To My Friend Taiann,

Thank you for supporting me, always having my back and your unconditional love. I adore and cherish your friendship, honesty, and kindness. I am so incredibly grateful to have a friend like you.

Love,

Ericka

Fantasy Romance – A Castre World Novel Standalones

Piercing Jordie

Mitering Avalee

Forging Calida

Uplifting Irie

Braving Eavan

Warring Devan

Hunting Megan

Shifting Aramoren – A Castre World Short Story

Anchoring Nola – A Castre World Short Story

A Bayonet Books Anthology

Storming Area51: Stalking Death

Slay Bells Ring: Stocking Gryla

Clean & Sweet Western Romance – Whitman Series Romances

To Find A Whitman

To Love A Thief

To Save A Life

To Lift A Darkness

To Veil A Fondness

To Bind A Heart

To Find A Treasure

To Want A Change

To Form A Romance

Slow Burn Paranormal Romance – Dangerous Ties Series

Opening Danger

Hunting Danger

Burning Danger

Year of Corwaithe 1237

The time came for Eavan to uphold her father's pledge. Wishing otherwise did nothing. She was honor bound. Her step-mother relentlessly reminded her of the promise made and how following through impacted the lives of all around her. It was the first time the two nations, Meerdora and Orthilio, mingled in mutual understanding since the God War of 578.

If it were up to Eavan, she would lead her own life, take care of her sisters, and not get married. And certainly not be married to a whelp of a prince she had the unfortunate privilege of meeting several years back. Eavan prayed it wasn't him. Not that Colfin was ugly, she wasn't a shallow woman. She couldn't stand his arrogant personality.

And her father pledged her hand to one of Laird’s, or Rey as they were called in Orthilio, Rey Sundena’s three sons. Now the deal was being upheld by her step-mother and Rey Sundena of Orthilio.

Eavan groaned petulantly. Peace and trade between Orthilio and Meerdora would begin with her marriage. Colfin was the oldest, as was she. Eavan assumed she would marry him, which annoyed her deeply. It bothered her so much, she secretly schemed to get away. Honor bound or not, she was not going through with the marriage to Colfin.

Eavan paused by an open door, looking both ways before stepping out. Silently, she slipped out of the castle, meandering her way down to the pen holding her sheep needing to be sheared. She brought her shears with her to get started on the spring shearing. It was dirty work, but she loved doing it herself, desiring to ease the tension she felt rumble inside of her.

The reality of what she must do hung over her like a thundercloud. She was terrified, anxious. How could she think to shirk her duty to her people? It was not how her father raised her to behave. Marrying an heir to Orthilio would be profitable for their clan, and bring about better relations for all of Castre. It was her father’s dying wish to see peace between the two countries. Eavan had to admit it was a smart match.

The click of the gate shutting behind her sealed the thought. Eavan prayed to Corwaithe that her husband-to-be, whether it was the whelp Colfin, or one of his brothers, would allow her to bring her sisters. They were the deal breaker. Everything Eavan did was to protect them. If he denied her, honor bound or not, someone else would need to marry one of Burhan’s sons.

Eavan secluded a sheep and began shearing. She thought about how much she would miss her sisters if she chose to flee. Would they hate her for scheming to get away forever without even a goodbye? Eavan sighed, she couldn’t do it. Eavan promised her father she would protect them. And for the last six years, she fulfilled the promise. Even now, she would protect them, for surely they could not take her place.

Right before the noon bell tolled, Eavan’s score of sheep were neatly sheared, and the wool ready for the washers. Eavan mindlessly tapped her shears against the wooden fence post. Her unimpressive future looked bleak. She loved living in Meerdora. She loved waking to the tranquility of serene rolling hills, patches of densely-forested areas, and small lakes; to birds chirping, frogs croaking and everything that came with this part of Meerdora. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. To her, it wasn’t a plausible thought.

Especially not Orthilio. With its rocks and desert sands, endless arid heat, and vicious wildlife. A place where dragons were said to be and other horrible, disfigured creatures that ate people. She had never been there, and she feared it. Since her step-mother decided she would marry, acting on her father's promise, she would have to go.

Eavan bowed her head, her red hair swishing into her face, and her thoughts halting on her sisters. It always came back to them. Every step, every choice, all of it always came back to her sisters. Who would protect them? Would her husband compromise with her? What would happen to them when she left?

If I left before anythin’ took place, she thought, tilting her head to the side and shook it. No. I can’t.

Eavan sat on the fence railing, let out an irritated sigh, and slammed her hand against the post. The idea of leaving prior to anything taking place was nice, but she couldn't do it. One of her sisters would be forced to take her spot. Her step-mother, Vevina, told her as much. Eavan couldn’t allow it. Someone had to be there to protect her family, and it would always be her.

“Between Mum, my sisters, and gettin’ married, I dinna know how much more I can handle,” she whispered.

Colfin Sundena, the blasted man, would be arriving soon to finish the deal. It aggravated her to no end. She wanted to be loved, not bought. She wanted to live life on an open range with freedom to wander, not chained by duty and trapped in her own home. Would Orthilio be much different?

In recent years, even Clouneder Castle became a sickening, sucking leech of a place. All because of Vevina. Never in her life had she met a more uncaring, dismal person. Her sisters were treated very well, but Vevina regarded her more like a man. She ran her hands through her hair and buried her face in her knees. What to do? Was there anything to do at this point?

“Eavan, where have ye been for most of the mornin’? Mum wants ye inside and dressed. Yer husband arrives today,” Devan called.

She glanced up and to the left, spying her sisters walk down the slight hill toward her. Devan’s red hair was mussed but braided off her head. Her green eyes narrowed on her, slightly perking a brow to her whereabouts. Megan smiled, her chocolate brown hair bouncing with her steps and her gray eyes bright and merry.

Oh, goodie me, she thought. Eavan grumbled, replying, “He can see me as I am and cast his judgment then.”

“Eavan, Mum ordered ye do this. Ye dinna want to go to the dungeon for disobedience again,” Megan reasoned.

Eavan hung her head, banging her fist on the fence post. She would indeed go get readied, but on her own terms. She wasn’t doing anything willingly from this point forward. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

A conniving smile creased her full lips. “Aye, I think I shall get ready.” She bounced off the fence.

Eavan's sisters looked at each other stunned. Megan raised an eyebrow while Devan hooked her sister’s arm and smiled. Without a doubt, Eavan knew her sisters would help her, especially Devan. How could she have worried herself so? Right off the marker, Devan was onto her secret scheming.

“Eavan, what’re ye plannin’?” Megan ventured cautiously.

“Well, Mum said I must get ready, aye? She, however, didna make clear as to when, how, or in what manner, I should appear.”

