{CATELINE}

I sat there in a tattered blue cotton dress, the fabric itchy against my skin from the sharp, twiney frayed ends. Despite its raggedness, it was freeing—finally, I wasn’t restrained by a too-tight corset. This was the first time I had ever been in public without one. Oddly liberating.

I was in a rickety wooden chair while the girl from outside sat cross-legged on the floor, staring up at me, her mother busy preparing stew in the background. My gaze kept flicking to the door, running through the different ways to escape in case things went south. They were hospitable, yes, but I had every reason to desire running and never look back.

Outside, that drunken man had taken to distracting himself after a spat with his wife. The fireplace burned to my right, offering a little warmth while I tried to recover from the frigid waters I’d been snaked out of. I had never been so dehydrated before. In Axulran water was plentiful, even for the poorest villagers. Yet here I was, downing my third glass, and still, my throat scratched like sand against my windpipes. Between gulps, I coughed and tried to maintain some dignity, though it was a miserable failure.

“Where are you from?” the girl asked, her voice soft.

I turned, raising my eyebrows at her. I wanted to trust her—something in me always wanted to trust others, maybe because I’d grown up with little in the way of true friends. The few I had…well, they vanished. After all I’d witnessed, though, I wasn’t eager to make more.

But this was just a child. Surely, she was innocent. Good-hearted. I remembered waking and not feeling so cynical about life—and I thought I was cynical enough leading up to Alleyn’s death, but that murder set me over the edge.

Even without the three years of sleep, I would have woken up the next day a problem for everybody. Especially my family. But three years were lost, and I was faced with the task of silently resenting my father instead of loudly.

“I… let me ask you first. Where am I?” I finally responded cautiously.

The girl smiled this pure, curious grin, but cocked her head in confusion. “Traburg, M’lady.”

My breath hitched. Few places considered my father, our crown, allies, and Traburg was not on that list. This kingdom was amongst our worst enemies if I was being conservative.

Sweat gathered at my temple as I glanced over at her mother. Was this a trap? Did they know who I was, and decided to stall, waiting for the guards to arrive?

“Traburg, you say?” I whispered. “I don’t live far from here. In a small village, stateless…”

Technically, not a lie. Traburg was just a short trip by boat—or so Alleyn had told me years ago.

“Really? Are you from…” She trailed off, her voice hushed now as if uttering a forbidden word. “…from Javunger? I didn’t think the Javunger subjects had such pretty dresses!”

I gulped. “No, not Javunger. Definitely not there.”

She nodded, scooting closer, her head darting around as if we were sharing a secret. “You were dressed fancy, Cateline. Who are you? You can tell me. I won’t tell no one!”

I pressed my lips together, curling my fingers into my palms to distract from the rising anxiety. “You are full of good questions, aren’t you?”

Senevia huffed, furrowing her brow. “That is no answer.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, staring at her until her mother stepped in. There was something about Senevia’s childlike curiosity that put me at ease. It reminded me of the innocent mischief that fueled me and my brother’s late-night adventures. We had run from the guards more times than I could count.

But, at that moment, I wanted to run from a little girl. Her interest in me was just too dangerous.

“Senevia!” her mother scolded, carrying a bowl in her hands. “Stop pestering. Go on, now. You’ll eat after she’s had her fill—in peace.”

The girl pouted but didn’t move until her mother gave her a sharp look—the kind only mothers could give. Without another word, she darted out the back door.

“My apologies,” her mother said as I moved to the small wooden table she had set the food down on.

I stared into the dark, unappetizing liquid. Wafts of spicy herbs and overwhelming beef both put me on edge and eased my aching nerves. I hadn’t ever had a meal like this before, but I was far too famished to complain now. The brown broth wasn’t doing much to entice the senses, despite my hunger. Like watered down mud with chunks of meat and aromatics floating about.

“What’s your name?” I asked, my eyes scanning the table for any silverware. There was none.

“Petunya Liverstone,” she replied, lifting her bowl to her lips to drink.

I followed suit, the lip of the bowl cool to my lips, and the broth hot to my tongue. The taste was… fine. Bland even if the smell suggested otherwise. Starved as I was, I would’ve eaten raw cow if it meant filling my stomach. Silverware, though, was nothing more than a distant daydream now.

“My name is Cateline,” I said after swallowing and using my thumb to wipe the beads of broth from the corner of my lips. “And your husband?” I asked after another sip, setting the bowl down.

Her face soured at the mention of him. “That would be Joseph. Drunkard, farmer, carpenter. Whatever pays the dues, tithes, and his beer.”

I nodded, folding my hands in my lap as my eyes wandered around the cottage. It was cold, especially away from the fire and near the open window. The flame on the table flickered as a gust of wind blew through the house, but Petunya seemed unfazed.

I, on the other hand, was filled with unease. Drifting across something as large as the Emerald Strait and ending up in a strange town—it made me sick. But I couldn’t let the worry show, so I smiled, forcing myself into small talk.

