Gifted
by
JoMarie DeGioia
PUBLISHED BY:
Bailey Park Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright © JoMarie DeGioia 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9899801-2-8
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Discover other books by JoMarie DeGioia
Connect with me online
Chapter 1
Terelden, Realm of Bristonia 2173
Alyssa Merrick paced the hall at Merrickwood, too restless to sleep. She blinked at the electric lights burning in the sconces. She just couldn’t get used to the artificial brightness. They’d lit them before sometimes, but now that Baron Dalton had taken over her family’s estate it seemed that every day some new luxury was revealed.
Even her dresses were new. The fabric was strange, thin and shiny. The clothes Dalton had sent for from Lotherin felt odd against her skin. She preferred her simple tunics and leggings made of soft cotton and wool. Wearing these short dresses and clinging tights made her feel exposed and like she was pretending to be something she wasn’t. At least Dalton had stopped insisting she wear her hair intricately-styled like the girls did at court, with so many pins her head ached. No, now he allowed her to keep her one simple braid.
Dalton seemed to love everything about court. He boasted that he was a favorite there, and he was never without the jeweled enamel pin that he stroked whenever he spoke of King Jerrus. It always sat on the lapel of whatever shining jacket he wore. Tonight he’d worn a suit of sapphire blue, and the blood-red enamel of the pin had stood out like a stain.
She’d wondered about the pin since she’d first seen it. It was round and about the size of a dollar coin, and a two-handled goblet with a five-pointed crown above it sat in the middle. It was ringed in gold. It signified something but he’d never bothered to explain it. She wasn’t going to ask him and invite more glowing tales of his life at court, though.
Dinner had been another extravagant affair, and that was something she would never get used to. She’d been raised to make do with what foods were left after reaping season, working with the servants in the kitchen to stretch and substitute to see Merrickwood’s people fed. Now she was forced to sit beside Dalton and eat fancy foods she couldn’t name and drink wine she had no taste for.
After dinner he’d sat with wires plugged in his ears again, listening to his apple square. He made her try it the other night, but listening to music without the players present made her head buzz. He was obviously proud of it, another artifact from before the wars, since he’d proudly told her it was a recent gift from the king.
Soldiers relaxed in the hall now, drinking more of Merrickwood’s wine. Laughter burst out now and then, and she knew it was because Dalton wasn’t present. He seemed to keep everyone in line when he was around.
He was much younger than her father, maybe around thirty years old, and she wondered how they’d become friends in the first place. Despite his age he was very commanding, lean and tall with those intense black eyes of his. She couldn’t stand to feel his gaze on her for longer than a minute. But the Merrick soldiers were chosen for their amazing physical strength. It was weird that they were afraid of him too.
The house looked unfamiliar in the electric lights. The polished stone floor beneath her shoes shined and the newly-plastered walls glowed white. Plates of silver along with a few more artifacts from the king sat on tables and shelves.
She glanced at a chunky black and red fob holding metal keys that hadn’t open anything in over a hundred years. It sat next to a flat box with lettered buttons that spelled nothing she could figure out, but neither thing interested her.
Her home felt very different from just a month ago, but the decorations, gadgets and lights weren’t the only reasons. Her father was gone, and for her it felt like the heart was taken from Merrickwood.
He’d drowned in the deep lake on the property, but his body wasn’t recovered. She was in a permanent state of mourning and unable to put him to rest. She’d had sixteen years with her father’s love. From the moment he’d held her in his arms, or so he’d always said. She couldn’t believe she would never feel Papa’s arms around her again.
“Alyssa!” she heard her little brother Thomas call.
She turned to see him standing at the bottom of the curving staircase and her heart seized. He looked so much like Papa. She’d been told she favored him as well, with the same auburn hair and brown eyes, but looking at Thomas made her ache for her father all over again.
She walked over to the little boy. “Thomas, you should be in bed.”
He rubbed a hand through his messy curls. “I was asleep.” He stared up at her, his eyes round. “I heard something.”
“The soldiers are loud, but it was like that before.”
“Not the soldiers,” he said. “Something else.”
She bent down to hold him, stroking his back as he hugged her waist. “What did you hear, love?”
“Whispers,” he said, his voice muffled against her belly. He was trembling now, seeming much younger than his six years. “They were…dark.”
She blinked. Dark whispers? What could that be? Did Thomas overhear Dalton with one of the maids? She knew he’d been with women at the keep, from rumors passed in the kitchen. Maybe Thomas misunderstood certain sounds she didn’t want to think about herself.
She thought about Dalton’s behavior earlier that night. He’d stared at her again tonight, in that way that made her feel a little icky. And as usual, her head had started to ache. She blamed the headache on the wine but that nasty feeling? She couldn’t guess the reason.
“Do you want to stay in my room tonight?” she asked.
