War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  Book 2: The Battle For Vale

  Prologue

  The long, luscious, green reeds that sat next to the marsh glistened with dew as the morning light breached the horizon. The sounds of rushing water and birds singing filled the warm, moist air and the smell of hazelnut and lavender wafted through the trees. At the edge of the wooded cavern, the earth plunged deep into the ground, and the water cascading over the falls glistened like diamonds in the reflective sunlight. Across the cavern, starting deep in the ground and rising into the clouds, sat the kingdom of Athanasia in the realm of the Fading Vale.

  Athanasia encompassed everything that the Vale promised to its people, the fae. From beauty beyond measure to everlasting life, the creatures of the Vale were shrouded in whimsical essence and spent their days living in harmony with nature and one another. All were welcome, and visitors were never turned away, but the penance for disruption meant not only exclusion from this fruitful society, but a curse that created a covering of protection for the realm. Those removed could never again find the beautiful city, and once experienced, would haunt them forever in wanting.

  Within Athanasia’s high walls, at the peak of the clouds, was the palace of the king. King Anthurium had ruled over the Vale for nearly three centuries, with his wife Sivelle by his side. The fae were considered immortal creatures and their aging stopped somewhere around a human’s thirtieth mark of birth. The king and queen ruled with the wisdom of the world but the outward appearance of youth and vitality. Their daughter, Asphodul was nearly a hundred marks old, but to the fae, that made her a young girl, still as whimsical in thought as a teenager. Though she was wise, she chose to live barefoot and free among the wildflowers beyond Athanasia’s boundaries, much to her father’s displeasure.

  The fae had seen peace for nearly two centuries, but the king still remembered a time where his kingdom was under threat by wars raging across the seas. Recently, though few knew of the happening to the west of Fortune, Anthurium had seen the battles ensuing and the loss of bounty to those that resided there. He worried for the life of the Avalon princess, Leonetta, who came from the fae by birth. In fact, during an agreement between the fae and the King of Avalon, Osiris, their queen was given as a gift and impregnated with the future heir of both kingdoms. However, in the eleventh hour, as Avalon’s queen lay with babe in arms, Osiris plunged a knife into the Avalonian fae queen’s heart, an act that drained the magic from her soul. So, while the fae were thought to possess everlasting life, the king had found a way to unburden himself from the connection to the fae.

  After the death of his queen, King Osiris fell into a deep, dark place and rarely left the safety of his palace walls. His fears turned to anger and envy of those that could rule for eternity. He used the bounty of his countryside until there no longer was anything to feed his people, and the realm of Avalon turned into a barren land, the only remnants of its fertility lying dead in the fields. As time passed, and with the untimely death of his second wife, Lady Mary, at the hand of his own commander, Oedipus, the thirst for revenge began to envelop King Osiris.

  Secrets once hidden with great care seeped through the locked mouths of those closest to the king, and Leonetta began to question her own inheritance. Sweeping the land with the use of the Wild Dragons, once only faithful to the fae, Osiris took all of the Seven Realms under his watch, burning the emptied towns to nothing more than cinder. The people had disappeared, but in the end, Leonetta had played her part in her father’s demise. As he stood on the balcony of his great kingdom, triumphant in his capture of the last of the realms, the king clutched a letter from his daughter expressing her treason. He watched as the Wild shrouded her in safety and flew off toward the oceans, destined for her holy land, the Fading Vale.

  From that moment, the king forgot his love for the girl he watched grow, the girl that was supposed to take his throne. Anger and revenge began to bubble through him after he realized he had been betrayed by his very kin. Though not related by blood, the king had loved his daughter in his own way. His new commander, Holland, was to be the future King of Avalon, having slain Oedipus at the death of Lady Mary. Holland and Leonetta had been in love for as long as they could remember, but with the glory of war, Holland’s heart was unsteady, and he remained in the service of the King of Avalon.

