Tempest (The Chronicles of Winterset Book 2)

by K. G. Reuss

  “You planned on killing Calix?” I asked, feeling weak, ignoring everything else.

  “Of course, Analia. We knew what he’d become if he connected with you further. Father shouldn’t have been so merciful that day. I’d have rammed my blade through his heart on my own had I known this day would come,” Soran hissed darkly, his features changing into something scary.

  I knew one thing for sure, meeting my brother in battle wasn’t something I’d want to do. He seemed like such a kind, generous individual, but I knew when it came to war, he was anything but.

  “If I’m still betrothed to Calix, then how is it that Father is having me marry another?” I asked softly, wanting more than anything to get out of this new arrangement.

  “Do you think Father cares at this point?” Soran asked, his blue eyes coming to rest on my face. “We’re already at war with Lor’Lak. What will Zaros do if Father marries you off to another? War harder?” Soran scoffed, shaking his head. “As far as Winterset is concerned, both brothers are dead. As long as you don’t bring Calixto back, we shouldn’t have an issue with it. We need to break the binding. That needs to be our focus.”

  “OK, wait.” I held up my hand, frowning. “For the Oracle to bind to another, I have to exchange blood with him and sleep with him? Then I’m bound to him… And then you guys want to marry me off to someone else? That’s sick. Like, it makes my stomach twist. I’m…I’m not a whore.”

  “No one said you were,” Soran answered dryly. “But if it’s a means to an end, don’t you think it’s worth doing? You’d be saving Calix from the Void. He’d be able to move on finally. He’d be able to finally rest, Analia. Don’t you want that for him? For you?”

  “So, how are we going to find this altera?” I choked out, my heart aching at the possibility of letting Calix go for good. I shook the idea off. I wouldn’t be getting Calix back, not the Calix I knew. The only other option was to simply let him go. I wiped hastily at a tear which threatened to fall from my eye and took a deep breath.

  “There has to be a way.” Soran ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Father can marry you off, but that doesn’t end the binding. I just…I just don’t know. There are no brothers left to break the binding. No cousins to my knowledge. The Shadowmoore brothers were last of a dying house. You have to align with the line of Shadowmoore to break it. They must be willing to exchange blood with you. Unless Father has you betrothed to a secret son of Zaros, we might just be screwed when it comes to breaking your binding. Unless we kill Zaros. But even then, I’m not sure it would fix this.”

  He was silent, clearly thinking everything over. Finally, he turned to me again and spoke evenly. “You’ll marry who Father has chosen for you. If nothing else, at least bring hope to the people. Maybe a miracle will happen somehow during it all, and we can get you unbound from Calixto. It won’t change who you are as an Oracle, but at least it’ll weaken Zaros’s and Calixto’s strength if he does return. The damage may already be done, though.”

  I didn’t dare argue with him. He seemed defiant in much the same way as I was, and I knew it was useless to convince him otherwise.

  He had me frightened.

  Chapter 6

  A whisper on the wind.

  “Ana…”

  I spun in a circle in the field of wildflowers, desperate to find the owner of the voice I missed with every ounce of my being.

  “Calix?” The flower petals tickled my legs as I continued to spin wildly, looking for any trace of him. “Where are you?”

  “Here. Everywhere.”

  “I can’t see you.” I twirled again, my gaze wild as I tried to find him among the colors.

  A dark, cloaked figure shimmered in the distance. He beckoned me to come to him, and I took a hesitant step in his direction before stopping, the pull in my core making me nauseous.

  “Ana,” he whispered. “Come to me. Bring the wind.”

  “I-I don’t know how.”

  “You do. You have to. It’s the only way to save us,” his voice cracked. “Master your powers. He’s going to come for you.”

  “Calix!” I cried out as flames erupted along my skin.

  “You control the flame, Princess. It doesn’t control you,” he said, his voice carrying through the gentle breeze. I shivered despite the heat. Wet, salty tears streamed down my cheeks. “Master the wind so you can steer the flame.”