Devan’s devious smile matched Eavan's. Megan remained apprehensive, not wanting to provoke their step-mother’s well-known ire. Eavan could almost hear Megan’s thoughts, and she couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did. They all felt Vevina’s wrath at some point.

“Eavan, ye canna be serious,” Megan pleaded.

“I dinna want to marry the damnable whelp Colfin – if it even is him. Why me? Why no' someone else at a different castle like Wendren or Veiled Hills? They have a better selection.” She pouted, “now I’m honor bound.”

“Ye know as well as I what Vevina will do should ye disobey,” Megan countered.

Eavan tilted her head, looking at the sky. “I wilna disobey. I have integrity.”

Megan nodded, smiling wanly.

Devan’s eyes softened. “Yer a fine person, Eavan. Ye can do this.”

Eavan smiled, casting her sights to the ground. She could do this. She would accept her fate, for her family. Megan shoved her playfully, grabbing Eavan’s hand and squeezed. Megan began their favorite ballad; a song about a man who slighted a woman’s love, got turned into a pig which she ate. They sang together like serving wenches at a tavern – loud, bold, and out of tune. All together, they sashayed back into the keep. Devan ordered a bath to Eavan’s chambers.

Eavan held her head high, making her way to her room. Plans to ensure her future husband left Clouneder without her gave her the first boost of self-empowerment she hadn’t felt in a long time. And it was only the beginning.

Eavan sat in the wash tub and winced. Megan brushed her hair like she was brushing out a muddy horse. Her head and hair ached from it. Devan giggled from the bedside at her expense. Eavan glowered in the tub, splashing water toward Devan every so often.

“Ye scrub like yer beatin’ bread, Megan!” Devan commented. “And yer face, Eavan, scrunched up tight like a cross wee badger with each pull of the brush.”

Megan made a face at them both sending Eavan into a fit of snickers. Life was perfect with them all together. Eavan lived for their happiness, and strove to keep it. She protected it, braving the wrath of their step-mother to make it so.

Eavan glanced at the door and scowled. Soon, she would have to stride out of the sanctity of her room to face her fate. And even though she wouldn’t do anything mischievous to shirk what must be done, Eavan resigned herself to the marriage. So long as her sisters were cared for, protected and their future secured by any means necessary, so be it.

I will make it, so they can make it, she thought.

Vevina proved herself to be a good step-mother to Devan and Megan. She doted on them, buying them a plethora of new clothing, trinkets, and whatever their hearts desired. She was every bit the loving person her little sisters needed. For Eavan, the opposite was true. Vevina was particular and cruel. It might have been due to the fact she was older and more was expected of her, though she suspected otherwise. Vevina’s perfectionism could get a tad out of hand, and Eavan wasn’t one to care.

Vevina's shrieks from down below reached her ears. Devan opened the door a crack. The high-pitched chaotic shouts made her groan and roll her eyes. Eavan already had a towel wrapped around her body, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her as she went to the door.

“Milady Vevina,” Eavan called.

Vevina ignored her, continuing to order the gates closed, and men on the wall-walk with bows and arrows at the ready.

Opening the door wider, Eavan shouted, “Milady Vevina!”

Vevina turned on the top of the staircase, her chocolate brown eyes locked on her and narrowed. “That will be mopping the dining hall floor for shouting, Eavan. You know better.”

Eavan smiled as graciously as she could. “Milady,” she began calmly, “those men are from Orthilio to discuss the prospect of marriage to me. Ye invited them here a while ago?”

Vevina smiled. She straightened her dress and back, clasping her hands in front. Her step-mother fluttered her eyelashes like nothing was amiss. “So I have.”

The regal woman stormed down the stairs, commanding a servant to put tablecloths on all the tables along with their best fruit put out. With a sharp wave and an even sharper tongue, servants scrambled to set the tables with the finest dining ware, candles, and more. The men once ordered to take up arms quickly scrambled to disassemble.

“There is to be a wedding this night,” Vevina clapped her hands expectantly. “Let’s get this place in order, now!”

Eavan shut the door, disinterested. Her sisters stood behind her, each fiddling with their hands or the sleeve cuff of their dress.

“What’s wrong?” Eavan asked.

Devan looked out the small window, tears in her eyes. “Yer leavin’ us.”

Megan rushed to Eavan who enveloped her in a large embrace. “It will be alright,” Eavan soothed.

“Yer leavin’, and I may no’ see ye again,” Megan cried.

“Ye will see me. Husband or no’, I’m comin’ back here come abyss or hailstorm.”

Megan contented herself with the remark and let Eavan go. With a breath of disfavor, Eavan pivoted around, going over to a dress laying neatly on her bed. She lifted it, admiring its light blue color. The wool had been cut to accentuate her figure, coming out at the hips with cream lace pleats flowing down to the hems. It was a beautiful piece and the best dress she owned.

Eavan stepped into it, tying it all down the front. She pulled on her best shoes and not the boots she wanted to wear. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Megan began styling her hair. Eavan closed her eyes, savoring the sweet moment.

I miss when we used to do each other’s hair, she thought.

“She’s gettin’ worse, Eavan,” Devan commented. “Somethin’ is snappin’ in her head. Ever since the contract between ye and Orthilio has drawn closer, she’s gotten more… particular.”

“Aye. I dinnae what to do about it,” Eavan replied, detached.

“I dinna think it’s snappin’, Devan” Megan added, the brush whooshing through her sister’s hair. “I think she’s ignorant. Eavan handled all the responsibilities and now ye wilna, so Mum is scared.”

Eavan turned on her younger sister with a tilt of her head. “How so?”

Megan shrugged. “Vevina’s from Swanshé. She’s never seen or heard of an Orthilioan before Da. And she never had to deal with much because ye handled it. Ye handled everythin’. And Mum doesna know how to run a castle like ye.”

Eavan beamed. “Yer absolutely correct.”

“Still,” Devan interrupted the moment. “She treats ye different.”

“Aye, well, it doesna matter. Marryin’ that man will secure ties and yer lives, so ye dinnae have to worry it none.”

Devan turned away, sniffling. She seemed ready to burst into tears at any given moment. It wasn’t the end of the world for her or for either of them. In fact, Eavan could face this situation a thousand times over. What she could not face was leaving her sisters to Vevina’s mood swings.

Looking between Devan and Megan, she wondered what would now become of them if something were to happen to her. They were years younger than she was. Devan would be seventeen in a month, and Megan turned sixteen yesterday. Eavan herself was nineteen.

How were they going to fare without her being here? Devan’s sad green eyes conveyed many of the questions Eavan had already asked herself. Eavan felt the strength behind Devan's tears, but resentment also stared back at her. Megan forced a smile on her adorable little face, but her gray eyes held terror. Eavan knew it stemmed from this blasted betrothal.

