Riftborne (Esprithean Trilogy #1)
Chapter 1
I hesitated on the precipice of safety, skin ablaze with the urge to retrace my steps back to Luminaria.
My insides roared for me to run, to hide—instincts I had spent my entire life cultivating.
Humid night air clung to me like a second skin, heavy with the scent of earth and something faintly floral.
A candlelit trail led to the Grove, a valley cradled between rolling hills and the gnarled embrace of the forest. Smoke billowed through the treetops, and golden fire erupted from pits throughout the expanse below.
A mixture of nerves and curiosity flooded my veins as I peered into its glittering depths.
One could almost taste the pungent mix of liquor, sweat, and hormones pulsing in the air. Offset only by the peculiar whines and wanes of Sídhe music. Haunting melodies danced up my spine, tempting me to free myself... to lose myself. Just a single dance couldn’t be so bad?—
Esprithe sake, Fia. It's enchanted.
I shifted my weight, readjusting my grip on the rough wooden crate.
Whatever sanity I still possessed was holding on by a thread after spending the entire day brewing tonics for the Sídhe Nobility and their ridiculous party.
If they hadn’t placed the orders so damn late, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t be here. But the Nobility cared little for the day-to-day of common folk. They were far too preoccupied.
My attention shot to the sky as a light weaver cast shimmering rays into the clouds, tearing through the mist like a river in the heavens.
In the world below, a kaleidoscope of satin gowns swirled as Aossí danced in unison.
Beauty could be deceptive, and it often was. Vipers, after all, distract with shimmering scales before going in for the kill. The Sídhe Elite were much the same, twice as lethal as they were mesmerizing.
Only the decline of a hill separated us. Another minute of walking, and I’d be in their midst.
The clinking of glasses sliced through the air like a beckoning, or warning . I couldn’t be sure. Effects from the music lingered, playing tricks in my mind.
Unfortunately, the whims of these people and their extravagant soirees would provide much better pay than any normal day at the Apothecary, so refusing the business wasn’t an option.
Besides, how could the elite possibly reach their desired levels of debauchery without a few euphoria-inducing party favors?
The foolish bravery I'd somehow mustered back at the shop had completely vanished.
This was supposed to be Eron's delivery, not mine.
He'd been running them all day, after all.
I only volunteered because his wife went into labor.
A stupid move. I knew it then, but now, standing here, it felt like a deadly mistake.
My gaze stretched across the vast expanse. It mirrored the hollow dread blooming in my chest.
I was a Riftborne, one of many transplanted to Sídhe following the Riftdremar Rebellion and branded with a symbol for unity.
Because nothing screams unification quite like a mark to identify you from the masses.
I peeked down at my left hand, where the twin serpents of Sídhe coiled around the antlers of Riftdremar.
At least I’d worn gloves.
Most of the Riftborne were too young to remember the Rebellion that ended twenty years ago, but everyone in Sídhe knew someone who died in the war. And many of them wanted us to repay that price with our lives.
It seemed we’d suffer the aftermath of our parents’ choices for millennia.
A splitting force surged through my head, forcing my eyes to slam shut.
The curse that lived inside me used to be nothing more than a faint presence lingering in the depths of my mind.
Now, it threatened to explode at any moment, lying in wait just below the surface, desperate for the opportunity to unleash itself.
And once it escaped…
I didn’t allow the thought to finish as I steadied myself, digging my heels into the damp earth below.
I hadn't told a soul how bad it had gotten. Not even Osta, my closest friend. Saying it out loud to someone might make it real.
Despite the violent beating of my heart, I took another shaky step forward into the thick air, heavy with a mix of perfume and woodsmoke.
Clinging to the crate and trying to make my body as small as possible, I melted into the shadows of the tree line and made my way along the dirt path.
I hoped the attendees had been partaking in the elixirs long enough for the desired effects to take hold. It would be much easier to navigate a space full of intoxicated minds, where thoughts swam, and steps faltered.
Craning my head over the moving mass of bodies, I scanned the area, searching for Ma’s station.
Ah, there it is.
Keeping my head low, I found my way to the opposite side of the Grove where Ma's potions were displayed on a table lined with twinkling candles and blooms from across the realm.
