2. Jess
Chapter 2
Jess
I stared into the ripples the men’s oars created in the lake. Moonlight flickered with each dip and pull.
The trip had been quiet, the water calm.
I woke a half hour into the crossing. My escape from the Children’s temple felt distant, yet terrifyingly close, as if masked men might somehow emerge from the lake’s depths to drag me under. A strange film tinted the moon and stars above. The giant man sitting across from me stared into the heavens, his mouth agape.
Shouts echoed as the boat approached the shallows near the dock. Torches streaked along the shoreline, marring the inky blackness of night.
“Where am I? Who . . . who are you?” I croaked. My voice felt like I’d swallowed sawdust. I tried sitting upright, lifting my head as a princess should, but my spirit rebelled, and my shoulders sagged.
“My name is Keelan Rea, Your Highness,” he whispered. The man’s gaze remained lost in the sky. His eyes held such grief, it pained me to watch him. “We’re on Lake Irina headed back to town, to your father. I don’t think anyone’s behind us, but we should keep our voices low until we reach the shore.”
Keelan? That was an odd name inside the Kingdom.
I straightened, my back protesting, and craned my neck to follow his gaze.
“What in the—?”
“Quietly, Princess, please.” He cut me off as we stared at a massive scarlet mist curling up from the Children’s temple. It pulsed and writhed as it spread like spilled blood across the sky.
“Whatever ceremony we interrupted must’ve been completed in some other way. Do you have any idea what they were trying to accomplish?” Keelan asked, his tone hollow and stern.
I shook my head. “No. I never knew why I was there or what they were doing.”
“What can you tell me of your time as a captive, Highness? I’m sorry to make you relive it so soon, but anything you remember might help us understand what we’re facing, and time may be against us.”
The drug they’d given me still coursed through my veins, clouding my thinking. Thankfully, it had not stolen my memory.
I wished it would take that, too.
“We were so close.” I struggled to recognized my own voice. “Danym and I were so close to freedom . . . to a new life together.”
Keelan’s brow rose.
“Danym betrayed me. He is one of them .”
I put my hands over my eyes, as if palms could somehow stop the ache of a heart. They came away glistening with grief.
“I remember . . . they put me in this room. It looked like a royal bedchamber you’d find in the Palace.” My eyes drifted and found Keelan’s. His jaw was set, yet his eyes were pools of pain, mirrors of my own. “They gave me a syrup that made me sleepy, but they were gentle and, I don’t know, they called me Mistress .”
“Mistress?”
I nodded. “Why would they call me that?”
When he didn’t answer, I shivered and stared out across the water.
“I lost track of time. It could’ve been hours or days. I don’t know. They put me in this dress.” I looked down at the shimmering golden gown emblazoned with the near-holy Phoenix symbol in its center. “And then we were in a massive hall. There was a woman in a long red gown and a terrible mask. That’s when I saw it—the ring. I saw my mother’s ring,” I said, suddenly angry. “On that woman!”
Keelan leaned forward. “Your mother? Queen Isabel?”
I nodded.
My hands trembled. Anger warred with grief.
Silence loomed.
“Your Highness, I don’t—”
I cut him off with a glare.
“When that woman reached out her hand to call us forward, I saw her ring. I would know it anywhere.” Bitterness laced my words but gave way to childlike disbelief. “My mother was going to kill me. I know we have been at odds for years, but I am her daughter . How could she do that? How could any mother . . .”
Another memory interrupted my thought. “And I could have sworn . . . I heard Justin’s voice call out for me. Was my brother there?”
I looked frantically around the boat. I had been so lost in my own thoughts that I had paid no attention to the others. The men rowing avoided my gaze. “Where is he? Where’s my brother?”
Keelan’s expression faltered, and it was his turn to look down at his hands.
“Tell me he’s okay.” My eyes darted between my saviors, desperate for any reassurance of my brother’s safety. I found only sadness in their eyes and a grim set to their mouths.
“He’s my baby brother, my best friend! Tell me he’s all right. Please!” I pleaded.
My heart was now a stallion set loose upon a field as I waited for some sign of hope.
“I honestly don’t know, Your Highness. The King sent him on the mission with us. It’s possible he escaped, but many died. The people in this boat are the only ones I can be certain have made it out.”
I looked away, afraid to face his gaze any longer, afraid my world might shatter further with another word from his lips. Tears fell freely, and my chest heaved. For what felt like eternal moments, the sounds of anguish reigned over Lake Irina.
