Shattered Lives (The Wizard's Legacy Book 1)

by H. R. Rekow

  “I lost a maid.” Olivia shook her head as she blinked back tears. “Her body was never discovered.”

  Ellis’s brow creased with dark lines and she patted the young girl’s hand. “I’m sorry, love.”

  “What creed was this woman?” King Matthias said. “I shall have her replaced. What was her appearance?”

  Olivia looked at him. “Ah . . . She was from Barcen Way. Short. Dark skin, dark eyes. A wild lock of gray hair. Strong and—”

  “The likes of a Wilder!” King Matthias stopped and stared at Earl Quinn, his eyes narrowed. “You permitted a Wilder into your home! Such a description is that of Shade Kin!”

  “Nay, my king. Never!” Earl Quinn held the old man’s gaze, then flashed his upon Olivia. She stepped closer to Theron. “Wilders only enter my gates to be killed! I know the ways of a Wilder; Nan behaved far from their barbaric habits, my king.”

  Sobriina looked between the two men and stepped forward with a bow. “I do not believe Lady Olivia should speak of such horrid events.” King Matthias’s dark gaze softened and he stepped back. “Our dear lady has suffered a traumatic experience and I suggest that she not be questioned on such matters, with all due respect, my lord and king.”

  Olivia nodded and looked down. “Indeed.” Her voice was low and frail as she glanced between Sobriina and King Matthias. “I would approve of that.”

  King Matthias lifted his chin. “Very well, my daughter.” He nodded his snowy head. “None shall speak of it, and you shan’t have to share.”

  “Thank you greatly.”

  They entered the Great Hall, the towering stone walls adorned with detailed tapestries and hides of wild animals, ancient weapons gleaming in the firelight and men-at-arms posted periodically. Servants rushed to and fro, and the hall gave way to room after room, each furnished with finery and items handcrafted by delicate fingers. Fire licked from the torches and several fireplaces throughout the castle. For the moment, the constant chill had subsided.

  “Well,” Queen Ellis said as they continued walking, “to lighten the spirits, supper will be ready shortly.” She smiled and looked at Theron and Olivia. “And there is to be entertainment such as your youthful eyes have never seen!”

  Olivia smiled and giggled.

  “I would like that,” Theron said.

  “As would I!” Olivia nodded with a childish grin.

  Queen Ellis’s smile grew.

  “After the betrothal details are settled,” Earl Quinn muttered. “Yes? We still must discuss the contract. It shan’t take long, for it is a simple trade. This girl and one of my armies for royal titles and more land.”

  Kind Matthias nodded irritably and turned to the she-elf. “Mistress Sobriina, you are still responsible for this fair maiden’s needs.”

  “Your wish is my command.” She bowed. Olivia beamed, though her eyes did not. She looked away without a word.

  “Very well, daughter,” King Matthias said and took Olivia’s delicate hands into his veiny, speckled grasp. Theron lifted his chin and wanted to move his father away from his bride. “We shall see one another at supper.”

  “At supper.” Olivia grinned.

  “At supper,” Theron murmured. They parted, and Theron escorted Olivia to her room. Sobriina, Krea, Cedany, and the other servants who carried Olivia’s belongings walked close behind.

  Theron closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath. He told himself to forget his father and forced a smile. “They like you,” he whispered.

  “I am pleased, my prince,” Olivia said as they passed through a vast hall and climbed stairs. A stone lion sat with its eyes closed at the head of the stairwell.

  “Will you wish to bathe, my lady?” Sobriina asked.

  “Yes, um . . . with a vial of fine oil.”

  Theron’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at her. “Whatever for?”

  “It helps my skin.” Olivia looked up at him and smirked. She seemed to be amused by her words, but he did not know why. “It must be smooth and kept rightly. You understand.”

  “Yes . . .” They walked on in silence until they entered Olivia’s chamber. She gasped and laid a hand on her chest as her eyes darted from the fine bed to the golden candlesticks, to the small stained-glass window.

  Theron watched her with enjoyment. “Like it?” he asked.