  The King of Avalon – or ‘the Whip’ as the commoners called him, since he had a propensity for using a horse whip as a punishment for non-tax paying villagers – went to work immediately. He took his troops to the ports they had taken and began repairing the ships, building new ones, and creating a plan to cross the treacherous waters of Fortune. Word had spread to the King of the Vale that Osiris was coming for them. His thirst for revenge was insatiable, and though he would never be able to find the Vale due to his banishment after the queen’s murder, his men would quickly find the beautiful lands.

  The King of the Vale was a fair man, a loving man, and one that found patience to be essential in every aspect of life. Much like the whole of the fae community he spoke in calm tones, wishing no harm on even his gravest of enemy. However, when it came to the safety of his people, he made sure to have the strongest allies and the most powerful army in all the lands.

  From the edge of the Fading vale, the ports stood firm, looking outward onto the rolling oceans of Fortune. Bounty was brought in daily upon ships with flags flown from realms all across the land. However, as the clouds began to rain ash blown from the Cinder Territories on the shores of Vale, the fae king knew it was only a matter of time until the flags of Avalon would breach the white-capped horizon of his ports.

  War was brewing, and the fae were Osiris’ next grave target.

  Chapter One: The Ocean’s Ash

  The air was warm and fragrant, and Asphodul closed her eyes as she swung through the air, her arms stretched outward, and the hot sun reflecting off of her long, golden locks. Petals of peonies flowed downward as they fell from her silken gown. She released her legs from the canopy and gracefully landed in the field below. The princess laughed as she dusted the dirt from her palms and peered over at her Hand, Briella, who was covering her eyes in anxiety. She looked out at the cliff before her and gasped at the beauty of the teal-blue crystal waters of the Fortune Ocean.

  “You need to relax,” Asphodul teased Briella. “I am an expert at trapeze. Besides, you only have one life, so why not enjoy every breeze?”

  Asphodul glanced over at the cliff and smirked as she took off running toward the edge. The soft grass beneath her naked feet was smooth and cool to the touch. She laughed loudly as her Hand called out in panic. She reached the edge, closed her eyes, and jumped outward, her arms stretched above her head and her knees bent slightly.

  Briella gasped as the princess disappeared below the cliffs. She ambled toward the edge, terrified of what she would see below. As she leaned forward, a rush of air hit her, blowing the crown of flowers from her head. She looked up in shock as a bright blue, sparkling dragon shot toward the sky, Asphodul riding his back and giggling as she passed. Briella watched as the dragon circled around and came to a stop on the green grasses between the cliff and the trees.

  He bowed at the panicked Hand, a look of mischief reflecting in his ice-blue eyes. Asphodul climbed down from the dragon’s back and kissed him on his scaly cheek. She looked at Briella and giggled again, pulling her in and hugging her tightly.

  “I do believe I may have picked the wrong career,” Briella said, her mouth buried in the princess’ hair.

  Unlike the other realms across the ocean, the Fading Vale did not believe in holding slaves. Instead, the jobs in the palace were filled by those that wished to give service to the kingdom. For their work, they were given housing in the royal courts, a fair wage, and were awarded a parcel of land when their time with the kingdom was over. Briella, however, had been Asphodul’s Hand since she was a baby and had given the oath to stay with her until the day she became Queen of the Vale. Though their age differed by a century, they had become
best friends, and Briella never thought of leaving her future queen’s side.

  A gust of wind blew Asphodul’s hair from around Briella’s face, and the Hand looked over her shoulder at the dragon shifter, now standing tall in his armor, a handsome smirk on his face. He was young and tall, with dimples as deep as the gorges that peppered the Vale. He had been the commander of the fae army for only about five years but had been Asphodul’s best friend since he had reached his fifteenth mark of birth. The two were inseparable, and Asphodul hated it when he became the commander, mostly because it took his attention.

  Tyriad hailed from the Ivory Valley in the realm of the Fading Vale, just on the outskirts of the land. His family had lived in service to the gods for many years, and upon meeting the king in a chance encounter, had been invited to the king’s birth celebration. Tyriad’s father grew close to the king, and until his death just a few years before, stood as the king’s advisor. As Tyriad grew, he showed an incredible proclivity for archery and strategy in his studies. The king himself helped to guide him toward the fae army, and when he reached his eighteenth mark, was offered the coveted position of commander.

