The Princess Must Die (Storm Princess Saga Book 1)

by Jaymin Eve

  The indoor arena is packed. All of the Houses have arrived. The five members of the Elven Command stand in a line on the dais. They’re members of the five highest Houses: Elder, Splendor, Glory, Valor, and Bounty.

  They are a dazzling display of beauty and wealth. It’s mid-morning but the spellcasters have adorned the arched ceiling with spun silver and gold, lanterns hanging high above us under a false night sky.

  There are fifteen major Houses and fifteen minor ones. While the majority of the crowd remains behind a golden barrier further back, there are thirty squares set out at the front. The Houses won’t reveal their chosen champions until the last moment when the male carries his heartstone to me, so there are at least two extra males with an advisor in each square acting as decoys.

  The whole place is churning with elves.

  I wait with Jordan in the entrance room that is reserved for me. My Storm Command is already in position on either side of the dais. A golden chest sits on its own raised platform on the far side of the dais. Each time I receive a heartstone, I will place it in the chest and the magic will bind the champion to complete the trials until he’s eliminated.

  A purple cape sweeps around me, tied at the front. In my right hand, I hold my family’s heartstone—a lavender rock, a washed out, pale color. My family is the only House that can’t submit a champion in case we’re related. But my mother, father, and brother will be in the crowd. Jordan stands with me, but Elise is yet to return from her sweep through the champions.

  The music starts playing to quiet the crowd, a fanfare of trumpets and a chorus of elven voices from a choir positioned on the far side.

  The noise in the room finally dies down as Elise joins me, a little out of breath. “Your mother and father are here. When you’re on the dais, look to the right. They’re in the elevated seats at the back of the stadium.”

  I grit my teeth. My parents should be on the dais with me. They should be treated like royalty instead of shoved in with the crowd like every other onlooker. “My brother?”

  She swallows. “Your brother stands with the House of Rath. I believe he’s agreed to be a proxy for Baelen during the trials.”

  Shock ripples through me, but also happiness. The House of Rath is located right at the front, which means my brother will stand mere feet away from me. I haven’t seen Macsen for seven years and to be this close to him means the world to me.

  Elise chuckles. “He’s changed a lot. You won’t recognize him.”

  I don’t have a chance to reply before the five members of the Elven Command cry in unison: “We call the Storm Princess.”

  I take a deep breath and step onto the dais. The entire room becomes quiet. I take my place in the center and lift my left hand with my family’s heartstone in it, keeping my arm parallel with the floor. My right hand rests at my side, palm out, visibly empty. I place a pleasant smile on my face.

  I finally have the chance to glance around the room.

  Elise was right. I barely recognize the warrior standing at the foot of the dais, but I do recognize the smile my brother gives me. He’s filled out from the lanky boy he used to be, broad in the shoulders, as tall as Baelen.

  Bae’s expression is a far cry from my brother’s. His face is blank, guarded. Like all of the potential champions, he’s dressed in black robes with his family’s crest across his shoulders and chest.

  I lift my voice. “Let the Heartstone Ceremony begin.”

  On cue, one of the Elven Command steps up to my left. Each of the five will take turns calling the other Houses forward one at a time. This time, the first Elven Commander to speak is Gideon Glory. His hair is golden blond, straight, and tucked behind his ears. In the right light, the skin of elves in the House of Glory shimmers as if they’re made of the jewels that are found on their land. If my brother’s presence next to Baelen concerns him, Gideon doesn’t show it.

  He says, “I call the House of Rath.”

  The first time Bae offered me his family’s heartstone, he’d approached me head down, offering it up to me like a sacrifice. Now, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I shiver, unable to look away. My heart speeds up as he steps onto the dais and stops in front of me, tall enough that I have to tip my head back.

  His chest rises and falls. He keeps the heartstone at his side as he glides onto one knee, never breaking eye contact with me.

  “I am Baelen of the House of Rath. I offer you my heartstone.”

  I wait for him to lift the stone up to me, but he doesn’t, clutching it in his fist at his side instead. The red rock glints between his fingers, catching the light around us.

  He holds it beside him for so long that the crowd begins to murmur. The other Houses lean forward. I sense the Elven Command pressing in behind me.

  With a shock that almost drives me to my knees, I wonder if, for the first time, Baelen Rath is about to follow the protocols.

  Except that this is one protocol I never wanted him to follow.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from his, but everything around us suddenly becomes crystal clear. My heart pounds double time in my chest. My heartbeat roars in my ears.

  Slowly he lifts his fist to his heart. Instead of offering me the stone, he presses it to his chest. All I can do is watch as if I’m in a dream over which I have no control.

  Every elf gasps. Only my brother stands perfectly still. He must have known Baelen was going to do this. Had they talked about it? Does Bae know the danger?

  No, Baelen! Don’t! Don’t say the words!

  His heartstone begins to glow. Blood-red light shimmers at its edges, tendrils reaching through his robe, seeking to make contact with his skin.

  No champion has ever done this before because it binds them to me and dooms them if they fail the trials. If I had any hope of saving him before… My hope crumbles with every flicker of light from the heartstone. He holds my eyes and his voice becomes fierce. With every word, firelight from the heartstone pulses into his chest, binding him to his promise.