  “Very much so! Thank you, forever and a day!” Olivia stepped closer to him and grabbed his shirt collar. Theron’s eyes widened as she drew him close and kissed him. Krea and Cedany smiled and looked away, though they stole a few peeks. Mistress Sobriina stood and stared, her eyes hard and her lips a thin line.

  Olivia finally withdrew and breathed out in a rush. Theron’s heart pounded through his whole being. They looked one another in the eyes and Olivia ran her fingers through his hair. “See you at supper,” she whispered and drew back. Words eluded Theron as he stepped away, his eyes fixed on her. He shut the door behind him, a smile alive in his eyes.

  Olivia sighed when the door shut. She turned and noticed Sobriina’s watchful gaze, her smile morphing to a darkened stare. “My bath.”

  Sobriina lifted her chin and eyed the lady. Olivia smirked and turned toward the full-length mirror of polished metal hanging on the wall. A muscle in Sobriina’s jaw clenched. “It will be prepared.” She walked toward the door. “And . . . your oil.”

  Olivia did not respond as she stood in different poses before the mirror. Krea and Cedany watched their lady, their heads tilted at an angle. Olivia saw their stares and shot a cold look at them. “Get out.” The two women stepped back. “Go!” Olivia waved a hand at them. “Shoo! Shoo!” The two servants left the room in a heartbeat.

  Olivia heaved a breath as she listened to the silence in the room. She scratched her forearm and turned back to the mirror with a grin and a lift of her chin. She ran her hand along her throat, chest, and side. She cupped her breasts and turned this way and that to see them better. She chuckled and nodded her head. “They’re good-sized, all right,” she muttered. “Give something for that lad to think of.”

  She scratched her forearm again and stepped closer to the mirror. With squinted, focused eyes, she inspected her nose and gingerly folded down her ear. A shadow crossed her brow and she growled. Pale stitch marks crisscrossed behind her ear along her skull. “Cursed skinner! Clumsy bonehead!” She shook her head and stepped back, her eyes fixed on her ear.

  Olivia muttered under her breath and looked away. She shook her head and glanced down at her forearm to scratch it. She hesitated and turned away with a heavy sigh. She walked to the bed and threw herself across it. With a deep moan, she grinned and closed her eyes, nestling into the blankets and breathed in the freshly made cloth. This was for her, all for her!

  She could get used to this.

  Chapter 13

  Whispered Plans

  Olivia was acting odd. It was the little things that were different—nothing important, however . . .

  During the following morning, the castle’s royalty slowly awoke, whereas the servants, guards, stewards, and Seers had been up before the sun. Theron sat at the dining table and listened to the buzz of activity around him. It was the first day in a long while he did not have to wear his sword, but he strapped it on anyway. Without it, he felt naked and ill prepared. His food lay untouched as he watched Olivia drinking from a horned cup. His mind spun with unsettling thoughts.

  A half-eaten piece of venison lay on her plate, for she had said mere bread and milk in the morning would never fill her. Her hair was up in braids and wound in a blue veil. He wondered why she kept putting it up even though he had told her, on the balcony in Crown Haven, that he enjoyed it down. Customs, he reasoned; she had to follow them. But, he remembered that she enjoyed her hair down as well.

  “Are you all right, beloved prince?” Theron turned and found Sobriina’s purple gaze studying him. He nodded and turned away, wondering if he was the only one who noticed the new quirks of his bride. It was as though she had forgotten herself and
was somebody new. It was strange, so very strange.

  Why had she changed? Did the attack in the forest make her . . . He had no word for it as he glanced at his dear lady. Perhaps she was troubled by the blood and death she saw. She had never seen it before; she would not know how to take in such an experience. He must help her somehow. How could he distract her from the memories of Wraith’s Hollow? The death of Nan. He sat for a long moment as he watched her.

  She was so beautiful.

  An idea lit his eyes and a smile spread across his lips. Elshender noticed his sudden change in mood from across the table, but said nothing. “Olivia,” Theron whispered and grabbed her hand. “I want to do something special for you.”

  She flinched at his touch, then smiled and took his hand. “Oh, a surprise?” She clapped her hands giddily.

  Theron’s jaw tightened. Her mouth curved up in a grin, but her brown eyes were anything but smiling. He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Yes, that’s what it is . . . a surprise. An hour after your meal, meet me on the northern tower and go to its flat roof. I’ll be waiting.”