  Briella had hinted to Asphodul several times the love she could see written all over Tyriad’s face, but she laughed it off or made some sort of wrinkled face at the thought of love. While most fae girls her age dreamed of finding their mate, Asphodul dreamed of running through fields and spending her days with the creatures of the land, not some boy. It was almost comical, except for the fact that her father was patiently waiting for her to find a mate. In the fae kingdom, you chose who you would love for your eternity, and no one was ever forced into marriage. Even the queen of Avalon had chosen Osiris, though her heart was more pointed at duty than love.

  Asphodul turned and looked at Tyriad who was standing shyly, his moppy, blond hair blowing wildly in the wind off of Fortune. She walked over and gave him a high five and turned toward the ocean. She looked over at the beaches that ran along the shores, the sparkling black sand shimmering in the lights.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing down at a thick, white line at the edge of the tide.

  “Oh,” Tyriad replied looking down. “It seems to be some kind of ash. Like something was on fire. Probably from the west realms.”

  At the mention of the Seven Realms, Asphodul’s face lowered, and she thought about the sister she had never met. No one had heard anything of her whereabouts since she left Avalon. She was supposedly heading for the Vale, but even after the shifters of the Vale searched, no one was found. Asphodul sent magical messages to Leonetta every night before she went to bed. They were prophetic sayings written in the old fae language and could be seen in the stars from anywhere in the vicinity of Fortune. She had yet to receive a response.

  “Cheer up,” Tyriad said as he nudged the princess with his shoulder. “I’m sure she is somewhere safe, having a good meal and waiting for the right moment.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Asphodul replied, kicking at the rocks under her feet. Her head shot up as she remembered something. “Oh, no! Meals. I was supposed to be at the luncheon today. Mother is going to kill me!”

  “Don’t worry,” Tyriad said, backing up and beginning to shift. “I’ll fly you there in no time.”

  Briella, thinking of protesting, stopped herself, realizing she, too, would hear it if they were too late for the luncheon. It was a celebration of the fae women in the realm, and Asphodul was to be there to make a speech. Briella took Asphodul’s hand and climbed up on Tyriad’s back, wrapping her arms tightly around the princess and closing her eyes. She hated heights.

  The dragon flew high over the trees and swooped down as he entered into the forest where the gorge of Athanasia hid. He nodded at the guards at the towers as he swooped past and landed carefully on the top of the castle. Briella sat, eyes still closed, clutching Asphodul tightly.

  “Briella,” the princess whispered, “it’s okay. We’ve landed.”

  “Oh,” Briella gasped as she opened her eyes and released her grip. “Sorry, Your Grace.”

  Once the girls had made it safely onto a stable surface, Tyriad nodded and took to the skies for his usual flying rove around the perimeters of the land. Briella grabbed Asphodul’s arm before she could walk into the doorway and pointed at her mud-covered gown and tousled hair. The princess grinned and rubbed her hands together, chanting in the fae language. Slowly, a sparkling, blue light came from her palms, twisted around her arms, and covered her from head to foot. Briella watched as the blue glow dissipated and a princess she barely recognized stood before her.

  Asphodul’s hair curled around in ringlets and was held halfway back by a clip of fresh flowers. Small tendrils of sparkling, golden hair fell around her face and shoulders. Her gown was silken and the perfect shade of green to match her eyes. Down the back was a row of flowers neatly held to the flowing chiffon train. The fabric sparkled in the sunlight, giving off a radiant glow. She smiled at Briella’s response and turned slowly to walk into the castle.

  The princess made her way through the gleaming, white marble hallways to the Room of Ghosts where the luncheon was being held. The guards opened the doors for her, and she walked in gracefully, noticing they had not yet started. She bowed to her mother and walked up the steps, taking a seat next to the throne.

