FATED FORTUNES
THE CRUCIBLE SERIES BOOK 7
• • •
by
ANGELA COLSIN
• • •
Copyright © 2017 by Angela Colsin. All rights reserved by the author.
Published by Angela Colsin www.angelacolsin.com
Smashwords Edition
Cover image designed by Angela Colsin.
This story is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination, or merely used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locations, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is not for reproduction by any party outside of the copyright holder. Transmission of this publication by any means other than the intended e-book distribution is prohibited without prior written permission from the author.
For any questions, concerns, and/or comments, please send an email to the author at [email protected] or visit www.angelacolsin.com/contact
• • •
ALSO BY ANGELA COLSIN
Blue Moon
Light of Dawn
Strange Brew
Fallen Hearts
The Final Calling
Hunter's Moon
TO MOM
I'm eternally grateful for all you've done! Without your encouragement and dedication, this book wouldn't have been possible, so a return dedication is the least I could do!
Just skip over the naughty parts, please.
Table of Contents
Preface
Prologue
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
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Author's Note
PREFACE
Draconians: An immortal race descending from humans imbued with the blood of the Great Dragons. Their society is divided into five Houses, one belonging to each of the dragons that sired them. Though most prefer to live in their home realm of Ithelyon, many draconians frequently move about in search of treasure, usually performing work as mercenaries to amass wealth that would satisfy their acquisitive dispositions.
Draconians have an altered state of being, referred to as Wrath, which offers them heightened strength, agility, and resilience. Threats and extreme emotions can trigger this state, making the draconian more irrational, impulsive, and violent.
The Order overseeing their affairs in the mortal world is Dragon's Brood.
Elves: A race with divine origins and a talent for magic, elves can be found in many realms, but their roots trace back to a single place—the Kingdom of Onoria. Found in western Ithelyon, this kingdom boasts proud traditions suitable of her prosperous people.
Unlike some supernatural races, elves are only immortal if they bond with an immortal mate. However, their natural lifespans are much longer than that of humans, most living for two centuries before showing any signs of aging.
But perhaps their most unique trait is the ability to see the truth in a mortal's eyes, making it impossible for humans to deceive them. To a lesser extent, elves can sometimes sense when other supernatural beings are lying as well, but this is rare.
In the mortal world of Terra, elves are governed by Light's Grace, an Order operating under The Crucible.
PROLOGUE
Udanian Convent
The Jagged Coast, Onoria, Ithelyon
“You don't seem like yourself today, Jada.”
“Huh?”
Jada's head snapped up in time to see Morwin smiling at her obliviousness. “You're distracted.”
“Oh, well … ,” she trailed, shrugging her shoulders. “Sort of.”
At her admission, her grandfather joined her on the sofa of her personal quarters, and casually reclined against the back with one ankle over a knee, his smile never waning. Had he belonged to the clergy serving the convent, Jada would've received a strict reprimand for her inattention, but Morwin always possessed an air of nonchalance that was completely unlike the other adults in her life.
And Jada liked it.
“Sort of?” he asked disbelievingly. “I usually have to prepare a list of answers for all the questions you ask during my visits, but I've been rambling for five minutes without a single inquiry.”
With a lopsided smile, the fifteen-year-old admitted, “Okay, so I'm distracted. But it's all your fault.”
“My fault? How so?”
Jada's smile slowly faded at his question, and she turned her violet gaze down in thought. How do I word this without getting in trouble? Her grandfather didn't get to visit often, after all, and she'd rather not spend their time arguing.
“Jada?”
At his prompting, she forgot all about careful planning, and impulsively confessed, “I overheard you speaking with the Deaconess about taking me out of the convent.”
Hearing this, Morwin sighed, giving a slow nod. “Yes, I asked if it would be possible.”
“And she denied you.”
“That she did, and you must've been snooping if you overheard our private conversation in her office.”
Jada flinched, waiting to be chastised for bad manners. Yet her grandfather merely smiled in amusement, suggesting, “This must be why Doria said you're a handful.”
Finally, the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. Admitting her sneaking to any of the clergy would've garnered a harsher reaction, yet Morwin thought her antics amusing—and if his attitude was normal for people outside the convent, then it was just another reason for Jada to believe she didn't truly fit in.
Still, his request to pull her out was strange, and she had to know why he'd made it.
“Papa, why did you ask to take me with you?”
There was no way of knowing what he'd say in response, or if he'd even answer at all. Morwin was a researcher of elven history, and traveled all over the world to study ancient ruins and other wonderful sites. In fact, his work kept him so busy that Jada hadn't even met him face to face until she was ten years old.