  He says, “Marbella Mercy, Storm Princess, I give you my heart. I will love you, protect you, and honor you until the end of time. Until death.”

  Soft, green eyes from another time and his voice asking me: May I have your permission?

  My legs fail me.

  I drop to my knees in front of him, my purple cloak billowing around me, my own heartstone sinking to my lap. I don’t care that my reaction causes a stir. Let them think that I’m weak, that I’m in shock, that I want to scream out my fear for him.

  Bae, what have you done?

  He draws the heartstone away from his chest and I’m horrified at the way the light grips him, stretching from his heart until the last moment when it sinks back into the stone.

  He’s just bound himself to me for life.

  Until death.

  All I want in the world right then is to reach out my hand and close the gap between us.

  He waits for me to respond. There are words I’m supposed to say, but I never memorized them. I never expected to need them. Once spoken, they will complete the binding.

  My own voice sounds like a death knell.

  “Baelen of the House of Rath, you are bound to me, live or die, succeed or fail. You will never love another.”

  In the time since he first offered me the heartstone in the Storm Vault, he hasn’t smiled once. Now he does. It’s a half smile, a lifting of one corner of his mouth like he’s uncertain about my reaction but knows what he wants.

  He holds the heartstone out to me. I turn my palm up to receive it. He lowers it into my hand, pausing before letting it go. I close my fingers around it, force myself to rebalance, and draw to my feet. He follows me up.

  My voice wobbles as I say, “I accept the House of Rath.”

  Baelen nods and spins on his heel to return to his square. The space he leaves behind is so enormous that I almost topple as if my world is suddenly unbalanced, as if something was taken from me without me knowing it.

  I stare at
his retreating back, wanting him to come back. He pauses mid-stride and half-turns with a puzzled frown on his face, but keeps walking.

  I force myself to draw up to all of my five feet three inches, forcing my mind blank. I have to deposit the stone in the chest and then return to the center of the dais. I turn to my left, ignoring the stares from the Elven Command. The heartstone case is open before me. Inside, it’s divided into thirty compartments marked for each House and protected by spells. As contenders are eliminated, they will come to retrieve their stones.

  I place the Rath heartstone into the top left compartment, unwilling to let it go. I force my fingers to unfurl, leaving it there.

  Then I return to my place in the center of the dais.

  The next House is the House of Elder. The two cousins Eli and Ethan wait in their square. Elise’s investigations revealed that they’re both clever fighters, lean, not exactly built for war but excellent with strategy. It doesn’t look like Baelen’s pledge to me worried them—or if it does, they aren’t showing it.

  Eli steps forward, revealing the heartstone in his hand. He takes the step up to the dais lightly. He drops to one knee, holding it up to me.

  “I am Eli of the House of Elder. I offer you my heartstone,” he says.

  I take it from him, saying, “I accept the House of Elder.”

  After placing the blue heartstone into the chest, I wait for the House of Splendor. Elise had told me about Simon who is predicted to be the champion from this House. Sebastian and another male wait with him as decoys. I sense Jordan’s gaze on Sebastian. She hasn’t been able to speak to him, but thankfully after the ceremony that ban will be lifted.

  As expected, Simon steps out of the square, but so does the other male. I frown as they both step forward… and then they step aside.

  Sebastian holds the heartstone in his hand.

  I jolt, seeking Jordan where she stands with the Storm Command on my right. She’s frozen, pale, one hand half-raised. She clamps her mouth shut and steps back, staring at the floor, her chest visibly heaving as she drags air into her lungs.

  Sebastian reaches me and I check his expression. I need to know if he wants this or not. His free hand is clenched. A muscle ticks at his jaw. His eyebrows are drawn down. He drops to his knee and holds the emerald up to me without meeting my eyes.

  He pauses and whispers. “Please tell her this is not my choice.”

  Then he raises his voice. “I am Sebastian of the House of Splendor. I offer you my heartstone.”

  I don’t accept!

  Anger rises in me for the first time, hitting me square in the heart. I seek Baelen across the room. He looks from Jordan to Sebastian and back again. He knows. He knows this is killing them both.

  Then his eyes meet mine and it’s as if his presence calms me. I’ll find a way. Just like I’ll find a way to save Baelen.

  I say, “I accept the House of Splendor.”

  The remaining twenty-six houses present their champions. I memorize their names and faces, knowing that any one of them might meet Baelen in final battle. But as the last champion leaves the dais, I turn my focus to myself. The hardest part of the ceremony is about to begin—nominating myself.

  My heartbeat picks up. The armor I’m wearing under my robe suddenly feels weighted. It’s my last chance to back out. Once I nominate, there’s no going back.

  Gideon Glory returns to my side, staying at a respectful distance. “Princess, do you agree that all Houses are properly represented?”

  I’m supposed to say “yes.” That one little word means the ceremony is over and the Elven Command can announce the first trial. It’s such standard protocol that Gideon almost doesn’t wait for me to speak.

  “No.”

