Song of Storms (Song and Storm Trilogy Book 1)

by Kayla Maya

  Luckily, they hadn’t met any bandits or another pack of ferocious wolves. While the bandits dig scare Bryn half to death, the thought of another wolf attack sent her on edge. Even after North’s many assurances that wolves refused to wander these parts, she still kept her senses on high alert. Even Apollo followed her lead by keeping his guard up as well to anything that wandered by them.

  By the time the sun was descending into the trees, Bryn could see a break in the brush and dense forest. She followed North down a small hill to where a small inn was stripped of a sign and what appeared to be some planks of wood from the side of the place they were to stay. Bryn couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the thought. The inn back at the Foreboding Mountain, while smaller, still held a more southern charm than the drably inn that was laid out before them. There were no stables, so North tied up their horses on a post, scratching Apollo’s ear before turning to Bryn.

  “I’ll talk with the innkeeper, see if she has any messenger birds, we could possibly use for me to send word to Lord Anderson about our arrival. We reached the inn a day sooner than I intended for us to be, and I’m sorry for having your ride so hard and so far, so soon.” North scratched the back of his neck, trying his best to be sincere.

  Bryn couldn’t help but smile, allowing her affection towards him to bleed through her façade. “No problem. I needed to learn anyway and see just how far I could ride Apollo. We do have beds and a hot meal, yes?”

  “Of course.” North chuckled. “It’s no Master Won type cooking, but it’s still better than the dried beef we’ve been eating.”

  “And the cheese,” Bryn quipped. “Can’t forget about the cheese.”

  “Right, how could I forget?” He shook his head, holding open the door for her to walk in before him. “Shall we, Lady Illyea?”

  “We shall.”

  The inside of the inn was far better looking than the outside. While Bryn really didn’t care much for the old-time décor, it was still far better than sleeping outside on the ground for another night again. The stools by the bar had seen far better days. The wood was chipped in some places, and the paint wasn’t in any better shape, either. There was one stairwell that led up to the rooms, with a few missing steps every other step. It was more run down than Bryn initially thought, and it seemed no one cared to keep their place of business clean or in shape. A grizzled older man was at the bar, polishing several glasses as he inspected Bryn. Despite her better judgment, she sat at the bar, asking for a glass of water.

  “Haven’t seen you around these parts before.” The man grabbed a pitcher, pouring Bryn a full glass. “Especially, someone as pretty as you are.”

  Bryn hid her face in her glass, taking a long swig and instantly gagging. Vodka. She shivered and pushed the glass away, already feeling a little tipsy from just that one swig. Bryn couldn’t keep her alcohol, and she knew if she had friends, then it would be a long-running joke between them. Sadly, she had no such friends to mock her, and she was both pleased and a little irked by it. She hoped North would return soon so she wouldn’t have to deal with this man any longer.

  “More?” The bartender held up the bottle, freehand reaching for Bryn’s glass.

  “No, thank you.” Bryn turned to leave but collided with a strong chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  Bryn’s words died on her lips as a striking gentleman stood in her way. His chestnut hair was cropped rather short, with both sides almost shaved clean off. He had an earring in one ear, the small golden hoop winking at her. His clothes were neatly pressed, his lapels fitted to his shoulders in a regal fashion. His face was very average, but the way he carried himself and the way he dressed almost made Bryn attracted to him. Almost.

  “Lady Illyea?” The man’s brows furrowed as he inspected Bryn up and down. “You’re a day early.”

  “Lord Anderson?” Bryn cocked her head to the side. “Is that really you?”

  “Of course, my love.” Lord Anderson wrapped an arm around Bryn’s shoulders and bringing her closer to his well-muscled body. It seemed to her that he was making up for his average features by creating a to die for body. He brought his lips close to her ear, making her shiver as he whispered, “North is out scouting. He sent me to come find you.”

  Bryn’s fake smile wavered. “Is it really you? I thought we were a day early?”