But he sent plenty of letters concerning his findings, and the stories of his journeys were fascinating, even hard to believe, prompting Jada to ask all kinds of questions in her replies. Sometimes, Morwin would give a direct answer, but he also kept several secrets he'd only promised to reveal someday—and she got the feeling this was another issue he was going to keep under his proverbial hat when he exhaled low and gazed to the side in thought.
Even still, his next question was completely unexpected.
“You know the reason why your parents sent you to this convent, don't you, Jada?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with it?”
“Just humor me,” he returned. “Tell me, in your own words,
why you were sent here.”
Though confused, she obliged him. “Because the shaman told my parents I'd be mated to a draconian when I grew up.”
Nodding, Morwin inquired, “And why does that matter?”
“Because draconians don't like us, and our children would be unstable, if they could survive.”
Her answer was one of the reasons elvish families had an age-old tradition of taking their newborns to a shaman to foresee their future mates. The foretelling assessed potential dangers, and if the outcome was undesirable, the parents would send their child to a Udanian Convent to live their lives in service to Udana, the Goddess of Light and Elven Mother.
It all depended on the race of their mate—particularly if they turned out to be a Perosian demon, or a draconian. Not only was there friction between draconians and elves, but a union of matehood would produce undesirable offspring.
At her confirmation of knowing the facts, Morwin sat forward and asked, “Why do you suppose they believe a union between an elf and a draconian would produce unstable children?”
“Because of the dragon blood. Elves aren't meant to mix with dragons.”
“Right,” he nodded. “That's precisely what they tell you.”
Jada stared at her grandfather, confused. “What do you mean? They don't just tell us this, Papa. It's common knowledge.”
“That it is,” he remarked simplistically, “and you've never seen an elven draconian, but you know they did exist once.”
“Yes, and they went insane and slaughtered their patron dragon.”
Morwin gave her a look of surprised enlightenment. “So they did teach you about the lost House of Rinora.”
At Jada's nod, he inquired, “Tell me what you've learned.”
She frowned, unable to determine how this remotely related to pulling her out of the convent, but did as he asked and recited what she was told.
“There were once six Great Dragons instead of five, and the sixth was Rinora, a golden giant who preferred to dwell underground and could petrify people with her breath. But instead of humans, she sired a House of elven draconians to serve as her protectors.”
Morwin was smiling now, as if her answer pleased him, urging, “Go on.”
Nodding, Jada happily recounted more of the tale for her grandfather. “The clergy say her House served Rinora loyally at first, but then went insane and slaughtered her during hibernation. No one knows what happened to her draconians, but they think the survivors of her House warred upon themselves until none were left.”
Once she'd finished, Morwin snapped his fingers and announced, “You see?”
“See what?”
“You've spoken two key phrases in your story. They think, and no one knows.”
Jada considered his statement carefully, asking, “Are you saying that it might not be true?”
“That's precisely what I'm saying,” he confirmed, then stood to pace across her quarters to the hearth.
There, he leaned an arm against the mantel and peered into the fire for several thoughtful moments before qualifying, “Much of my research has been centered on this lost House, Jada, and my findings have been extremely interesting.”
She watched him carefully, her curiosity to know more burning as intensely as the flames he was staring into. But Morwin didn't give her any chances to ask questions before adding, “Sadly, the lost House of Rinora is a controversial topic, so I have to be careful about where I discuss it, and with whom.”
“Why?” she asked eagerly. Could this be one of the secrets he's kept?
Smiling, Morwin returned to the sofa and crouched before his granddaughter, taking her hands with his answer.
“It's because I've sought the truth for years, Jada, and my findings haven't made me the most popular elf in Onoria. The things I've discovered contradict our traditional values, and,” he enunciated, “they've led me to believe there's a good chance you should never have grown up in a convent to begin with.”
Jada couldn't stop staring at him, unsure of his meaning. “Are you saying a union with a draconian would actually be harmless?”
“There's a chance,” he replied with a confident nod, “and I wanted your help in discovering the truth of it. In fact, if you're to be a draconian's mate, I may need it.”
“Need it how?”
Morwin parted his lips to respond, but a knock came to the door with the Deaconess asking for her—and as always, Doria used Jada's full name, which she hated.
“Jadariana, are you busy?”
Groaning, she glanced at Morwin to see him nodding for her to answer, and called, “No, please come in.”