  “Nice to see you made it in one piece,” her mother whispered through her fake smile. “But your shoes…”

  Asphodul looked down at her bare feet, and her cheeks grew red. Her mother waved her hand over her legs, and a sparkling, white mist circled her feet. She smiled as she looked down at a pair of crystal sandals firmly strapped to her toes. The princess longed for her magic to be as fluid and natural as her mother’s. Her mother winked as the flutes began to play, a signal that the queen was to start her speech.

  While the luncheon went on, Briella made her way to her overnight chambers, the place she stayed when going back to her home was not permissible due to the princess’ schedule. She wanted to clean up before accompanying the princess to the garden for tea with the queen. As she passed the Great Hall, she peered inside and smiled. It was nearly the queen’s mark of birth, and she always loved the celebrations that they held – dancing, flowers, food, and handsome young men from all over the Vale.

  “Briella,” the voice behind her said in a stout manner.

  “Your Grace,” Briella said, realizing it was the king, and bowing accordingly.

  “I see the princess has been in the woods again,” the king replied with a small smirk.

  “How…” Briella looked down at her dress which was covered in dust and twigs. “Oh, well, yes.”

  “Walk with me,” the king said, holding out an arm. “Let’s take a walk through the gardens, shall we?”

  Briella nodded and nervously took the king’s arm. He had never shown anger or disdain for Briella, but his mere presence unnerved her for some reason. He was a very powerful man, though you wouldn’t know it when talking to him. He spoke softly, and each of his words that could be taken as negative flowed through one’s ears as if they were a suggestion for the betterment of all.

  “Tell me, Briella,” the King said as they walked among the flowers. “How is Asphodul these days?”

  “She is…” Briella said thoughtfully. “She is the same old Asphodul, Your Grace. She has her mind in the clouds and her feet nowhere near the ground.”

  The king stifled a laugh and stopped, turning to Briella.

  “Has she mentioned Leonetta?” he asked with a grave face.

  “She sends her messages in the stars every night,” Briella confessed. “I see the worry on her face when the Seven Realms are spoken of. Just today, we saw the ash carried to the shores by Fortune, and her spirit sank.”

  “It is a grave dealing,” the king said, shaking his head thoughtfully. “I know she dreams of meeting her sister. I need you to distract her with other thoughts. A way to perhaps soften the blow if her sister does not return.”

 
“I will do my best, Your Grace,” Briella said, curtsying to the king.

  “Good,” he said, grinning. “You have always been a faithful addition to our Kingdom. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to wander the gardens for a bit and collect my thoughts.”

  “Of course,” Briella said, bowing and turning toward the castle. She walked back up to the stairs and paused, turning back to look out over the ever-blossoming gardens. The king stood looking at a sculpture of his mother in the center of the gardens. The former queen was still alive but, in her old age, had disappeared into the Vale to live her life in peace and quiet. Briella felt a connection in that sense to the king. Her parents, too, had gone off to live their lives in the beautiful, lush forests that spread throughout the Fading Vale.

  Before turning to the door, she saw three shifters fly quickly into the keep. They looked to be in a hurry, something not usually seen inside the castle walls. A cold shiver moved down Briella’s spine as thunder clapped in the distance. A storm was brewing.

  Chapter Two: Visitors from Afar

  The sky was darkening from the storm blowing in from Fortune. Tyriad looked down as Asphodul and Briella moved inside the castle, late for a luncheon with the queen. Normally, his flying rove watches were somewhat of a relaxing flight, but today the air was stagnant and was clouded by the smell of cinders washing in from the sea. There was something in Tyriad’s gut that just didn’t feel right.

  Shadows bounced off of the edges of the mountain right beyond Athanasia. Though the steep, sloping sides of the Vale Mountains frequently reflected sparkling shadows, today they seemed ominous and almost frightening in the darkened sky. Tyriad soared over the peaks and down into the valley below where the fae of the countryside had already boarded their windows closed and moved in for the night. The wind whipped through the valley, blowing hay and dust into the air. The sound of banging shutters echoed across the fields.