by Genna Love
Copyright © 2020 by Genna Love
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Embers of Passion
The Aether Princess Book one
Genna Love
Contents
Zarah
Zarah
Taariq
Zarah
Zarah
Kailas
Zarah
Taariq
Zarah
Zarah
Zarah
Eli
Zarah
Kalias
Zarah
Zarah
Taariq
Zarah
Eli
Zarah
Zarah
Zarah
Kailas
Zarah
Zarah
Zarah
Kailas
Zarah
Taariq
Zarah
Zarah
Zarah
Thank you!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Zarah
Zarah didn’t give two fucks about what necklace she would wear to the wedding.
Her wedding.
A wedding she wanted absolutely no part of.
Her mother, the Queen of Lyria, would slap her if she could hear the thoughts in Zarah’s head. Zarah should feel honored to do her duty for her family by securing the alliance between prince so-and-so from such-and-such.
And proper ladies should never use foul language, even in their own minds.
But Zarah’s thoughts were the one thing she truly owned and she would think whatever she damn well pleased.
“Well? Does that one suit you?” her mother asked from across the room, sitting delicately in a high-back velvet chair, her posture perfect. “The wedding is fast approaching, dear daughter. Fighting it will only cause you more suffering.” Her lips pressed together in a small frown.
Zarah glanced in the mirror and pretended to admire the god-awful thing, turning from side-to-side and allowing the jewels to sparkle in the sunlight pouring in from the large window. She tilted her head one way, then the other, resisting the urge to groan from boredom.
Sometimes, she swore her mother could read her thoughts. But really, Zarah just wore her emotions on her shoulder for the world to see, which wasn't a good quality in a princess or a soon-to-be wife, as she'd been reminded of many times. You’d think in her nineteen years of life she’d have been better at pretending, but she had yet to master the constant poise of her mother.
When she didn't answer, her mother added, “I told your sister she can choose one for herself after you've selected yours.”
Zarah pulled her gaze from her reflection in the mirror.
Her handmaiden unclasped the golden chain around Zarah’s neck and carefully placed the necklace back into its proper box.
Zarah turned to her. “Go find Aerilyn and bring her here. She can pick hers first then select one for me.” Thank the Divine that this would be over soon.
“Yes, M’lady.” Her handmaiden gave a quick curtsy to the Queen before leaving the room.
Zarah’s younger sister Aerilyn was far more privy to the modern styles than she. And she would appreciate the brilliant gemstones and varied hues of gold far more than Zarah ever would.
If it weren't for the fact that Prince Marius, her wonderful betrothed, seemed like a complete ass, she’d have wished Aerilyn were the one marrying him instead. He was the eldest son of Silas Pedrotti, the reigning King of Cardasia, which meant someday his lucky wife would be queen.
Zarah didn’t want to be queen. She didn’t even want to be a princess, but since she had no choice in the matter of her birth, she was stuck with the title. But she wasn’t good at being a princess, and she’d be an even worse queen.
Aerilyn, on the other hand, was born to rule. She was beautiful, smart, and kind, with a knack for always knowing the proper words to say. She took after their mother in that way, and Zarah couldn’t imagine anyone better to learn from.
But King Silas didn’t want his son to marry a second-born daughter, and Zarah would never want her sister to marry a wicked man, which is exactly what Prince Marius was rumored to be. Servants told stories of him beating those who didn’t comply with his standards, or worse, forcing females into sexual acts to fulfill his many desires. She’d tried to share the reports with her parents, but they said such gossip was often full of exaggeration.
“Someday, you’ll need to learn to make a decision on your own. Your husband won’t appreciate you running to your little sister every time a choice must be made,” her mother said as they waited for Aerilyn.
“Future husband,” Zarah added. She would not consider herself married to him a moment sooner than she had to.
The Queen sighed. “Prince Marius might be everything you’ve ever wanted in a husband, Zarah. You only need give him a chance. Perhaps, he will surprise you.”
“He might be pretty to look at, but he’s cruel. I’d rather have a man with a beautiful heart than a handsome face. And I’ve never wanted to be a wife.”
“You hush.” Her mother’s tone tightened. “Once you’ve exchanged vows, he could have your tongue for such a statement. You needn’t be able to talk to give him an heir. I know you have a wild spirit, but if you don’t tame it, it will only cause you pain.”
But Zarah didn’t want to tame anything about herself. She wasn’t a thoroughbred horse destined to live its life inside a stable, only allowed out on rare occasions to appease its master. Her soul was a mustang that longed to be free, to run unbound wherever her heart desired.
When the handmaiden returned, Aerilyn followed her inside Zarah’s bedroom.