“So, Cateline,” Petunya said, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. “How did you end up left for dead in the strait? Hell of a place for a woman to be. For anybody, I’d reckon. Even a sailor. Far too rocky…far too dangerous!”

I blinked, biting the inside of my cheek. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Her wide eyes studied me, and she nodded, but I could tell there were a million questions behind that stare. This was a mother. She was used to holding back, to keeping her mouth shut, just like mine had always done. Quiet and reserved, just how I was raised to be.

The kind of woman I swore I would never become.

“I was with my parents,” I murmured. “At a party.”

Technically true.

“Well, I hope you find your way home, Cateline,” she said, wiping her mouth with a cloth.

Find your way home… that voice whispered inside my head again, its echo bouncing around like a memory too warm, too familiar. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. The mountains call for you… a silver-scaled dragon awaits…

“Cateline?”

The voice continued to hum, soothing and yet ominous. It had led me off a cliff once before, after all.

“Sorry,” I said shakily, forcing a smile. “I’ve got a cramp. Must be from the… the water.”

Petunya didn’t seem convinced, but she nodded. “Let’s get you back by the fire.”

“No, no.” I waved her off, standing abruptly. “I… I just need some fresh air.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Ignoring her protests, I hurried to the back door, my gown flapping in the wind as I stepped outside. Wild, salty winds whipped my face, clouds of thunder and lightning brewing overhead faster than I could understand what was happening. Joseph cursed loudly when rain pounded down on them seconds later, grabbing his daughter by the shoulder and rushing past me.

He held the door open for me to return inside, but my gaze was fixed on the storm above.

There was something out there—something glowing faintly. The same light from the storm, only softer now. It danced between the thick clouds, swirling down slowly.

Into town, it fell. I took off on a sprint after it, past the cottages and merchants, until I saw it dissipate atop one of the spires of a grand building atop the hill above town. It was made of gray stone, too modest to be a palace, but too grandiose to be unimportant.

I took a few hesitant steps back, sputtering to catch my breath. I was losing my mind, the rain piercing into my flesh, the thunder clapping over me with vague, incomprehensible insults. I thought it to be nerves, but the softest chuckle resounded in my head. Like the ghost of a bad joke.

I spun around to try and get hold of my surroundings. I was in the midst of bartering and so much chatter, I wasn’t sure where I needed to focus. Crowds of men and women rushed by me, and even as I tried to keep up, even as I tried to push forward and move with the masses, I struggled. I lost my footwork, I lost my control—

Gods, I needed out. I needed away from these people.

The rickety, squeaking shrill sign captured my attention. I twisted my attention to it. A tavern. Taverns were by no means quiet, but it got me out of this mess. It got me away, perhaps lost in wine and food. With what money, I wasn’t sure, but I’d worry about that later.

Without a second thought, I approached, my hand latched around the door handle like I feared it’d vanish. Just as I gathered the courage to push it open, a group of men barreled out, knocking me to the ground.

“Hey!” I yelped, scrambling to my feet.

Their eyes were hazy, drunk. One offered a hand to help me up, but I refused, dusting off my gown. “Apologies, madam,” one slurred. “You should be more careful.”

“Perhaps you should avoid walking,” I snapped. “You’re piss-poor at it.”

Their laughs were cut short as one grabbed my arm with a tight grip as his companion joined him, the two of them looming over me. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to pull away.

A sickening grin spread across the man’s face. “A smart mouth doesn’t suit a lady.”

Then, as his breath tickled my ear, something inside me ignited. Warmth spread from my fingertips, a glow radiating from my hands. I looked up at him again and his gray, beady eyes were drinking me in like a glass of mead. He had a balding head, with brown hair mixed with gray strands. I yanked my arm away from him, but the other man held onto me tighter.

“Who raised you? A prostitute has nicer manners than you!”

“The bitch would be prettier, too. I think she needs to ease up a little!”

The beady-eyed man reached over and tried to open the top button of my gown, but I kicked his shin, causing him to howl. I couldn’t control my panicked breathing now as the other mans grip hardened.

“Let me go, and you won't have to see the likes of me again,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

“Not a chance,” said the man holding me. “You're quite a catch. I like them feisty.”

I grimaced as his breath tickled my earlobe and closed my eyes. I felt useless, each attempt at pulling away only earned a rougher yank, a tighter hold. My heart rate increased and the air around me seemed to ring.

Nothing could save me from my stomach though.

And, despite being surrounded by people, no one paid any attention.

“Loosen up a little, wretch.”

Pins and needles formed in the butt of my palm, warm against the frigid air. When I looked down at them, I saw a subtle red hue—this dulled yet equally radiant glow. It was powerful. Terror washed through me as I tried to break free of the unyielding hold, but this time his fingernails tore into my skin. That was when something inside me snapped.

Energy surged through my fingertips and up my arms, unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was uninhibited and formidable. Even though I knew it was forbidden, I couldn't help but revel in this release of frustration and anger. If this happened home, in the comforts of my home where no man would dare take hold of me like this, I would have been sent for execution.

