by L Ward
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
The Lunar Prince.
L. Ward.
Prologue
Nath stretched, fingertips brushing the stars, enjoying the final hours of bliss before his life changed forever. Four hundred years of history ceased after Wales fell to the warlock invasion and from the ashes the Dead Country rose. For the last five years the nation had been waiting for his father to reinstate the University of Advanced Magical Practice; now, as evening waned, the sky bleeding pools of inky-blackness speckled with diamonds; he watched the last travelers weave their way up the distant path. His world sparkled with possibilities and smelled sweetly with the wish his enchantment would wake. He flushed, scratching the back of his neck; watching the light grow faint and thousands of stars come out to play.
Chapter 1
Evan’s stomach was a pretzel. Groping his way through his unpacked suitcase, he seized whatever button-down and jeans he could find, wrapped himself in a knee-length black cloak, and stepped in front of the mirror.
“Don’t forget to tuck in your shirt,” it said.
He nearly shat himself under the mirror’s tinkling laughter. The induction letters boasted private rooms but failed to mention enchanted, opinionated mirrors.
He charm-locked his door and descended a spiral staircase, its banisters threaded with silver and humming with secrets. At the bottom the world exploded into life, servants harried along the corridors, voices echoed like a chorale and the torrent of students chased the aroma of fresh-ground coffee, crispy pastries and exotic fruit. Evan’s mouth watered in anticipation, passing paintings framed in solid gold and a whirlwind of spinning, whizzing and occasionally sparking objects zooming this way and that. Tiny spellograms darted overhead seeking their recipients like miniature fireworks.
Court itself was a place of legends fortified in glossy jet stone and laced with silver-shot veins of crystal and glittering with spells long cast. The air smelled of breakfast and giddiness; crackled with magic and opportunities. Processions of tables brimming with students stretched to the far end bowing in submission to the grandiosity of the royal table.
Evan’s stomach quivered; he’d see them in real life soon. It’d been a long time since anyone other than the king had made a public appearance. They were said to have an heir, but Evan had never seen him.
Servants skimmed past suspending enormous silver platters laden with: sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, fluffy eggs, smoked kippers, a rainbow of magical fruits and a galaxy of worlwide breakfast food. His eyes wandered to the hefty self-filling jugs brimming with copious drinks, racks of toast warmed or scorched in a motley of cinders and trays glistening with crystal jam jars.
“Are you waiting for someone?” a girl with wide brown eyes, shiny ponytail and a quizzical expression interrupted his train of thought.
“Sorry, I’ve not had a chance to look around,” said Evan, eyes drifting to the lean caramel-skinned boy beside her. He extended a large hand wearing an impish grin.
“I’m Jeremiah, this is my girlfriend Cassidy,” he thumbed to ponytail girl.
“Call me Cass,” she corrected.
“Evan,” they shook hands as he sank into the seat opposite.
“It’s kind of amazing here, isn’t it?” Cass’s eyes were twinkling. “I arrived yesterday afternoon because I wanted to check out the gardens before nightfall. Did you know there’s a wishing tree in the Queen’s private gardens?”
Evan raised his eyebrows. Wishing trees were extremely rare, valuable and were said to grant immense spiritual protection and luck to their tenders. His gaze wandered up the ornate walls to the high arced ceiling gilded with sunshine, an immense mural depicting the medieval war of Queen Kathryn the Great dominated the ceiling. Its vivid colours roared to life. Kathryn, palms spread, flames erupting from her fingertips, brewed the inferno which vanquished the Dark Alchemist in a rush of fury and white magic. Impossibility swam before his eyes as he struggled to process the battle having happened outside the palace.
“What’s your first session?” Jeremiah asked.
Evan pulled out his timetable. “Rune enchantment then mysticism this afternoon,” he said.
Cass wrinkled her nose. “That sounds… conflicting…”
He shrugged and tucked the timetable away again. “What about you?”
“Botany then alchemy,” she replied.