“Yes?” Aerilyn curtsied to the Queen, then to Zarah. She wore a deep red gown with a gold chain cinching her waist. Her golden-brown hair was twisted into a braided updo, with a strand left loose and curled on each side of her face.
“I’d like you to do the honor of selecting my official necklace for the wedding.” Zarah fluttered her eyes in mockery, stirring another sigh from her mother.
“I will leave you two alone. I trust you can handle this difficult task without me.” The corner of the queen’s lips rose into a grin. As she made her way to the door, she hesitated and spun back toward Zarah. “I know your soul dreams to be free, my child. We are more alike than you think. But this world is not kind to the free-spirited.” She dipped her head before turning and leaving the room.
Zarah moved to the selection of necklaces her handmaiden, who now lingered in the back of the room, had set out onto the plum-colored couch.“So, little sister, which jewels will make me a blushing bride?”
Aerilyn started on the left end, picking up each box and carefully inspecting the jewels. “You’re going to drive mother mad, you know. She just wants to make your wedding day special.” Although she was two years younger than Zarah, she was by far the more mature of the sisters.
“I thought that was the job of my future husband.” Zarah took a seat in a chair next to the couch. “After our vows, Prince Marius will show me a good time in the bedroom. Do you think he’ll be a gentle lover or fuck me hard?”
“Zarah!” This brought a glare from Aerilyn, her cheeks flushing a deep red. She glanced at the handmaiden.
“She won’t say anything to anyone. I’ve said a lot worse in front of her and still have my head.”
“Father would never behead you,” Aerilyn said. “But Prince Marius might.”
Zarah lea
ned her head back, letting her dark brown waves fall behind the chair back. “Not if I suck his cock well enough.”
This time Aerilyn didn’t react. She’d been around her older sister enough to learn that the more shocked she acted, the more it encouraged her to push her buttons.
Surprising people with her words was one of Zarah’s favorite forms of entertainment. Living inside the lines bored her, so she’d found provocative ways to stun people whenever she could get away with it.
After looking over each necklace, Aerilyn lifted two boxes. “I will wear this one.” She raised her left hand. “And this one will be yours.” She handed that one to Zarah.
Leaf-shaped diamonds were fused together to create the elaborate piece of jewelry. Rows of the sparkly white stones made up the front of the necklace, glimmering in the light and dipping into a V that would point to the space between her breasts when she put it on. At the bottom hung a tear-drop pendant.
“Perfect!” Zarah rose from the chair. “Be a dear, and take the rest of these back to my mother,” she instructed the handmaiden. “Then take the evening off. I’m sure you would like to spend some time with your husband.”
Although she tried to hide it, Zarah saw the beginning of a smile form on her handmaiden’s lips.
Once she was gone, Aerilyn took Zarah’s hand. “Please learn to mind your tongue. We’ve been enemies with the Cardasians for many years. Although they’ve agreed to this marriage, they will have no qualms ending your life if you show them disrespect. They are proud people.”
“Am I not allowed to keep my pride?” Zarah asked, already knowing the answer. No matter how many times she’d been told her place as a woman and a Lyrian Princess, she would never accept the expectations weighing on her like boulders.
“Not in this world, big sister.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Aerilyn was right.
Zarah’s life was on the brink of drastic change. If the rumors of Prince Marius were even the slightest bit true, he wouldn’t tolerate her sharp tongue. From that moment on, she needed to better choose her words, keeping her opinions to herself.
But she would never filter her thoughts.
At least they would belong to her and her alone.
Zarah
After drawing herself a bath, Zarah dipped her body into the hot water. Steam rose from the tub while the sun made its final descent out of view. As she soaked, she allowed her imagination to drift.
As much as she loved her family, being a princess had never fit who she longed to be. Life as a royal was safe and comfortable. To those who went to bed hungry in the kingdom, her dreams would sound foolish. Her food was prepared for her, her clothes cleaned, and she had access to every luxury imaginable. But all of those things felt like a noose around her neck more than ever now that she’d been promised to Prince Marius.
She wondered what her life would be like if she’d been born into a different circumstance. When she really let her mind wander, she imagined being some assassin sent to kill murderers or a gypsy that traveled the world with no idea what the next day would bring.
But it was nothing more than useless wishing. Because in two weeks’ time, she would be married, property of a wicked man. The only consolation was that her marriage would seal the peace between long-feuding nations, which should cheer her up more than it did.
Once her fingers and toes had wrinkled like prunes, Zarah got out of the bath and clothed herself in a simple brown dress she kept hidden in the back of her lowest chest drawer.
As soon as her wedding—and her wedding night—were over, she would be leaving Lyria and returning to Cardasia with Prince Marius. She might not have enjoyed being a princess, but the palace and Penrith City were the only homes she knew, and worst of all, leaving Lyria meant leaving her family. The thought of that alone twisted her stomach into a tight knot.
