Heir to the Underworld (Suffer a Witch to Reign Book 1)

by D. H. Dawson

  ‘What do you think?’ Father asks me. ‘Will you be agreeable to this?’

  ‘Yes, Father. Matthew seems strong. I may do well to learn from him.’

  Tiberius raises his eyebrows. ‘Can he talk to crows? I would like crow for a pet, Father.’

  ‘Not now, son,’ Father says without looking at him. His gaze is on me. ‘Very well. In that matter, I have an additional suggestion.’ He glances at Mother. ‘It hasn’t been done before, but as you’ve just suggested, Carmen needs someone suited to the job, not necessarily suited to her.’ Father fidgets with his cutlery. ‘Carmen, would you be open to something a little less… traditional for your final instructor?’

  I set my food aside. I’m too wired and nervous to eat. ‘What do you mean?’

  Father gestures for the servants to clear away the food. I hope it doesn’t go to waste. He nods at Gilah, who gets up and takes my little brother and sister away to bed. ‘Bring the boy in,’ Father says to the Helmet by the door.

  I frown, turning in my seat to look. Who could he mean? Someone ‘less traditional’? My mouth falls open as I watch Cristian enter the room, looking like a deer at the end of an arrow. I whip my head to Father. Surely, he can’t mean Cristian as my weapons instructor?

  Father stands, so we all do, back from the table, and we move to the seating area but don’t sit yet. ‘Now, I know this is unusual, but I saw this young man fight today. I saw each of your new instructors battle our foe bravely. He’s only human, but I’m sure he can teach you what you need to know, Carmen.’

  I watch Mother’s eyes widen into saucers. Never in our history has a human been welcomed into our household as anything other than a servant. I look to Father. Surely this is some odd joke?

  ‘I…’ I can’t find the appropriate words.

  ‘He’s the son of the best blacksmith in the realm,’ Father adds. ‘Oh, Carmen, I know he’s only human, but he’s a strapping young man. If he’s no good, I’ll find you someone else, hmm?’

  Cristian’s brow-beaten face pulls me in. How many backhanded compliments can someone take? From a King? All of them. I would never have expected this turn of events, but it seems the guys who have caught my gaze today, whether they held it or not to begin with, will have to put up with me for a little while longer. I’m torn; I don’t want to put any of them in a position where they’re forced to train me, to be patient with me every day. Then, if I say no, or complain, they may face more trouble at being royally dismissed.

  Father has his hand on Cristian’s good shoulder, and the poor boy looks as though he’d like to crawl under the table. The way he jerked from me, time and time again—he does not think very highly of me. Or my family.

  Father raises a brow, waiting for my answer.

  ‘Of course, I accept.’ I smile, just a little, as much as is appropriate. Anxiety unfurls in my chest, and I feel my palms heat. I tuck them behind my back, palm out, so I don’t burn anything.

  Cristian carefully glances at me, deep blue eyes nervous. I’m glad to see my chat with the healers was fruitful. His wound is better cared for than I could have managed. Debt or no, I won’t have my people suffer their injuries after a battle without proper care. It was a rare moment when I was glad to have the weight of my Crown with me.

  ‘Thank you for this opportunity. It is an honour.’ Cristian bows deeply to us all and moves to take his leave.

  ‘Why not start with Cristian here, first thing in the morning?’ Father says.

  Cristian nods. ‘Certainly, Your Majesty. I’ll have a lesson prepared, and meet her once she’s eaten.’ He glances at me. ‘If I may suggest a light breakfast and loose attire, Your Highness?’

  ‘Thank you.’ I watch him leave. The moment before the door closes, when he’s out of the room, and only my gaze lingers, his shoulders drop, relieved to be away from us.

  Is this what it will be like? Working with my new instructors? They will teach me reluctantly? I close my eyes, then meet Mother’s gaze. Anger and resentment boil in my chest. If they somehow ruled better, showed more equality to humans, this wouldn’t be an issue. I incline my head to Father, who smiles, then I leave. Isabella waits for me on the threshold by the door as I close it behind me.

  Isabella clasps my hands excitedly. ‘Oh, my. What a day! So much excitement. You looked just beautiful in that golden dress, Carmy!’ Her smile is bright and blinding as always, but today it irks me.

