ReigninG
MagickS
Book One
A Witch in Time Series
By
Candace Osmond
And
JJ King
Reigning Magicks © copyright 2019 Candace Osmond & JJ King
Digital Version
First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-988159-60-7
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Authors
Chapter One
Your feet will bring you to where your heart is. – Ancient Irish Proverb
“Mother!” Ashlynn’s scream bounced off the thick stone as she stormed through the castle.
She struggled to catch her breath as barely fettered rage roiled in her belly. The sound of her leather boots slapped against the floor and fell into sync with the throbbing pulse that coursed through her body, heating her blood. She clenched her hands into fists, tight enough to break the skin of her palms, in an effort to hold back her magick that simmered just below the surface. Everyone in her path nervously cleared her line of sight. Even her sister, who waited faithfully just outside their mother’s room, reluctantly moved aside as Ashlynn forged her furious path.
“Sister, I beg of you, listen to reason,” Gwendolynn pleaded.
But Ashlynn wouldn’t hear of it, she was too far gone. She brushed past her younger sibling and sent the thick wooden door crashing open with a sharp flick of her wrist. Emerald and copper magick crackled over her skin as her crazed eyes searched the room for her target.
“Mother!” Ashlynn hissed again, catching sight of the object of her fury standing near the hearth with a pained look on her lovely face.
Aoife, High Priestess of Clan Kavanaugh and Ashlynn’s mother, turned to face her frantic daughter. She heaved a tired sigh, that only served to piss Ashlynn off more, and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Ashlynn, I do not want to hear of it.” Aoife turned and walked across the room, her long green robes trailing behind, the perfect image of a regal high priestess. The very sight of her mother’s perfection set Ashlynn’s teeth on edge.
“No, you will listen!” Ashlynn demanded, squeezing her fists so hard fresh blood dripped from the crescent cuts in her palms. The pain acted like an anchor, forcing her to focus, reminding her that rulers didn’t throw fits of this manner. When she spoke again, desperation and hurt tinged her words, “How could you? How could Father?”
“It’s for the good of the people, Ashlynn,” Aoife insisted, her expression remaining staid. “A true ruler makes sacrifices.”
Ashlynn exhaled, trying to find her balance. “I do not require a man to help me rule our people.” She tried to sound calm and rational even though her rage flourished inside, pulsing like a demon’s fire. “I am far more capable than any man or woman in the clan. You know it as true as I.”
“Be that as it may,” Aoife replied, inclining her head, “your father and I must consider our people before your feelings and if you were thinking with the heart of a ruler, which,” she arched a delicate eyebrow, “you should be, you would see the logic in this arrangement.”
“Arrangement?” Ashlynn shook her head, growing more desperate the longer they spoke. Her mother was being intractable, immovable, logical. How could she fight back against reason with passion? But, it was all she had. Ashlynn let her emotions seep into her voice. If she was to be a scapegoat, her family would know how much their betrayal had destroyed her. “Let us call it for what it is, Mother,” she spit out the word. “I’m to be sold off like cattle to the Scots so that you and our people,” she ground the words out between clenched teeth, “can continue the lives to which they’ve grown accustomed. You would sacrifice me to the savages and then demand me smile prettily as I am carted off into the wilderness. You ask too much.”
Aoife finished fussing with some table linens and handed the stack to one of the invisible servant girls that kept the castle running, shooing her out of the room before turning her attention back to her daughter. “Well,” she looked imperiously down her nose, “the savages are coming for dinner this evening and you’re expected to be present.” She tipped her head to the side and gave Ashlynn a pained expression that pleaded for cooperation, the first indication of emotion she’d shown during their encounter. “I beg of you, be on your best behavior.”
“But Mothe –”
“Ashlynn,” Aoife bit out the word.
The princess let her hands fall at her sides in defeat and turned toward the door to storm out in much the same way she’d entered. Fury and fire carried her back out through the familiar corridors of the home that no longer felt welcoming. A voice inside reminded Ashlynn that there was just cause for this alliance, that her people really were depending on her to keep the peace, but it was cut off by the wave of anguish and betrayal that colored everything in sorrow.
Ashlynn knew one thing only, that there was no way she would let her parents send her off to an unknown land, leaving behind everything and everyone she knew and loved. She’d find another way to establish peace between the clans.
She had to.
***
Ashlynn clutched the neck of her wool cloak as she traipsed through the forest in search of Fedelm, the Seer rumored to be hidden deep in the woods on the outskirts of the kingdom. Most of her people considered Fedelm a myth, a boogeywoman to terrify their children, or a scary tale to tell around the fire. She was a story, a legend that had faded over time, mostly because no one could claim to have laid eyes on the Faith, the ancient Seer.
But Ashlynn had.
She continued her angry pace through the trees and recalled the day so many years ago when she and Gwendolynn had been playing in the courtyard as children, an innocent game of hide and seek.