  “I’ll be there,” she whispered, her scarlet lips pursed. Theron forced himself to keep his smile and stood. He turned to leave, but stopped. His eyes narrowed. He looked back to Olivia and stared at her, his head cocked at an angle. She laughed with Countess Primis about something and took a huge bite of meat. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers.

  Olivia looked up at him and her smile wavered. “My lord?”

  Theron said nothing as he peered into her eyes. Brown. They were brown.

  “My lord?” she repeated. Olivia looked to the others at the table and giggled. “Has my beauty enchanted you, rendering you speechless, my prince?” Countess Primis and a few of the other women laughed.

  “Your eyes . . .” Theron pointed. “They’re brown.”

  Olivia nodded. “Indeed, as they have always been.”

  Theron blinked and shook his head. “No. They were—”

  “Were what?” Olivia lifted her chin. “A different color? And how, my lord, could that be?”

  Theron, his mouth open, shook his head.

  Olivia smiled and glanced back at her food. “I will meet you on the rooftop in an hour or so, my lord.” She blew him a kiss.

  Theron stared at her. “Why’re you calling me my lord?” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Theron bowed and walked out of the room. Once outside, he stopped and ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair. Two guards stood at the doorway behind him and a few servants passed in silence, but all kept their eyes downcast and left the prince to himself. He shook his head and looked up to the high-arched ceiling. With each heartbeat against his chest, he felt the glass organ would leap out of his throat. He swallowed hard.

  “My lord?” a voice whispered from behind. He turned and Sobriina stepped through the door and walked to the prince’s side. “My lord, her eyes are discolored, are they not?” Theron shrugged and glanced at the floor. He shook his head again and breathed out heavily. Sobriina studied her friend.

  He saw her brows knit together. “What is it?” he whispered. A servant walked by, his eyes downward, but Theron knew he still heard them. The she-elf waited until he was gone.

  “Please tell me,” she said, her voice hushed, “that I am not the only one troubled by Olivia’s new ways.”

  The prince blinked in surprise and smirked. “I thought I was the only one.”

  Sobriina shook her head and glanced at the dining hall door.

  “Come with me,” he whispered. Theron grabbed her arm and led her down a hallway. They walked through a large room into a small chamber.

  Weapons lined the walls, and a rug of wolf’s fur carpeted the stone floor. A bowl filled with oil sat in the midst of a wooden table; a flame danced above its oiled container. No one was in the room, save the two friends. Theron shut the door behind them and the fire’s orange glow lit their faces. “Tell me what you’ve noticed,” he said, facing her.

  Sobriina warily stepped further from the door, her eyes shadowed with concern. “My accusations may be flawed, my prince,” the Lunaris whispered. “But . . . I dare say Lady Olivia has changed.”

  He nodded his head. “I’m grateful you see it too.”

  “Indeed.” Sobriina wrung her hands. “The Lady Olivia I know is not like the lady we just sat with. Small things. Simple things, that is all I have noticed, yet they stand out and look me straight in the face!” The she-elf shook her head; she looked pale. “Olivia is not like this, this woman. Not so sharply changing in her temper, such as how she snapped at you when you mentioned her brown eyes! Also, the Olivia I love did not always embrace you at every possible occasion. She was very reserved about her feelings toward you.”

  Theron glanced away; he did not want that aspect of Olivia’s new character to change.

  “Her vocabulary is different,” Sobriina continued, “and not like her. And how she acted when Nan was horribly slain! She barely spoke of the woman who was like a mother to her. Not even a tear stained her dress! No, she is acting as if she is not disturbed for the fallen creature!”

  "I agree.” Theron nodded. “I would think Nan’s death would put her in a mournful state.”

  “My lord, I fear for Olivia!” Sobriina cried suddenly as she took hold of his arm. “I do not know what has become of her, or if a spell has taken hold of her, or . . . or—Ah! I don’t know!”

  A muscle in his jaw tightened.

  “We’ve gotta figure this thing out,” said a new voice.