  ‘We were attacked today, and all you care about is my dress?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Isabella turns her head down the hall to speak quietly. ‘Your new instructor is very handsome, for a human.’

  I groan at her and she tuts at my lack of grace. Oh, forget it, I can’t always be the perfect princess. ‘Come on. Be useful,’ I say. ‘I have to tell you about something.’ I can’t hold this in any longer. I take Isabella’s hand and drag her into a quiet hallway, and explain about my dreams, the vision in the middle of the battle, and the scorch mark on my dress.

  Izzy’s eyes bulge the longer I speak until I think they’ll pop out of her head. ‘Are you serious?’ Her voice is low and urgent. ‘Why didn’t you ever mention this before?’

  ‘Because they were just dreams until now.’ And Irene told me not to.

  Izzy has been a lady of the court, well, the daughter of one, her whole life, and my best friend since we were Hara’s age. She looks at me now as though I’m a stranger. ‘Carmen, that’s an evil power.’ She steps back. ‘Perhaps you are cursed.’

  I glare at her. ‘That’s not helpful.’

  Isabella puckers her lip. ‘Well, you might be. How else could you have’—she lowers her voice,—‘Hades’ power?’

  I’ve wondered that myself. In the stories, fire is the power of the King of the Underworld. How could I possess such a thing? I lift my shoulders in a shrug. ‘Just don’t say anything.’ I raise a pointed finger threateningly. ‘To anyone.’

  Izzy raises her hand. ‘Swear to Gaia.’ She lowers her hand as a smirk plays across her cheeks. ‘Carmy, do you think you could introduce me to Ares?’ She fans herself. ‘He is perfect, and tall and muscular, but not beastly big, you know…’ She trails off as she loops her arm with mine, escorting me to my chambers. I stop listening and think back to the fire.

  I possess the power of the King of the Underworld. Or some curse. As the Tree of Life breathes life in our world, her roots extend below, to the shadowed realm. Is there any chance I was given the wrong gift? I have my Spirit abilities—though I’ve never seen a ghost before—but also this evil power. What does it mean? Did the High Priestess See my fire? Will she tell anyone?

  ‘…and I just think he would be a wonderful husband, don’t you? I mean, unless you want him, of course…’ Izzy drones on. Honestly, how can she obsess about a husband so much? I understand why, of course, but it’s not something I focus on.

  As we reach my chamber, I pat her hand, hoping to cease her endless talking. She pauses and looks at me.

  ‘I won’t say anything,’ Isabella says seriously. ‘But perhaps you should try to figure out why this is happening. Aren’t there books about these things?’ Isabella spends most of her time at court. She doesn’t study witchcraft like some do to better their power, like Matthew has been for years. That would be too much like hard work.

  I nod. ‘I will. And thank you.’

  ‘I’ll attend your training tomorrow. For support.’ Izzy smiles, her eyes alight.

  I roll my eyes. ‘Oh, how kind of you.’ I leave her grinning and close the door. I wash, change, then crawl into bed. I see the lace cuffs I discarded, set away with my golden dress.

  My eyes are heavy as I lay down and close them.

  Chapter Four

  Carmen

  The fire that greets me is warm and comforting, like the hearth in my room set ablaze on cold nights. I reach out for it, wanting to soak it up. I stand, hugged by shadows. My bare feet pad over a floor I can’t see, and a sudden panic gr
ips my chest; what if I fall into nothingness?

  I reach out for the flame, for its embrace, but it darts away from me, like a human would. A common stranger. I sigh and gather my night skirts to give chase, but at the shuffle behind me, I pause and turn. The wind is sucked from my lungs when I try to scream. ‘You.’ I can speak. ‘I’ve seen you.’ All I can see is an outline, a shadow, standing here with me in a warm abyss. ‘Who are you? Where am I?’

  The figure, a man, I think, folds his arms across his chest. He takes a moment to study me—if he can see me at all—and I’m struck by what a royal thing it is to do. Don’t answer immediately, pause, and keep them waiting. After a few moments, he steps closer, and though I can see no discernible light, other than the vague, flickering flames which seem to dart about at will, I can see him more clearly. He’s all sharp edges, and is indeed a man, though I doubt he’s human. What a strange dream. I can’t see his face, really, only a plane of his cheek bone.

