The Princess Must Die (Storm Princess Saga Book 1)

by Jaymin Eve

  “Spin gold, shelter silver,” he says. “You are worth more than both.”

  Elise’s foot lowers. Suddenly animated, she races forward only to stop and frown, blinking at us. Baelen has positioned himself several feet away—a very respectable distance—which is clearly not what she thought she saw. She clears her throat as he bows to her. He spins on his heel and exits through the door before she can say a word.

  Her eyes narrow at me. “I’m missing time.” Her accusation is sharp. “And it’s happened before. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

  I opt for honesty. “I can’t call it at will, but the thunder lets me slow time.”

  Her eyebrows rise.

  I add: “I think there’s a lot more to the storm than anybody knows.”

  “I think you’re right.” She draws herself up. “Well, we’ll have to deal with that later. Right now there’s no time to waste. You need to get back to your quarters and get ready. Obviously, I didn’t hear everything you said, but I did hear that there are gargoyles on Scepter peak. If you order me to, I will alert the other advisors. We need to prevent a fight.”

  “No. As much as it’s wrong, the Elven Command will know that Baelen told me. That will only put us in more danger. I’ll follow Bae’s plan. But I need you to find out everything you can about gargoyle nests in the next half an hour. I want to be prepared.”

  8

  The Storm Command escorts me to the open field beside the assembly area. I carry my wooden weapon across my back and wear gray clothing that will camouflage me against the rocks on Scepter peak. I debated wearing my armor, but I’m going to need to run for a long distance and I haven’t tested it enough to know if it will weigh me down. I’ve timed my arrival at the field so that all of the other champions are already present, accompanied by their advisors. Baelen stands on the far side but I keep away from him. If I show allegiance, it will only make him more of a target.

  The champions become quiet as I approach. There are males everywhere. The amount of testosterone in this field right now could fill an ocean.

  “Storm Command, separate please.”

  My ladies draw apart so that there are gaps I can see through. I need to let the champions know that I mean business. The ones I pass cast me curious glances. They’ve never been this close to me outside the Heartstone Ceremony.

  Having just come from the Storm Vault, lightning crackles in the air around me and I don’t try to disguise it, letting it play around my fingertips and torso. It seems like an unfair advantage but so far none of the Houses has complained. I’m guessing they have no idea how much I can control the storm since I’m the first Storm Princess who can.

  “Now, now,” Jordan laughs, speaking loudly enough to be heard. “You’re scaring the competition.”

  I join her. “They should be afraid. No male will claim me.”

  The ones nearest to me jolt, immediately looking to their advisors who give me sharp glances. I don’t know why they’re surprised. My declaration to fight for myself should have told them I’m not aching for a husband.

  One of the champions steps forward, forcing my Storm Command to stop. He’s a big gorilla of an elf, shorter than Baelen but broader in the shoulders and chest. He takes up the entire gap between my ladies. I recognize him as Rhydian Valor. Not my favorite House.

  He looks me up and down, focusing for too long on the lightning curling around my chest.

  I’m up here, you buffoon.

  He says, “I like a female with fire in her.”

  My ladies bristle, taking up defensive positions, weapons immediately in hand. He doesn’t even acknowledge them.

  I narrow my eyes at him “You’ve had a few fiery females already, have you?”

  I catch sight of his advisor, hovering in the background. The advisor’s face is slowly turning red.

  Rhydian doesn’t blink an eyelid. “Most females like a male with a bit of experience.”

  I press my lips together. “Well, I’m not interested in someone else’s leftovers.”

  My dislike for him sinks into the silence around us. His advisor appears to be choking beside him, but Rhydian isn’t deterred.

  A sly smile creeps across his face. “I’m certain I can change your mind. After all, isn’t that what you want? To be out here so we can all get a taste of you?”

  Shock rockets through me. Is that what they think? That I became a champion for the chance to mix with the males? A quick glance around the field confirms my fear. Most of them are giving me the same knowing look as Rhydian.

