Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  “Your father, dead in a box, with six feet of sand above his face.”

  “That would be . . . convenient.” Even though Lukan’s pulse quickened, the throbbing in his head eased—until he remembered Lynx. He fingered his silver buttons. This was it. Down to the line. No more room for wrangling. “What do you want in exchange for this service?”

  “Come on, Lukan, not even you are this much of an idiot. You know exactly what—or, should I say, whom I want.”

  Lukan sucked in a breath. “Lynx, I suppose.” Handing over a girl to his cousin would cost enough, but to relinquish Lynx, the girl he had craved for months and had yet to conquer . . .

  Axel grinned.

  Had his thoughts been so obvious? Damn him. Lukan realized Axel was speaking.

  “—easy trade. I sort out your father, and you publicly renounce all claims on Lynx. In one fell swoop, I’ve solved all your problems.”

  Despite knowing that Lynx loved Axel, a flush of anger burned Lukan’s cheeks. “And Lynx has agreed to all this?”

  “I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.” Axel’s voice dropped. “Agree to this, Lukan, and you dodge the Dmitri Curse.”

  Dodge the Dmitri Curse? Lukan frowned. Was it that simple? If Axel married Lynx, would she no longer be a threat to him?

  Perhaps.

  As far as he knew, the curse’s wording specified that a Norin princess’s son would destroy her emperor husband. Would Lynx marrying his cousin nullify that clause? Lukan silently cursed Dmitri for not giving him the book. If he knew the exact terms, he could move forward with confidence.

  Without answers, Lukan hedged. “What about Tao? My father despises him as much as he does me.”

  “I’ll leave you to work that out.”

  Lukan fiddled with his button. Tragically, it was entirely possible his father wanted both him and his brother dead. That was complicated, though, and showed his father’s complete ignorance of the dynamics amongst his three heirs. Axel and Tao were closer than brothers. His cousin’s legendary loyalty to his friends meant he would never harm Tao.

  Tao, with his spineless love of the low-born, claimed not to want the throne, but if it were offered to him, would he refuse? Lukan gave a tiny shake of his head. Of course not. No one would refuse the Chenayan throne. It was the greatest prize on the planet. Even Tao would know that he could do more for the low-born from the emperor’s chair than he ever could as a mere prince.

  So, while Tao lived, Axel had no easy access to ultimate power. He was forever stopped from advancing beyond Lord of the Conquest. Even better for Lukan, if Axel murdered Mott, Tao would stand as a protective shield between his heart and Axel’s blade. Lukan knew his brother wished him no ill. All this weakened Axel’s spread of tiles.

  Maybe, just maybe, he could win this strategy game.

  And then there was Lynx.

  As much as Lukan craved her, she had humiliated him in every way possible. How could he reward that by giving her Axel? It was inconceivable.

  Lukan straightened his back and fixed Axel with his most regal stare. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Your ears are working perfectly. I won’t trade you Lynx for my father’s life. You are not the only person in the empire who could take care of him for me.”

  Axel hissed in a breath. “Are you completely insane? Has Thurban’s voice finally driven you over the edge?”

  Lukan lunged forward until his nose was almost pressed against Axel’s. “What do you know about Thurban’s voice?”

  “Enough to bargain with you. You know the terms.”

  “Damn you, Axel, don’t you get it? I’m not giving you Lynx! You have already robbed me of so much . . . my brother, my father’s respect, my position amongst the Fifteen. They think the sun shines out of your arse—bastards don’t seem to realize that you’re a permanent eclipse. I’m not giving you Lynx as well.” Lukan drew himself up to his full height. “Now tell me what you know about Thurban, or by the Dragon, I will make sure you never hold a position of power in Chenaya when I take the throne.”

  Axel stepped back, but his laughter sent a chill careening right through Lukan. “You are so pathetic. Lukan, this is my final offer. Lynx for your life. Accept it or die. Now. Because in ten seconds, I’m leaving.”

  Lukan’s fist crashed into Axel’s jaw.

  Caught off guard, Axel’s head snapped back. But only for a second. Lukan braced himself for Axel’s fists, but his cousin surprised him.

