Mistress of Winter

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by Giles Carwyn




  MISTRESS of WINTER

  GILES CARWYN

  and

  TODD FAHNESTOCK

  GILES’S DEDICATION:

  For my Samwise, who kept her promise to Gandalf.

  TODD’S DEDICATION:

  For Lara, my Brighteyes. Your gaze upon me lights my way.

  CONTENTS

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  MAP

  BOOK ONE

  A FORTRESS OF LOVE AND SHADOWS

  PROLOGUE

  The rain finally stopped, and the goddess went outside to…

  CHAPTER 1

  Ossamyr’s father called her a queen the day she left…

  CHAPTER 2

  Brophy’s feather fluttered in the breeze, bound to his neck…

  CHAPTER 3

  Ossamyr and Caleb kept the energy racing between them, holding…

  CHAPTER 4

  A gentle touch pushed at Shara’s shoulder. She opened her…

  CHAPTER 5

  Shara held her hand over the Sword of Winter’s pommel.

  CHAPTER 6

  I won’t let you do this,” Baelandra said to Ossamyr.

  CHAPTER 7

  You’ve sent her to her death,” Baelandra said, walking up…

  CHAPTER 8

  Wake up, my love. It’s time to go home.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Ossamyr spat salt water from her mouth and tightened her…

  CHAPTER 10

  The sky was blue, and the clouds had cleared away…

  CHAPTER 11

  Somewhere in the kitchen, a dish shattered. Issefyn suppressed a…

  CHAPTER 12

  All of Ohndarien gathered by the bay to welcome the…

  CHAPTER 13

  All of Ohndarien celebrated, but none so much as Astor,…

  CHAPTER 14

  Ossamyr coughed. A thin thread of seawater drooled from the…

  CHAPTER 15

  The black-lacquered walls of Arefaine’s stateroom glistened as if wet,…

  CHAPTER 16

  Shara stalked from the Hall of Windows, seething with frustration.

  CHAPTER 17

  Issefyn stood on the Long Bridge watching the Emperor’s flagship…

  CHAPTER 18

  You’re not going to drink it, are you?” Baelandra asked,…

  CHAPTER 19

  Shara couldn’t get up the stairs fast enough. The energy…

  CHAPTER 20

  Keep singing,” Arefaine shouted, grabbing the Heartstone off the grass.

  CHAPTER 21

  Issefyn stared at the Heartstone lying on the grass a…

  CHAPTER 22

  Astor and his father had just left the Citadel when…

  CHAPTER 23

  The smell of the rain had already faded, and the…

  CHAPTER 24

  Must we drag ourselves through the filthy streets of these…

  CHAPTER 25

  It had been suggested that Arefaine stay in her room…

  CHAPTER 26

  Lawdon ran across the Night Market. Her lungs burned, and…

  CHAPTER 27

  Shara winced as she awoke. She couldn’t see anything, her…

  CHAPTER 28

  Brophy,” Shara’s voice said softly.

  CHAPTER 29

  The Farad seamstress brought another dress from the back of…

  CHAPTER 30

  Shara slipped out of the thin silken robe and let…

  CHAPTER 31

  Lawdon hurried up the crowded street toward the Zelani school.

  BOOK TWO

  A SEASON OF WINE AND STEEL

  PROLOGUE

  Prince Vinghelt flailed against the hands that forced his head…

  CHAPTER 1

  Lawdon cursed her slowness. She cursed the damned optimism that…

  CHAPTER 2

  Phanqui struggled to keep the hatred off his face as…

  CHAPTER 3

  Shara stood naked on a hilly slope, her back to…

  CHAPTER 4

  Brophy faced east watching, waited for night to fall. The…

  CHAPTER 5

  That’s my luck these days,” Lawdon grumbled, fighting her way…

  CHAPTER 6

  Astor frowned as the corrupted snake threw itself against the…

  CHAPTER 7

  Shouts overhead woke her, and Ossamyr opened gummy eyes. Another…

  CHAPTER 8

  Issefyn’s hand twitched on the door handle. It felt as…

  CHAPTER 9

  Ossamyr awoke on a soft bed. She drew a deep…

  CHAPTER 10

  The warm winds of the Summer Seas blew across Lawdon’s…

  CHAPTER 11

  Moon Maiden slid alongside Laughing Breeze, and Lawdon gave a…

  CHAPTER 12

  Shara leapt over the ship’s rail into the rowboat, landing…

  CHAPTER 13

  Shara studied Lord Vinghelt as he moved through the crowd…

  CHAPTER 14

  Jesheks pressed the golden tip of his spiked pinkie sheath…

  CHAPTER 15

  Ossamyr leaned back in the little sailboat as Reef steered…

  CHAPTER 16

  Mother.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Glory of Summer was easily twice the size of any…

  CHAPTER 18

  Another sunrise crept over the watery horizon. Brophy had seen…

  CHAPTER 19

  Shara brushed her fingers through her long black hair and…

  CHAPTER 20

  Lawdon punched the man in front of her in the…

  CHAPTER 21

  The Ohohhim ship crept through the hazy darkness. Swirls of…

  CHAPTER 22

  Lawdon pulled herself dripping from the dark waters between the…

  CHAPTER 23

  Jesheks stood alone in his chambers feeling strangely dissatisfied. He…

  CHAPTER 24

  Lawdon woke with a plan.