“Intense. What made you pick them?”
“I want to open my own apothecary so Botany is pretty much essential for me, but I’ve been studying that and botanical spell casting almost my whole life, I just need the formal qualifications, so…” she trailed off wearing a confident smirk, eyes glimmering with mystery.
“Am I right guessing that you’re a geomancer?” said Evan.
“Hole in one!” She snapped her fingers making him laugh. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yeah, kinda.”
She waved him off with a lazy hand. “What about you? What’s your unique?”
Evan swallowed and took an enormous bite of a sultana and cherry scone filled with the thickest cream and dreamiest jam. “Well—"
“It’s cool if you don’t have one. I wasn’t being mean or anything,” she shrugged, face passive.
Anxiety bubbled drama in Evan’s belly. “It’s not that I don’t—"
“I’m an aeromancer, but my cousin has no unique,” said Jeremiah, a look of understanding lining his face.
Evan smiled sheepishly and thanked the stars when the conversation shifted to possible shared lectures and breaks.
∞∞∞
Rune enchantment wasn’t the best way to start a Monday morning. In truth, it wasn’t a subject Evan wanted to study, but his mother was right, he needed to take a variety of subjects. Subjects that wouldn’t make him stand out. If he passed all of them it would be the first time he or anyone in his family held formal, high level qualifications. Sure, there were plenty of other universities across Europe, but none quite like this one.
Sir Madick, a thin and severe older man, addressed the class in a dredging, monotonous voice. “Rune enchantment is not a subject for the faint of heart, it will require serious magical skill to pass and anyone who intends to create and enchant truly powerful runes will be required to work extremely hard. Reviving burnt-out runes is another matter, but those enchantments are far more advanced than what we’ll be studying this year.”
Sounds like fun.
Evan sighed, glancing about the room; twenty-two students in all, and he’d only spoken to two or three. Most people already had friendship groups or at least knew a few from their tutoring and social activities, but the rest were just as nervous and shy as he was.
“The level of power a rune can produce reflects upon the person creating it. For example, a cryomancer won’t be able
to produce as powerful a fire summoner compared to a pyromancer and vice versa. It’s likely all of you will use runes at some point in your lives and being able to enchant your own is vital for using them to their highest success. If you, however, do not intend to ever use them then I must ask why you are taking this class?” His beady eyes swept the classroom, thick greying eyebrows pricked with challenge. When nobody spoke, his shoulders sank. “First task will be to see what everyone can do, I want you to enchant a simple luck rune, if done correctly it should sparkle even in the dark, if not it’ll be dull as a beach pebble, understood?”
A murmur of agreement echoed and twenty-two granite slips and rune vessels spread across the tables.
He’d done this before, once, but it wasn’t easy. Scraping the luminous powder into a pile, Evan curled his hands either side forming a halo of protection and closed his eyes. It took some minutes to crystallise and calm his mind until the sole focal point became the vessel. Magic trickled down his arms like tingling droplets of water, pooling in his fingers and seeping into the powder. A faint cactus-spine prickle suggested a response. The air crackled with magic; tasted thick and smoky. Evan focused his energy into the rune, chanting fortune and luck of the Irish until his focus snapped and as gasp ripped his throat. Reality flooded his senses, and he sagged in his chair staring at the faintly glittering nugget. He sighed with relief and paused upon Sir Madick's approach, eagle eyes homing in on it.
“Not bad. It’ll work, but I think you can do better. I sense a distinct lack of experience when using these types of enchantments,” he said and swept away leaving Evan to wallow in discomfort.
“Imagine failing a luck rune! Superstitious old fodder!” a haughty voice carried across the room. A guy with bedhead brown hair, steely eyes and a wicked grin was rallying two of his friends. “Look at this,” he thumb-flipped the rune high in the air watching it snatch light and sparkle with its personal sunshine before brandishing it with a salesman grin. “Perfectly crafted!” he said, putting a lock on Evan; sly smirk toying with his lips. Blaise Atlantis, rich kid with a big shot mother and zero common sense.