Annoyance tugged at me. Ma's affinity for healing was revolutionary, yet this would be her legacy.
Providing libido-boosting cocktails to the Sídhe Guard and their irreverent groupies.
My shoulders burned to drop the crate. It nearly tumbled out of my grasp as I edged it onto the table, vials clinking against each other at the subtle jolt. My arms lifted in an involuntary stretch, only to find they felt more like liquid than muscle and bone.
I hunted for anyone who might be manning this station, but it seemed even the organizers had joined in on the evening’s revelry.
I had never stepped foot near one of these parties but knew what to expect.
Ma loved to gossip about them during our more boring hours at the Apothecary.
Tonight, all classes would be frothing at the mouth as their military idols were paraded through the crowd.
They'd indulge in the finest culinary delights, lose themselves in aromatic bitters, spiked tonics, and the elusive Bloodthorne wine, only to finally stagger home, leaving chaos in their inebriated wake.
Just another mess for someone else to clean up.
The most intriguing part of this particular soiree was the attendance of the General–well, assuming he’d show up.
The General seldom graced Luminaria with his presence, preferring the proximity of the Western border. I began unloading the vials, snapping back and forth from crate to table. If quick enough, I could make my escape before being spotted by any curious drunkard.
Luck, however, was not on my side.
It never was.
With only three damn bottles placed, a familiar squeal echoed through the air behind me. I took a calming breath before turning around and meeting the bright aquamarine eyes of Osta, who looked giddy enough to explode. She practically leaped in my direction.
Deep blue silk cascaded in shimmering pleats down her frame, like the petals of a flower in bloom. The entire hemline looked like it had been dipped in stardust, silver threads dancing in delicate patterns along the edges. She had been working on it for weeks.
My eyes instinctively shot to her left hand, which was covered by the silver fabric of a glove. A sigh of relief slipped out. She hadn’t fully lost her mind, it seemed.
Osta’s bronzed hair laid in perfect ringlets down her back. Her skin glowed a golden shimmer. Her radiance was akin to sunlight, even as she stepped into the shadow I was currently occupying. Immediately, I felt even more out of place.
If Osta was the personification of life, I was the living embodiment of death.
Cheekbones too high, chin too sharp, and forehead stretching a tad too long—jarring was an appropriate descriptor already.
Add in the white curls, unnaturally pale skin, and perpetually shrouded eyes, and we’re verging on full-blown ghoul.
Looking down at my herb-stained blouse and wrinkled trousers, heat rushed over me. My body wanted to crumple into a ball. I needed to find a way out of here. Now.
“Fiiiiiaa!” Osta sang as she threw her arms around me, the sweet scent of wine wafting off her.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” She stepped back, eyeing my disgruntled state. “Though I had a different vision… Want to run to the shop? It’s not far, and I have so many pieces that would look divine on you!” Her eyes sparkled. She was clearly already styling me in her mind.
I fiddled with my hair, attempting to push it back. “Thank you for not so subtly pointing out how terrible I look… but I have no intention of hanging around. Eron needed me to deliver this crate and?—”
“You’re already here now, so stay! Just for an hour!” she grabbed my stained hands and looked up at me, eyes pleading. Osta always knew when to employ the dramatics. A pang of guilt shot through my chest.
It was then that trumpets tore through the Grove, announcing the arrival of the royal court—a small blessing, saving me from denying her yet again.
I often disappointed her with my fear of crowds…
especially when they consisted of this type of company.
The kind that would gleam with amusement at the prospect of my death once they saw what I was.
Even worse if they figured out what I was hiding, what threatened to bubble up and boil out of me.
I reached up and wiped the sweat from my brow. Heat radiated from the touch.
The music quickened and spilled through the Grove. Curiosity peaked in the corners of my mind, and I allowed it to get the best of me. I turned, hesitantly moving towards the commotion. A sea of Aossí had parted, giving the procession a clear path to the raised dais near the center of the Grove.
Osta bounced at my side, clapping her hands and standing on the tips of her toes, trying to get a better look at the King and Queen, who were surrounded by at least twenty members of the Guard.
Dressed in matching drapes of sparkling emerald, they moved with a commanding grace.
When they finally reached the thrones atop the dais, they turned and waved, hand in hand before taking their seats.