tug on a snake’s tail, it’ll turn and bite you.

  ****

  True to his word, Adan’s arms had been the only ones she had danced within for the last two turns of the hourglass and that was just fine with Lizbeth. Within the captivating circle of those arms, she had almost been able to put not only the Queen, but tomorrow’s exam, and even her secret little Spiritmaster, out of her mind and enjoy her very first Yulemass ball.

  It was wonderful. Beyond wonderful, it was magical. Around and around, Adan twirled her about the ballroom floor to the strains of one melody after another. When the very last chord of the latest ballad faded, Lizbeth gazed lovingly into her husband’s eyes. “Would you excuse me a few moments, my lord? I find myself parched and have need of a beverage. Lark, Briar, and Laycee are making their way to the refreshment table, and I would so like to speak with them. I wish to brag about my handsome barbarian husband’s dancing abilities.”

  Adan chuckled. “Take all the time you need, Lizard. Just don’t tell them how many times I’ve stepped on your toes this evening. That will be our little secret. I’ll go and seek out their husbands. I’ve barely done more than greet anyone in passing so far this evening, and to tell you the truth, my feet, and most assuredly yours, could use the respite.”

  Carefully, Lizbeth made her way across the floor of the
ballroom and through the crowd until, within moments, she stood face to face with her friends.

  “From the way my brother has been looking at you all evening,” Lark smiled and raised a brow, “and not letting you more than a few inches from his side, let alone out of his sight, I’d say we did well with the dress.”

  Lizbeth laughed. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to repay you.” She twirled around. “The dress is amazing, isn’t it? It makes me feel pretty. Thank you all so very much.”

  “You certainly don’t need a dress to make you attractive, Lizbeth,” Briar interjected. “You’re lovely just as you are, but we’re glad we could help. It was enjoyable, except of course for the part where Laycee stuck me with a pin…twice.”

  The female gnome blustered as she placed her hands firmly on her hips. “Well, if ya had stood still like I told ya ta do in the first place when I was working on the hem, ya wouldn’t have gotten stuck. Serves ya right if ya ask me. Lasses, these days, they just don’t listen. Fidget, fidget, fidget all the time.”

  The sight of something adorning the edges of the refreshment table caught Lizbeth’s eye, and she reached down and picked a section of it up. “Oh, look, mistletoe. I should take this and hold it above Adan’s head and get my kiss.” She sighed. “I haven’t seen mistletoe since I left home. My mother used to hang it from every doorway in our small castle this time of the year in hopes of catching my father under it. It’s just one of many Yulemass traditions I miss.”

  Briar snatched the sprig from her hand and tossed it back on the table. “No, you shouldn’t be touching that particular species of mistletoe.”

  Lizbeth laughed. “Why ever not? Is it a protected plant in this part of Albrath? In the forest where I come from, you can find it growing on almost any tree.”

  Briar slowly shook her head and leaned in close. “Mistletoe normally is harmless and would have to be brewed and the tea drunk to have the effect that worries me, but not this particular mistletoe. You see, this variety is often used to, well, you know…get rid of unwanted mistakes when a girl forgets to say her PDUP spell. This is Tansian mistletoe, and it’s very potent. Exposure to even a small amount of the oil found on the underside of its leaves can be enough to cause really strong cramping, and well…a miscarriage.”

  A cold shiver shot down Lizbeth’s spine, and instinctively, she covered her abdomen with her hands as she quickly backed away from the table. “I would never knowingly do anything to hurt my child. I had no idea, I swear.”

  Lark smiled and patted the hands Lizbeth still had linked across her tummy. “Even if you have been putting off telling Adan, he’s going to become a father sooner than he planned, and I have absolutely no doubt you would never do harm to my nephew on purpose. And, in all seriousness, I doubt the baby would allow something to happen. The little Spiritmaster seems to already have quite a strong will of his own.”

  Lizbeth was sick. She could’ve damaged him, and it was her job to protect him. For the first time since she had thought of the possibility she might be pregnant, Lizbeth knew true fear. Not the fear of telling Adan she was with child and possibly having to leave the Academy. Not even the fear of failing to become an enchantress as she’d dreamed. No, her fear was much deeper. It was a mother’s worst fear, that of losing a child, her child. A child she hadn’t even had a chance to know.

  With sadness, Lizbeth realized how selfish she’d been. She hadn’t so much as bothered to start thinking of names for him. To her, he was just the little Spiritmaster. But now, she couldn’t help but wonder, would his hair be the same shade of golden wheat as his father’s? And would his chin have the same stubborn tilt as her own? She hoped so.

  These were the thoughts she was lost in when the sound of distress in Laycee’s voice snapped her out of her daydreaming. “Lasses, I think we should take this conversation elsewhere. I really do.”

  Lizbeth turned, and that’s when she saw her. Queen Allanna Hammerstrike stood close enough she could have reached out and touched Lizbeth if she’d wanted to. And the woman had a smile so twisted and evil, the sight of it brought back vivid visions of nightmares past. Just how much had she heard? The answer wasn’t long coming.

