Royal Affliction (The Anti-Princess Saga)

by Jennifer Marsh

  Royal Affliction

  The Anti-Princess Saga

  Book 1

  Jennifer A Marsh

  Copyright © 2012 Jennifer A Marsh

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1484026209

  ISBN-13: 978-1484026205

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my loving and supportive husband who never stopped believing in me and taught me how to believe in myself. Without him I would never have made it to where I am today.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my former writing teacher, Caroline Lion, for giving me the skills to hone my craft. I had the story before I met her, but she helped me shape it into what it is today and I will forever be grateful to her. I would like to also thank my husband for giving me the drive to get published when I was too scared to take the step as well as for donating his time and skills to illustrate my cover. Lastly, I would like to thank all of my family and friends who have been so supportive of me and my writing. You guys are the reason I feel so confident in myself. Thank you all.

  Chapter One

  The mist was thick, encasing the field in a haze and masking every shape or shadow. Though it was hard to judge, I knew that it was not of this world, but neither was it of my own. I was caught somewhere between Kortis and the human realm. I grabbed the thin, silver chain around my neck, pulling the six-inch knife from between my breasts and removing its sheath. My reflection in the blade was as blurred as my perception of this place, only the glowing sapphire of my eyes echoed back at me.

  This golden knife was a parting gift from my mother. It had been a not so subtle indication that I was not going to be safe in my choice to leave. We’d all heard the stories of the lives this blade had taken in the past. It had once brought back peace to my world during the Boru’s attempt to rise.

  “Hello?” My voice reverberated back at me. But another voice caught my attention, a gruff, masculine one telling me someone else was present. “Hestruda ger mahl, termalas de cakra.”

  The language he spoke was not one I knew, but seemed so familiar I was sure I did. The long hisses with groan-like undertones echoed in my brain, stirring memories of Kortis I didn’t know I had. Louder and louder the voice grew, flowing more freely and becoming more of a rhythmic chant with every word. I clasped my hands to my ears, willing the noise to stop with my head and screams. And then, with one last hiss, “Siqus, Quartessa,” it did.

  Complete silence resumed. This man knew my name, and, without understanding how I knew it, he wanted me dead. I grasped the handle of the blade tight in my fist, poised to defend myself. My ears were alert for whichever direction he might attack.

  The sky shifted from nothing to scarlet, casting an eerie red glow on everything around me. A breeze blew in, dispersing most of the fog, yet still revealed nothing to be seen. A flash of yellow through the ruby sky left me blinded, my vision returning in time to leap back as the light hit the dirt an inch from my feet with such severity that it shook the ground, cracking it in two.

  My instinct for survival was the only thing keeping me upright as the floor crumbled away beneath me. I took off at a sprint, desperate for an escape.

  There was a rock on the floor and though my eyes missed it my foot did not. I took to the air but hit the ground hard. My outstretched palm and knife-laden fist struck first before my face and body joined them. Then, I slid.

  The pain was beyond anything I’d ever known. I could feel the skin separating from the muscles and the blood flowing freely down my face and wrists. I tried to fight back the tears. I failed. I tried not to look at my wounds, giving me deniability that they were real. My hands crunched beneath the weight of something heavy, forcing my eyes and mouth to open wide. A pair of black shiny boots were standing on my mutilated hands. I tried to look up but my neck protested and my face hit the ground with another thud into my own pooled blood. I was on my back before I noticed being moved, staring up at the man now standing over me. This was no human, but I’d long since ruled out that possibility.

  The man was man in gender alone. The material covering his body was not skin, but green glowing scales. His pupils were blood-red and diamond shaped, surrounded in an oval of toxic-waste. His hair was the color of weathered algae but softer, as if spun from silk and nearly half the length of him.

  “Dekem?” The word rolled off my tongue. I knew the name from tales of my home but had no idea of how my brain had connected it with this man. Once said out loud I was certain it was him. This was the former King of the Boru? Only after my eyes caught sight of the gilded weapon in his slender fingers, did I notice that my hand now lay empty. He possessed the blade, the one that, by my father’s own words, had killed him some centuries before.

  The figure smiled, flashing his elongated, knife-sharp teeth. “Dekem?” he repeated with somewhat of a scoff. “Not quite.”

  “Fuck you! My father killed you, Boru!” This I knew as fact. King Dobbin, my father and ruler of my kind, was many things, but he was no liar.

  A boot to the cheek was his first retort. The left side of my head cracked my own shoulder bone. He watched me with unnatural enthusiasm. I couldn’t give up. I’d fought too hard to have my own life that I alone could control. I wasn’t about to let this prick take that away from me, not after all that I’d sacrificed. I brought my knee up hard, aiming for the weakness between his knees. He caught it before it made contact and the loud crack that followed was drowned out by the sheer volume of my scream. My leg fell to the floor, a tangled mess.

  “Thank you, Quartessa.”

  “For what?” I spat through clenched teeth while analyzing the situation and how I could make it to my advantage. There was none. I was too wounded to fight, he had taken my only weapon and since he had brought me here I was certain he’d allowed for no escape.