  “Calix,” I choked out. “Help me.”

  “Burn,” his voice caressed my ears, deep and rich. “Burn, Ana. I want you to burn. You must.”

  He glided to me and held his hand out as I writhed in pain, the flames growing higher and blistering my skin. This couldn’t be happening. We loved one another. He was dead. This was just a terrible nightmare.

  “Burn,” he shouted, making the ground shake.

  I fell to my knees. The smell of my charred skin burnt my nostrils as his voice echoed around me. “The pain isn’t real! Only you are! You are the storm. Follow the thunder! He’s coming! Remember, I love you. Always, my tempest.”

  I woke up thrashing and drenched in sweat with my sheets twisted around my body. I lay in bed, panting, trying to make sense of the dream. It couldn’t have been a vision. Calix was dead. It was just a bad dream brought on by my guilt, grief, and earlier conversation with Soran. Nothing more. I knew this. I believed this.

  I closed my eyes tight, tears burning my eyelids. Choking out a sob, I buried my face into my pillow and cried until I fell into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked around. This was my home now. I was homesick for a place I could never go back to. I couldn’t shake the idea that my Earth Realm parents had to be worried sick about me.

  A soft knock on my door pulled me from my sad thoughts, and I jerked my head up to see who was coming into my room.

  Brena entered and gave me a quick smile, her arms laden with freshly laundered sheets.

  “Princess, I trust you slept well,” she greeted me, placing the sheets on a small table in the corner of the room.

  “Yes,” I lied, not wanting to rehash the terrible dream with her, or anyone.

  “Good,” she beamed, bustling around in my wardrobe. She pulled out a pretty, sapphire gown and came to my side. “Are you ready to meet with the queen for breakfast?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t aware I had to,” I muttered.

  “The queen requested you have breakfast with her this morning,” Brena answered kindly. “She also insisted you wear this gown and that you see Gregor before meeting with her.”

  “Why?” I pondered, raising my arms so Brena could help dress me.

  “The queen insists Gregor take a look at you and try to heal your sore muscles,” Brena replied. “I’ll take you there.”

  Wordlessly, I stood and followed Brena to the vanity where she began plaiting my hair in elaborate braids and curls again. I watched as she expertly twisted my long, blonde locks into a pile on top of my head, sending ringlets cascading down my back.

  “You’re really very good at this,” I commented, eyeing her work.

  She beamed at me, her cheeks flushing. “My mother said it was an important life skill to learn,” she stated.

  “Maybe you can teach me how to do it someday when I’m feeling better,” I murmured, admiring her handiwork. Brena grinned more, and I forced a smile out at her. It felt awkward on my face, like someone was carving it in with a serrated steak knife. I quickly wiped it away, knowing it looked unnatural on me.

  “If you’re ready, milady, I can escort you now,” Brena offered.

  I nodded, rose to my feet, and followed her out to the hall.

  “You don’t need to call me that,” I scoffed after a moment of silence, walking beside her down the long hallway.

  “Pardon me, milady,” she flushed to the roots of her dark hair.

  “No, it’s OK. Really. Please, call me Ana,” I pressed, wanting some n
ormalcy. Being referred to so properly made me feel uncomfortable.

  “Milad—, I mean, Ana, forgive me. It isn’t common to refer to royalty on a first name basis. If the king or queen, or anyone really, heard me speak to you like that, I’d be in trouble,” Brena explained.

  “That’s ridiculous.” I shook my head. “Then perhaps when it’s just us you can call me by my name. We can keep all the proper terms for the rest of the royalty.”

  Brena grinned at me and nodded.

  “How old are you, Brena?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me finally. She looked about my age, but in Winterset, you could never be sure.

  “I’m twenty,” she replied with a smile. “I’m quite young.”

  “In comparison to Soran, definitely.” I smiled, and she returned it with her own.

  We finally reached our destination, and I breathed out nervously as Brena knocked lightly on the large oak door. It was opened immediately by a bright-eyed, older man with a snow-white beard that cascaded to his waist. His powder blue robes billowed behind him, making him appear larger than he was.