  Face hard, Axel leaned right up close. “Wrong answer. Watch your back, Lukan. You’ll never know when I’m coming.”

  He strode off down the passageway.

  A flush of icy horror washed through Lukan. He had hit Axel! The one person he needed most if he was ever to rule Chenaya successfully. He slumped against the wall as his mind struggled to process what he’d done.

  Axel had baited him first.

  That wasn’t a good enough excuse. Cursing his temper, he shouted down the passage at Axel’s retreating form, “I’m not without allies! I am well capable of protecting myself from any scheme you might hatch!”

  “Sure you are,” Axel called over his shoulder. “The only way you’ll find anyone to support you is if you reprogram the jasper chips, burning your name in the brain of every guardsman in the country.”

  Desperate to be out of the cloying darkness, Lukan picked up the gas lamp and surged to the shortcut out of the maze. Slamming the door behind him, he lifted his face to the sunlight streaming through the window in the hall and closed his eyes.

  But there was no time to relax in the soothing rays.

  Despite his bravado, he had to rally some support to protect himself from his cousin. No easy quest, he admitted. With no service in the military, allies with fighting skills were thin on the ground. Perhaps with the promise of sharing part of his archives, he could bring a faction of high-born to his side? Head pounding, steps heavy, he turned to leave the room.

  Count Felix stood at the door.

  “Ah, Crown Prince,” his uncle crooned, taking his arm. “Come, you and I have much to discuss and a very short time in which to discuss it.”

  Too shocked by his encounter with Axel to resist, Lukan allowed himself to be led away.

  37

  Lynx stopped outside the door to her bedchamber and gripped Tao’s arm. “I can’t take my axe in there,” she whispered. “The room is filled with cameras.”

  “Who is your lady-in-waiting?” Tao asked, just as quietly.

  “Lady Tatiana. She wafts around, making unhelpful comments.” The sour-faced woman had appeared at her door a couple of times, ostensibly to help Lynx dress. Lynx had not invited her into her room.

  “Tatiana’s bark is definitely worse than her bite. She would help if she knew it was for Axel.”

  Lynx bit her lip, surprised to learn that about her brittle lady-in-waiting. “But she’s not here. I can’t risk someone coming and seeing me with it.”

  He nodded. “True. What about Kestrel? Won’t she cover for you?”

  “No,” Lynx mouthed. “I don’t trust my sister enough.”

  Tao’s face fell, and Lynx could only guess at what Kestrel’s lack of trustworthiness meant for him. But the hard, cold fact was that Kestrel would never support destroying the empire while she could benefit from it.

  “Look,” Tao said, “there is nothing we can do. Just bundle the axe up in my surcoat and store it somewhere in your dressing room.”

  Keeping the weapon hidden, she quickly wrapped it in the fabric.

  “Good.” Tao smiled mournfully. “Now, I better go and find Kestrel. She was already angry with me for leaving her to come and look for you. I think she wanted to moan to me about missing out on the egg.”

  Lynx grimaced. “Go. I don’t want you getting into trouble.” She rubbed her temples, fighting a headache. “I’m really tired. Do you know what is planned for tonight’s prenuptial festivities?”

  “A dinner in the great hall. The chanc
es of Lukan showing up are probably remote.”

  Lynx sighed. “Just because he can skip meals with impunity, it doesn’t mean I can. I’ll get cleaned up and join you.”

  Tao squeezed her hand, and Lynx stepped quickly into her apartment. Without stopping, she made for a heavy trunk, with a lock and key, in her dressing room. She casually put the surcoat and axe down on the lid and moved toward her clothes. Making a display of it, she removed a couple of dresses and carried them to the trunk. As she opened it, she scooped up the axe into an armful of clothes and shoved them into the trunk. She had just hung the key around her neck when she heard movement behind her. Alert for trouble, she spun into fighting stance.

  Four priestesses stood in her room, with gloveless hands extended to her. Lynx exhaled sharply, her fists in readiness for a fight if they attacked her.