  ‘You are in my realm. I think you would be better asking what you’re doing in the Underworld.’ His voice isn’t demanding or rude, simply curious.

  I blink, though in the near-darkness, it certainly doesn’t clarify anything. ‘Did you say… Underworld?’ I grasp my temples. ‘My dreams are becoming ever stranger.’

  The man moves a few steps closer, and a lick of fire dances at his back, illuminating more planes of his face. His brows are dark, and they’re pulled together. ‘Child, this is no dream.’

  His words echo in my mind. It feels like something shoves me in the chest and I fall, away from shadows, fire and darkness, and wake, in my bed. I gasp like last time, needing fresh air. Sitting up, my hands shake, and sweat makes my chest and forehead clammy. After several long moments, trying to catch my breath, I manage to climb from my twisted bed covers and skirts, and cross the room shakily to pry open a window, gulping in fresh air.

  What kind of dream says it is not one? The fire-man’s voice rings in my head, and goosebumps rise over my arms as though his breath were on my skin. What in Gaia’s name is wrong with me? Dreaming of fire, of strange places. The Underworld. It was the Knights’ attack, perhaps, that led to such things floating around in my head? My hands grip the windowsill as I try to stop shaking. Of course not. I dreamt these dreams before the attack, too. What curse is this that plagues me? Perhaps Izzy was right. I think of going to the High Priestess, but if my people ever heard I was evil at heart, the realm could be plunged into despair and there would be unforeseeable consequences.

  As I pry my fingers away from the sill, leaving indentations in my skin, I resolve that I myself need to find out what I can about dreaming of fire, and what it means.

  I stare out the window as the sun breaks over the trees. At this angle, the orange light brushes the boundary, setting the magic wall aglow. It looks strong and solid. I turn and nearly yelp, hand over my heart. ‘Irene! Do not sneak up on me.’

  My loyal maidservant’s eyes widen as she enters. ‘I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to. You’re up early.’

  My heart still racing, I lower my gaze. ‘I’d like to wear this.’ I point at a loose, blue and grey dress with minimal cinching required. ‘I have weapons training this morning. My instructor asked that I wear something I can move in. And a light breakfast.’

  Irene hasn’t moved to fetch my dress. Instead, she comes over to me. ‘Are you alright? You look like you’ve caught a fever.’ She reaches out a hand to me, but I step away.

  ‘Yes, fine. I’d like to dress, then take a walk.’ I turn away from her, a twinge of guilt playing in my stomach. There is something very wrong with me, and the less people who know about it, the better. Irene already knows of the dreams, and I’m not sure what I would tell her this time, but I bite my tongue. Whatever is the matter with me, I don’t want any repercussions to fall on her because of it.

  I hear Irene’s feet shuffle over to fetch my dress, and I change. She does up the minor cinching at the back and brushes out my hair. She twists part of my hair back from my face and sets it with jewelled pins, leaving the rest down. Irene slides a blue headband over my forehead, glinting with sapphires. I leave in a hurry, a little rudely, I know, but I need to be out of that stifling room.

  I didn’t dismiss Irene, but hopefully she will have breakfast for me upon return. I follow the hallways outside, into the cool, brisk morning air. Part of me wishes I’d brought a shawl to warm my shoulders as the dress is short-sleeved. But I don’t mind being cold after my dreams. It’s a stark wake up, ridding me of the warmth and smoke.

  There are few people awake at this early hour, but those who are, as I pass, stare in a little surprise, but bow as I walk briskly past them. The guards at the door, clad in identical helmets, nod to me and push the wide, double doors open. I move to walk past them, but one guard leans forward. ‘Your Royal Highness?’

  ‘I don’t need a patrol. Just a short walk.’ I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I walk out to the grounds, soft grass stroking my ankles under my dress. I find myself walking to where my feast was held. There would have been much cleaning up to do. Not only after so much food and all, but after the attack. How many died? I don’t know.

  I reach out and brush past beds of flowers. The tables are gone, but I’m sure this is where they were. The grass is still bent from where they sat for hours. I feel a little better outside, as most witches do. Despite the danger, being out here in Gaia’s creations settles me. I pluck a flower and twirl it in one hand. I wish I could visit the Tree of Life, and sigh at the thought. It is beyond our realm.

