Royal & Ruin (Gifts of the Gods Book 1)

by Josie Gold

  Fennion was by far the most attractive of the siblings. His jaw was sharp and his nose was slightly crooked, likely from a brawl. He had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled (which was entirely too often) and the longest eyelashes I had ever seen. He was not as big or as muscular as his brother, but beneath his opulent clothing, he was finely made with sinewy muscle. I only knew this because my sister and I once found him sleeping half-naked in a fountain outside our townhouse.

  He also looked nothing like his siblings. His skin was lighter, deep golden-brown, and his hair was an unusual shade of brown for a Kartheyan. Most Kartheyans had blonde or red hair, but his was chestnut and streaked through with russet and amber. His eyes, though, were what set him apart. They were a startling light green. Light eyes were even rarer than brown hair. I supposed if you really looked at him, one could see the upturned shape of his mother’s eyes and perhaps her high cheekbones. But he stood out among his family, an oddity.

  An entirely annoying and detestable one.

  I could feel Prince Fennion smiling at me lazily, enjoying my discomfort.

  “I think we both know that if I needed something, the last thing you would ever do is help me,” he drawled, taking a deep drink from his mug.

  I sniffed loudly and curled my nose at the smell of alcohol coming off him.

  “It’s a little early, isn’t it?” I commented scornfully.

  He looked down at his drink in mock surprise. Then he took another deep drink. He offered it to me. I accepted it and the shock on his face was gratifying. I slowly lifted the cup to my lips, then met his eyes a second before I whipped it across the room. It smashed against the wet wall.

  “No alcohol in the Library,” I said politely.

  Fennion stared at the whiskey-laced tea dripping down the wall, his mouth agape. Then he started to laugh. I felt a headache beginning behind my eyes.

  I stood from my seat and attempted to get away from his laughter, but it followed me. I looked over my shoulder and saw him following me.

  “Ah, Harken. You keep me humble,” he said between chuckles, plucking books now and again as he insisted on following behind me.

  “I doubt that,” I replied.

  He caught up to me and tried to catch me by the arm, but I whipped out of the way before he could touch me. He backed me into one of the walls and leaned over me. His face was too close to mine. I could smell the sweet and smoky scent of tea and whiskey on his breath.

  “I still don’t understand why you dislike me so much,” he pouted, “most people like me.”

  “I don’t feel anything for you,” I lied.

  “Now, that’s not true. I’ve seen how you look at me.”

  “With disgust.”

  He tutted, reaching out as if he was going to touch my hair. But at the last minute, he changed his mind and put his hand by my face, leaning closer to me.

  “I can’t imagine what I could have done to earn your ire, Lady Kenza.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I snapped and pushed him away. He allowed himself to be shoved away with another indulgent chuckle. I felt my cheeks become red, but leashed it, and let cold seep into my eyes again.

  “The truth is, your highness,” my voice dripped with venom, “there are people who exist that are not taken by your shallow charm. And you're simply too undignified to deal with indifference sensibly.”

  For a moment, it seemed as though the barb struck true. His indolent smirk fell and he took a step away from me.

  A slow, wolfish grin spread across his face.

  “Hm. Well then,” he said huskily, “I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get a… reaction out of you.” His voice was full of innuendo, his eyes half-mast and smoky.

  I lifted my chin imperiously.

  “Good luck.”

  “What an odd creature you are.”

  I bristled, turning away again when he continued, “I rather like odd creatures.”

  I sighed heavily and continued to walk through the rows, knowing that he would follow me.

  We walked past a set of stairs that were different from the others. I slowed, against my will. Although still glittering with red and blue lights, the darkness seemed deeper. Heavier.

  It was the Forbidden Section.

  Torra told me to never go down there when I first arrived. There were books and objects down there better left unknown and untouched. I didn’t like the feeling those dark stairs gave off, so I tried to avoid them when I could.

  Fennion sensed my discomfort. He paused to look down the stairs too.

  “Have you ever gone down—”

  “No,” I interrupted, “and you shouldn’t either.”

  I thought maybe now he would leave me alone, but no. He followed behind like a persistent tom cat mewling for food.

  It was going to be a long day.

  FENNION

  While Harken pretended to ignore me, I told her about the book I was currently reading. The Failing Sky was about a man who was trying to fix the sky—I could feel the loathing coming off Harken in waves.

  I wasn’t sure, exactly, what it was I liked about Harken. Perhaps I appreciated that she didn’t scrape and bow for me and didn’t try to gain favors through flattery.

  Maybe it was simply that I had yet to see her magic, and I was desperate to know what kind of mage she was. All the Librarians were mages and I had seen them all work wondrous magic. But not once had I seen a hint of Harken’s magic. I often tried to guess what kind of mage she might be, but she never let on.

  “You would make a spectacular fire mage,” I said after I was done summarizing the plot of the book. Harken didn’t react.

  “But, most fire mages join the War Makers,” I conceded, laying on my back on the table she was working at. I could feel my hangover coming back. I blinked and a pillow was suddenly under my head.

  “Thank you,” I said to the Library. A moment later, a new cup of tea sat beside me. Harken looked up and glared, presumably at the Library.