  “Yes, your father did kill Dekem as you have so…tactlessly stated. With this very knife, in fact.” He drew the knife closer to his face, evaluating the oceanic designs inlaid in the hilt. “How fitting. I am also honored you find me so highly in my own father’s likeness.” He gave a small bow that showed just how proud he was and despite my agony I rolled my eyes. “And though my kind was banished long ago from Kortis, we have a new hope for retribution…you.” He leaned in close, his face just far enough from mine to keep me from biting him and his voice softened a bit. “And that is why I must thank you, Princess. But, let me thank you properly.”

  I gasped as the knife pierced my chest, the very same that I’d held against my heart these few years as a sense of security. With a grunt he pulled the knife from my body. My head grew lighter as he raised his palms to the bloody sky and said an incantation.

  “Getalsias guis termalas sis que cakra.”

  The ground trembled once again beneath my body that was giving way to its bitter death. Memories flickered in and out of my vision, my mother, my father, my brother, my best friend and my home, not until now did I realize just how much I missed them all. My heart stopped, my eyes, still staring in horror at this creature that was Dekem’s son sought on revenge, glazed over, and as my mind faded it clung to the last words he spoke: “The spell is complete. We now move forward.”

  ********************

  My eyes had not yet opened but my body was already alert, shaking with the amount of adrenalin pumping through it. I hadn’t even realized that I was sitting straight up in bed until the room, not the ceiling, came into focus before my eyes. My breath was short and labored as beads of sweat dripped down my brow, stinging my eyes.

  I’d like to say that this was a rare occurrence, but I’d given up on that prospect a while back. This blessing
had become a morning ritual, but something I’d be more than happy to live without. My nightgown clung to my damp skin so I tossed it on the floor before heading for the bathroom.

  Sleep was a necessity that I lacked, and it showed in the deep bags under my eyes. I ignored the mirror, splashed some cold water on my face and sat down on the edge of the bathtub to think. The details of this evening’s nightmare were no more memorable than the one the night before, or the night before that. For three weeks now I’d tried to remember why I was being jerked awake but the details of this dream, like all the rest, were leaving my head faster than I could grab hold of them. In the end I remembered nothing.

  It was four a.m., another familiarity I was not fond of seeing on my clock. Whereas I’d tried to go back to sleep during the first week of these bouts, I’d come to the sad realization that these nightmares had become my alarm, without a snooze button. A run was always good for clearing my head so I threw on some sweats and did a quick glance in the mirror to make sure I looked halfway decent before heading out.

  If someone were to look at me, they would see an attractive, twenty-three-year-old woman with medium brown hair, luminous blue eyes, and a slender form with subtle curves. The shape of this person might have been me, but the features were far from it, well, except for the eyes, those were all mine. I wore a gold band on my middle finger, the word “Quartessa,” engraved on the underside. This was my connection to this world, hidden within it was a concealment spell which hid my true appearance from being shown to the public at large and outing me as some sort of freak or alien.

  Though mirrors reflected a false image, I could see my real self if I looked hard enough. Whether it was me I was seeing or just what my brain remembered me to look like, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have called myself beautiful, but I’d always thought myself pretty. I loved my eyes most because they weren’t your average human blue eyes. They were both bright and vibrant, standing out on my face like two shimmering pools of water. My hair was a dark shade of turquoise with subtle sapphire highlights, falling just to my shoulders with a little natural wave near the ends. My skin had just a kiss of pale blue over a flawless white backdrop. It was shade I dearly missed. It was weird knowing that, when others looked at me, they didn’t see…me.

  I’d lived in this human world for a little over three years now, but it had been about a month since I’d moved into this quiet apartment complex in Folsom, California. I loved the area. The people were nice, but typically minded their own business, the weather was pleasant, no real extremes, and the scenery was just beautiful. It was nothing compared to the home I’d left behind though, a place so vibrant, it could never be of this world, but it wasn’t. Though I’d accepted this as my home now, I did miss Kortis.

  As I tiptoed down the stairs, trying not to wake my still sleeping neighbors, someone said, “Hey Tessa,” and I automatically grunted in reply. It was way too early for some morning chitchat, but I turned around anyway despite my urge to keep on walking.

  It was Clifton Hurst, my downstairs neighbor. He was sitting on the half-wall of his small patio and smiling at me in a way that told me that he’d already been up for hours. No one looks that perky at four a.m., no one!

  Clifton was a nice looking man. He was a little older than me with long, dark-blonde hair that fell well past his shoulder blades. The thing that always caught my attention first were his eyes, they were such a dazzling shade of green that they seem too bright to be natural. I always assumed he wore color contacts.

  It was obvious that Clifton was interested in me, he’d made that evident on the first day I’d met the guy. He’d spotted me hauling my stuff up the flight of stairs and just about tripped over himself in his haste to help. I had to admit to myself that I’d thought of taking him up on one of his offers to hang out but my resolve was stronger than my libido. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I did. But I’d only had one real relationship and it had ended in a way I’d wished I could forget. I didn’t feel like being forced to move again because of a failed tryst with my neighbor. It’s stupid to get involved with someone you would see on a regular basis, right? Though that wasn’t all that kept me from him. The fact that I wasn’t human was my biggest hindrance.