  Only a handful look shocked at the insult he just paid me—Sebastian Splendor is one of them. He angles toward Rhydian, dark anger spreading across his face.

  Jordan reacts faster. “How dare you insult the Princess!” With a scream of rage, she launches herself at Rhydian. Her body is a blur as her fist connects with his jaw faster than he can defend himself. Her boot follows it, knocking him off his feet. In the time it takes him to hit the ground, she lands two more blows, lightning fast, the crunches heard above his shout.

  Just as fast, she leaps back and away from him, putting a clear few feet between them. There’s a reason she was chosen as the head of my Storm Command and she just showed them all why.

  He lands on his butt, thudding to the grass, shaking his head. His muscles bunch as he pushes himself back to his feet. He tests his jaw, snarling at Jordan.

  She hasn’t broken a sweat. She stands tall, her hands relaxed at her sides. “Do you want to go again?”

  He hesitates, glances at me, and then shakes his head.

  “Then stand away from the Princess.”

  He steps back, but as Jordan signals for the Storm Command to move forward, he leaps for her, his big hands going straight for her throat. It’s a coward’s move. It takes Jordan the shortest moment to adjust, but it’s long enough to put her in danger.

  Silent as a predator, Sebastian Splendor appears beside Rhydian, grabs his outstretched hands, and slides around him, using the other male’s momentum to spin him around and shove him in the opposite direction. Where Jordan’s attack style is all crunch, Sebastian’s is fluid and seamless.

  Another male steps in and forces Rhydian even further back. This new male has his back to me and I can’t identify him, but he grips Rhydian firmly and doesn’t let go. Rhydian is suddenly much further back in the crowd, too far to pose a threat.

  Sebastian spins to Jordan. She’s frozen to the spot.

  “Warrior of the House of Splendor,” he addresses her with respect, not taking his eyes off her. “Please forgive my trespass into your space.”

  I can only see half of her face, but I know her well enough to see the battle she’s hiding. It breaks my heart to see them finally able to speak to each other but not free to say what they want. She clears her throat. Takes a deep breath. She whispers, “All is forgiven, Sebastian.”

  His gaze remains on her for a moment, brittle and breaking. She just forgave him for being a champion but it looks like her forgiveness is breaking his heart. Then he nods and pushes backward, forcing the elves behind him to step backward too. The male who helped him joins him to form a barrier of sorts, allowing us to pass.

  I assess the male standing beside Sebastian as we move on. He’s from one of the minor Houses: Jasper from the House of Grace. He has straight brown hair, shoulder-length but tied back, and brown eyes. He has a lot of courage to step forward against one of the major Houses.

  The advisor from Rhydian’s House rushes after me. “Princess, I apologize on behalf of the House of Valor.”

  I don’t stop moving. “Your House should choose its champions more wisely. You can tell your House and any other House that will listen: any male who comes near me will forfeit his life and I won’t regret killing him.”

  My Storm Command glares at every male within glaring distance. By the time we reach the place where the Elven Command is supposed to give us further instructions, my ladies are having a full-on glare fest. Nobody co
mes near us now.

  I seek Baelen on the other side of the clearing, not sure how much he saw or heard. All of it, by the looks of things. He nods at someone behind me before he turns away and I’m surprised to see that it’s Jasper who remains within a few feet behind my ladies.

  At that moment, Elise races toward me, pushing through the crowd.

  Jordan leans in to me. “I’ll tell Elise what happened after you’re gone. She’ll deal with the other advisors.”

  I know she will. I just wish I could be there when Elise gives them all the what for. The Storm Command opens for Elise who hands me a piece of folded paper. “You’ll need this.”

  I lift the corner of the paper. It’s a map. The location of the nest will be inside it. “Thank you.”

  She hesitates. “Are you sure, Princess?”