The door opened, and the Deaconess stepped inside, wearing her usual white vestments and golden stole. Her amber gaze moved between Jada and Morwin, and it almost seemed skeptical, as if something was terribly wrong.
“Forgive my intrusion, but I need to speak with your grandfather in private.”
She wanted to deny the woman, far too curious to know why her grandfather would need her help to let him go anywhere before he'd answered.
But Morwin patted her hand reassuringly, then stood with a strange smile on his face, as if knowing something she didn't—and it only fed the sense that something was terribly wrong.
The sensation made it impossible to stay seated. So once Morwin stepped out into the hall with the Deaconess and shut the door, she hurried over to listen to whatever was being said outside.
Initially, things were quiet, making her think they'd moved on to prevent her from eavesdropping. But soon enough, Morwin stated, “I suppose they're here to escort me from the convent.”
“Yes,” Doria confirmed, leaving Jada in the dark over who was with them when she continued, “I do hope you're not planning on resisting.”
“No, I came here with full knowledge of the royal decree, and I won't resist the escort.”
Doria actually sounded relieved when she answered, “Good. I'd hoped to avoid making a scene.”
Avoid a scene? Royal decree? What were they talking about? Jada nearly opened the door to demand answers, but just before she could turn the knob, Morwin made one last inquiry about his granddaughter's presence in the convent.
“Before I go, are you sure you won't allow Jada to come with me? My banishment from the kingdom will make it impossible to visit, or even send letters, and I'd prefer to keep in touch.”
Jada's eyes widened as she exclaimed without thought, “Banishment?” and immediately pulled the door open.
In the hall, she found her grandfather and Doria flanked by two paladins in full plate armor—holy elven warriors renowned for their strict discipline and battle prowess.
They all turned to face her the moment she stepped out, and the sight of the armored men gave Jada pause.
Yet she insisted, “What are you talking about?”
Immediately, the Deaconess sighed as she walked over to take her shoulders and urge her back into her quarters.
“Come with me, Jadariana.”
Shaking her head, she watched the paladins motioning for her grandfather to start walking in a way that said they'd force him if he resisted.
“No!” she shouted. “I'm not going anywhere!”
“Jada,” Morwin called on a stern tone, “do as she says.”
Desperate for answers, she struggled against Doria's hold, shouting desperately, “No! Please don't go, Papa! Please!”
Still walking away, Morwin's only response was, “I'll be fine, don't worry, Jada.”
“Let me go!” she yelled just as Doria shut the door, then blocked it to prevent her from leaving once she'd released her hold.
“Everything will be fine!” the Deaconess insisted. “Just calm yourself, child.”
Her tone was gentle, but it did nothing to sooth Jada's concern. The paladins were taking her grandfather away for good, and tears stung her eyes when she demanded, “Where are they taking him? Why was he banished?”
Leaning down, Doria replied, “I know this is
hard, but it's out of our hands. I would've allowed your grandfather more time to stay and explain, but Onoria has declared him a radical.”
None of that made any sense to Jada, who announced, “I don't care! I just want to talk to my Papa! He's the only one w-who cares!”
Her voice broke on a sob as the reality that she might never see Morwin again finally sank in—and it was devastating. He was all the family she had considering her parents were too busy to pay any visits or even write, and she had no idea what she'd do without at least hearing from her grandfather in letters.
As she swiped the tears from her eyes, Doria urged, “Jada, listen to me.”
The single line captured her full attention—it was the first time the Deaconess had ever called her Jada, and the moment she grew quiet, Doria continued on a secretive tone.
“Your grandfather is in trouble now, child, and I can only ensure that you'll hear from him again if we allow the paladins to escort him away. His banishment means he can no longer stay in Onoria, but he will send letters, and if we keep this quiet, I'll make certain you receive them.”
Jada stared at the Deaconess in confusion. “You'd sneak his letters to me even though he's not allowed to send them?”
At her question, Doria silently waved her toward the bed as if she had something important to say. So Jada reluctantly cooperated, turning from the door to have a seat—and it was painfully obvious something was off when the Deaconess occupied the space next to her.
Usually, Doria was extremely reserved, and never broached etiquette no matter the circumstances. She didn't take a seat unless invited, and would never sit on the bed.
But now, she was doing both, and offered Jada a serious, yet sympathetic look when she finally answered.
“If you agree to keep this quiet, I'll do my best to deliver Morwin's correspondence to you. But this means no one can know, not even your roommate. If word got to the capital, the crown could go so far as to seize the convent and post guards on watch, if not arrest all of the clergy for treason.”
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