Chapter 1 #2
My mother was a Lumor Wiitch, not from this kingdom. She was raised in a harboring town, Brinkym, that was ruled by Kantore—the God of Light and a man who cared for his people. Her passion for healing never faded when she married my father in an arranged marriage.
Blinking away the memories, I sit at the opposite end of the table from my vile father—his perfectly tailored clothes hang off his once-muscled body, leaving fabric to billow around his chest. He nods in my direction as I slump into my chair, ignoring his stare.
“Hello, Briar.” He sighs. “Nice of you to show up late, as always.”
Annoyed, I retort, “Always a pleasure to see you as well, Father.”
“How have you been holding up?” he asks, awkwardly.
“Are you seriously concerned for my well-being? Or is this just a miserable way to pass the time for you?”
He huffs, “Fine, no small talk. You are here for a reason today. In the coming weeks, it’s important that you begin to think about the future of this kingdom. Many things are going to change, and I’m going to need your support.”
I twitch my nose, unsure of how to respond, so he continues.
“This kingdom has fallen. When I took over my reign, the people were not welcoming of my… tactics. I fear this has cost me gravely and I need to change things. If people won’t support me, then it’s time we make them.
You are an important piece to this puzzle. ”
Realizing whatever I say in this moment won’t be of matter, I choose to remain quiet.
I raise my gaze and freeze, my senses instantly on alert from the shift in the room. The breath leaves my lungs as I notice a tall figure standing at the opposite end of the space. The shadows swirl around him like a second skin.
“Your brother has returned from up north,” my father cuts in.
I stand, nearly knocking over my chair, and rush to Barlowe, lunging into his strong arms. He’s taller than I remember, his chest is broader, and I quickly realize he has grown into a warrior.
Soon after our mother died, Barlowe left to train with the top commanders at a war camp.
Across the Cita Mountains, there is a small camp that holds most of this realm’s deadliest warriors, my brother being first in command.
He was born for this position. He could wield a sword and shadows better at the age of fifteen than most grown men could.
My brother quickly earned a name for himself in the training camps.
No one could take him on and win. His bravery and ruthlessness made him adored by everyone and feared by many.
For so long, I’ve been counting down the days until I have someone else in this castle that I care for. And for the first time in years, happiness dances deep inside me.
Barlowe—five years older than me and over two heads taller than I currently stand—has always been fiercely protective of me.
A strong jawline with high cheekbones highlights his features; the cheekbones are a trait we shared with our mother.
His black wavy hair is tied back into a low, messy knot, and his piercing green eyes would be noticeable on the darkest of nights.
“Briar!” Barlowe embraces me and laughs. “Look at you.” He pulls back, studying my face. “I can’t believe how much you look like Mother.”
Tears well in my eyes as I notice my father roll his eyes. Affection has never been a strong suit for him. “I forgot you were coming home today, or I would have dressed nicely for you.”
“Don’t let her lie, son. She hasn’t dressed well in years, so why would she try now?” Father mumbles, pushing back his chair to join us across the room.
I ignore his jab and squeeze my brother one more time. “I didn’t expect you home for another few months. Why are you here?”
He smiles, and my heart soars. “Father called me home. We can talk more about that later!”
My father throws him a cautious eye.
“Walk with me! We have so much to catch up on. How long are you staying?” I ask.
“We have all the time in the world, but first, I need to speak with Father about a few things since returning. You know, battle stuff.” He winks, throwing his arms around. “But I’ll come find you soon. There are many things we must catch up on as well, sister!”
“Always with the battle talk, I’m afraid,” I smirk. “But very well, come to my room later.”
Barlowe grins, and our father waves his hand, dismissing me from the room.
I give him another hug without letting my annoyance show before storming past him. “I will make my leave then. Like you said, Father, there is no small talk today.” I move toward the wide wooden doors.