Gwen had hidden and Ashlynn had happily pranced around in pursuit of her. After some time searching with no results, she’d found herself at the edge of the castle grounds, marked by a stone wall which they were forbidden to cross. Ashlynn had peered out into the dark forest, mesmerized by the pitch-black nothingness. She’d been about to turn back, her mother’s warnings echoing in her mind, when something had caught her eye and made her still. A strange, tiny green glow had danced through the trees, coming toward her. It had stopped at the edge of the forest and, inexplicably, motioned for Ashlynn to follow. In absolute wonder and without a second thought, she had.
Young Ashlynn had followed the beautiful glow as it skipped over the mossy knolls and before she knew it, she’d been led to the heart of the dark forest where the tiny light had disappeared, leaving her lost and alone.
“Hello, c
hild,” spoke a voice that had echoed in the air like wind chimes.
Shaking, Ashlynn had replied, “Who are you? I w-want to go home.”
“Do not be afraid, young one,” the voice assured. As Ashlynn blinked back tears, a woman had manifested before her eyes. “The wil-o-the-wisp led you here for a reason.” Her twig-like hand reached out and caressed the little princess’s face. “What is it you seek?”
“Nothing,” Ashlynn had replied. “I just want to go home.”
The Seer smiled and taken Ashlynn’s hand, placing an anemone in it. Its soft white petals had draped silkily over her small palms. “Keep this flower,” she’d instructed, “it shall lead you back when your heart is ready to see.”
Now, Ashlynn’s mind tumbled over the implications of the gift, given so long ago, as she continued to march over and under branches, across creeks, and up hills in search of that same place she’d stumbled upon so many years ago. The sun was high in the sky, but the umbrella of trees cloaked the forest floor in near-darkness, casting eerie shadows that tickled her nerves. She pulled out a small wooden box from her satchel and carefully lifted the anemone the Seer had given her as a child. Its delicate white petals were still intact and soft as silk, suspended in time by magick. She held it in her palm and raised it to the sky, then reached for her magick and spoke the words that sprang instantly to mind.
Flower, oh, flower
Be thine charm of spell and power
Work thy Magick well for me
This my will, so mote it be
Ashlynn blew a light breath of air over the blossom and watched as it glowed with life and energy. It raised from her palm and hovered, its petals plucking from the pistil and swirling in the air around her.
“Lead me to Fedelm,” Ashlynn commanded.
The glowing petals responded immediately, forming a line that pointed to the East. Pushing down any trace of nerves she had over her loose and flawed plan, Ashlynn followed the petals further into the forest toward the mouth of a small cave alit with the blaze of a fire. Carefully, she stepped inside only to find it empty aside from a tiny fire that burned in the center of a stone pit. The petals continued to swoosh around in the air before diving into the heart of the flames where they disintegrated into ash.
“I was wondering when you’d come find me again,” spoke a familiar voice.
Ashlynn turned back to the mouth of the cave where Fedelm, the ancient Seer, stood. Draped in robes that looked and smelled to be made of earth, the Faith circled Ashlynn and took her place across the fire.
“I seek your help,” Ashlynn murmured as her eyes strayed from the woman to the fire before her. She stared, caught in the dance of the flames, and felt her mind go fuzzy.
“Aye,” the woman replied, “and how might I aid you, Princess?” She moved her hand over the heat, drawing Ashlynn’s gaze back up to her face.
Blinking, Ashlynn came back to herself and her goal. “My family,” she blurted, “they plan to marry me off to the Scots.” The horror of it came crashing back, bringing the fear, pain, and anger with it. She balled her fists by her sides. “I’ll become a kept wife, a powerless ruler over people I care nothing for while my sister remains here, at home, to rule over the people I was meant to lead.”
The Seer made a soft humming sound in her throat before asking, “And what do you think I could possibly do?”
Ashlynn shook her head, sickened by the powerlessness she felt. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, “perhaps you could see something? Tell me what I can do to stop it? Show me another way to establish peace between our clans?”
Fedelm circled the fire once again and took hold of Ashlynn’s hand, swiftly pricking the tip of her finger and drawing blood to the surface. Ashlynn winced from the sharp pain but remained silent. Magicks always required a price. She watched as Fedelm wiped a red streak of Ashlynn’s blood across her own forehead and then walk back to her place at the other side of the fire.
“Arianrhod!” Fedelm bellowed as she raised her arms in the air.
Instantly, the fire grew and reached up, echoing the Seer’s actions. Ashlynn watched in fascination. The old woman’s magick was so different from her own, so much more… elemental. Fedelm’s eyes rolled to white as her head tipped back. The edges of the flames danced toward the witch, moving closer and closer until they seeped into her mouth and nose, causing an unnatural glow underneath her skin that sent shivers of terror up Ashlynn’s spine.
“Show me!” Fedelm cried out.