  “So, you carry within you an abomination, do you? I’m not surprised. To think someone of your low quality could produce a decent grandchild was folly.”

  The Queen then turned her smirk toward Lark. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t make the same mistake I did when I was forced to carry and bear you. If I’d known, I would’ve ended your life before you ever had a chance to draw your first breath.”

  Her eyes then found Lizbeth once more. “The disgrace of my father dies here and now. I’ll be plagued by his heritage no more. I’ll not be haunted through another generation, and as God Draka is my witness, I swear no filthy Spiritmaster will ever be heir to or sit upon the throne of Alaria as long as I have the ability to speak.” She pointed a finger in Lizbeth’s face. “And don’t think for a moment Adan will support you in this. He may tolerate his sister, but I raised him and believe me when I say he won’t welcome the creature you carry with open arms.”

  The Queen’s face twisted with rage. “If you dare refuse to rid yourself of this spawn from the bowels of the Valley of Torment, not only will I tell my son, and anyone else who wishes to hear, what you’ve been keeping from him, but I’ll also convince him to put you aside and find a suitable mate. One who knows her place and has the capacity to give him decent heirs. If you doubt my power, just watch me. After I’m through with Adan, you’ll be lucky if he even allows you and your demon seed to reside in the dungeon.”

  Lizbeth didn’t say a word as she balled her fist and let it fly.

  Every eye in the ballroom looked upward in surprise as lightning flashed, thunder roared, and fat drops of rain began splattering the marble ballroom floor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adan had no sooner taken his first gulp from the tankard Leeky handed him moments before, when his wife, whom he’d just been bragging to his friends about, punched his mother square in the nose. He coughed, choked, sputtered, and spit ale on all three of his companions.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father make a mad dash toward his mother, who was now sprawled in the middle of the floor, and knew he had no choice but to react. His feet ran before his brain had a chance to register what he was doing. Then, as if matters weren’t bad enough, an all-out downpour began right inside the ballroom. The marble tiles became slick, and twice he almost lost his footing. As carefully as he could, without slowing, Adan pushed forward.

  Though he had to elbow his way through the gathering crowd more than once, with Sarco, Uthiel, and Leeky fast on his heels, it took more than a few grains of sand falling through the hourglass to reach the sight of the disaster.

  And a disaster it certainly was. His mother held her nose and shook her head, her face more crimson than the small, red drops of blood spotting her snow-white gown. His father sat directly on the floor beside her, patting her hand and trying unsuccessfully to get her to lean her head backward to stanch the flow.

  Headmistress Seychelle flailed her arms hysterically, her imperious voice mixed with a note of panic. “Give her room to breathe, people.” Ray crouched at her side gleefully screeching, “Ray loves cock. Ray loves cock. Ray loves cock.”

  Two elfin dignitaries’ wives fainted, and one troll debutant threw up.

  Off to the side, as still as death, with her arms hanging limply at her sides and a look of total shock and disbelief on her face, Lizbeth waited. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to wrap her in his embrace and assure her all would be well. He wanted to take her away from here, away from all the prying eyes and wagging tongues. But he couldn’t do that yet. He had to sort this out first.

  Lizbeth stood beside Lark with both hands pressed firmly over her own mouth as if she were afraid what might escape if she let go. She glanced at him, her eyes wide with surprise, then she looked back at the scene before them.


  Briar, on Lizbeth’s other side, didn’t seem to know anyone else was around as she mumbled to herself and frantically searched for something in the small medicine bag she always carried at her waist.

  Laycee, on the other hand, jumped up and down, her horrid blonde wig flapping in the wind, her little fists pumping the air furiously, and yelling at the top of her lungs, “Hit her again, hit her again.”

  He didn’t want to be his mother’s son right now. He didn’t want to be a prince or the heir to the throne. All he wanted to do right this moment was collect his wife and escort her safely back to his room. There was no one else who could deal with this situation with a clear head, though, so Adan took a calming breath and looked toward his sister. “Compose yourself and stop the storm, please, Lark. This situation alone is enough chaos to deal with, don’t you think?”

  Lark nodded. “I truly am sorry, Adan. This time the weather really is my fault.” A moment later, the rain slowed then stopped completely.

  Next, Adan made his way to his wife’s side, leaned down, and spoke softly so as to not frighten her. “What happened, Lizbeth?”

  She didn’t even glance at him. It was as if she couldn’t force herself to look away from the sight of what she’d done, and when she did finally speak, her voice sounded flat, and hopeless. “I hit the Queen.”

  Adan took two deep breaths and slowly blew them out, trying to be patent. If he wanted to find out what had transpired, he was going to have to take things slowly. “I see that. And why exactly did you hit her?”

  It was as if that one simple question brought everyone out of their stupors, and all three of the other women began to speak at the same time.

  “It wasn’t her fault, Adan,” Lark cried.

  “She had it coming.” Laycee socked the air once more as if practicing her own punch.

  Briar looked up from searching her bag. “She really was being particularly horrid, even more so than normal.”