There has to be a way out of this mess, she thought.

Megan started braiding her hair. Eavan would need to play the cards handed her in such a way she would be victorious. Eavan’s heart felt heavy, her eyes studying the wooden floorboards. There was no way out. She could only pray her husband-to-be would seek compromise. If not, she would force the issue.

Megan finished her hair, pinning it to the nape of her neck. Eavan thought about changing her appearance to look absolutely appalling. The chamber door opened and shut, but she was so focused she didn’t see who entered or left. Eavan wished there was more she could say to ease her sister’s worries. But Megan left without a word, leaving Eavan and Devan alone.

Eavan bit her bottom lip, remembering her father, Loefel’s words - Remember Eavan, it matters no' how violent the ground rumbles at the mountains, they may move, but mountains dinna break; if only they get stronger and larger. So no matter how tough it may be, honor yer family by honorin’ yer word.

The bit of horizon from her window caught her eye. The sun was slowly setting in the west with a diminished golden haze of light. Eavan closed her eyes, steeling herself for what was to come.

“Yes, Da,” she said aloud.

“Yes, Da, what?” Devan asked.

Eavan glanced over at her sister, and took her hand. “I have to honor my word,” Eavan began, giving Devan’s hand a squeeze. “I have to do this… I canna try to skirt around it or try to think of another way. This is the only way.”

She was going to handle the situation in the best way she could. She wanted to set an example for her sisters. More importantly, she needed to save them the right way. As her father had once said – move, but dinna break. Eavan would be pliable, and not a stubborn stick in the mud, like her nature dictated.

“Devan,” Eavan continued, holding her hand, “if somethin’ goes wrong, I want ye to protect each other the best ye can. If ye feel the need to flee, go to Rowanoake or Earnswey.”

Devan nodded.

Eavan squeezed her sisters’ hands, “There’s coins in my trunk, beneath the secret door. Take Megan, ride Merit, and go.” Eavan hugged her sister close. Tears welled in her eyes. She would talk more in depth with them later tonight, but right now she couldn't let tears distract her. Megan returned, her beautiful face darkening against the palpable tension in the room.

“Eavan, is somethin’ goin’ to happen?” Megan asked.

Eavan beckoned Megan over and hugged her tightly. “I dinna know, dear sister. Whatever may come, I will make sure to protect ye both the best I possibly can. I love ye both, always and forever.”

She kissed each on the cheek and gave them one last hug before leaving. If she looked back, all would be lost. Hopefully the man to whom she was betrothed to would be of the negotiating kind.

Vevina grabbed her the second the door clicked behind her. “Away with you for desertion!”

“What?”

“I cannot afford for you to desert us. I will not allow you to shirk your word or your duty to our family or this clan.”

Eavan stood back. “I wasna goin’ to do it.”

Two guards approached her, grabbing her arms, and dragged her down the stairs.

“To the dungeon!” Vevina seethed.

Eavan fought all the way to the dungeon. What could her step-mother be thinking? If she did not marry this Orthilioan, bad tidings would surely be headed their way. It had to be her! The contract said Eavan Liberone. Burhan’s son would be looking for her, expecting her to be there when he arrived. If she wasn’t there, it could mean war.

Clouneder couldn’t withstand a siege from Orthilioans. Her people were ill prepared for an actual fight. They had weapons and machines for war, but it had been years since they used them. Plus, the Orthilioan people wielded magic. Clouneder would fall to them with stone burning down around their ears.

Or worse, Devan or Megan would be forced to take her place. Eavan fought the bondage harder. She clawed, bit, swung her fists, kicked her legs, and cursed. The guards told her to calm down. She couldn’t. Her heart raced so fast it felt like a thousand galloping horses trying to escape fire, but the fire surrounded them. Two more guards took a fighting appendage. Eavan fought harder still, begging they release her. The guards carried her unwillingly down the dungeon stairs to a cell at the back, throwing her violently against the dungeon wall.

Eavan smashed the back of her head, feeling briefly dizzy. The cold lock of the cell door clicked in place. The strain of light through the small barricaded window afforded her little visibility. The echo of boots scuffling away resounded off the walls.

“Wait, nay!” She screamed. “Cole? Get back here! I have to be there. I have to! Ye dinna understand, this could mean war!”

Cole stayed behind, pity in his gaze. “Sorry, Eavan. I canna refuse the Queen. If this causes a war, then it’s meant to happen. My fealty lies with Vevina.”

Eavan’s knees felt like butter. Cole and the rest of the guard walked away, leaving her in darkness. Eavan pressed her hand to the back of her head. She winced, feeling a lump. A deep cut above her eye oozed with blood, clouding the vision in her left eye.

Eavan yelled at the top of her lungs to be let out. No one answered her. Frustrated, she sat down and closed her eyes. It would be a long while before someone came looking for her, if anyone did at all.

Rais and a group of warriors magicked themselves to the land of Meerdora faster than he anticipated. Rais studied the incredibly green landscape. The scent of dirt beneath his animal’s feet, and the rank of unfamiliar beasts mewling nearby wafted under his nose. His nose wrinkled. The ground had a peculiar stench to it, both intriguing and appalling. Meerdora was nothing like Orthilio. Rais understood his father’s reasoning for this betrothal. It panged his heart his father died before he could see this dream come to fruition. Nevertheless, Rais remained apprehensive about his foreign wife.

Foreign women never appealed to him. They spoke, acted, and looked different. So different it was utterly unpleasant in every form, he thought. Even their customs were odd. Like this Winter Feasting Tree ordeal happening every winter where the entire clan gathers around an evergreen plant, and eats. Did they believe the tree gave them food? Rais snorted, wondering if these Meerdoran women would have the same ethics as Orthilioan women. Were they noble or horrid? If his betrothed wife did not hold the same affection for Orthilio, he was certain he could never love her.

Rais grumbled under his breath, keeping his face stern to exude confidence. This was for his people as much for his future wife’s. Both countries needed the trade, and the security of binding ties between nations who were always skirmishing. A marriage would end it. Forced amicability was better than none at all.

The breeze blew the long blades of grass, and his horse impatiently stomped the ground. It looked like waves on the Swanshen coastline. Rais snorted. It wasn’t Orthilio.

With a click of his heels, his horse stamped forward on the unfamiliar ground. He rode through the open portcullises, past the lax guards and toward the castle’s double doors. The people did not bother looking in his direction. They seemed aloof, almost apathetic to his presence. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

The outside of the castle wasn’t as dirty as he assumed, but not near as clean as Orthilio. Booming reached his ears. Rolling gray clouds were headed his way. Lightning danced inside the angry sky.