As Ashlynn stared, the pale glow increased, turning a fiery red until she felt certain the witch would burst into flames before her very eyes. Her muscles bunched to react but, before she could think, Fedelm’s mouth opened and flames poured out like a thing alive, pooling in the palm of her upturned hands.
Ashlynn stared in amazement as the glow faded from the Seer’s body and the dwindling substance that had poured from her began to take shape in her palms. “Gods,” she choked out, “what sort of black magick was that?”
Fedelm smiled and came toward her. “Sweet Princess,” she took Ashlynn’s hand and pressed the strange object into her palm, “magic is neither black nor white, but full of color and purpose. It is up to us to use that purpose wisely.”
Ashlynn peered down at the thing Fedelm had placed in her hold and was surprised to find a stone relic of some kind, a perfect circle carved with the lines of a trinity knot. “What am I to do with this?”
“You must evoke the Goddess Crone,” the Seer began. “Acquire a white candle, never before burned. Then use the relic and ask for the answers you seek. The universe will guide you.”
Ashlynn gripped the warm stone tightly in her palm and smiled at the woman. “Thank you. How shall I repay the favor?”
The Seer’s eyes closed, and she shook her head. “No need.”
“Are you certain?” Ashlynn asked. “I detest leaving a debt unpaid.”
“No debt has been taken on,” Fedelm insisted. “I serve the universe and it rewards me for my deeds. Now, princess, use your magick wisely and be certain in what you ask. For the universe does not award second chances.”
And with that, the Seer engulfed herself in a cloud of black smoke that swirled up around her body until there was nothing left but Ashlynn and a dying fire. She left the cave, the relic in hand, and trudged back to the castle grounds before anyone noticed her missing. Her mind stewed with thoughts of the ritual; which incantation to use, the words to speak, and the goddess she must call upon.
The sun had long gone, and the kingdom sat in darkness as Ashlynn slipped in through a servant’s entrance. She crept through the halls, surprised to find not a soul as she made her way to her quarters. Once there, she closed the heavy wooden door and began to search for an unused candle. But luck was not on her side. The sticks in her bedroom had all been lit by servants with the setting of the sun. Ashlynn was just about to try her sister’s room when the door creaked open and a dainty blonde head popped in.
“Sister?” Gwendolynn’s voice whispered. Her eyes landed on Ashlynn, showing relief as she pushed the door further open and stepped inside. “Where have you been? Mother has been combing the kingdom in search of you!”
Ashlynn slipped the stone relic into a pocket of her velvet robe. “Why? Is something amiss?”
Her sister’s face twisted in confusion. “Ashlynn, the Great Supper is happening as we speak! Our guests have arrived and await your presence.”
Ashlynn’s stomach turned over as she remembered her mother’s words of warning earlier that day. The ritual would have to wait until after. She had duties to uphold and appearances to make. The princess stood reluctantly, glancing down at her long mud-encrusted robes, soiled during her forbidden journey outside the castle walls.
“My maid isn’t here. Can you help me change?” Ashlynn asked Gwen as she pulled a lovely copper dress with leather embellishments, one of her mother’s favorites, from her boudoir.
Without hesitation, Gwen stepped forward and h
elped Ashlynn dress in the layers acceptable for a lady. When she was suitably attired, Ashlynn brushed her waist length hair until it shone and slipped the stone into a pocket.
She made sure to lock the door to her quarters before joining her sister in the hall. Their slipper-clad feet barely made a sound as they made their way to the dining hall with haste. Ashlynn’s heart raced with every step. Not because of the backlash that surely awaited her, and not because she was about to dine with the man her parents wished her to marry. No, after her encounter with Fedelm, Ashlynn’s heart beat only with the desire to perform the ritual. To end this whole thing and bring peace to the clans in her own way. Without losing everything she cared about.
They turned the final corner and entered the grand, open doorway just as everyone looked up to spot the two princesses. Gwendolynn calmed and eyed Ashlynn from the side before striding across the floor toward the head table where their disgruntled parents sat. Waiting. Fuming.
Ashlynn swallowed nervously as her eyes scanned the room. Dozens of representatives from each of the Celtic and Gaelic clans lined the tables which filled the hall, plates laden with food in front of them as they awaited her arrival. They all stood in her presence as someone called out her name in a formal announcement.
Ashlynn swallowed hard against the dryness that had formed in her throat as she purposefully made her way toward her awaiting family. She refused to make eye contact with the rival clan, with the giant bear of a man that sat next to her mother and father. Instead, casting her gaze around the beautifully decorated room. Aoife had brought out the good linens and the royal dinnerware just for the occasion, the very ones she’d been folding earlier that morning. Baskets of flowers added color and life against the dull backdrop of wood and stone. Quietly, Ashlynn cleared her throat and took a seat between her mother and sister. Aoife’s eyes bore into the side of her head.
“Ashlynn,” she hissed, “Where have you been?”
“I went for a walk,” Ashlynn replied nonchalantly and fiddled with the fabric napkin in her lap.
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