“Oh, and Briar, please stay close to the castle. There are many things we will be discussing in the coming days. As I mentioned, I have things planned for this kingdom, and you’re an essential part of it.”
My father’s wicked grin makes my stomach churn. I bow before slamming the double doors behind me.
Twisting through the narrow hallways, I head toward the kitchen. The rumble in my stomach is a friendly reminder that it’s been over a full day since my last meal. Since my father and I don’t have family dinner times, most of my meals are spent alone listening to Rose and Lang’s constant bickering.
“There she is,” Lang chirps as I cross the threshold. “Whoa! Look at that dress, killer!”
Rose whistles as I slump into the table, a massive grin spreading across her face.
Rose is older in years but hasn’t lost any spark, beauty, or unbearable sass.
Her white hair falls long down her back but is always tied to avoid any messes while working long kitchen hours.
Rose and Lang—niece and uncle—are both strong Lumor Wielders and they’ve watched over me for years.
At this point, they’ve been more like family to me than my own father.
Wooden shelves line the stone walls of the kitchen, and the single small window in the corner leaves the space dim.
However, the light bursting from the two Lumor Wielders gives it a warm and inviting glow.
I was five when I first met Rose and Lang.
I was crying outside the kitchen in a small stone nook.
Barlowe had said something that upset me, so I ran away.
Lang scooped me up and placed me in the same spot I occupy now, and they’ve been comforting me ever since.
“Glad to see you brushed your hair today before coming down,” Lang jokes.
His wide grin shows a row of white teeth that are almost as white as his hair. “I haven’t seen you in days. You must be starving.”
The growl in my stomach answers as a response. “Barlowe returned today. And I received a lovely note from the king that I should look presentable today—with my own flare, of course.” I wink in his direction, fluffing the wrinkles out of my lap.
“Yeah, right.” Lang chuckles. “That dress is beautiful, but those wrinkles would drive him insane. Nice way to piss him off this time of day. However, you look marvelous, Princess.”
I roll my eyes, resting my head back on the tall wooden bench. Before I know it, my nose tingles from the aroma floating around the cramped room. However, I have no appetite. So, I settle for a few apple slices and a piece of toast when Rose says, “How have you been sleeping, Briar?”
No one knows about my nightmares. It’s one thing I’ve never been able to speak about out loud with anyone since they started. “I slept a few hours last night,” I lie.
“Well, good! That’s an improvement. My little spies tell me they see you at all hours floating around the castle like a ghost.”
I smile. Next time, I’ll remember and be sure to scare a few people for entertainment.
She returns to her stew, nudging Lang with her arm to chime in on the conversation.
Older in all aspects, Lang’s once-blonde hair has turned a pale white.
Gray whiskers pepper his wrinkled face, but his eyes show only past youth and always current joy.
“Rose, didn’t something show up for Briar this morning? ” he shouts over his shoulder.
Rose shuffles in my direction. “Indeed!”
She extends her calloused hand in my direction, years of working in the kitchen leaving her hands lined with scars from cooking and cutting. “Briar, this letter was delivered to the castle this morning with your name on it. I collected it for you since I assumed you’d join us in the kitchen today.”
I look up from my plate of untouched food and freeze. The handwriting on the letter is familiar and something I’ve not seen in years. I snatch the envelope from her hand, earning a huff as she spins, returning to her chores.
This is addressed to me, and without a doubt, the handwriting is my mother’s.
It reads,
“To my shadow.”
When I stand, my world spins. Shock ripples through me as I wave my goodbyes to Rose and Lang, doing my best to keep my composure.
“I’m heading out for the day! I’ll see you both later.”
“You barely touched any food,” Lang yells as I bound out of the kitchen door.
My breath is jagged as I twist through the castle hallways, knowing I’m failing horribly to keep my composure. Tripping on a few steps earns concerned looks from the staff I pass on my way back to my room. I round the last corner and slam into a wall of muscle waiting for me outside my bedroom.