Keelan discarded royal protocol and reached across, placing his hand on mine. I accepted the invitation and leaped forward into his arms, rocking the boat dangerously. The Protectors rowing steadied the craft but dared not disturb their Princess. One of the burly men even shed his own quiet tears. Prince Justin was loved, especially by his adopted fathers and brothers in the Protectorate. Many would be shaken by his loss.
I didn’t speak again, just kept my head pressed against Keelan’s chest until one of the Protectors quietly announced we were approaching the shoreline.
Keelan gently pushed me back, holding me at arm’s length. His powerful hands were firm and sure, yet so gentle against my skin. “Your Highness, you have long days ahead—days to grieve and mourn—but there are going to be a lot of people waiting for us when we land, waiting for you.”
I took a few deep breaths. My chin snapped up. For the first time in what felt like forever, my vision was clear and strong.
I dabbed my eyes one last time and nodded to him. “Lead on, Protector. The Crown will have justice to dispense before this day is over.” My voice was ice.
Keelan gave me a tight smile and a shallow nod. “I’m just a Constable from Melucia, Your Highness, not a Protector, but I’ll be here if you need me.”
Confusion furrowed my brow.
Keelan smiled weakly. “The King will explain. Forgive me. It isn’t my place.”
I eyed him, then nodded once.
We were jarred by the sound of the boat scraping against sandy ground and men from shore splashing to secure it. Keelan hopped out and offered a hand to me. I hesitated, staring down at his hand as though it were an adder waiting to strike, then met his gaze and gripped his palm.
Men in emerald uniforms, black against the night, raced forward. Recognizing their Princess, each offered crude, hasty bows before forming a protective wall between the lake and me. The Protectors-turned-rowers took up positions on either side as we strode toward town. I never wavered, my head high, my back straight, just as Father had taught me since I drew my first breath. Righteous fury blazed in my eyes as we marched. The drug-induced fog clouding my mind was gone.
We reached the edge of the town square, where High Sheriff Sebastiano Wilfred halted our approach with a raised palm and quick glance at my escort. His eyes then found mine, and my heart stilled.
“What is it, Sheriff? I am in no mood for games. My mother saw to that.” My glare bored into Wilfred.
He hesitated, his eyes darting from me to Keelan, then back.
Something resolved in his gaze.
He dropped to one knee and raised a hand high above his head. A golden signet glinted in the torchlight, small diamonds glittering around the etched crown and peak of the monarch.
My heart lurched as I stared. Some of my earliest memories were of sitting in my father’s lap, tracing the lines of that ring with my fingers. If Wilfred presented me that ring, then . . .
“What in the Spirits are you doing? What is the meaning of this?” I meant to snap, to lash the man with my words, but they merely slipped free, a drifting feather on the wind.
Wilfred remained bowed and spoke in a quiet, stilted voice. “The King is dead. Long live the Queen.”
The Protectors’ heads snapped to Wilfred. As one, they dropped to a knee with heads bowed.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. My body felt weak, and a wave of dizziness threatened to topple me.
The King couldn’t . . . my father couldn’t . . .
I staggered back a step, and Keelan steadied me with an arm.
No one dared move.
“I think he’s waiting for you to take the ring,” Keelan whispered.
I jerked away from him. “Of course he is. I don’t need a Melucian to tell me that.”
Keelan reeled back.
I took a tentative step toward the unmoving Sheriff. My trembling hand stretched forward. My fingers brushed against the golden mountains. Magic flared to life at my touch, and the ring shimmered with a brilliant cerulean aura. I pulled back and covered my mouth as a gasp escaped.
Everything was moving so fast.
This can’t be real. None of this is real.
The moment stretched.
The Sheriff didn’t budge, ring held aloft, head bowed.
My hand found its way free of my mouth. Shaky fingers reached forward and gripped the ring. Before my courage could flee, I slipped it onto my finger.
Magic flared, and the signet adjusted to fit perfectly. The ring’s aura flowed up my arm, into my chest, until my entire frame glowed with light. It pulsed once, then faded upward, like a campfire’s smoke curling into the sky— or a spirit ascending .
At the edge of the small town of Cradle, in the heart of the Kingdom of Spires, and under the cloak of night’s darkness, a wide-eyed, grief-stricken High Sheriff proclaimed, “Long live Jessia Vester, First of Her Name, Protector of the Realm, and Queen of the Spires.”