Rais dismounted, pausing when a red-haired woman standing in front of the door caught his attention. She fidgeted with the sleeves of her dress. He ordered her to open the door. She dipped in a small curtsy, motioning for him and his men to follow. She led the way, her small feet making quick strides while fiddling with her hands.

The inside of the keep held a greater appeal than the outside. The floors were clean, and the odor wasn’t near as musty from what he imagined. In fact, the scent was quite pleasant, with a hint of clove and cinnamon. The dark gray stone created a dismal and grimy appearance. Compared to the lovely white marble of Orthilio, this left Rais depressed.

A long window in the middle of the castle stone let in plenty of light. Perhaps its greatest quality, thus far, he mused. White linen tablecloths caressed every table, topped with polished wooden plates, bowls, and mugs spaced equidistant from each other. Queen Vevina Liberone appeared quite organized for the wedding later this evening.

The woman led him to an ornate table where golden chalices greeted him. Rais sat in a high-backed chair, taking in what they claimed to be the most impenetrable fortress in all of Meerdora.

Rais snorted. My bride had to be from here, he thought. The sooner we leave the better.

“Men,” he commanded, signaling for them to sit at the lower tables.

Benches screeched across the stone floor. Clamoring of armor echoed in the keep of his men situating themselves. Rais noticed the dried flowers on the floor and the hearty scent of food cooking. Two big dogs lay in the corner unmoving and uninterested. Servants in the castle glanced hesitantly at him then up the stairs. Rais skimmed the top of the stairs and down the corridor to find no one of interest. Strumming his fingers on the table top, he mused over what his bride might look like.

The woman waited off to the side.

Rais turned in his seat. “Woman,” Rais began, his tone firm, “where is Queen Vevina Liberone?”

“My name is Princess Devan Liberone, Milaird.” She smiled slightly. “My Mum is indisposed at the moment. If ye would be so kind as to discuss this matter with me, I would be happy to assist.”

Rais snorted at the tiny young woman, “Where is my bride, Princess Eavan, or Queen Vevina, for you are a bit young to discuss anything of import.”

Devan paled.

“Our sister has been locked away, Milaird,” a smaller woman said.

“Megan!” Devan chided.

“Locked away?” He looked to Devan. “Where?”

A regal lady approaching caught his attention. Her silver speckled hair was elegantly braided on her head, falling in ringlet curls over her left shoulder. A crown of silver adorned her head. Rais stood, bowing to the obvious ruler.

“Daughters!” Vevina commanded. “Leave me be to speak with this man.”

The young women left in a flurry of dresses. Vevina sat in the chair beside him, an ankle crossed daintily over the other. Wrinkles pecked their way at the corner of her eyes and mouth. Her lips were scrunched together, her eyes hardened.

Rais withheld a groan. His father had to agree to this marriage. Of all nine castles in Meerdora, Burhan picked this one. Rais was stuck marrying Eavan, wherever she was, locked in a dungeon or not. She was more than likely hiding from fear or spying.

“Rey Rais Sundena of Orthilio,” Rais spoke in his most regal tone.

The Queen smiled politely. “Queen Vevina Liberone.”

“I have come to claim my bride.”

“Perfect. She will match your commanding persona impeccably.”

Rais’s eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by the statement?”

Vevina pursed her lips. “You are what she needs, a firm hand. Eavan is a free spirit in that she is exceedingly blunt. She is also a hard worker in helping this castle thrive with her business and guidance.”

Oh, by the grace of the Goddess, what has my father signed me up for? Rais gave a sideways glance to his cousin, Haris who shook his head and frowned disapprovingly. Devan peeked over the railing, her gaze focused on him and his cousin. Megan pulled at her hand. Together, the women left.

He breathed in deeply, trying to curb the annoyance from his voice. “So, I’m not only her husband but her babysitter?”

Vevina smiled delicately. “I did not say that.”

Rais clenched his fist, doing nothing to hide it. He didn’t want to be here, claiming a wife, and apparently, having to babysit said wife either. “Why should I go forward with this marriage, Vevina?”

Vevina narrowed her small beady eyes. “You gave your word, Orthilioan. Eavan gave hers. My late husband and your father conducted business and established amicable ties. This marriage will solidify those ties unless you want all nine Meerdoran clans at your little barricaded wall.”

Rais growled. He would not dishonor his family nor his late father. Bringing question to the union had been enough of an insult. Orthilioans took honor and promises with them to the grave, literally. And this promise, he would fulfill, however unpleasant it was.

“I did not come here to insult you or start war, Vevina,” Rais replied. “I came here to claim Eavan as my wife, to complete an everlasting union between Meerdora and Orthilio.”

“Then go claim her.”

Vevina led him to an easily overlooked corner of the castle to someone who didn’t know it was there. She opened the narrow wooden portal, pointing down the lone musty steps with a wrinkled hand. Rais made his way down the dank stairs, glaring into each cell on his left-hand side, looking for a red-haired woman.

Boots echoed off the wall behind him. His cousin, Haris, followed with the keys jangling in his hand. His curved blade poised in the other hand, waiting to strike. His men followed them, the blue-white fire of their magic swirling readily in their hands should something sinister happen. The dungeon was silent as a corpse. Not even a rat squeaked. Not even a guard posed himself in front of a cell. The room was devoid of life, yet his bride was supposedly down here.

Rais grumbled. What kind of character did his bride possess that she would get thrown in such a place? It made him ponder why he agreed to this contract, for it surely was not the coin offered; he refused the minimal amount. These people needed it more than they did. Orthilio’s coffers overflowed. What Meerdora did offer were sheep. They would feed the creatures residing behind the tall, sand-colored walls of Orthilio. Apparently, his wife-to-be governed the sheep business here at the castle. Her intelligence in how to raise and utilize what the creatures provided held the greatest benefit. The dragons grew hungrier, and their small goats were needed for their own people.

Rais cleared his throat after passing the fifth cell. “Hello,” he called out, “Eavan?”

A groan greeted his call, along with the drip-drip sound of water on stone. Rais’s booted footfalls approached the seventh cell. A woman in a blue dress, hair covering her face could just be seen within.

Haris tapped his shoulder, holding out the set of keys. Rais unlocked the rusting iron door, opening it outward. He knelt down, moving her hair from covering her. Dried blood caked her face from the deep split above her left eyebrow. The blood trailed down the side of her nose, across the top of her lip and ended on her other cheek. Rais lifted her into his arms, carrying Eavan out of the hole her mother had put her in.

“Why?” Rais demanded the moment he reached the top of the stairs.

Vevina, face impassive, responded, “I did not want for her to go anywhere.”