  Am I? I’m about to deliberately seek out a gargoyle nest and deter the other champions from going near it. Then I have to complete the challenge and make it to the top of Scepter peak after giving everyone else a head start. Not exactly what I saw myself doing when I woke up this morning. “I’m sure.”

  The Elven Command files onto the field but there are no grand speeches this time. Teilo Splendor is the only one who speaks. “All advisors must now leave the field.”

  Jordan hesitates beside me, her fists clenching. “I’ve never left you before, Princess. I don’t know if I should.”

  I swallow. “I’ll be fine, Jordan.”

  She holds my eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t underestimate the others.” She spins on her heels. “Storm Command, file out.”

  Elise and my ladies leave me for the first time. And for the first time ever, there’s space around me. Shame it’s filled with arrogant males. At least none of them dares approach me now.

  Teilo continues. “Champions, remember that you must reach Scepter Peak by this time tomorrow or you will be eliminated. Now… choose your transport!”

  He steps back and for a moment there’s silence. Then the faint whoosh of flapping wings fills the air. High in the sky, animals soar toward us.

  My jaw drops. Winged stallions sail through the air, circling overhead. Golden griffins join them, followed by giant eagles with white-tipped wings. Some are smaller than others, but their wingspans are all massive. As one mass, they swoop toward the field.

  The champions brace. As the first flying beast reaches us, the nearest male begins to run, pacing himself with the gliding creature, leaping neatly onto the Pegasus’ back when the horse draws close enough.

  Choose our transport? More like catch our transport.

  The animals don’t land and they don’t slow down. Several more males leap to their chosen animals and take to the sky.

  None of the creatures come near me. Just like any sensible animal, they’re spooked by the storm, veering off before they get too close.

  In the distance, a griffin flies down to Baelen but he hesitates.

  “Go,” I whisper. If he doesn’t take his chance, there might not be another one. He’s already let two animals pass him by because he’s waiting for me. There are only a handful left.

  Most of the other champions are airborne.

  I close my eyes and reach out with the storm, becoming quiet enough to sense my own heartbeat, to calm the sharp lightning and try to subdue it. I need to quell the storm or nothing will come near me.

  The edges of my senses prickle. The hot lightning rears up again. I try to push it down but at the same time, I sense the wind at my back and the sudden deep thud of outspread wings. I open my eyes but only enough to run, pacing beside whatever creature is brave enough to align itself with me.

  The rush of wind close by tells me I have one chance to leap onto its back. I glance left, judging the distance and the shape of its body.

  I almost stumble.

  A vast, red-feathered bird flies beside me, larger than any of the eagles. It’s so bright it looks like flames lick off the surface of its feathers. My lightning leaps out to greet it and I inhale air faster than ever before, my heart pounding. Somehow I’ve called a creature to me that by rights can never be called. But it’s the only creature that would never be afraid of me.

  The Elven Command are stony-faced, staring at what I’ve done. The champions who are already in the sky circle back on their flying creatures, leaning over their animals to see the blazing creature. Their disbelief is palpable from here.

  I pick up my pace. I don’t hesitate. I leap onto the back of the Phoenix, landing safely, and together we soar into the sky.

  I lean forward over the firebird’s neck. Its feathers are like silk and sunlight both at once. It covers the distance faster than the other flying creatures and soon we’re ahead of everyone else.

  I pull out the map Elise gave me, holding on tight as the wind buffets at me. There are two spots marked on the western side of the mountain, many miles apart. One has an “M” marked next to it so I know that’s the one I’m supposed to go to.

  I stroke the Phoenix’s neck. “The question is… where are you going to drop me?”

  The bird tilts its head, eyeing me with an amused expression. Its voice sounds like wind chimes inside my mind. I can fly you to the top of Scepter Peak, if you like?

  I try not to fall off its back. I shouldn’t be surprised that it can communicate with me, but still… “I’m supposed to start my journey at the same distance from the peak as everyone else.”