  “Ah, Princess.” He clapped his hands happily and ushered me in.

  I turned to Brena for guidance, but she only smiled at me and gave a little nod before the doors closed on her.

  “I was wondering when you’d get over here to visit me. I’d have come to you, but your brother insisted you be left to rest. Why for is beyond me. I could’ve had you in tip-top shape already. Or at least tried again. Your body seemed quite unwilling the last time I tried.”

  “I’ve only just started getting around,” I mumbled, averting my eyes from him. I also knew I could’ve healed myself, or at least tried, if I felt like I deserved to be healed. The pain from the previous weeks seemed like a fitting punishment, so I hadn’t even considered it.

  “And that’s my point. We’d be miles ahead if I’d seen you sooner,” he stated with a bright smile as he gestured for me to take a seat in a plush velvet chair in front of his very large desk. A quill pen, scroll, and a stub of a near burned out candle sat in the center of it.

  I looked nervously around the spacious circular room, glancing at all the strange plants and bottles filled with different colored liquids adorning the many shelves lining the walls.

  “Please, Princess,” Gregor encouraged.

  I sat down on the chair, my heart beating quickly in my chest, unsure of what to expect. This didn't seem like a typical doctor visit, but this was Winterset, not home, and I was a princess and an Oracle, not a normal person any longer.

  Gregor took my hand in his wizened one and peered at me with his clear blue eyes.

  “Ah, you are special indeed.” he murmured. “Would you allow me to heal you, Princess? I feel as if I need your permission.”

  I nodded, letting out a deep breath. That was part of the reason he probably hadn’t been able to succeed in healing me before. I didn’t want him to and had blocked his abilities. Interesting that I could do that. Just another little fun fact for me to log away into my already full mind.

  A zing of energy flowed through me as he squeezed my hand, the warmth quickly spreading as it eased my sore muscles. Hastily, I pulled my hand away as he smiled kindly at me, his task complete. I tested my fingers and arms, noting how good I felt, despite the agony in my chest.

  “Not bad, huh?” Gregor asked kindly. “I’m no Oracle, but I can heal like the dickens.”

  “But can you mend a broken heart?” I whispered, tears springing to my eyes as I thought about Calix. I wiped hurriedly at them.

  Gregor turned, a sad smile marring his aged face. “Heartbreak is a sickness, one not easily remedied. The heart can become diseased, broken, sometimes incapable of being well again. The sickness leaves a scar, deep and everlasting with the ability to poison what’s left.”

  “But can it be fixed? How do I make it better?” I whispered softly, meeting his somber, gleaming eyes.

  “Ah, that’s the tricky part, unfortunately,” Gregor sighed, settling down on the edge of the ornate desk in front of me. “One can choose the treatment, which is time, but time doesn’t always fix what’s broken. Or one can simply embrace the sickness, become it, spread it, wallow in it until there’s only a shadow of a heart left. You cannot touch a shadow, and without the warmth of touch, you become cold. You become the sickness. You become the disease.”

  “And the darkness?” I breathed, my heart beating painfully in my chest as Calix's face flashed through my mind.

  “And the darkness.” He nodded sadly. “You become the darkness.”

  I wiped at my damp eyes again and let out a shaky breath. I was going to need a miracle.

  Chapter 8

  My visit with the palace healer did nothing to quell the pain in my heart, but it did make my body feel much better.

  Lost and confused, I wandered the halls of the palace, blanketed in sorrow. I found myself missing Kellin, my only real tie to my home in Earth Realm. I recalled Soran saying Kellin might return soon, and my heart brightened at the prospect of seeing my friend again, or who I hoped was still my friend. We hadn’t spoken since the night in my room, and I wasn’t sure how he’d be after the way everything went down back home. I swallowed hard, fearing he may not even want anything to do with me.

  “Princess Analia?” someone called my name in a deep, booming voice.