  “I’d like to set you on fire,” I heard her say under her breath. Oh, how she delights me.

  I heard someone approach. Telsey’s dark golden hair looked bejeweled in the red and blue light of the Library. She saw me and put her hand on her hips.

  “I thought I told you to stop sleeping on the tables?” Telsey tsked, but her eyes shone with mirth. I held up the pillow in defense.

  “She doesn't seem to mind,” I argued. I had always considered the Library to be a she. And from what I had learned throughout the years, most of the Librarians thought the same.

  “She spoils you,” Telsey said, touching the books fondly. Telsey then noticed Harken scribbling aggressively at the papers in front of her.

  “Is he bothering you?” Telsey asked, her voice teasing.

  Harken ignored her. Telsey and I shared a meaningful look. As soon as Telsey sat down at our table and looked over at what Harken was working on, she started to sputter and pulled the papers away from Harken quickly.

  “These are order request forms!” Telsey exclaimed.

  Harken merely lifted a cool brow.

  “You’ve completely ruined them. Do you know how much work goes into these? Now we’ll never…” She trailed off at Harken’s disinterested expression.

  “You can’t keep doing this,” Telsey said, all the humor gone from her voice. I suddenly felt like I shouldn’t be there anymore. But Harken’s expression didn’t change. I grudgingly admired her stony indifference.

  Telsey looked like she wanted to say more, but Harken just looked bored. So Telsey sighed and took the papers from her.

  “I want to help you. But if you don’t want to be helped—”

  “I don’t,” Harken said simply. She got up, curtsied to me mockingly, and took her leave. I did not follow her.

  Instead, I offered my assistance to Telsey. But she just waved me off, following after Harken. Leaving me alone with the Library.

  I tried to read my new book, but I couldn’t concentrate. M
aybe I hung around Harken because she saw me for what I was. I was already so low in her eyes that I didn’t need to try around her.

  As if sensing my melancholy, a blanket appeared across my body.

  “Can I sleep here?” I asked the Library.

  In answer, the floor I was on dimmed. The soft sounds of the Library—the turning of pages, the shuffle of books, the murmurs—melted away. It was as if I was in a cocoon of darkness and silence. Grateful, and suddenly exhausted, I fell asleep.

  HARKEN

  Magic lessons were the same that night. I stalled as long as I could and then eventually, out of frustration, I sent a small whirlwind toward Torra’s cup of tea. I blew away the steam. Torra nodded patiently, then held the cup in his hands. Before my eyes, the steam returned, wafting from the tea.

  Torra was rumored to be a legendary fire mage. According to the stories, he was offered a place in the War Makers’ magical arsenal. War Maker mages generally manifested fire or lightning—sometimes earth—all offensive powers. But Torra chose the Library instead. Or maybe it chose him.

  “I don’t know why you insist on these lessons,” I said, “I’m not improving.”

  Torra simply stirred his tea from his cluttered desk, his expression knowing.

  “Are your headaches getting worse?” He asked.

  “No,” I lied. In fact, they had. I had one nearly every day and they lasted hours. At night, the pounding in my head would turn into confusing, draining nightmares.

  “And your appetite?”

  “I eat like a pig.” Another lie.

  I could feel my body becoming frailer, but food held no interest for me. And when I did try to eat, I often couldn’t keep it down.

  Torra hummed thoughtfully. He didn't say it, but I saw it on his face:

  Silly, stubborn girl.

  I clenched my teeth and turned to head for the door.

  “Is it worth dying for?” Torra asked. I paused at the door.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  I had an early shift in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Torra’s canny midnight eyes.

  I had been prone to headaches and illness since I was 11. Mother would complain endlessly about the yellow tinge to my skin and my “boyish” body.

  It wasn’t until I was forced to become a Librarian that I understood. The first time I was forced to perform my magic for Torra, I was suddenly filled with energy. And hunger. I ate every sweet and biscuit he offered me. Until I realized what was happening.

  Another reason to despise my magic. It felt terribly cruel that manifesting my magic made me feel more alive than I had in 12 years.

  I turned over in bed and groaned when I saw Telsey using her light to finish the paperwork I ruined.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, dimming the orb of light that floated above the papers.

  “You know, Torra isn’t dead yet.”

  Telsey turned toward me jerkily, her expression was incredulous.

  “So you don’t need to do his job for him,” I clarified, “you’re his assistant, not his slave.”

  Telsey’s lips thinned. She turned back to her papers.

  “Unlike you, I find value in hard work and helping others.”

  “Helping others?” I scoffed. “Our beloved patrons are all old politicians and lords using the books to find further evidence of their excellence and superiority.”

  Unable to help herself, Telsey opened her mouth to retort, but I beat her to it.

  “When was the last time you saw anyone who was of a lower class than a merchant in there? Because I haven’t ever seen one. Probably because they are too busy barely scraping by to care about books.”

  Telsey laughed bitterly, surprising me. She had never let my words get to her before.

  “And what are you doing to help, Harken? Because all I’ve seen from you is self-sabotage and belligerence.”

  We stared at each other in the near dark for a few moments before I snorted and turned over in bed.