Thomas leaned back to smile up her. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go.” She stepped back and turned him to face the stairs. “It’s past your bedtime and getting close to mine.”
He nodded and climbed the steps. As she followed him her head began to pound again and she felt a chill creep over her body.
Much later, once Thomas was asleep beside her, she heard a sound from out in the hallway. There was a shuffle, then a faint scratching.
“Alyssa,” Dalton called from the other side of her door.
His tone was slick as oil. That nasty feeling returned, causing her skin to prickle. What was he doing here?
Even though she knew Thomas could sleep through anything, she quietly slipped out of bed and went to the door. “Lord Dalton?” she whispered.
She heard a low laugh. “Who else?”
She pulled back. Who else? “What do you want?”
Again, he laughed. “Dear girl. Can’t you guess?”
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
***
Kelwin Rosemont nodded at something or other his sister Chelsey said. His attention was focused on walking through the crowd o
n the festival grounds as he ate a meat pie. Stuffed with lamb and onions and sage, it was chewy and greasy and delicious. Festival food was the main draw for him, not the trinkets or shows, and certainly not all the people. It seemed like all of Terelden was here. He didn’t like being in crowds.
“Isn’t the festival just wonderful?” his sister cried.
Kelwin couldn’t help but smile. With her face lit like that, she looked much more than two years younger than his seventeen.
He grunted in answer, keeping an eye out for anyone running or jostling who might brush against him.
“Thanks so much for taking me, Kelwin,” she said, clasping her hands in obvious delight.
She rose up on the balls of her feet and for a mind-stopping moment he was afraid she was going to launch herself at him. He braced himself but to his great relief, she fisted her hands at her sides instead.
“The harvest festival.” Donnic snorted, then spat on the ground. “Not that there’ll be much harvest to enjoy.”
Kelwin’s stomach clenched. He held his tongue and glanced around the fairgrounds. Thankfully, no one seemed to overhear his cousin’s comment.
Every subject in the realm knew that most of what was reaped had to be sent to the king in Lotherin, far to the south. Everyone knew it was that way for over one hundred years, since the Cataclysmic Wars destroyed most of what had been the country of England. Hell, most of the world actually.
Everyone also knew you never talked about it in public.
“What?” Chelsey asked. “Why?”
Kelwin smiled at his sister. “Donnic’s just mad that I beat him today in practice.”
Donnic, older by one year and much bigger in size, laughed. “You got lucky today, you mean.”
“You might be stronger but I have more tricks,” Kelwin said.
Donnic shrugged, but he seemed to catch on. They had to change the subject. Yeah, the festival was fun but everyone knew what would come soon after. Nearly all of the crops from estates across the realm would be sent to Lotherin, leaving Bristonians hungry and desperate.
Faded cloth awnings above their heads snapped in the breeze. Thick posts held them over the booths lining the main path of the festival. Donnic might have more bulk than Kelwin but they were both tall, and they matched their long strides as they walked on either side of Chelsey through the crowd.
Along the midway vendors hawked their wares, handcrafted leathers, decorative wooden carvings, chunky metal-work jewelry. Chelsey exclaimed over everything she saw, causing Donnic to roll his eyes more than once.
Kelwin finished his pie and wiped his fingers on his pants. “Where to next, peanut?”
Chelsey stood, her gaze almost frantic as she glanced around. “What’s over there?”
“The games,” Donnic said.
“Oh, let’s go!” she said, grabbing Donnic’s hand and tugging him toward the games of chance.
Kelwin followed, looking forward to besting Donnic at something requiring skill rather than strength. Maybe knocking pins over with a leather ball would be challenging. He could use the chance to concentrate on something other than the sea of people crowded around him.
His body ached from the tension of holding himself away from their touch. Everyone at Rosemont knew that touch caused him pain, but most of these people were strangers. He sure as hell didn’t want to sense their thoughts if they touched him, either.
As he passed a booth draped in red and green scarves, his gaze fell on a sign above. “Fortune telling,” it read. He smiled to himself. No thanks. It was enough that he could sometimes see peoples’ futures. He didn’t want anyone predicting his.
“Do it, Donnic,” Chelsey said as Kelwin caught up to them.
They stood before a towering pole topped with a large rusty bell. The pole was marked at intervals with numbers signifying nothing really, and ended at the ground with a wide platform. He remembered this from other festivals. It was an old-fashioned way to measure strength. The small toy won after didn’t matter. It was more about bragging rights.
You swung the large mallet, hit the platform and caused a metal pellet to rise up the pole to hopefully strike the bell. Donnic had nearly knocked the thing off last year.
“No, Chelsey,” Donnic said, his tone teasing.
She tugged on his arm. “Please! All the girls are watching.”
Donnic looked around, his brows arched. “Damn, you’re right.”