  As an alternative, morning prayers with the Coven are optional, but until recently I’ve never been a morning person. Besides, as a royal Spirit witch, my faith to Gaia is unwavering and unquestionable. Unless someone reveals my dark powers, I guess.

  My plans for the day catch up to me. I am about to begin my training as the Crown Princess. There is so much I don’t know about my realm, how to govern and support our people, how to rule. Of course, there’s much I don’t know about the outlying realms, too, where the rest of the humans reside. I lean against a tree and take a few deep breaths. Even though I’m a Spirit witch, I don’t have much affinity for animals. I smile as a rabbit bounds through the taller grass just ahead. It makes me think of Matthew and his incredible control of the Underworld’s horses. I frown. No, I don’t want to think of that. I toss the flower aside. If I’m to do any research before my lesson with Cristian, it must be now.

  I make my way back to the castle’s double doors as the realm begins to wake. The first wafts of baking bread from the village touch my nose, and I inhale as I pass. I’m brought up short when I notice a woman on the ground, her dress slick with water. I pause and notice her hands, clasped together, are frostbitten and encased in ice. I lower myself to her. ‘Are you alright?’

  The woman starts—I feel bad, did I wake her?—and stares up at me. ‘The beasts from yesterday, Your Royal Highness.’ She sniffles. ‘I was trying to get to my family.’ Her hands shake violently. ‘I could not.’

  Oh, Gaia, no. I reach out for her. ‘You have my deepest sympathies. Why haven’t you seen a healer?’

  The woman looks up at me with charcoal eyes, wet with tears. Her skin is dark, raw and bleeding at her hands and wrists. ‘They can do nothing for me, they say, other than take my hands.’ She sobs, and my heart tears for her. A thought enters my mind. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to warm her hands, to have the power of fire. I clamp the thought down and throw it away. What an evil, unnatural thing to think. I shake my head, wishing there was something I could do. I can’t leave her here like this. I’m about to raise my head to get a guard to escort her someplace more comfortable, but the woman gasps and my attention snaps back to her.

  My hand is on her forearm, and before our eyes, we both watch on in shock as the ice that clings deep into her hands slowly melts away. Water trickles into her lap, down her arms. I’m too stunned to move. Her gaze meets mine, but she doesn’t rip her
hands away. Her skin turns from frozen-blue, back to normal, now flushed rose with colour and renewed blood flow. I snap my hand away as she gapes at me.

  ‘Your Highness?’ She raises her hands, flexing her fingers. ‘What did—I don’t understand.’

  I start back, nearly tripping as I get to my feet. ‘Tell no one,’ I order.

  The woman’s mouth clamps shut, and she scrambles to her hands and knees, bowing so low, her nose almost brushes the dirt. ‘Yes, of course, Your Highness. Thank you—’

  ‘Shh.’ I bend low to her. ‘Say nothing. Do nothing, do you understand? You were never injured.’

  The woman nods, confusion still in her eyes as I dart away. I run to the double doors and the guards let me in, and I head to the library as fast as I can. I have evil fire magic, and I just used it on someone. What if I’d burned her instead? What if I’d set her on fire? Whatever curse fouls my powers, I must get rid of it.

  I round a corner, out of sight of any onlookers, and head for the library. As I walk, I glance at my hands. They’re warm and redder, I think, than they should be, but there are no signs of evil magic. I quickly pluck at the folds of my dress but see no marks. As I push the doors of the library open, a rabbit sits on the threshold and I start, then smile.

  ‘Hello there, little one. What are you doing inside?’

  ‘Sorry, Your Highness,’ comes Matthew’s voice from behind a desk. ‘That’s Emmett, he keeps me company. Em, move, that’s the princess.’

  I turn my gaze to Matthew who, surprise surprise, looks down and away from me as his familiar bounds back over to him. I wish I had a familiar. Perhaps one day.

  ‘Can I help you find anything, Your Highness?’ Matthew asks.

  I step through the grand entry and the books take up my gaze. I’ve had plenty of time and encouragement to read growing up, but now I’m looking for something in particular, I’m not sure where to start. The books are housed in hundreds of wooden shelves, and reach up to a second level, a wooden ladder nearby to fetch them. Usually I love being around books, but today I’m nervous. I can’t ask Matthew. Can’t tell him what I’m looking for. Or can I?