She left her face bare, adding no color to her cheeks or eyes, and let her hair dry naturally in the air. As a princess, she was supposed to look her best at all times, especially in public. But where she was about to go, she didn't want to be recognized.
She waited—rather impatiently—until the sun fell into its deep slumber and the moon shined brightly in the sky.
Before leaving her room, she grabbed a lantern and draped a burgundy cape over her shoulders to hide her clothing in case she happened to pass anyone. But it was late, and the castle was asleep except for an occasional servant who knew better than to pay her too much attention.
Quietly, she walked through the hallway, down the staircases, and to the basement library. The castle had two rooms dedicated to books, but this one was rumored to be haunted, which kept it perpetually vacant, save for Zarah who thought meeting the rumored ghosts would only make her life more interesting.
Proper ladies weren't supposed to waste their time with their noses buried in books. Other tasks, like practicing musical instruments or perfecting stitching technique were far more important than reading. But Zarah had never excelled at the piano or harp like Aerilyn, and the more she stitched, the more her fingers bled, so she spent much of her time reading about the history of the realm, fantastical stories of faraway lands and magical creatures, and stories that would make nearly all the women in the palace blush. It was in those books she'd learned of a man’s lower region and the many creative names to call it. When she’d checked the third-floor library, those books were nowhere to be found, most likely burned at the request of her mother. But the basement library was rarely remembered by anyone but Zarah, keeping the selection nice and varied.
It was in a book that she’d found a note describing the library’s secret passageway. The large mirror on the inside wall, adorned with a thick, golden border of roses, pulled open like a door and led to a tunnel.
The old hinges creaked as she slipped her fingers between the metal frame and the wall and pried it toward her just enough to slip through. When she stepped into the tunnel behind, she closed the mirror.
Darkness enveloped her until she turned on the lantern. It cast a warm glow as she followed the path, smelling of oil and casting her shadow on the stone walls.
A laugh escaped her lips. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like liquor, making her light and giggly. How many more nights to herself did she have now? Fourteen? Yes. A single fortnight until her dreams would be shattered and she would be forced to leave with Prince Marius for Cardasia.
Zarah pushed the thoughts away. They only made her sad, and she refused to waste her last bit of freedom worrying about her future misery.
When she reached the end of the tunnel and could go no further, an iron ladder waited for her. She wondered who created this tunnel and why. As far as she knew, she was the only one who knew it existed. Who had been the last person before her to walk the long passageway? Had one of her ancestors fallen in love with a commoner and escaped to the city to meet him?
Before she made her ascent up the ladder, she removed her cape, as its fine silk would give her away as a noble. Carefully, she balanced the lantern handle on her wrist and climbed through the round door leading up into the dark alley.
As usual at this time of day, the alley was empty, but she had to be quick because she could be seen by anyone passing by on the perpendicular street. The night was quiet and warm, summer still in its peak. It was her favorite time of year. The inn and tavern she liked to go to always had the sweetest lemonade in the summer months.
When she stepped out from the alley, she kept her head down as she passed a group of city guards who sang the royal song completely out of tune. Walking alone at night as a woman was dangerous, but she only had to go a short distance to the inn, and something about the danger enlivened her.
Life inside the castle walls was a bore, so once in a while, she snuck away at night.
Zarah entered the tavern and took her usual spot at the bar. Chatter bounced off the walls as the patrons drank mead, getting drunker by the minute. What would her mother think of a place like this? She
couldn’t help but laugh at the prospect. The tavern was anything but prim and proper, two words that defined the queen and everything she had urged in her daughters. It was lively and sinful, and far more interesting than any royal event Zarah had attended.
A few minutes later, the barmaid approached her. Her dark hair was as straight as a board, with strands of silver framing her face. She was tall, with a large chest and broad shoulders, and always wore a warm expression.
“Hello, Miss. I haven't seen your face in a while. Will it be the usual?”
“Yes, please,” Zarah replied with a smile.
While she waited for her drink, she glanced around the room. Two soldiers sat in the corner with a woman on each of their laps. Neither of the females wore much clothing, most likely making them prostitutes. She’d overheard the patrons discuss the happenings on the floor above. The women teased the men down here, getting them drunk and aroused before leading them upstairs to satisfy their desires for a pocket full of coin.
Zarah couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be so free with her body. As one woman ran her hand up one man’s thigh, a chill ran up Zarah’s leg. It was as if their lust was palpable in the air.
All her life, Zarah felt more in tune with the emotion of strangers than anyone else she knew. It made her fascinated with the lives of others and drew her to this inn to people-watch as often as she had the courage to come.
The barmaid handed Zarah her drink. “Here you go, M’lady.” Her voice was low.