  “You are. Luckily, I happened to arrive this morning because I am horrible at keeping time, so I always try to get to my destinations early, so I don’t miss deadlines. Imagine the amount of royalty that would have my hide if I were always late? Well, later than usual.”

  Bryn giggled. He might not have been the most handsome of men, but he was indeed someone she could be attracted to for his other qualities. She allowed Lord Anderson to steer her away from the bar, a little tipsy on her feet. She had to use Anderson’s arm several times to keep from falling, and she didn’t fair much better climbing up the stairs to their adjoined room. Bryn hoped North would be there so she wouldn’t have to talk much with Anderson.

  “How much did you drink?” Anderson leaned Bryn against the wall, unlocking the door and holding it wide open for her. “North should be here any minute, so try to get some rest, or at least try not to soil the carpet.” He added, seeing Bryn’s green face.

  “I didn’t want any alcohol. I’m a lightweight; besides, I asked him for a glass of water.” Bryn ignored everything in the room and went straight to the chair by the covered window. Pushing back the curtains, she leaned her head against the cold glass. “I haven’t the slightest idea why he would give me vodka.”

  “Because he’s part of the slave trade, my dear.” Lord Anderson brought over his own seat, straddling it and resting his arms over the back of it. “They drug attractive young women and then send them off to get their coin. I thought it died out years ago, but some slavers still linger.”

  “Why does he own a tavern then?” Bryn’s face felt hot to the touch, even with her face to the glass. “Shouldn’t he be sent to the gallows for that?”

  “Because King Frederick does not care a lick about it, that’s why. It’s another reason why you’re here, Bryn. You could help end men like him from stealing young girls.”

  Bryn wrinkled her nose. “The way I see it, I’m helping either way. Takedown the king and the rest of his empire falls.”

  “Correct, to a point.” Anderson stood, arms neatly folded behind him as he wandered the room, back to Bryn. “The king has a son. A delinquent sure, but a son nonetheless.”

  “What does the king’s son have to do with anything?”

  Anderson spun on his heel, facing Bryn with a small smile. “The Order’s closest advisor to the king, a disciple himself, was killed by the king. Although he lied about it, our spies within the castle told us the true story.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I assume that the Order kept that bit of information to themselves. I guess I’ll have to tell you.” Anderson sat back down, clearing his throat. “Nearly all the kings and queens have children that will ascend the throne when their parents die, or if they become of age. The Order has been sending in their disciples for years, converting the children to their ways so that way when the children ascend, they are loyal only to the Order and their land second. The disciple that had been in charge of Ryan, the king's only child, was killed for being caught converting the heir.

  “After the disciple’s death, the king then decided he wouldn’t listen to the Order of the Crow much longer. By that time, he let everyone live in poverty, let everyone fall ill to illnesses, and let innocents die. With Ryan converted to the Order’s ways, he’ll rule with the Order, whispering in his ear on what to do. That’s what happens when a king or queen decides to no longer act on the Order’s behalf. They’re either killed or are blackmailed into submission. That’s the way of the Order of the Crow. They then deem the country as ‘liberated’ and keep an ever-watchful eye on the royalty. ”

  “You sound as if you don’t trust them.�
�� Bryn’s worst fears rose to the surface. The Order of the Crow were a bunch of ruthless killers that wanted their ways, but she was not going to voice her concerns to North just yet, or even tell Anderson that she herself didn’t fully trust them either. “That you kind of…resent them.”

  “I don’t trust the Order of the Crow, that much is certain.” Lord Anderson acknowledged. “They aren’t the ones I’d sit around and have tea with for my afternoons. I tolerate them because they do, do some good. Liberating a country when it needs it helps the citizens as much as the other royals. Sometimes, not so much. I trust you have some reasons of your own for tolerating the Order as much as I do.”

  “They have my family,” Bryn blurted out. “I have to trust them.”

  Anderson’s face turned stone cold as he said, “whatever you do, Bryn. Don’t double-cross them. If you ever need anything, come find me in Boreal.”