  CHAPTER 25

  So, what does one wear to be tortured by a…

  CHAPTER 26

  You remember the plan?” Lawdon asked as she watched Mikal…

  CHAPTER 27

  Jesheks clapped quietly, peering through a window of the prince’s…

  CHAPTER 28

  Lawdon kept to the shadows, waiting for the wine to…

  CHAPTER 29

  Phanqui listened to the sound of his breathing, the beating…

  CHAPTER 30

  Shara’s eyelids flickered open. She swallowed down a dry throat,…

  CHAPTER 31

  The black-robed Ohohhim worked steadily and silently on their tributes…

  CHAPTER 32

  Lord Vinghelt stood in Glory of Summer’s kitchen scowling and…

  CHAPTER 33

  Shara held Jesheks’s hand in hers, keeping his gaze. His…

  CHAPTER 34

  Natshea returned under the cover of the stars and the…

  CHAPTER 35

  Astor leapt from the skiff, stepping in the boiling surf…

  CHAPTER 36

  We got trouble.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Astor sobbed in Brophy’s arms. The boy shook, and Brophy…

  CHAPTER 38

  Lawdon stood at the stern of her ship, Moon Maiden.

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  OTHER BOOKS BY GILES CARWYN AND TODD FAHNESTOCK

  CREDITS

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  Arefaine—ÄR-e-fn

  Astor—AS-tôr

  Baedellin—b-DEL-in

  Baelandra—b-LÄN-drä
r />   Brezelle—bruh-ZELL

  Brophy—BR-f

  Caleb—K -leb

  Celtigar—SEL-ti-gär

  Efften—EF-ten

  Emmeria—e-ME-r-uh

  Faedellin—f-DEL-in

  Faradan—FE-ruh-dan

  Fessa—FE-suh

  Floani—fl-A-n

  Galliana—ga-l-Ä-nuh

  Heidvell—HD-vel

  Issefyn—IS-e-fin

  Jesheks—JE-sheks

  Kherif—KER-if

  Koscheld—KÄSK-held

  Koscholtz—KÄSK-holts

  Lawdon—LÄ-dun

  Lowani—l-ä-n

  Mikal—mi-KÄL

  Morgeon—MÔR-j-un

  Natshea—NAT-sh

  Necani—ne-KÄ-n

  Ohndarien—on-DÄ-r-en

  Ohohhim—-HÄ-him

  Ohohhom—-HÄ-hum

  Ossamyr—OS-uh-mur

  Phandir—FAN-dr

  Phanqui—FAN-kw

  Physendria—f-SEN-dr-uh

  Reignholtz—RN-holts

  Shara—SHÄ-ruh

  Suvian—SOO-v-un

  Vallia—VÄ-l-uh

  Victeris—vik-TER-is

  Vinghelt—VING-helt

  Vizar—vi-ZÄR

  Zelani—ze-LÄ-n

  Map

  Book One

  A FORTRESS OF LOVE AND SHADOWS

  Prologue

  The rain finally stopped, and the goddess went outside to play.

  Grandfather Lewlem followed the sleeve of three-hundred-year-old Arefaine Morgeon through the Opal Gardens. The child’s bare feet stepped delicately along the rain-slicked mosaic path. An opalescent silk gown, bordered in black, covered her from chin to ankles, and her dark brown hair fell down her back like the single stroke from a giant brush. She walked as if her toes could read the songs of Oh that had been painstakingly wrought beneath her.

  Little Arefaine turned her powdered face upward, transfixed by the May Dragon trees towering above her. Their thick trunks twisted into the sky as if each day they decided to grow in a different direction. A hundred feet overhead, the branches stretched to the horizon, their thick, spiny leaves still dripping from the morning rain.

  “Why are the trees so tall?” she asked.

  “It is in the nature of trees,” said Lewlem.

  “No,” she replied. “These trees are taller than outside.”

  It had only been two years since Arefaine had awoken, and Lewlem knew better than anyone what horrors the child had endured during the three hundred years that she slept. Was it any wonder that her eyes were fascinated by the towering trees, that her feet were enthralled by the mosaic path?

  “Ah,” he said. “The imperial gardeners cultivated these trees for many years to grow so tall.”

  “Culti…” she tried the word.

  “Cultivated,” he said again.

  “Cultivated,” she mimicked.

  “Very good.”

  She grinned up at him and was, abruptly, a three-year-old child again. “Come play with me?” she said, tugging on his hand.

  The pain in Lewlem’s hip protested, as it often did these days, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to kneel beside her. “These bones are too old for playing.”

  Arefaine frowned. “Bones not old. Come play.”

  Lewlem shook his head, but she yanked her sleeve away and stuck out her tongue at him.

  “Arefaine…Decorum follows grace, grace follows dignity, and dignity follows inner peace—”

  “And inner peace leads to the voice of Oh,” the girl finished in perfect mockery of the familiar phrase. At a frown from Lewlem, she burst into giggles and scampered away, disappearing around a bend in the path.