  I turned my head to find a tall, striking man about my age dressed in dark blue military attire of the kingdom, the Dar’ish crest of a phoenix emblazed on his clearly muscular chest, coming up behind me. His dusty blond hair was longer and messy, like he’d just been in a windstorm. It looked good on him, whoever he was. He had pretty, blue eyes and a small scar near one of his brows. Those eyes, though… They reminded me of someone I knew. I shook it off. There was no way I could possibly know this man.

  “Yes?” I answered nervously.

  “My name is Tarek,” he explained, coming to my side and giving me a tight, forced smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m here to escort you.”

  “I-I’m supposed to meet my mother,” I answered, remembering breakfast with her.

  “If you follow me, I can take you to her,” he continued, his gaze swiftly raking over my body before falling on my face.

  I chewed my lip nervously, contemplating whether I should go with him. He struck me as familiar, but for what reason, I had no idea.

  “I’m a captain in the royal guard. Prince Soran sent me to make sure you made it to your mother’s quarters for breakfast,” he supplied, reading the question on my face.

  “Where is my brother?” I inquired as we walked down the hall.

  “I’m afraid he’s been called to the War Room to discuss an issue that’s suddenly arisen,” Tarek responded, glancing at me quickly.

  I figured the sudden issue was me telling Soran that I’d bound myself to Calix and then died. Not to mention how we were going to get me unbound.

  “Oh,” was all I said, making sure to walk with my head up like I suspected nothing.

  “Are you adjusting well to the palace?” Tarek asked after a moment as we ascended a flight of stairs.

  “As well as I can,” I replied, clearing my throat.

  “I imagine it’s a lot different from what you’ve become accustomed to. From the reports I’ve read on Earth Realm, all people your age do is sit around on devices all day looking for attention. The good part of being a princess, you’ll still be able to get all the attention you’d like,” he stated it matter-of-factly, like he knew all the ins and outs of who I’d been back home and how Earth Realm worked.

  “I’m glad your imagination is so vivid,” I snapped at him, angry at his assumptions. “You can tuck those in the same place you can put your opinion of me.”

  “I’m interested in knowing how far your imagination expands, so please, tell me where I can tuck my opinions.” He smirked at me, and it took all my self-control not to turn him into the charred bit of pompous ass I knew he was.
r />   “You wear your anger outward. It’s a bad trait. It gives your enemy far too much insight into your mind,” Tarek continued as we marched through the halls of the palace. I didn’t say anything as we turned left and continued down another hall. “In fact, you’re far too easy to read and won’t last a moment outside of these walls without a proper guard.”

  “I don’t need a guard,” I answered stiffly, really wanting to slap the smirk off his face.

  “How tragic considering you’re standing in the presence of your new captain.”

  “What?” I snapped my head in his direction, my face heating with the very same anger he accused me of showing. I tried reeling it in and took a deep, calming breath before continuing, “Soran is part of my guard.”

  “Yes, part of’ being the key to that statement. In case you haven’t noticed, dear Prince Soran has a lot on his plate and won’t always be of assistance to you. That’s where I come in. I will be dealing with all of your training and ensuring your safety.”

  “I don’t need training,” I replied evenly, trying to rein in my irritation. “I’ll be fine without it.”

  “Excuse me for saying this, Princess, but you’re an untrained Oracle without an ounce of knowledge about this world,” Tarek answered coolly, the mask of measured control falling from his face, only to be replaced by the look of a true, no-nonsense soldier. “I take my role very seriously, and I know I could disarm you at any given moment. I could prove it if you’d like.”

  “Maybe later,” I muttered, not wanting to argue with him.

  “Then later, I shall,” he answered strongly. “I’ll meet you after your visit with the queen.”

  We stopped at a set of heavy wooden doors, and I turned and stared at him, trying to figure him out.

  “I don’t wish to begin training,” I said, my voice not coming out as strongly as I’d hoped. I was already tiring of Tarek and didn’t want to spend an afternoon with him.