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

by D. H. Dawson

  We’ve walked near the royal garden by tall rose bushes. I shake my head. ‘No, Avine, I’m fine, thank you.’

  She nods politely and takes a few steps back, waiting for me to move. Izzy has her back to me, no doubt annoyed that I’ve called her out on her behaviour.

  Why am I suddenly so interested in how humans are treated? It’s hard to pinpoint the moment I started thinking differently, more seriously, about this. Perhaps it’s a part of growing up. I close my hands, wiping the nervous sweat off. I set my hands in the folds of my dress and walk past Izzy, into the maze to clear my head. She glances at me, but I don’t make eye contact, so she won’t follow.

  There have been a lot of strange moments recently. The dreams, the smoke and fire. The attack. My instructors. It feels as though things are changing, but I can’t pin down what, exactly, has changed how I feel so much. I had always thought Izzy was right; my parents are kind and have treated humans well. Or, so I thought. If I hadn’t have taken a walk this morning, I would not have come across that poor, injured woman. Would I have gone on, oblivious, to those who might be suffering since yesterday? No one has come to inform me. I only know of the deaths because of Cristian. I’m told when to eat, how to dress, how to behave, but no one tells me what’s going on in my own realm. Not if it has to do with humans, anyway. Why not? I wander through the maze, careful to keep my hands tucked away, and consider my strange dreams.

  They’re frightful to think about, but I don’t have a choice. If there’s nothing I can learn from the books, what do I do about this new power? Hide it? Hope it goes away? I stop and lean forward to smell a rose breaking free of its bindings. It’s large and white. The petals look as soft as silk. The scent that fills my nose is pleasant and momentarily distracting.

  ‘I didn’t know you liked roses, Princess.’

  I turn at the voice. The son of the War Commander stands a few paces away. He’s not in armour today but plain clothes, though there’s a shining sword at his belt.

  ‘Most girls like roses,’ I say.

  Ares smiles, that same disarming smile, hazel eyes shining. ‘I’ve known you a day, Princess, and I can assure you, you’re not like most girls.’

  I honestly don’t know what to say to that, or exactly what he means, so I straighten and stare at him. ‘What are you doing in the maze?’

  ‘Your guards worry about you. I ran into Patrick. He fears he’s upset you, though he wouldn’t say why. Would you like to talk to me?’

  I give him an appraising look. ‘I don’t know you.’

  Ares’s smile slips, his gaze drops to the side. ‘Of course. But, I am to be one of your instructors. When will our first lesson be?’

  ‘You’re the instructor. You tell me.’

  ‘Tomorrow, then?’

  ‘Certainly.’ I turn to leave.

  ‘Princess?’

  I pause and glance over my shoulder.

  ‘I only meant to be kind, not forward.’

  A smile he can’t see tugs at my lips. Oh, if he knew the way Cristian had already spoken to me today, he wouldn’t worry. ‘Don’t fear. I just don’t feel like talking.’

  ‘Princess.’

  I turn this time, to see Ares on one knee, holding out a white rose. ‘To make you smile. I hope.’

  A little heat warms my cheeks. How sweet. I take the rose from him, trying to control my expression, keeping it neutral. ‘Thank you. I will meet you in the war room in the morning?’

  Ares looks up at me and slowly rises back to his feet. ‘Actually, Princess, with your leave, my first lesson will be more practical than rifling through maps and plans of battle strategy.’

  I twirl the rose in my fingers. He’s pleasantly distracting me from my smoky thoughts, if nothing else. ‘How so?’

  ‘There’s a thief, a fugitive on the loose. With your aid, we will capture him and bring him to face the King’s justice.’

  ‘What has this thief taken?’ Again, no one tells me anything.

  Ares’s face falls into a grim expression. ‘Spellcraft materials, Princess. The High Priestess reported it last night, but with everything going on, I haven’t had a chance to give chase. He might have snuck into the Mortal realm just beyond ours.’

  ‘My parents know of this?’

  Ares inclines his head. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And no one thought to tell me?’

  Ares falters. ‘Well, I—’

  ‘I am your Crown Princess. I want to know of all things that happen within my realm.’

  For the first time, Ares’s charm gives way to nerves as I reprimand him. His bow deepens. ‘Yes, Your Highness. My apologies.’ His gaze locks on the ground between us.