  “What are you doing up this early?” I asked with a sly tone. We had kind of an odd relationship as neighbors. He liked me and wanted to get to know me more; I kept from letting him know that I liked him and avoided long exposure to him whenever possible.

  His smile widened. “Are you coming to my party tonight?”

  “Probably not, I have to work and I’ll be home late.” I didn’t tell him my estimated arrival time and hoped he didn’t pry.

  He looked, it seemed, through me rather than at me. It almost felt as if he was seeing me as I really was, not the mask I wore. That gaze made me feel both uncomfortable and vulnerable.

  Without another word I turned away from him, shook off the awkwardness, and continued my way down the stairs and along the cement path. “I’ll be up late! Stop by when you get home if you feel like it!” he shouted after me, not bothering to keep his voice down. A dog barked in the near distance and the lights turned on in a few homes, not to forget the loud “Shut up!” that someone yelled. With my back to him, I raised my left arm straight in the air, letting him know that I had heard him but not implying if I would go or not. When I reached the edge of the complex, I put my headphones in my ear, cranked some old Nine Inch Nails, and took off at full speed.

  I am a Zolera, another species of beings not from this human realm in which I currently reside. In Kortis I was a woman in a man’s world. I had no choices of my own. Everything was done for me and I hated and resented that fact. Two days before my nineteenth birthday my father had told me the news that had sealed my decision to leave: It was decided that I would wed his best warrior, Kafkus. He’d asked for my hand and I had no say in the matter. My only choice had been to go, to leave the safety and comfort of the only world I’d ever known for the prospect of freedom. I had made a vow to myself to never take that freedom for granted.

  I adapted with some effort and loved being able to figure things out for myself for a change. Daily chores like cooking my own meals and even cleaning my own clothes held meaning to me when others would gladly hire someone to do them. I loved running most of all, there was just something so liberating about it. Though no matter how fast I ran, I could never escape myself.

  I took the same route that I always did: through the park and along the river, and stopped at a park bench in front of the Folsom dam for a breather. The sounds of running water mixed with the morning chirping of the birds were just mesmerizing. The sun had just broken through the trees, showering me with little bits of light and warming my body. I took it all in and dazed off in a peaceful bliss for a while before a familiar memory snuck into my conscious mind.

  ********************

  I was swimming in the ocean with my best friend Violet when Quino, a member of my father’s royal guard, had called out to me of a meeting with my father. It was not an uncommon occurrence so I headed towards the shore without a second thought.

  My father’s study was just as it ever was, full of parchments and books with spells and the history of my world. One thing that struck me as odd though, was the fact that guard members were never invited to this room, yet Kafkus stood next to the window overlooking the ocean. His turquoise hair framed his face in an arrogant sort of way and his eyes were on me though I’d only glanced at him.

  “You asked for me father?” I gave a small curtsy to Kafkus and he gave me an overdone bow in return. My father gripped both my hands tight in his own that were much larger than mine. His eyes were happy, the edges of his lips turned a tad upwards. I stared at him, not sure what to think as he had given me nothing to expect. “Father?”

  He glanced at Kafkus who had stealthily moved closer to me before speaking. “Tomorrow shall be a glorious day.”

  “If you are talking about my birthday celebra
tion, then yes, it should be…pleasant.”

  He looked a bit conflicted, as if he’d forgotten. “Yes, your celebration, among other things.” My father took my hand, placing into the palm of the man next to me.

  “No,” I whispered, still unable to believe what was happening. Did my father not know me at all? I ripped my hand from Kafkus’, not even bothering to look at him.

  My father’s face turned ridged, his voice quite stern. “You forget your place, daughter.”

  “Daily. You cannot and you will not choose my husband, father. I would sooner sever my own hand from my wrist than let you give it to this man.” I didn’t look at Kafkus though I could feel his hurt eyes.

  “If I may, my King, ask for a moment alone with your daughter.”

  “It seems I, her father and her King, cannot force her to do anything.” He shoved an intrusive finger in my face. “Ask her!”

  Kafkus’ face turned to me though I still did not return the gesture. “Princess, may I please speak with you in private so that I may express my intensions in a way th—”

  “There will be no need,” I interrupted before addressing my father. “Did you expect me to let you decide my future without a fight?”

  “Your future was decided before you were born! I expect you to act like the princess you are and fulfill your rightful duties!”

  “And what if I no longer wish to be your princess?” My words were blasphemy. I knew that, but I didn’t care. All my life I’d been told what to do. Rather than embrace it, I rebelled whenever I could. My father’s face was unreadable, as it typically was, but I knew my words had cut deep. This had not been our first disagreement about my royal duties.

  “I shall take my leave,” Kafkus said, breaking the silence but not the tension. Neither I nor my father made any attempt to stop him, nor a sound to each other until the oak door clicked shut.