  The eldest of the women, perhaps in her thirties, spoke, “Your Highness, we are commanded to invite you to join us for an evening meal.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Lynx said, eyeing each of them in turn. With these odds, she would not survive long in a fight. Should she even be trying? Her eyes trailed to the curtain tieback, her closest weapon. Heavily corded gold braid, it had a large crystal bauble hanging from one end, making it an ideal whip. She edged toward it. “Who sent the invitation?”

  “I am not at liberty to divulge that information,” the spokeswoman said. “Now, Your Highness, please, the food is getting cold.”

  “Don’t you have braziers in the palace for keeping food warm?”

  Was this Mott’s retaliation for hitting Lukan? Sending priestesses here to lure her to some awful fate? Her mind flitted to her unfinished letter, but she rejected that as a cause—she hadn’t started writing the section on the Chenayan technology yet.

  The spokeswoman gestured to one of her companions. The girl, no older than a teen, lunged. In the same instant, Lynx wrenched the tieback off the curtain and swung the cord before her. It seemed no deterrent to the priestess, who thrust her hand at Lynx. Swirling the cord, Lynx struck the girl on the temple with the crystal ornament. She dropped.

  In a whirl of white, the other three women swarmed Lynx, shockers grasping for her bare flesh. Lynx flailed the tieback from left to right, hitting her targets. Grunts and moans resounded, but even as she fought, the odds were against her. It was only a matter of time before one of them got in close enough to fry her.

  When the shock came, it was nowhere near as painful as when the she-witch had attacked her. Still, it was enough to stun. She crumpled back against the dressing room wall.

  When she came to, her hands were bound in front of her with strong cords, and a priestess flanked her on either side, bare fingers pressed into her arms.

  Face strained with anger, the spokeswoman said, “That was not how we hoped this would go, Your Highness, but you left us no choice.”

  “No,” Lynx snarled, tugging at her constraints. “You left me with no choice.” She looked down at the girl she had struck on the temple.

  The spokeswoman glanced at her, too. “I’ll fix the curtains,” she said to the other priestesses. “Silvana, help Alina, and then everyone back to the cloisters.”

  With just enough pain blasting her arms to disorient, but not to debilitate, Lynx had no choice but to follow the priestesses. It was a long walk through deserted passages and hallways to the cloisters, located on the farthest reaches of the palace. Mother Saskia waited at the first colonnade. Refusing to show pain or fear, Lynx fixed a haughty expression on her face.

  “Dragon’s curses! What happened? Why are the princess’s hands bound?” the she-witch demanded.

  “She did not wish to join us,” the spokeswoman replied at the exact moment Lynx said, “Chenayan hospitality! I suppose you now plan to poison me?”

  Mother Saskia tsked. “What happened to Alina?”

  The spokeswoman glared at Lynx. “She hit her with a crystal bauble.”

  “I warned you all to be careful of Princess Lynx. Now go to your cells.”

  Without protest, the priestesses slunk away. Mother Saskia clearly ruled her cloister with absolute control. The priestess moved purposefully toward her. Lynx stiffened, but Saskia gently took Lynx’s arm.

  “Dinner is served.”

  “Am I supposed to eat with my hands tied together?” Lynx demanded.

  “That will be taken care of when I am convinced you are no longer a threat.”

  “Winds, you’ll wait a long time for that.”

  The she-witch smiled. She led Lynx into a tiny cell with space for a single bed and a narrow closet. A fresh candle, the only lighting, waited on a crude wooden table, illuminating a steaming clay bowl of soup and a few chunks of coarse bread. A chamber pot stood in the opposite corner.

  Mother Saskia gestured to the food. “Priestess rations. I make it a rule that no one in this cloister eats better than the average low-born living in any hovel in Cian.”

  Lynx was impressed, but she wouldn’t let it show.

  Mother Saskia closed the wooden door, locking it with a chunky key. “Sit, Princess Lynx. We have a long night before us.”

  It seemed childish to argue, so Lynx obeyed, sitting on the edge of the hard, narrow mattress.

  “Your wrists, please.” Mother Saskia drew a stumpy dagger from her pocket, the same one she’d use to slash through Lynx’s braid, and sliced through the bindings.

  “Why are you holding me prisoner?”