  I take a steadying breath. ‘What is your plan?’

  Ares’s shoulders are tight. ‘Um. My father suggested a tracking spell on one of the items stolen. A book, among other things. I thought, with your Spirit powers, we could.’

  His charm is gone. He’s nervous that I’m annoyed with him. How quickly they back away. I’m tempted to discard the rose. What’s the point? ‘When?’

  The afternoon has worn on without my noticing. After Cristian’s lesson, gone awry, perhaps, and the walking with Izzy, it’s well past lunch, and no wonder I’m peckish. Ares still doesn’t look at me. ‘I suggest the morning, Your Highness? The thief won’t try to sell the wares here, he’ll have to put some distance behind him.’

  ‘Very well.’ I turn to leave, and as I do, I watch his gaze and the expression on his face. I feel bad for chastising him. I walk through the maze alone for a while, picking off the petals of the rose. If I do have a romance with a man one day, who could it be? Who would not avert their gaze or cower from me? It would have to be a man of my equal standing. I sigh and drop the naked stem. There is no such man. I may choose a husband—or, my Father declares I have a say in this—though he’s supposed to be a powerful witch to keep our family magic strong enough to hold the barrier for generations to come.

  Who will treat me as an equal if they are fearful of me? Who would be brave enough to step up and face me, without shaking in their boots? I’ve often wondered if I’ll end up alone, even though that’s not the plan.

  Will I end up with a man who bows to me, or holds my hand and walks beside me?

  Chapter Six

  Carmen

  I didn’t mean to wander so long. When I finally exit the maze, Patrick wraps his arms around me in a fit of relief, it seems.

  ‘Oh, Princess. Thank Gaia you’re alright.’

  I flap my arms as he detaches himself, then looks abashed. ‘Why would I not be?’

  Patrick frowns. ‘We have been looking through the maze for over an hour, Princess. Have you not noticed night has fallen?’

  I blink and stare around. I had not. Stars wink at me from the sky. ‘I hadn’t. I was lost in thought, Patrick. I assure you, I’m well.’

  There’s a fine tautness to the line of his jaw. Is he mad at me for dismissing him before? ‘I am pleased. Can I escort you to your chambers?’

  ‘No. To my grandmother’s.’

  We walk in silence as the Helmets light their torches. I follow up the castle stairs and walk into Gilah’s room. Tiberius is reading on a couch, Hara asleep beside him. Grandmother sips tea at a table and smiles, rising, when she sees me. ‘Good evening, Carmen.’

  I turn and nod to Patrick, dismissing them. ‘Good evening, grandmother. May I speak with you about something?’ I eye my little brother. ‘Something for grownups.’

  Tiberius’s nose twitches in annoyance. He gathers up Hara and she sleepily takes his hand as he leads her back to their rooms. I brush his head in thanks as he passes, then move to take his place on the couch.

  ‘What is it, dear?’ Grandma pours me tea, but I don’t drink.

  There’s a lot on my mind, and I’m not sure where to start. As though sensing this, she clears her throat and begins.

  ‘I hear you and your human instru
ctor had an interesting lesson today.’ She raises a fine brow. Grandma doesn’t have much to do with royal matters anymore. Instead, she’s become the valuable voice of reason I’ve come to need more and more. She’s easy to talk to and keeps secrets when I ask.

  ‘I did. He told me what I needed to know. It’s made me realise some things.’

  Grandma sips her tea. ‘Such as?’

  It’s not a good thing to say, but I must be honest with myself. I lower my voice. ‘I love my parents, and they are good and kind, but I don’t think—I don’t want to be like them, when I take the throne. I think the value of human life is not being treated well enough.’ I think of the woman, her family, frozen to death, her own hands nearly taken away, too. ‘I don’t know what kind of ruler I’ll be, but I can feel how humans still look at us. We’re not cruel, perhaps, but we’re not inclusive, either. Over forty humans died yesterday. Did you know that? I didn’t. And the injured—’ I break off, watching her for a stunned or horrified reaction. But it doesn’t come.