  Who says?

  I laugh. “I should have guessed that the Elven Command can’t spellcast you to follow their rules.”

  I answer only to the deep magic.

  I scoff. “Then how did you come to me?”

  The bird coasts for a moment. You are the Storm.

  We’re passing over Bounty land now. Scepter peak is the highest peak in the Revenant mountains, which rest on the border between Rath land and Bounty land. The landscape beneath us is green and lush with fruit trees and orchards, but it will soon change as the countryside turns into mountains.

  “I saw you before, didn’t I? You were flying over the city one morning last week. That’s how you arrived so fast.”

  I’ve been waiting for you to summon me.

  “So I have the power to summon a Phoenix because I control the Storm.”

  The bird tilts its head toward me again. There’s only one of me. And you can summon me because you are the storm.

  “Isn’t that what I said?”

  The Phoenix chuckles. Not quite.

  I consider it for a moment. “Did Mai ever summon you?”

  She wasn’t the storm.

  I frown. “She was a Storm Princess. The same as me.”

  The Phoenix glides. No, there has never been one like you.

  “Somehow that doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

  What do you know about the deep magic?

  I fold my arms over my chest, ignoring the fact that it unbalances me. The Phoenix adjusts to steady me and I’m guessing it won’t let me fall. “Not enough, apparently.”

  The Phoenix glides toward the mountains. When humans forced the elves and gargoyles from the surface of the Earth, many gave their lives to create this new world. First, the gargoyle King became the force that separated the layers of the Earth. Then, the elven King became the sky. The elven Queen became the sun and the gargoyle Queen became the moon.

  “I’ve heard that story.”

  It’s not a story. I flew both Queens into the sky myself. After that, many more lay down on the ground and from their bodies sprang mountains, trees, and grass. You see, the deep magic is life itself.

  The Phoenix shakes its beak. The storm is deep magic too. It was created by a gargoyle who gave her life for revenge.

  I jolt. “I saw a female in the storm today. Was that her?”

  The Phoenix lifts its wings, the closest to a shrug that it can manage while flying. I can’t tell you what you saw. But something happened on the night you were chosen. Something happened between you and the Storm. When I look
at you, I don’t see an elf like Mai or the others.

  It cranes its neck, slowing its flight to study me. When I look at you I see… something else.

  I shudder. Clear my throat. This conversation has gone places I’m not prepared for. I bury my head in the map, ruefully eyeing the top of Scepter peak. It would be so easy to fly straight there. “You should drop me on the south-western side of the mountain. I’ll show you where.”

  We travel more slowly after that and the Phoenix doubles back a couple of times to allow the other champions to catch up. I need any nearby elves to see my path and avoid it. I also need to start at a similar distance from Scepter peak so the other elves think this is where I was supposed to land.

  Finally, we approach the ground three miles out from the nest, but the Phoenix doesn’t give any signs of landing. I glance left to check the other champions. I can see two of them, each a quarter of a mile apart. The first one stands, balances, and leaps from his eagle, rolling to the ground in a flurry of snow. The second one casts himself sideways, equally graceful, diving and also rolling.

  It looks like jumping is the way to the ground. I check that my pack is secure. I can’t afford to lose it or leave anything behind. I opt for efficiency over elegance, standing and balancing. Before I leap over the side, I pause for a moment, the wind rushing past me. It’s a normal wind. Not a storm wind.

  I breathe it in, filling my lungs. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  I’ll be hovering over you, Marbella Mercy. If you need me, call me.

  Without another word, I cast myself off its back, grateful for the snow to soften my landing. I roll to my feet and don’t look back. The wind swirls around me as the bird returns to the sky.

  After that, I pace myself, jogging through the shallow snow, seeking a better pathway toward the nest. I keep my map hidden, having memorized the distance to the nest, constantly checking side to side that the other champions are keeping their distance. So far, so good.