  “Thank you, Princess, then we will…” He stops. Turns to me. Frowns. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘no.’ The House of Mercy is not represented.”

  He gapes at me. “Princess, you know that your own House can’t be represented in the protocols.”

  “Actually the rule states: ‘No male from the House of the Princess may be a champion.’”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “And there is no rule that states that only a male may be a champion. That happens by tradition only.”

  He splutters. “That is also true but…”

  I spin to the onlookers. The crowd is murmuring, the Houses are shuffling, and the existing champions are frowning. My brother stares at me with a questioning look on his face. Only Bae is quiet, half-turned, waiting for me to speak.

  I take a deep breath and lift my voice, knowing that I have to speak clear and true. I raise my hand with my washed out old stone in it. My brother breaks into a grin. Far away from me, my parents jump to their feet; my father clutches the railing in front of him and my mother holds her hand over her heart.

  For the first time, Bae looks at me with wonder.

  The memory of thunder fills my voice as I say, “I am Marbella of the House of Mercy. I offer my heartstone.”

  I pause, my family’s heartstone held high, as everyone in the room waits for me to say the words that will bind me to the protocols.

  “And I accept it.”

  Suddenly everyone’s shouting.

  7

  The Elven Command is in an uproar. But they aren’t allowed to touch me and for the first time in the history of Marbella Mercy that works to my advantage.

  I walk right past them as they shout at me and I carry my stone to the chest. I place it into the bottom right compartment in the only remaining space. As I step back, the magic takes hold and the lid slams shut.

  The bang startles everyone into silence.

  “What’s done is done,” I say.

  I return to the dais, but instead of remaining in the center, I remove my cloak and hand it to Jordan. She takes it, her face streaked with tears and now with shock.

  “Princess…”

  “He loves you. He’s being forced to do this.”

  Before I return to stand on the dais, I seek Elise across the room. She nods. She knows why I’m doing this. Revealed in my armor for the first time, I raise my voice to the clambering elves. “My people, if you expect me to be your Storm Princess, to fight for you and protect you, then understand this. I will fight for myself first.”

  A female voice in the crowd cries, “We honor you Princess, but the Princess can’t fight to the death!”

  “In a battle between myself and another elf, either of us may exercise the right to yield. I believe the Elven Command will support that change in the circumstances.”

  The Elven Command suck in their breath. I just rewrote the rules and they’re all chewing lemons right now. More than one of them looks like they’re about to spit. The final battle is always to the death. Yielding isn’t an option. Or, at least, it never was before. But they can’t let me die.

  They huddle behind me, whispering. Gideon Glory and Pedr Bounty eye me with distrust. Osian Valor and Teilo Splendor are the calmest but they’re both shrewd, clever males whose intentions are difficult to read. It’s the frosty expression on Elwyn Elder’s face that really worries me. Even though every elven House has an equal vote, Elwyn holds the highest seat so in a deadlock he has the deciding vote.

  It’s Elwyn who steps forward. “The Princess may yield at any time in any trial. However, if she reaches the final battle, she must kill her opponent in order to win. This is so that her closest match does not survive to threaten her position.”

  They make it sound like they’re protecting me.

  “And…” He glances at the others. “She must not forget her duty to the Storm Vault.”

  How could I ever forget? “I won’t.”

  His posture doesn’t change, tense and unyielding. “Then there’s only one more question before we begin the trials: does the Princess wish to exercise her right to veto a champion?”

  Before each test begins, I have the right to veto a particular champion. It sounds simple, but it�
��s dangerous.

  To veto a House is to dishonor that House, so as a way to alleviate the shame, that House has the right to ask something of me in return. It can’t be something I’m not capable of giving but it can be something that I might not want to give: gold and silver are the obvious penalties, but there are dangerous requests like admitting a female elf from the vetoed House into my Storm Command even if she isn’t compatible or skilled.

  Also, the veto power can only be used once, and only until the time when there are three males left. I can veto one of the three, but not once there are only two—because if I could use it at that time, then I could effectively pick my husband.

  On top of that, it has to be used strategically. Using it now, at the beginning of the trials before I’ve seen what any of the champions is capable of would be foolish—I could use up my veto power on a male who was going to be knocked out in the first round anyway.

  The trials for Mai’s marriage protocol are recorded publicly so I know she didn’t use her veto power at all. When she was asked the final time whether she wanted to use it, she said, “My heart was sealed the moment Darian Gild walked into this room. I don’t need to use the veto power because I know he’ll win.”

  I was always in awe of how clever she was. Darian won, of course, but it made me smile to think how she’d subverted the protocols, effectively undermining the other two champions without owing their Houses any compensation. If either of the other two champions had been kind-hearted, I would have felt sorry for them, but the records of the protocols showed otherwise.

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Then, we will now reveal the first test. This is a test of physical endurance. It is not a battle against the other champions, but a battle against yourself. Each of you will be transported to a spot that is an equal distance from Scepter Peak in the Revenant mountains. Those who reach the peak within twenty-four hours will proceed to the next round. Those who don’t will be eliminated. The trial begins at the third hour this afternoon.”

  His gaze flicks to me. That gives me less than half the time I need to subdue the storm and get ready.