  Instead, Grandma adjusts her long skirts and sets her tea down. ‘I had hoped you would be as wise as me,’ she says quietly. ‘As it turns out, you are even more so.’ She smiles. ‘No royal can ever rule perfectly, it’s not possible, but I encourage you to follow your heart, Carmen.’

  A weight lifts from my chest. ‘Thank you, Grandmother.’

  ‘That’s not what gives you darkness under your eyes, though, is it?’

  I clap a hand to my face. ‘Do I look horrid?’

  Gilah barks a laugh. ‘Never, child. But I know you. I see the clinging worry in your eyes. What else troubles you?’

  If there were someone I could admit everything to, without fear of repercussions, it would probably be Grandma. Izzy said she wouldn’t say anything, but I could overrule her if she ever did, and Grandma might actually provide some knowledge. Or reassurance.

  But something stops me. I bite my tongue and swallow my fears. Instead, I speak of something else. ‘No one meets my gaze when I’m annoyed with them.’

  Grandma looks at me with scrutiny. She knows I’m not telling her my secret but, Gaia love her, she does not press. ‘Have you your eye on a suitor, my dear?’

  Names and faces pass through my mind. Bright eyes, cast downward. ‘Even if I did, he would not look at me. They all back away.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s the way it is, child. When you find one with whom you feel a connection, you will find that it grows stronger, and when you reach that point, he will meet your gaze.’

  I blink and smile. Reassurance. Finally. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I am. I am old and wise.’ Grandma smirks. ‘Trust me. When a connection is strong, it makes men brave enough to speak.’ She gives me a look. ‘Perhaps brave enough to speak out as strongly as a human did today.’

  I smile and feel my cheeks heat. ‘I think I maddened him to the point of honesty. He was treating me like a child with his steel swords. I told him to go and make me real weapons. Then, I will fight him properly.’

  Grandma’s eyes widen. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

  I pick at the hem of my dress—Irene would tap my hands away. ‘Yes. We had no Gaia Wood weapons to fight off the Knights yesterday. The stories are true. I dealt one a mortal blow with a steel blade and the Knight did not so much as bleed. I know the Wood is dangerous to witches as equally as the Knights, but if we’re attacked again, I will not have the same kind of loss of life. I won’t.’ I’m a little surprised at how hard my voice turns. Determined.

  ‘I’m proud of you, Carmen. I want you to know that.’

  Chapter Seven

  Carmen

  A new morning breaks over the horizon, and with it, I sit up, breathless in bed. It feels as though the smoke from my dreams clings to my skin, clothes and hair. I’m damp with sweat. These dreams are becoming increasingly vivid. It’s hard to rest.

  I’ve stopped sleeping with so many bed covers, anticipating the dreams, but even with only light layers, I can hardly breathe. I rest my forehead in my hands, eyes closed. Every day this power, this thing inside me, whatever is going on, scares and frustrates me more. I need answers.

  I take a deep breath, calming myself. A princess keeps her emotions in check. I climb out of bed and pad over to the window, pushing it open for a gust of cool breeze. I wind my long, heavy hair up and pin it to the top of my head. I rub tension out of my shoulders, then yelp. My hands are covered in smoke and ash. It’s all up my arms, now likely over my neck and shoulders, in my hair. I curse, and hurry to the bowl of fresh water left for me to wash my hands. The water splashes up my face, over the bowl, onto the floor, creating a large, conspicuous mess. How has this happened? It was—it was only a dream. I remember yesterday. Smoke did come out of my hands.

  Irene knocks on my chamber door and enters before I can tell her not to. She walks in with a fresh dress for me folded neatly in her hands and pauses when she sees me. She takes in the smoke, my blackened skin. She drops the dress and rushes over. ‘Carmen, are you hurt? Was there a fire?’ She clasps my hands, but looks around the room. It’s morning, and there are no candles lit. She looks at my skin as I try to pull my hands away. ‘You—you are not burned.’

  Fire can burn witches. We’ve always been vulnerable to it. It’s another reason it’s seen as an evil, otherworldly power. Irene, a human, frowns in confusion. ‘I don’t understand, child, what happened? Why are you covered this way?’

  I open my mouth. But what can I say? I am evil. The dark powers of the Underworld inexplicably course through me, haunting my waking and sleeping hours all the same?