Kelwin followed his gaze and saw that quite a few girls stood around, waiting for his cousin’s show of strength. He recognized the cocky walk as Donnic sauntered over to the gametender. The man better be prepared to buy a new bell if he was going to make any money for the rest of the festival.
Crossing his arms, Kelwin leaned against a post. “Show ‘em what you got, cousin.”
Donnic grinned at him and fished out some coin to pay the gametender.
The man hesitated, then looked resigned as he handed over the mallet. “You get three strikes.”
Donnic swung it over his head, earning gasps from the girls and giggles from Chelsey. He brought the mallet down hard and the pellet rose high up the pole, stopping just short of the bell.
“Balls!” Donnic shouted.
More giggles from Chelsey and the other girls. He swung the mallet again, bringing it down hard enough that Kelwin felt it in the ground beneath his feet. The pellet rose high and just glanced the bell. Oohs and gasps came from the girls crowded around him now. Donnic threw them a wink and began to swing the mallet a third time.
Kelwin knew his cousin’s game. Donnic could have knocked the thing clear off with the first swing but he wanted to put on a show. As if on cue, he brought the mallet down hard, sending the pellet sailing sky high to hit the bell so hard it dented. The crowd cheered, the girls sighed and Donnic bowed.
Kelwin laughed and shook his head.
“He’s very strong,” someone said to his left.
He turned and saw a pretty girl he didn’t know. She was obviously not from Terelden. Her blond hair was styled in elaborate knots and she wore a dress made of some material he’d never seen before. It glistened like gold in the light thrown by the torches on the midway. The dress stopped way above her knees and her long legs were only covered in thin tights but she didn’t look like she was cold. He glanced around and saw all the other girls at the fair were dressed like Chelsey with tunics and leggings. This girl’s clothes seemed more suited to Lotherin than out here.
“Yes, he’s strong,” he said. “Are you from Lotherin?”
She smiled, her blue eyes bright. “Yes! Have you been to court?”
Kelwin shook his head. “No.”
She pouted and ran her fingers over one of the knots on her head. “Oh, I’m not surprised. I would have remembered seeing you there.”
Kelwin grunted softly. He had no interest in going to court. When his father was alive, he’d told Kelwin about the decadence and waste there, and the people who only cared about themselves. This girl looked like a perfect example of that kind of life.
To his shock she reached for him. Her touch stung like nettles and he sucked in a breath. He looked down at the small jeweled hand grasping his arm, surprised at the strength he felt in those slender fingers. What can you do for me? he heard her mind whisper. He had no trouble answering that question, even if she couldn’t hear it.
Nothing.
Chapter 2
Kelwin shook off the girl’s hold. “My family’s waiting for me.”
She looked at Donnic again. “Is he your brother?”
He shook his head. “My cousin.”
“He’s so very strong.” Her eyes seemed to strip Donnic’s shirt and pants from his body. “He’s been in the Pageants, hasn’t he?”
“The what?”
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “The Pageants. You know. At court?”
“What are the Pageants? Some kind of dance?”
She laughed. “No. They’re contests between the strong a
nd—”
“Lizbeth!” a large man bellowed as he charged toward them. He was wearing strange clothes too, bright purple pants and a matching jacket.
“Father,” she gasped. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
Her flushed cheeks might say otherwise, and her father seemed to recognize that. He caught up to them and glared at Kelwin. “What were you doing with my daughter?”
“Nothing, sir,” he said.
“We were talking,” she said, crossing her arms.
He grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. “I told you not to talk to these savages.”
Savages? Kelwin looked down at himself. He might not be dressed like they were and his well-worn boots were a little dusty but his clothes were clean and mended.
“Father, we were talking about the Pageants, and—”
“Hush!” he shouted, his face going red. “Why I let you talk me into taking you here, I don’t know. We’re leaving.”
“Can we come back tomorrow?”
“Not a chance,” he snapped.
She stared at Donnic again, then looked at Kelwin. “Nice to meet you.”
As her father dragged her away, Donnic and Chelsey joined him. They watched as the blond girl and her father disappeared into the crowd.
“Who was that piece of fluff?” Donnic asked.
“Just some girl from Lotherin.”
“What was she wearing?” his sister asked. She held a little doll Donnic must have won. “Her dress was so shiny.”
Kelwin shrugged. “Have you heard of the Pageants, Donnic?”
“No. Are they at the festival?”
Kelwin shook his head. “At court. They’re some kind of contest.”
“What kind of contest?” Chelsey asked.
“Strength, I think.” Kelwin smiled at Donnic. “She was impressed with your performance.”
“They always are,” Donnic said.
Chelsey swatted his arm then grabbed on, pulling him toward the performance tent. “Let’s go see the dancing girls.”
Kelwin shared a look with Donnic. They both knew how little the girls wore behind those closed tent flaps. Their dances were meant to draw more than money from the men watching. His mother would strip his hide if he brought Chelsey in there.
Gifted Page 1