“Of course, not everyone can afford private tutoring from the best warlocks in the country,” he turned back to his friends.
Something horrible crawled down Evan’s spine leaving behind a chill of disappointment. He watched through the corner of his eye as Sir Madick approached their table, lined face shattering a smile, spilling nothing but praise.
It wasn’t just Evan who seemed to rub Blaise the wrong way, halfway through the lesson a heartbreakingly handsome young man with supple olive skin, licorice-black hair long enough to kiss his eyelashes, and eyes the colour of molten autumn sauntered in dripping in wealth and reeking of power.
Every girl in the room turned to stare.
“Mr Starstone, what a pleasure,” said Sir Madick, nodding to him as he took a seat in front of Evan. The distraction enough for him to forget about Blaise.
“Sorry I’m late, sir, I was in a meeting with me dad,” he said in a surprisingly thick Yorkshire accent.
Starstone? Flipping heck! Sir Gerard Starstone, was as famous as he was rich and a close, lifelong friend of the king. As a lord, and a billionaire business tyrant, he had his fingers in all the banking and pharmaceutical pies. If the monarchy didn’t own it, the Starstone family did here and abroad. And here before him was Gerard's son. Whether it was his perfect cut-glass bone structure, bottomless pit of wealth or the attention his presence commanded, Blaise took an instant disliking to him.
∞∞∞
Shortly before midday the lesson concluded leaving Evan with a weird sense of relief and a thick taste of discomfort.
He managed to navigate the bustling court at lunchtime and took Cass’s advice to tour the sun-drenched gardens after food. They sprawled for acres like lucious felines stretching beneath the late-summer sun. A snow-white gravel path cut a harsh serpentine from the main doors to the battlement gates through the jaded grass. Exotic shrubs and flowers burst from their beds in a vibrant display of scarlet, amber and gold, immaculately kept and sparkling with magic. A sleepy willow: a misty fir. Students milled about soaking up the first-day bliss beneath a turquoise and green sky, a small crowd gathering around Blaise Atlantis. Overhead impossible birds soared on wings of peacock blue and dreamy lilac. Birds with beaks crusted with gemstones and feathers pluming with mist sang in melodic harmony.
Evan paused beneath the orchard, tended trees stationed militantly behind a simple wood fence, branches lovingly intertwined overheard. Plump, velvety apples permeated the air with the scent of crunchy autumn leaves and sugar. He inhaled the atmosphere turning to look at the palace: a towering fortress of gleaming jet stone, threaded with life and wrapped in thick veins of crystal which hummed with magic, fueling the palace’s protection.
“A lot to take in, isn’t it?”
Evan whipped round and his stomach fell out his ass. Standing just inside the orchard, shoulder to tree, was the most gorgeous young man he’d ever seen. He opened his mouth to speak but the words died on his tongue.
Handsome’s face dimpled in a smile to fell an angel, he pushed away from the tree: tall, slender, toned arms bulging in his rolled-up shirtsleeves, skin a delicate shade of porcelain, and platinum hair glittering with starlight. “I’m Nath,” he said, offering his hand.
Their palms touched and butterflies took off in a violent murmuration from Evan’s belly to his brain. His entire body flushed with giddiness and his face brightened with a smile. He met Nath’s gaze noticing his eyes were two different shades of gemstone. Left blue as an ocean: the right a deep emerald green. “Evan,” he said.
“How do you like your first day so far?” Nath asked in a very posh accent, gazing at him through long fair lashes.
“It’s intense, but amazing. What about you?” Tiny rays of sunlight dipped through the branches catching the ends of Nath's side parted hair that fell just below his ears. A sudden urge to run his fingers through it nearly overtook him. Evan chastised himself, he needed to get a grip.
Sunlight gilded Nath and in a moment something very odd happened as though the whole world went silent, edges growing fuzzy and warm but Nath stood crystal clear.