  “We all know what you are doing,” Telsey continued. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to block her out.

  “It won’t work. Torra won’t give up on you. Neither will I.”

  FENNION

  Once again, I had sacrificed my cushiony bed in the palace for a table in the Library. And yet, when I woke up fully rested, I felt warm and comfortable. Even my hangover was gone.

  I looked out the window nearby and guessed it was nearly dawn.

  “Should I leave, or should you help me find one more book?” I asked the Library coyly.

  The red and blue lights flickered flirtatiously, leading me to another floor of the Library. I climbed up the steps and found the next floor to be slightly different. This new floor resembled an underground grotto. Water, sparkling and milky, spread out across the floor. Books perched on shimmering rocks here and there within the water. I took a step into the water and discovered that the water felt like satin against my skin, but didn’t make me wet.

  “You beautiful, mad thing,” I crooned at the Library. Small, luminescent fish nipped at my ankles affectionately as I waded toward the books.

  I was deciding between two books (Dawning and Daying or Lady Mellia’s Secrets) when I felt the air change. A moment ago, the Library felt content and mischievous. And then suddenly, all the hair on my body stood on end, and a terrible chill wracked down my spine. The gleaming water began to churn.

  Something was wrong. In my mind, I thought I could hear the horrible wailing of a woman. Heartbroken and enraged. The sound, or the feeling, or whatever it was, caused bile to rise up my throat. I swallowed it down and rushed out of the grotto.

  “What is it?” I called to the Library, running in what felt like no real direction.

  The screaming in my head continued, and suddenly it was joined by real screaming. I sprinted in the direction of the screams. Others joined me, pale Librarians and frightened patrons followed blindly behind me.

  The screaming grew even louder, and more screams joined in. I rounded a corner, bracing myself.

  But I could not have been prepared for what I saw.

  Telsey and two other Librarians kneeled on the ground by a pile of robes. As I staggered closer, I realized it was not a pair of robes. My nausea returned, coating my esophagus in acid.

  It was a Librarian—the husk of one—their body was shrunken and dried out, like the hide of an animal left in the sun too long. Their bones breached the cracked skin, ivory and sharp. Their expression was the worst though. Contorted in terror, their eyes were ripped out of their sockets and their mouth was twisted in a silent scream. The features were too misshapen to be able to identify the body.

  I turned and retched, but nothing came up. After I was done heaving, I lifted my eyes and saw Harken standing apart from the growing crowd. She stared at the body, her normally golden eyes yellowish and wide with a hand pressed to her long neck. She suddenly looked so young. She seemed as if she was about to take a step forward when her eyes met mine.

  I held her gaze and stood and held out a hand to her. I wasn't sure why. I didn’t know what I could possibly do. She stared at my hand for a moment. Then her face closed off. She turned and walked unsteadily away.

  3

  FENNION

  Strictly speaking, I wasn’t barred from War Maker meetings but, it was understood that I was not welcome.

  I enjoyed the War Makers’ meetings—the inherent drama, the high stakes. It was like being part of a story.

  When I snuck into the Room of Councils, the meeting had already begun. I ducked behind politicians and lords and took a seat at the back.

  The room was a circular theatre, with three levels of wooden booths. On the first level sat the politicians, lords, and ladies interested in politics. Their clothing had the most opulent jewel tones and delicate embroidery.

  The second level was the Council of Mages. They wore somber gray robes, similar to the Librarians. Being a mage on the Coun
cil was one step higher than being a politician or a member of the nobility, but several steps lower than a royal. No decision or decree was made without the Council of Mages’ approval. Only the most powerful mages joined the Council and the testing process was said to be brutal. As a little boy, I dreamed that I would one day manifest some great power and be welcomed into the Council.

  Instead, I was sneaking into their meetings.

  At the highest level sat the lieutenants and generals of the War Makers, wearing their blood-red dragon armor. As a boy, I worried that they killed the dragons to make the armor but I was later reassured by Karsea that dragons molt regularly and the craftspeople dye and make the armor from their moltings.

  My brother, Highlar, joined the War Makers instead of standing at the center of the circle with the Queen and Karsea. He stood beside the current Major General of the War Makers, a gnarled and pensive man with a missing eye. Soon, I imagined, the Major General would step down and name Highlar his successor.

  At the center of the theatre was a giant map of Vivus and its five kingdoms, separated by four seas. The map depicted Kartheya as a sprawling landmass covered in forest and mountains. Detailed wooden War Maker figurines stood on the shore of the Ezili Sea, small and silent sentinels standing guard.

  To the north of Kartheya was a huge expanse of ice and snow. Saidna, the largest kingdom and a tenuous ally of Kartheya. Rather than manifest elemental magic like Kartheyan mages, the Saidnese used spells and magically endowed objects to channel their powers.

  To the south was Antress. It was depicted as a land of sand and ancient ruins. In Antress, the mages worked psionic magic, like mindreading and empathic control. Antress was our closest ally. I visited as a boy and got lost in one of their ancient, half-buried cities. My mother had been too busy with meetings to notice, so a commoner woman who could manifest realistic visions returned me to my family many hours after nightfall.