  Instead, I snap my hands behind my back. ‘You’re dismissed. You saw nothing.’

  Irene’s brows stitch together. ‘But the smoke and ash—’

  ‘You see nothing. Leave, now.’

  ‘Carmen, are you sure—’

  ‘That’s Your Royal Highness, and I won’t repeat myself.’ I’ve never spoken this way before, and inwardly, I flinch. I sound horrible. Even when I’d told the woman I’d healed not to say anything, or when I was firm with Isabella, I did not sound as hard and unyielding as iron.

  Irene gives me one last, long, worried look, then turns. She picks the dress up off the floor and sets it on the bed, then leaves my chambers.

  As the doors thud shut, I exhale. My hands look as though I’ve been playing in a smithy’s workshop. I’ve run out of time for panicking. It’s time I find a solution. I stride over to my bookshelf and gather up a leatherbound book, letting it fall open to an earmarked page. The more a witch practices her craft, the stronger she will be, and the more easily she can control her powers. So, that’s all I have to do. Focus on my good powers, and they will override this evil.

  I start chanting the spells of strength from my book, walking in circles in my room. This will help bring me peace of mind and clarity. I ignore the instruction to light a candle. No fire. No burning. I walk as the book says, east to west, counter clock-wise, for three full minutes. When I’m done, I set the book down, and return to the bowl of water. This will not do. I summon Irene and ask her for a bath. She asks no questions.

  Once I’m clean, dressed, and my hair is in a nice updo, I make a quick trip down to the grounds, pick a few flowers, blooming yellow ones, and leave them for Irene as an apology, and a thank you.

  Breakfast is with my family this morning, and though I’m quiet, Mother and Father speak about the gossip floating about the castle. Gossip about me. And Cristian. Patrick stands guard at the door, pointedly not meeting my gaze. Did the little rat tell on me?

  ‘You placed yourself between your guard and a human?’ Mother asks.

  The only way to deal with this is to respond firmly. I square my shoulders. ‘I asked my instructor questions and he answered. If I’d wanted him struck, I’d have ordered it, or done so myself. It is the guard’s fault for stepping out of line.’

  Father takes a moment to respond, then bobs his head
. ‘Very well. If you weren’t offended or displeased by your human, all is well.’

  I feel a little bad for blaming Patrick. He thought he was standing up for me, I guess, but I don’t need him to, and I certainly don’t want him going around striking humans for speaking the truth. Harsh truths, perhaps, but all the same.

  Mother says no more of it. She sips her goblet of water.

  Gilah glances at me, and though her expression doesn’t change, I swear I see the smile in her eyes.

  Tiberius and Hara are fighting at the table. Well, not real fighting, but they’re arguing over something.

  ‘It was not yours, it was mine, and it was stolen!’ Tiberius snaps.

  ‘Mine! My crystals. Give ‘em back,’ Hara says, firmly, for a four-year-old.

  ‘Children, hush, what is this fuss?’ Mother asks.

  Something tickles my memory. Something Ares said yesterday. ‘Are you missing things? Ares told me of a thief. In fact, for our first lesson, he’s asked that together we locate him.’

  Mother frowns. ‘But these things’—she waves at her smaller children—‘would have been deep within the castle. Your brother’s books, your sister’s crystals. How could they get to them? Besides, why would they want such things?’

  Lines of worry deepen around Father’s mouth. ‘Find them, Carmen, but let Ares give chase. I want you here.’

  Normally, I wouldn’t argue, but something inside me pushes against his order. ‘Father, I’m to learn now. Not stay home like a child. If Ares’s thief has left the realm as he suspects, to sell his goods elsewhere, should I not follow?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Mother sets her goblet down loudly. The guards stand up straighter, eyes peeled for distress. ‘You are a princess, Carmen. The Crown princess. You’re not to leave this realm, and certainly not to go gallivanting off after some common thief.’

  Mother rarely speaks with such fervour, but I’m not dissuaded. ‘If they can sneak into the depths of our castle, into the prince and princess’s rooms, they are anything but common. They may be a witch, or someone with access to our chambers. As the Crown Princess, it’s in my interest to keep our family safe, and it’s my job to look after the little heirs.’ I look from Mother to Father. I swear Father looks… impressed? Is that what that expression is?