  Bryn stood, ignoring the fresh wave of hot tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes. She hadn’t expected to tell Lord Anderson the truth, nor did she want to re-witness the sympathy that flashed across his face. He felt sorry for her, and he was also concerned for her. She didn’t want his sympathy, nor did she want anyone else’s. Anderson stood and tried to stop her, but she brushed past him and out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

  Bryn wandered back down to the bar, except this time the man from earlier at the bar was gone, and a plump man was in his place. She was still rather unsteady on her feet, but she was able to make it to the bar without falling over or almost puking on herself or someone. The plump man took sympathy on her, filling a glass of ginger ale and sliding it over to her. Bryn thanked him, greedily gulping down the last drop. Thankfully, he also gave her a glass of water to tide her over.

  “Haven’t seen you around these parts before.” The plump man gathered her ginger ale glass, wiping it clean with a cloth as he spoke. “I mean, Skeg isn’t known for its wandering beauties after all.”

  If only you knew, Bryn thought to herself. Instead, she said, “I’m the wife of Lord Anderson. Lady Illyea. We’re passing through on our way to meet the king to gain his approval for our marriage.”

  The man nodded as if that didn’t warrant anymore questioning. “Well, you’re just in time then. The king is hosting his annual ball later this weekend, so I’m sure that would be the best time for you and your husband to gain his favor.”

  “Indeed.” Bryn took another sip of her water, glancing around at the vacant inn. “Not much business?”

  “I’m afraid so. Word got out about some storm wielder who nearly killed the king several weeks back or less. Since then, many villagers run away scared instead of staying and meeting the king.”

  Bryn frowned, placing her cup on the table. This older man held useful information, even though he was way too happy to comply with giving her such information. It made her question if he knew of their plans or if he was just being overly generous. Bryn shook her head; there was no time for her to be so paranoid about her situation. She talked with the old man for several more minutes before North wandered in, eyebrows raised in question. He pulled up a seat beside Bryn, thanking the plump man for his glass of ale.

  “You have a beautiful wife,” the plump man winked. “Don’t let her go now, you here?”

  “She’s not my wife.” North’s cheeks flamed, ducking his head in shame as he continued. “She’s my charge. Her husband should be up in their room, preparing for bed. Like My Lady should be doing instead of drinking.”

  “It’s water,” Bryn defended herself. “Thank you very much.”

  North’s lips twitched at the corners. “It probably is. I know that you can’t hold your alcohol very well.” He pushed himself from the bar, offering his arm to her. “I’ll have dinner brought up for us later. For now, we need to rest.”

  Bryn couldn’t help but groan at North’s constant guarding. However, the thought of taking a nap on an actual bed made her take his arm. Saying her thanks and giving the plump man a small wave, she allowed North to lead her back up to their room, where Lord Anderson awaited them with arms folded behind his back. He cleared his throat, smiling at Bryn and North as she wandered to the bed closest away from the two men.

  “Bryn, why on earth were you down at the bar by yourself!? It’s too dangerous for you to be out alone. The owner of this inn does slave trading,” North’s voice rose an octave, his fury emanate.

  “So, I’ve been told,” Bryn sighed. She laid back on the bed, and arms flung over her head. “I just needed to get away for a bit. I was thirsty.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask Lord Anderson to accompany you?”

  A vein pulsed at Bryn’s forehead. She was tired of his constant questioning; he was acting more like a guardian than her friend. Kicking off her boots and turning so her back was to them both, Bryn counted to ten to allow her a moment to cool off before she said another word to North or Lord Anderson. Once she had cooled off enough, she finally turned back to face them.

  “I’m tired.” Bryn kept her voice level, even though all she wanted to do was scream. “Please, let me rest.”