And just like that, everything returned.
“Excuse me?” the boy of many dreams looked very confused.
“How are you finding it?” said Evan.
Nath shot him a bemused look, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows.
Confusion crashed over him which must have registered on his face because Nath laughed, and his knees nearly caved. Fuck.
“I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve never been bored of these gardens,” Nath’s eyes twinkled and a smirk toyed with his lips.
Evan’s eyes became saucers; lips popped apart. Oh. Once again, he opened his mouth and found himself speechless.
Nath: as in Prince Nathaniel.
“The University opening is a different situation, though. It’s strange seeing so many people here,” he continued, eyes wandering around the groups of students, cluster of girls enchanting paper butterflies to perform tricks and two boys hunched over a weird sack which was puffed rainbow smoke rings. “What are you studying?” Nath, turned his bright smile on Evan.
“Rune enchantment, mysticism, lore and elemental magic. I’m taking the bulk from lore,” said Evan. “This might sound stupid, but are you studying here?”
Nath laughed and Evan’s insides turned to mush. “Yes, all the same par mysticism,” he said.
“You weren’t in rune enchantment this morning,” Evan replied.
“I thought it might be better to wait until tomorrow after we -my family- introduce ourselves formally this evening. It gives everyone a chance to settle. I doubt anyone will recognise me out here,” said Nath. His face dimpled again and Evan was lost.
“Are you really the prince, or are you just messing with me?”
Nath blinked, then laughed, and it was fucking infectious.
“Look here,” he said, and flashed his inner left wrist. The royal crest.
Evan gazed in wonder at the phoenix rising from the ashes, every member of the royal family carried the mark, passed down by birth or acquired after marriage. “That’s the most awesome birthmark I’ve ever seen,” he said.
The crowds began filing back inside leaving only a few with gap sessions to lounge on the spectacular grass.
“I have to get to class,” said Evan, drowning in a wave of sadness. He’d only just met this beautiful boy and barely had a chance to talk to him. This might have been his only chance.
Nath smiled; something unreadable flickered in his eyes. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Evan’s face broke into a smile. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he said, heat crawling up his neck.
“Good,” said Nath, eyes working their way around Evan's face. “I like your accent by the way.”
“Thank you,” said Evan. Hot from his blush, he tore his eyes away and headed back inside, daring a backward glance. Nath remained beneath the trees donning a halo of sunlight; smiling at him.
∞∞∞
He arrived to mysticism, slowly recovering from his encounter with the prince and took a seat along the back row of benches. From this position Evan was gifted an incredible view through the paned windows across the land, the hills and forest surrounding the battlements.
“I won’t expect many- if any- of you have studied this subject before today. The outline is this: we will be studying from texts and practical sessions about two aspects of mysticism: the first being ancient religious text work, and the second magical theory,” the teacher, a willowy man in his mid-thirties with ebony skin and extremely long dreadlocks smiled serenely. He wasn't wearing any shoes. “We’ll mostly be reading today so please take out your text books.”
This was by far his smallest class of about ten students, none he recognised, but none seemed particularly sociable anyway.
“Before Queen Kathryn’s war, the country was rife with religious and spiritual awakenings and practices against those of magical ability. Innocent people were burning, drowning, or hanging for alleged crimes against God. This persecution caused the country to revolt: monsters, magical beings and the land affected by the mass slaughter. The spirit arteries in the earth became so pregnant with magic it overflowed and caused a parallel between our world and the non-magical world. Essentially, we’re running two separate times overlapping one another. We live in the same world, but we don’t mix, they know nothing of our presence and that’s for the best,” he said, owl-like eyes sweeping the class. “A warlock by the name of Eustace Honeyford used branches practiced in foreseeing the dreaded attack on the palace in 1497 which gave the Queen a chance to prepare so when the attack was launched, it failed and, she destroyed the dark forces in the first war,” he continued.