  Sobriina and Theron whirled around and saw Elshender standing in the doorway. They hadn’t even heard him enter. The warrior looked at Theron, his jaw clenched and shoulders back. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  Sobriina opened her mouth to object, but Theron nodded before she could speak. She shut her mouth and frowned.

  Elshender closed the door and they sat at the table. He glanced at Sobriina; his eyes ran her up and down with a scowl. He turned to Theron and stuck a thick thumb in Sobriina’s direction. “You’re asking this woman for advice?” She glared at him testily.

  Theron looked his friend in the eyes. “She’s not a woman. She’s a she-elf. There’s a difference and I value her words. Respect her.” Elshender looked down and shifted his weight. He grumbled something under his breath, but fell otherwise silent.

  Sobriina eyed Elshender and lifted her chin. A small grin pulled at her lips and she turned to Theron. “May we speak frankly in this counsel?”

  The prince nodded.

  Feet thudded past the closed door, and everyone stiffened. They listened until the footsteps carried on, and their shoulders relaxed. No one spoke for several moments until Sobriina motioned to Elshender.

  He gave her a firm look, but glanced away before Theron noticed. “There’s lots of things that could be the answer,” Elshender said. “For one, maybe she is just being more . . . queenly like. Coming to Henricien could’ve reminded her she’s to be queen. She might be afraid, and not know how to cope with her new identity or something. I don’t know, women act strange for no reason sometimes.”

  “Yes, but that does not explain her callous response to Nan’s death,” Theron said. “I know Olivia. She should be heartbroken.”

  “Beyond even that, I trust.” Sobriina nodded.

  “Nan could’ve been a mere slave,” Elshender suggested. “That’s what she was anyways. Or even she could have stopped Olivia from being her real self. Now that the slave’s dead, Olivia’s being herself.”

  Theron’s eyes narrowed. “You know that is not true.”

  Elshender looked at his friend and saw his stiffened shoulders and balled fists. The soldier sat back in his chair and held up his hands. “To be honest,” Elshender said, “I was not with the lady that much. I don’t know her as you two do. But, really, none of us has known her for long.”

  Theron glanced away from Elshender before he said something rash; he knew Olivia,
and he loved her.

  Elshender eyed his prince for a moment. “What? You don’t like this new side of her?”

  “This is not her!” Theron’s eyes locked with Elshender’s once more. “This is . . . is trickery! It is a cruel game of sorts.” He shook his head. “It’s not her . . .”

  “She completely loved Nan,” Sobriina said as she shook her head. “Without a doubt.”

  Elshender looked away from Theron, and the prince uncurled his fist. “Or . . .” Elshender’s eyes narrowed. “She was raised in a really peaceful place, right? No fighting. No death. Not like anything in Wraith’s Hollow. That was new for her. The attack could have, you know . . . shaken her up too much.”

  “Yes,” Theron muttered, “I’ve considered that.”

  “No, I mean . . . She was shaken up a lot. Might have done something to . . .” Elshender motioned to his head. “You know . . . There might be several reasons for her new strangeness; this could be one.” He snapped his mouth shut at Theron’s cold stare.

  “But it isn’t,” Theron whispered.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “She’s not crazy!”

  “She’s a woman. They’re crazy to begin with. Don’t rule stuff out so quickly.”

  Theron gritted his teeth, but looked away. His heart pounded; Elshender’s words were too disturbing. He looked straight before him and breathed out a slow, loud sigh. “What else? Yes, your suggestions are worth hearing, but what else?”

  Elshender and Sobriina glanced at one another, but neither responded. Elshender cleared his throat and scratched his nose. Sobriina stared at nothing in particular with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. “What about a spell?”

  Elshender glanced at her.

  Theron’s brows drew low; he did not want to consider it. “Do you really think it’s possible?”

  Sobriina nodded. “A spell could have been set on her shoulders.”

  Theron sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. This was absurd! Wizard forbid such an awful thing!

  Elshender shook his head. “Just stories—”

  “Consider it.” Sobriina leaned forward, her eyes intent on Theron. “Lord Demus’s blood is laced with power from Wraiths themselves! Perhaps this is why her eye color changed! Demus’s eyes changed to gray when touched by dark magic; maybe our lady’s eyes did as well.”