Rais grumbled. “Free spirited.”

Vevina nodded. “Yes, with a noble, generous, loving heart.”

He strode purposefully back into the dining hall. Rais shouted at Devan to put his bride into a room. The sister scrambled ahead of him, heading up a set of stairs. He followed with Eavan groaning in his arms. Devan opened a door down a small corridor to the right, leaving the way open for him to enter with Eavan. Devan pulled curtains open to bring in what light was left when Rais entered the bed chamber. Megan sat stone-faced on the other side of the bed, watching everything with wary, observant eyes. Devan finished, taking a protective stance in front of Megan.

Rais laid Eavan down on the quilt, assessing her head wound. He pulled up the flesh and she hissed, opening her eyes. Her emerald orbs were wide, not in fear, but in cautious surprise. Rais rolled his, and glared at her.

“Stop looking at me that way,” he grumbled.

Eavan sat up slowly, watching him mistrustfully. “Who’re ye?” She asked, touching the back of her head.

“Really? Like you don’t know?”

Eavan shook her head.

“I’m your husband-to-be.”

Eavan grimaced. “I know that but which son of Burhan’s?”

Rais raised a brow. “You remember there were more sons?”

“I might be on the other side of Castre, but I’m no’ dumb.”

“My name is Rais.”

Eavan returned the same glowering look he cast on her. “I’m Eavan.”

“Good,” he replied coolly. “I’m glad you’re competent, for there are a few issues we need settled.”

He motioned for the sister’s and the queen to leave, but they silently refused. His bride saw and nodded to Megan and Devan. Vevina scrunched her face, disapprovingly.

“Devan, Megan, it’s all right,” Eavan told them. “Leave us, please.”

“I shall stay,” Vevina interjected.

“You shall leave while I speak with my bride,” Rais commanded.

Vevina turned, her head held high. Her storming footsteps echoed down the hall. The sisters followed, shutting the door gently; leaving him face to face with a red haired, blood-soaked woman. Eavan swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Back straight, she regarded him with poise.

For a moment, he regarded her. She commanded respect of her sisters. It appeared to him she indeed controlled the castle. Vevina was merely a figurehead. Her green calculated eyes regarded him intensely, picking him apart.

Rais stood, arms crossed over his chest. He walked purposefully to the door, standing in front of the only exit. Eavan’s small jaw remained set but didn’t clench.

“First, we are to wed tonight,” Rais said.

“Fine.”

“Second, you shall obey me.”

Eavan perked a brow. “Fine. Any other business ye wish to discuss?”

Rais pursed his lips. She had fire in her eyes, a need to thrive and push forward. Clearly a straight-to-the-point, determined woman. He liked it. He didn’t want a wife to give him the runaround over something trivial, or to make excuses. Rais shook his head, wondering what exactly his father had gotten him into.

“Let us have an understanding,” he began, “I can protect your sisters; you can run a business. I have power, coins, and magic; you have trade smarts and a knowledge of your native language, land, and people. I need your sheep to feed our dragons, and you need me to keep your clan safe.”

Eavan nodded. “I see. This marriage would essentially be duty before personal?”

Rais tilted his head, surprised she actually caught on. Rais continued, “Precisely. That is all this marriage is or will ever be. As this contract states,” he paused to hand her the paper, “you shall give Orthilio two hundred head of sheep while maintaining the animal business, marry me, and provide Orthilio an heir. In return, Orthilio offers Clouneder protection and trade along with the rest of Meerdora.”

Eavan raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Rais took out his wand. The dark polished wood streamed blue-white fire of his native magic out of the rounded tip. Eavan flinched backward. He held her still with a rough hand on her shoulder. The gash above her brow mended and the blood washed away like it was never there. She cringed, her shoulders quaking slightly. However, he was impressed she did not cry out or become stupidly fearful of him.

Not off to a bad start, he thought.

Rais clapped her on the shoulder, telling her he was done. Her green eyes relaxed along with her face. He took a step back, a finger under her chin. Her eyes silently challenged him.

“We wed tonight. Whatever time it may be, it will happen. Handle any personal business, for tomorrow morning, we leave.” He looked outside and shook his head. “There are only a few hours of daylight left,” he remarked. “I suggest you hurry it up.”

Eavan let out the breath she was holding after he left. The magic he poured into her skin felt like her head had fallen asleep and woken up. The tingling sensation left her feeling momentarily frazzled. Eavan twisted her fingers together, letting out another hard breath.

She wasn’t sure about Rais. There was a coldness about him. Like a wall had been built up to protect himself from everyone. At the same time, she found herself trusting him implicitly. Even though he was aloof, he was honest, and it captured her attention. Honesty was a sure-fire way to her heart. He wouldn’t lie to her, although he might not like her, which was fine with her. He promised her sisters protection. It was all she needed to hear. His startling silver eyes staring into hers, along with the caramel complexion of his skin, allured her. He was taller than her by at least a head and he was an attractive man. Also, knowing he wasn’t Colfin added to his appeal.

With resolve, she left the chamber, needing to go to her father’s study. Since she didn't have much time left here, she needed to set up the accounts and go through it all before she left it with Devan.

Vevina’s sharp tone pierced the thick walls with decisive orders to the kitchen staff. She berated the servants for not preparing rooms for their guests. Trouble was, Clouneder was a warring castle, not a tavern, with five rooms total, and one study.

Eavan came to the landing. The foreign men sat at the tables, and Rais caught her eye. Why did his stare send a shiver down her spine? The wall within him remained. She felt her stomach sink to the bottom. His locking gaze gave her insight to the marriage, and it truly was duty before personal. She would never have love in a marriage like she desired. Eavan held him in secured contemplation, trying to figure him out, to see if there was something more to be had. Turning on her heel, she decided he wasn’t worth her time to understand. There were more pressing matters at the moment. Rais had given her a few hours to get Clouneder situated before she married him and they left, more than likely forever.

She paused in front of the study door where light filtered in underneath, revealing dust sleeping on stone. Eavan hadn’t stepped inside her father’s study since he passed. Neither had Vevina, as she wouldn’t allow anyone through those doors. Her mother hadn’t the head for figures anyway, so locked the study remained. Any castle calculations were done out of Eavan’s room. The study door creaked ajar, stopping before it hit the wall. Eavan’s mouth hung open. Papers were everywhere, and Loefel’s clothes hung over the back of chairs. Even his whiskey waited in the expensive glass for him to return.

“What in the bloody abyss,” Eavan cursed.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Eavan turned to see both of her sisters.

“I will take the clothes,” offered Megan.

“I will help collect the papers,” Devan said.