  North looked like he wanted to argue, but Lord Anderson shook his head, motioning for North to keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for the both of them. Bryn couldn’t help but snicker before she turned her back to them and tried to sleep. After five minutes of counting sheep, she finally heard the two men leave the room to allow her some privacy. She was grateful, sighing in relief as she finally let her shoulders relax. Her stomach rebelled against her, wanting something to eat before going to sleep, but she stamped it down. Best wait until later. Finally, she was able to drift off in a dreamless sleep.

  Bryn awoke to the smell of beef. She instantly sprang out of bed, tongue lolling out like a rabid wolf as she searched far and wide for that delicious smell. North was by the table in the room, three plates full of piping hot stew laid out on the table with huge chunks of bread. Lord Anderson was already seated at the table, breaking his chunk of bread to pop a small bit into his mouth. North noticed Bryn as she bounded across the room and into the vacant seat, spoon already in her hand and waiting.

  “Hungry, aren’t we?” Lord Anderson mused aloud. “You act as if you are starving.”

  Bryn tore off a hunk of bread, swallowing what she had before she said, “I lived in Skeg all my life. I know nothing but poverty, so having this much food to settle my stomach is new. I’m not used to it.”

  “You do seem a little malnourished,” Anderson eyed Bryn’s appearance. “Hopefully, no one will notice.”

  Bryn couldn’t care less what the royals thought of her. She could eat like a pig all she wanted, and she wouldn’t bat an eye that she knew the royals would give her. The appalling looks at her poor etiquette, and the way she couldn’t stop her mouth before saying something without thinking. Before she realized she was eating nothing but air, Bryn had lifted the bowl to her mouth to slurp up the rest of the stew. She was disappointed in the fact that she had none left, but her stomach was very satisfied by the meal, even if Bryn herself wasn’t. North offered to go downstairs and get her another bowl, but she politely declined, opting to lay on her bed to relax for a bit. They only had a couple of hours before they would have to get some sleep for the big day.

  “So, we will be riding in a carriage tomorrow morning.” Lord Anderson dabbed the corners of his mouth. “North will be behind us on the way to the castle. Do you have any questions for me that you wish to discuss before tomorrow?”

  “Not really no,” Bryn brought her legs up, swinging her knees back and forth, her eyes following them. “I know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Well, hopefully, your manners improve by tomorrow because the royals will definitely know that something’s up.”

  “He’s right,” North pipped in. “Remember to eat like a proper lady.”

  “Bones,” Bryn cursed. “I thought I could get away with at least something.”

  “Not likely,” L
ord Anderson sat back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Royals will find any little thing to judge others, even if they are of the lower class. I’m in the upper class, so no one really messes with me. But you are my wife, which means they expect you to have as many manners as myself.”

  “Again, bones.”

  “And no cursing either,” North chuckled. “Royals hate language like that.”

  “Royals hate everything,” Bryn commented. “Especially those who live down in the slums of the city.”

  “I understand why you hate royals, but you also need to understand their situation. They are born into that life, and while some are just, most are not. The children are taught to hate anyone that is beneath them, and while most refuse, they do end up listening to their parents to keep their steady coin.” Lord Anderson stretched. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Anyone else?”

  “I’m all for it actually,” North yawned. “Bryn?”

  In truth, she was still bone-tired, but she didn’t want to sleep so early because that would mean she would wake up even earlier than usual. However, she understood that she needed plenty of rest if she was going to face all those royals tomorrow. She nodded and went back to her bed, saying her goodnights before she instantly fell to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY – TWO

  Bryn wasn’t surprised that she was the first one awake the next morning. She suspected that either Lord Anderson or North had gotten up to open the curtains because light spilled into the room and directly into North’s handsome features. His hair was messy, and one arm flung over his eyes, no doubt a feeble attempt to block out the sun’s rays. Bryn surveyed the room, allowing her eyes to adjust with the light. The room was meager, with only a simple three beds, two dressers, and a table with three chairs. Nothing too exquisite, nor too simple. She stood, stretching her arms over her head to yawn. She scratched her head and walked over to the window, the floorboards creaking underneath her weight.