  The wooden bed creaked as Mother Saskia sat next to her. “I told you, Princess Lynx, there is no place in Chenaya for powerful women. We all need allies if we are to survive. Today, an unlikely ally came to my rescue moments before I was flung onto a train bound for Galec Prison Camp. That ally informed me that I was to keep you isolated until the wedding tomorrow.” She looked down at her hands. “I am in no position to disobey.”

  Lynx’s pulse raced. “And who would that ally be?”

  “The Lord of the Household.”

  Count Felix? Why would he save Mother Saskia? Lynx wished she understood the politics better. She was about to question when the priestess spoke.

  “You will find your allies, too, Princess, and when you do, the powers that rule us will all scurry for cover.”

  It was the bitterness in Mother Saskia’s voice, even more than her words, that left Lynx speechless. Finally, she gasped, “And which side will you be on?”

  Without looking at her, the priestess said, so softly Lynx could barely hear her, “My brother died in Treven. His life wasted, for what? Today, after a lifetime of loyal service, I was almost sent to my death at Galec Prison Camp. One failure, one miserable failure that I wasn’t even accountable for, that’s all it took, and the emperor was ready to cast me off.” Mother Saskia stood and opened the door, stopping on the threshold. “I think you’re smart enough to figure out your own answers, Princess.”

  Lynx sat in stunned silence as the priestess closed and locked the door behind her. How much of Mother Saskia’s commentary on the train had been for the benefit of the cameras? Lynx had no idea, but that wasn’t her highest priority.

  She had told Axel she would marry him.

  She shook her head in disbelief. Axel: a Chenayan, an Avanov, the man who had commanded his troops to kill Hare and so many of her people. It was inconceivable.

  But it was true.

  Despite everything, she wanted Axel with a longing so painful she could barely breathe. In the short time she’d known him, he’d conquered her heart as surely as Thurban had conquered Norin. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  Her pulse sped up. He wanted her, too. Enough to kill for her. Was what they had love? It had to be. Nothing else could simultaneously feel so good and so bad.

  A troubling thought niggled at her conscience. Should she even be thinking about marrying Axel when Cricket had made it so clear that choosing him would lead to the failure of the Dmitri Curse? Then again, could she trust Cricket? The meeting had been so cryptic, so garbled.
<
br />   And what about her oath?

  Her chest locked as if the Winds themselves had sucked all the air from her lungs. How could she have said yes to Axel when she had sworn a vow to her father?

  Lynx sprang to her feet and paced the tiny cell, her quick steps as frenzied as her thoughts. Would her father understand? If she could explain it all to him . . .

  How she wished to be back home, where everything was so simple, so clear. Tomorrow would be such a special day in Norin, with four youths, her own brother included, raiding eggs. She would have taken her turn, playing her fiddle at the celebration party when Clay took his rightful place amongst the raiders. Then, she and Heron would have danced—the wild, exuberant dances she loved.

  But instead, she was locked in a cloister, facing an uncertain future, torn between love and honor.

  Cricket’s words, emblazoned on her brain, rang back at her. The only way you, Lynx of Norin, will ever help fulfill the Dmitri Curse is to relinquish Axel and to marry Lukan. But if you do, Nicholas’s conception will bring you nothing but pain.

  To survive, you will need the strength, not of a soldier going into battle with sword and axe, but of a warrior armed with nothing but honor and a determination to win.

  Knowing this, who will you choose, Axel or Lukan?

  After the pain Lynx had experienced with the shattering mirrors, she wanted to scream that the choice was logical: Axel.

  But logic had no place here.

  She grabbed the spoon and began ladling the watery vegetable soup into her mouth. But her stomached roiled, refusing to accept the food. She slid down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands, unable to stop the sobs that wracked her body.

  At length, her breathing calmed.

  It did not matter which god Cricket and Dmitri served, but Winds knew, her course had been charted the moment Kestrel had crushed Clay’s egg, along with his hopes. Little had Lynx known how big the canvas onto which she stepped was when she had made a simple promise to fight for her brother’s right to happiness.

  “Father,” she whispered as if he could hear her, “you were right. It is so easy to get lost in the gray.”