Eavan and Devan collected and went through all the papers while Megan, with the help of Lacey, gathered the clothes and swept the room. Eavan created a new document, adding and going through the finance sheet while Devan counted the coins in the locking drawer. If any coins were found, they were added. So far, Clouneder was wealthier than they’d ever imagined. Eavan used her coins from the wool to sustain everyone. Vevina used her portion frivolously. Eavan made certain to tell Devan to hide the fact of how wealthy Clouneder was.

“Hey Eavan,” Megan called, “I found this key.”

Devan took it, turning it over before passing it to Eavan. “That is Da's key.”

“Aye, it was Da’s but for what?” Devan asked Eavan.

Eavan’s eyes widened. “Remember the auld door Da was always lockin’ in the shelf?”

The girls scrambled to the built-in shelf on the left of the study door. They took down the books, trinkets, and other knick-knacks their father and step-mother collected once upon a time. Toward the top, Megan uncovered the locked door. It had been years since they’d seen it. Years since they remembered it. Whatever hid behind the dark stained wood caused Eavan’s heart to beat rapidly. Megan stood back with her hand over her mouth. Eavan licked her lips, inserted the key, and turned the lock.

The door clicked open. Eavan couldn’t control her laughter.

“Three sacks of coin!” She exclaimed. “A ring, a trinket, and a note!”

Eavan climbed back down with the note and coin sacks in her hands. Each sister held one, their excitement filling the room. Eavan sat on the long wooden bench built into the bookshelf. Her throat constricted. She forced her hands to be still, gathering strength from her sisters. With a deep breath, Eavan began reading her father’s final words out loud.

My Dearest Children,

If you find this note, you now know I have passed on. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. You were too young to remember how sick I truly was. So, I left behind each of you a legacy to make up for everything I missed. Know I will always be with you in spirit, seeing you all grow up from afar instead of by your sides. It is what pains my heart most.

In the shelf you will find three sacks of gold. They are all the same.

Eavan, you are always such a brave protector. You’re so motherly to your sisters, I know in my passing, you will do right by them. Your true and moral personality will take you far in this life. To you, I leave my ring – the insignia of the Liberone legacy. It was my father’s and his father’s, going all the way back to the God War.

Devan, you are a thoughtful child. You’re so kind to creatures, to people, to everyone, putting all before yourself. You consider their thoughts and feelings before your own, doing everything in your tenacious power to make someone feel safe. To you, I leave the yearling Merit. He’s a special horse, part unicorn, making him immortal.

“I always thought Merit was different,” Devan said, her eyes wide. “I didna know he’s part unicorn.”

Eavan rubbed Devan’s shoulder, “I remember when Da got Merit for ye.”

Devan smiled. “I remember it too.”

“Keep readin’ Eavan,” Megan encouraged.

Eavan cleared her throat.

My little Megan, your laughter and bright smile gets you out of so much trouble. You are quiet and timid but have the largest giving heart I have ever seen. I can only imagine now as I write this, how you will be when you’re older. To you, I leave my favorite trinket, an ivory carving of a wolf. It has been passed down for generations, and now it is yours.

My daughters, I love you all very much. I’m so sorry to have left you so soon. I will always be watching over you as I cross the void and join Corwaithe in her heavens. Until we meet again.

Your loving father,

Loefel Liberone.

Eavan wiped the tears from her eyes. She had been twelve when her father passed away. She climbed back up the wall shelf, looking inside the locking door. She pulled out the ring her father left her, slipping it on her right ring finger. Eavan grabbed the ivory wolf trinket, handing it to Megan. There was something else in there. Brows scrunched, Eavan reached inside, pulling out a large box. She set the box on the desk. The shiny wood of the desk matched the wood on the box.

“What is it?” Devan asked.

“I dinnae,” Eavan replied.

She stared at the lock, then scrambled back to the door, retrieving the key. She inserted the key, holding her breath. The lid clicked open. A mound of coins – silver and gold—shimmered within.

“By the Grace of the Goddess,” Devan exclaimed. “Clouneder is rich!”

Megan took a coin. “We can buy supplies!”

Eavan cried, wiping at her eyes. “We can rebuild, and thrive.”

For years they lived like beggars. For years they had barely gotten by, living on what Eavan brought in with her business. Now, they could buy goods, and fabric. Their castle would be rich for the next several generations. Everyone in her clan would be taken care of.

Eavan breathed out a sigh of relief. She would not be leaving her sisters destitute and starving. They would be provided for, even after she left. Many a burden lifted from her shoulders making her grateful and light.

“Dinna tell Vevina. Keep this safe.”

The sisters nodded.

“Ladies.” Vevina said from the doorway.

Eavan scowled at her. Vevina glided into the study. Carefully as she could, Eavan tied her coin sack to her belt. Megan crossed her arms, hiding her sack underneath. Devan remained the only one keeping hers out in the open.

Their step-mother slid into Loefel’s chair, her hands caressing the smooth polished desktop. Tears misted her eyes. She laid her head down, inhaling deeply of their father’s musky barn-like scent clinging to the wood.

“I miss him,” Vevina whispered. “Every day, I miss him that much more.”

Eavan raised a brow.

Vevina wiped her tears. “It’s incredible how it still smells like him in here. I have raised you girls the best I could, knowing I could never replace your mother even if you never remembered her.”

“Ye’ve done a fine job in raisin’ us,” Devan said, taking a seat across from her.

Vevina shook her head. “I haven’t.” Her hard as stone stare fell to Eavan, only it seemed to crumble. “I always held resentment toward you, Eavan. I was overly hard on you.”

Eavan scowled, biting her bottom lip. She and Vevina always were on opposite ends when it came to running the keep or dealing with their people. Where Vevina spent frivolously and ruled with a firm, commanding, perfect hand, Eavan remained laid back, calm, and reasonable. She understood that life happens. Eavan didn’t believe she was sorry, or held a hint of remorse.

By Corwaithe, woman, ye lock me in a dungeon as quick as the rains change!

Vevina was only correct in admitting her resentment toward her. Being hard on her became the perpetual knife.

“Aye, ye have,” Eavan said after a long tense silence. “And why the resentment. What have I done to wrong ye so terribly?”

Vevina glanced up at her, remorse clinging to every wrinkle. “You’re a stronger woman than me. Because of your strength and courage and bravery, I tried to break it. I’m sorry.”

“Why the change of heart? What d’ye want?” Eavan demanded.

Megan glared at her. Eavan shrugged it off. Vevina came around to the other side of the desk. She had her arms wrapped around Eavan, holding her close, before Eavan could think to flee.

“I regret what I have done. I had six joyous years with your father before he passed on. It changed me, hardened my heart. Surely, you must have seen it,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Now that you are about to be married, I realize how much wrong I have done to you. I shouldn’t have punished you like I did.”