All the while, my assailants would have been seen the hero. Any reason to rid the world of magic.

Crimson hues escaped from under my nails like a snake and wrapped themselves around the man’s throat. I watched in horror as he choked and fell to his knees, blood pooling in his eye sockets. Even when I tore my focus away from him, the magic remained. He looked at me with anger, fear, and disbelief. His friend yelled.

In an instant, pain ricocheted up my arm. I howled and looked down at my hand, observing the way that cursed ring glistened on my finger. It glowed violent and purple and—and, gods, it was tearing me apart from the inside.

“A witch!” he bellowed, raising his fist to strike me. Gasping, I ducked away and looked between the choking man and the two men who were ready to attack.

“Please stop!” I wept. “I…I don’t know how to undo it!”

The man's face was turning blue, bile rising in my throat at the sight. The glow of the magic was bright, too bright, too obscene as I swayed side to side.

I raised my hands in surrender and pleaded. “I-I didn't mean to, sir, I promise! But you two were hurting me. You must believe me.”

I felt sick. Had I just apologized to the very men who had threatened to do unspeakable things to me? Despite my fortune and status, despite my title…Princess of Axulran…I was not naive. I had Alleyn to thank for that, even if it had gotten him slain in the end.

The choking man fell to his side, drooling and coughing up blood. Each rapid breath was shallow, his chest heaving up and down slower, slower, slower, until I saw the life fade from his very eyes. A crowd had gathered, consisting of farmers and ordinary subjects. Some mothers shielded their children while the fathers grumbled among themselves.

They all shared one thing in common—they glared at me with such anger and disgust that it made me want to cry. The pain of what I’d just done overwhelmed the pain still rocking up my finger.

But these people and their judgment was the worst type of scorn I could envision.

As a member of the aristocracy, I knew that only those about to be executed by their own people received such looks.

I stumbled backward as the man lunged at me once more, barely avoiding his grasp, but when a bystander grabbed me by the shoulders and wrapped his arm around my neck, I knew I’d failed.

It was a bittersweet feeling. Part of me expected my own home to be my death place, if not for the lack of marrying out then for my rebellious ways. The idea of perishing away from my brothers was peaceful enough, but a foolish part of me didn’t want to die. I barely had a home, my family was as broken as can be even with all of us still together, and I was a heretical failure according to my father. I was alone.

Alone, but alive. I didn’t want to lose that.

I gasped, trying to break free, to relieve the pressure, but it only grew tighter with each thrash.

My airways tightened and panic set in, blossoming in my chest and stealing every last breath.

“Let me go!” I demanded, clawing at his arm with my nails. He howled in pain, blood beading across the shallow scratches. But the blood didn’t trail down his arm, no, it, instead, crawled up his arm towards his elbow. He let go of me and screamed, but exhaustion had already overtaken me as I stumbled, leaning on a fence for support.

“This witch deserves a proper send-off,” the man closer to the tavern hissed, snatching a chisel from one of the merchant tables and stalking towards me. “A sacrifice for the Firstborn. That’s what your kind wants, right? We won’t let you burn our town again!”

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. My heart raced as he held the sharp chisel to the hard center. I wanted to fight back, but I could barely tell which way was up and which was down.

So I started to count.

Each second, a different memory. An argument with Terrance, a secret tutoring session with Alleyn.

Each second, another tear blurred my vision further.

But before he could take my miserable, precious life, a powerful voice roared from behind. It was powerful enough to quiet the ringing in my ears for just a second, and terrifying enough that the man who’d wanted me dead vanished. I could hear the thudding of his feet, and the curses that echoed into the air.

Relief flooded through me, the tempest of a voice drowning out the storm that dampened the ground. I fell to my knees, then to my side, as I was let go. Just ahead, I saw the man I’d killed stuck in the mud.

The two new voices neared, but blackness overtook my sense of sight first, and then the ringing drowned out my hearing. Bit by bit, I clawed for control. For consciousness.

“I swear, Varin, if this tavern gets us into one more bar fight, I will never go drinking with you again,” one of the voices grumbled.

“This doesn’t count,” the other voice replied. “It didn't happen in a bar, and he didn't put up much of a fight. Bugger ran off, didn’t he?”

“Yes, well, this could be worse than any fight we’ve been in. What do we do with her? She’s got one of those fancy runes, by the looks of it.”

I could sense the two strangers looming over me, but one grabbed my chin roughly and earned a violent gasp—a moment of clarity before all was lost.

Opening my eyes halfway, I first saw an unimpressed frown, a chiseled jaw, tan skin, and dark hair. It was the disdain housed in sickly sweet caramel eyes that put me at ease, though. When I collapsed back into darkness, I did not do so fearing who’d just interfered in my public execution.

“Well,” he huffed, dropping his grip on my chin. “She obviously knows blood magic. Where else do troubled mages go?”