  With a slight exhalation, Lewlem struggled to stand and started after her. Every day presented a new ache, but he had one task to accomplish before he took his final walk.

  In these last years, the shadow of Oh’s cave beckoned to Lewlem more and more. He looked back on his life and knew he was not a wise man. When he was young and unmarried, he dreamed of a life by the sword, longing to serve the Emperor as a Carrier of the Opal Fire. Then he married and came to aspire to a life of great wealth, many children, and at least five wives. But the plague took his wives and children, leaving him with an empty house until he lost his heart to a young widow with a face that shone like moonlight. He took the girl, already heavy with child, for his third wife and hoped they would share a few happy days before the fevers claimed them all.

  The plague ended when the old Emperor took his last walk into the welcoming darkness of Oh’s cave. A few days later a line of three hundred priests appeared at Lewlem’s doorstep. They identified his newborn son as Oh’s chosen, the new Emperor, and Lewlem knew that dreams were foolish. He did not dream anymore, but instead listened closely to the quiet voice of Oh. His destiny was to raise an emperor and after, this little girl who held the fate of the world in her tiny hands.

  Lewlem tracked the child’s giggles through the rain-soaked gardens and took a shortcut through the ferns to a row of sunberry bushes. The girl huddled between two thorny shrubs, grinning back along the path where she expected him to emerge. Lewlem slipped around the bushes and came up behind her. He stood there for a long moment, then whispered, “Caught you.”

  She shrieked and leapt away, scurrying down the path. For the life of him, Lewlem saw nothing more than a vital and precocious child. She wasn’t the dreaming child, the infant goddess who held back the night. She was just a little girl. His little girl.

  “Old bones,” she called from behind a tree. “Your bones not old.”

  “Not true. My bones are old, but a quick mind can make up for old bones.”

  She laughed, then looked at the nearby row of sunberry bushes. Quite deliberately, she plucked a berry from the bush.

  “Arefaine,” he said in a stern voice, walking toward her. She popped the berry into her mouth and grimaced at the bitter taste. Though it pained him, he descended slowly to his knees. “Arefaine, I already told you, the berries will hurt you if you eat them. You must wait one more week until they are ripe.”

  “No,” she protested. “I will…cultivate them to be ready now!” Again, she said the word with Lewlem’s exact tone and inflection, a perfect mockingbird who never forgot anything. She reached for another berry.

  Lewlem gently took her wrist and pulled her hand away from the bush. “Come away. They will make you sick.”

  “No!” she shouted, yanking back with all her might. “They’re mine! Mine!” Her feet slipped on the wet path, and she fell, smacking her head on the ground.

  Lewlem scooped her up and held her close, fearing a howl of anguish that never came. Pulling back, he looked to see how badly she was hurt.

  Black tendrils seeped from the edges of her eyelids, creeping across her pale blue eyes. “Put. Me. Down,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  Lewlem took a swift breath. “Arefaine, no…You must—”

  Arefaine’s nostrils flared, and she reached out one little finger, stabbing him on the shoulder. Pain flared through Lewlem’s arm into his chest. He gasped and stumbled backward. His bad hip buckled, and he fell to the ground.

  Arefaine fell on his chest, rolled to the ground, and stood up next to him.

  Lewlem struggled to breathe, he tried to reach for her, but his arm wouldn’t move.

  With her hands calmly at her sides, Arefaine touched her toe to his cheek. Fire spread through his face, down his neck, lodging again in his heart. His frail body convulsed, and he felt something rip inside his chest.

  “Please, child!” he tried to say, but no words came out. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please…”

  The roaring inside Arefaine’s head slowly calmed. The little girl blinked, and the howling voices faded into the distance.

  Frowning, she crouched next to the old man, and poked him with a finger. He didn’t move; his unblinking eyes stared at the trees above. Frowning again, she toddled back to the bus
hes. Plucking several berries, she popped them into her mouth as quickly as she could.

  “Now,” she insisted. “I want them now.” She smiled as the bitter juice ran down her chin.

  CHAPTER 1

  Ossamyr’s father called her a queen the day she left home.

  She could still see the frightened little man kneeling before her in the vast foyer of his new home. His wispy hair hung limp over sunken cheeks still pallid from his long imprisonment. The emaciated man wore the blue, feathered cloak she’d just bought for him. It made him look like a very expensive scarecrow.

  “Thank you, my daughter,” he’d whispered to her feet. “You bring honor to us all.”

  His words were sincere, but the depth of his bow could not hide the look of relief—and pity—in his eyes.

  That was Ossamyr’s wedding day, the day she had sold herself into royalty. She’d done it to save her family, to save that shadow of a man from the Wet Cells. She’d lied, seduced, betrayed, and murdered her way into the bed of a man she despised. And when she reached that bed, she had put on a performance the likes of which the king had never seen.

  Ossamyr closed her eyes against her memories, plagued by a past she couldn’t seem to escape. She stood at the heart of the most beloved city in the world, within the most respected school in the world. She was surrounded by lovers, friends, and devoted pupils, but she had never felt so alone, so naked and exposed.

 

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