Eavan raised her hands, placing them on her step-mother’s shoulders. She drew back, studying Vevina’s eyes. What her step-mother said was true. Eavan felt the weight of the tension and heartache lift. They were so incredibly different like rocks and mud that sometimes blending together took a while.

Eavan nodded. “I have seen it. Ye and Da were very close. And I should no’ have been such an arse.”

“Language!” Vevina smiled wanly. “Loefel and I were great friends, he was my heart. I can only pray to Corwaithe you will find a friendship and love with Rais.”

Eavan gave a terse smile. It was the first time in years they had truly talked courteously. Eavan kept herself outside, too busy handling her business and the clan to deal with Vevina. When they interacted, it brimmed with frustration. Vevina wanted her to act like a true lady. And Eavan could not dress elegantly and do what needed to be done.

Vevina took her hand. “Can you forgive me, Eavan?”

Her sisters watched intently. Megan smiled warmly, waiting for them to finally make up. Devan set jaw hardened slightly. Her sisters saw her hesitation and she focused on her step-mother. Vevina’s eyes brimmed with tears, her arms held open.

I dinna want to leave like this. I dinna want to set a bad example. And her eyes betray nay deception.

Eavan nodded. “Aye, I forgive ye.”

Vevina embraced her. Her step-mother held her in her arms for a long time, whispering about how sorry she was for doing what she’d done over the years. Eavan apologized for being so bullheaded, knowing she didn’t make it easy on her step-mother sometimes.

“I have something for you,” Vevina said.

Eavan perked a brow. Vevina smiled, placing something small in the palm of her hand. With tears in her eyes, Vevina kissed her cheek.

“Your father made me promise to make this marriage come to fruition. It was his dream,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That was the ring he gave your mother. He asked that I give it to you when you marry.” Vevina exhaled all of the built-up emotions. “I’m so sorry Eavan, for all I have ever done.”

Eavan slipped the ring on her right wedding finger and embraced her. “Then why did ye do it?”

“I used the dungeon as a way to control you instead of taking a moment to speak with you and listen. It was wrong.”

Eavan nodded. “I’m sorry I ignored ye and never spent time with ye.” Eavan looked out the study window, tears welling in her eyes. “I lost my Mum as a kid. Then I gained one. Now I lost ye before I ever got to truly know ye.”

Vevina pulled her close, smoothing her hair. “Rais will let ye visit.”

Eavan shook her head. “Ye dinna know it.”

“We have each other, now and forever,” Vevina kissed the top of her head. “It will be alright.”

Eavan wiped her eyes. “I love ye, Mum,” she said, embracing her step-mother.

“I love you too, Daughter,” Vevina opened her arms wide. “I love you all so very much.”

Rais was well into his cup of wine when his future wife came out of the study, wiping her cheeks free of tears. The other women followed; eyes also reddened with tears. Haris watched the women seat themselves, his eyes focused on Devan. Rais smirked. He too didn't look away until they settled themselves at the high table to eat. Eavan veered off, approaching him instead.

“My business is almost concluded, Rey Sundena,” she said with a wan smile.

He smiled weakly. She had done what he’d asked, and without any qualms or quips. Truly, he was surprised, expecting more of a fit. In his experience, women always threw some kind of tantrum. Back straight, she faced him with an impassive expression, but full of regality.

Rais cleared his throat. “It is time for you to go get yourself ready. I brought you a dress.”

“I canna,” she replied, shaking her head, “there’s lots to do.”

“You will do as you are told!”

Eavan glared at him with tight-lipped defiance.

“You will do as you are told,” he said firmly through tight lips.

His bride waited exactly three pounding heartbeats before turning on her heel, and making her way to the stairs. Rais followed, his hand on the small of her back. With gentleness, he guided her to the chamber they had previously been in. She didn’t say a word, and he hated to admit he found it to be a sign she was upset. His lip twitched, not caring how upset she might be. Eavan was his task, a duty to follow through with. No amount of her challenges or stubborn behavior would deter him now or ever. No man had told her what to do for a very long time and it would change once she became his wife.

Rais exhaled. What a trial it will be to slice through this defiance in her.

She did everything, not only for the sake of the clan, but also for her family. It would not be an easy task to dull her independence and shred her tenacity. Though Rais could not deny the weight she must be feeling. He would be taking away their leader, their safety net.

Before he realized, he stood in front of Eavan’s chamber door. She turned the knob and went inside. Rais pushed his idle thoughts away the second he saw the dress he brought her draped over the back of a chair. She said nothing when she took it gently in her hands, going behind a screen separating the room.

Rais did not know what to speak with her about to fill the silence. He felt a small tug toward her, and he hated it. He reminded himself this marriage meant nothing. It wasn’t about love, or liking each other. He had loved before this ridiculous marriage, gaining heartache instead. This arrangement only served as a business proposal. One that would not be happening if it weren't for their fathers. He wanted more out of a marriage, like any man would. Though not with Eavan. He wanted to marry Aminah yet she proved to be not the leader Orthilio needed. This marriage to Eavan was about keeping the peace between nations, and siring an heir to seal the bond.

“Rais,” Eavan called from behind the screen. “Tell me about yer home. About the land and what it’s like.”

Rais faced the fire and tried to relax in the chair while she grunted to change out of her former dress. He brought the wedding gown with him to give her something of his land, something to make her a little more appealing than she was.

She sounds like a laboring goat back there, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. What do these Meerdoran women wear?

“Rais?” She asked again.

He sighed. Why did Eavan have to be such a mystery? Let it alone, Rais, don't wrap your mind around what doesn't have a chance to ferment.

Though he couldn't deny how much more honorable Eavan’s character was compared to Aminah. Yet, he didn’t want to know her at all. Aminah couldn’t pass the test or, well, three of them. And Eavan, being a foreigner, wouldn’t either. There was no point in getting to know her when she would be dead within a few hours.

“My home is pure white marble with swirls of gray and black. Everything is made of this stone, keeping the castle cool during the hot days and relatively temperate at night,” he told her, annoyed.

“I’m nervous to see it,” she answered.

“Dragons wander around the streets, protecting the people. They come in all shades of colors, even going so far as disappearing. So long as you show the creatures respect, they will not harm you.”

Eavan came out from behind the screen, her back to him, indicating the button. Rais got out of the chair and hooked the small button at the top of the dress.

“I wilna be rude.”

For being a woman of foreign origin, she was not what he expected. She was brave. She was a leader and a stoic figurehead for this castle. In all, he expected a whimpering, sulking, broody woman he was about to be saddled with and Eavan defied all his expectations. Without another look at her, he left.

Rais jogged lightly down the stairs and turned toward his warriors. Haris looked absolutely bored, fidgeting in his seat, fingers thrumming on the table. Devan walked past them all, heading up the stairs. She glanced at Haris smiling. Haris slightly waved back. Rais took a seat across from his cousin. Haris leaned back in his seat, shoulders popping, his one finger tapping on the clothed table. Rais understood his cousin’s distant behavior. Haris would be staying behind, as the terms in the contract dictated some of his people needed to. The other men he brought with him remained aloof, patiently awaiting orders.

Hoping they’re the ones who get to return to home and not stay in this dismal, rainy land.

Rais cleared his throat. “Is everything ready for tonight?”

Haris nodded. “The priest has been summoned, the contract finalized and we are all ready to leave.”

“You are staying behind,” Rais stated.

Haris quipped with a tight-lipped smirk, pressing the ale cup to his lips. Rais tried to hide the twitch of his lips. Together, he and his cousin drank ale and discussed where the sheep were going to be penned, and how they planned on breeding them. Rais decided to allow Eavan to keep control of this endeavor since she knew more about it than he ever would or cared to know. Haris mentioned he wanted to come home once in a while.

Rais looked at the fading sunlight through the large window. The bell tolled, and food was brought out to line the long tables. It would be dark soon. He rose from his seat, leaving the eager diners to step outside for some air. He considered how his life would change when he became a husband. Rais wondered if Eavan was secretly needy, possibly demanding all of his attention.

He snorted. Rais seriously doubted it. Eavan would be busy with her sheep, and he would keep away from her. He took a turn on the wall walk before heading back inside. Rais was about to head up the stairs when Eavan came out of the chamber. Rais stopped in his tracks, stuck on the staircase. The white dress hugged her body, revealing womanly curves her other dress hadn’t. Her fire red hair coiled on her head with ringlet strands falling down, framing her sun-tanned face. Her head was down until she grabbed onto the railing. When she lifted it, her radiant emerald green eyes held his. He offered her his hand, which she took. He felt pinned to this exact spot, riveted by her grace and surprising beauty.

Vevina came out of the chamber with a wise, knowing smile painted her wrinkled lips. Rais removed the look from his face, never expecting Eavan to dress so elegantly. Rais assumed she wouldn’t do anything special since he told her their marriage would be strictly business.

Unexpectedly gorgeous, he thought.

“Ready?” she asked.

Rais nodded, swallowing the dryness in his throat. Eavan patted his hand, giving him a wan, yet businesslike smile. Her face was set, her smile fake.

She's nervous?

Rais felt her palm sweating. She looked at him with hard set eyes before pulling her hand away and clasping them in front of her. The white train of her dress dragged across the stone. Eavan pulled out a chair, standing upon it, and her people gathered in front of the high table. A real smile graced her lips now that she looked upon her clansmen. Her stoic presence commanded the attention of all. The keep settled immediately; eyes focused on her.

Eavan beamed, hands clasped in front of her. “The time has come to secure ties between nations that once were opposin’. Peace is at hand. With this union between myself and Rey Rais Sundena of Orthilio, our peoples shall prosper in commerce and loyalty. The leadership of the clan passes to Devan.”

Vevina came forward, taking Eavan’s hand and patting the top. With poise, she looked out at her people, straightening her back.

“I step down as Queen,” Vevina began. “In my place, Devan will lead, carrying on the business Eavan created and keeping us prosperous. She will make this clan and Clouneder proud!”

Loud cheers and smiles abounded in the dining hall. Rais studied Eavan’s clan, his arms crossed. A lot of people appeared relieved at Vevina stepping down. Megan stood before Devan, and knelt, pledging her fealty. Vevina was next and one by one the clan went up to Devan and knelt. Eavan carefully stepped off the chair. Her green eyes shining as she beheld her middle sister.

“I promise,” Devan declared to the clan, standing on the chair Eavan once occupied. “I promise to do right by ye all. I swear it as yer laird and friend. As for now, let’s celebrate my sister in gettin’ married and everlastin’ amicable ties between Meerdora and Orthilio.” Devan stepped off the chair, embracing Vevina.

The clan clapped and cheered, trickling their way back to the benches and tables. Eavan motioned for Devan to take the largest chair since she now had the queenship, and they all took their seats. Rais sat himself to Eavan’s left, while Vevina sat to her right. Rais could not read what she felt through the impassive stare she now possessed. Although, he did feel her leg tremble under the table. He looked down at the side of the chair where her left hand drummed against the wood.

Concerned, he leaned close to her, “Are you, all right?” he asked quietly.

Eavan nodded, biting a little at her bottom lip. The priest arrived quietly, slipping around the side to make his way up to the high table. He was a frumpy-looking man with long black hair and beard to match, smelling pungently of ale and smoke. He presented the contract, handing Eavan the quill first. She signed her name quickly, passing the quill to Rais. He turned it over in his hand, wondering why there was no well of ink.

“Magic,” the priest said dryly.

Rais nodded, wondering how one of their pieces of magic had gotten this far south. Again, he glanced at his bride. Her face was fixed forward, jaw set but not clenched. Rais signed his name. The priest nodded and walked away. No fanfare, no flowers, no celebration. This day was supposed to be happy for them both. Instead, it was quick.

At least this part of it is over, he thought, struggling with the tug for her that would not quiet down.

“Eavan,” Rais began quietly.

Her green eyes welled at the edges with tears. As quickly as the tears began, they disappeared, and her expression hardened.

“Aye, husband?”

Rais pressed his lips together, not knowing what to say to her. He leaned over in his chair, rubbing her lower back. Eavan tried to keep her composure the best she could, but she was quickly crumbling. Rais helped his new wife up with him. In one sentence he spoke congratulations to Devan on her queenship, and his thankfulness to Vevina for the correspondence in letters.

Rais guided Eavan around the dining hall, to the stairs, and into the only chamber he knew. Eavan didn’t fight him and remained silent. Tears rolled down her cheeks. His heart ached a little, knowing full well at any moment, this would be Eavan’s last time seeing her sisters. He knew it to be what bothered her the most.

Eavan sat in the chair by the hearth, letting out a long sigh. The heat from the fire could not melt the ice she felt in her heart. The slow smoldering of the fire as it waited to die was like her, waiting for the inevitable of leaving her family and clan behind. The pain in her chest numbed her entire body. She married a man who couldn’t seem to make up his mind if he liked her or not. His movements were either brusque or cautious. Eavan leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, hands holding her head. Soon, they would be magicked to Orthilio. Whether or not she would be welcome twisted her gut in knots. Thinking of her sisters made her body quiver with sickness.

That was a preview of Braving Eavan. To read the rest purchase the book.

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