Stolen Fates (The Gifts of the Gods)

1. CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Alena

A lena scowled at the giant cloud of dust lifting in the distance, a sure sign of the approaching suitors from across the steppe lands. Their saddlebags would be loaded with wool, grain, and other goods for payment—as if such offerings could ever compensate for the loss of her sister.

Every summer, the nomadic Freefolk camps came together to forge alliances by marrying off their sons and daughters. Camp Bessi was no exception. The elders had invited suitors from each camp throughout the Freefolk steppe lands to meet potential brides and barter for their hand in marriage with gifts.

Alena had never concerned herself with the summer weddings before, but her older sister, Katell, had turned sixteen in the spring and was of marrying age. Ignoring the events was impossible this time around, given their days together were numbered. Once a match was made, Katell would spend her remaining time entertaining her future husband under a chaperone’s watchful eye.

Alena couldn’t imagine her sister as a wife. Katell was a force of nature. Riding and hunting were her strengths, it was why she thrived in the wilderness of the steppe lands. She did not, however, have nearly as much skill in taking care of a home, let alone a husband.

Though Alena was determined to enjoy what little time she had left with her sister, her thoughts were often pulled towards a more tempting alternative. What if they ran away together? What might happen if they crossed the Deep River and went travelling through the Old Lands? Would they find heroes Gifted with magic and legendary creatures like the ones Damocles—their father—often spoke of in his stories?

As tempting a thought as it was, Katell would never agree to it. Thus, Alena had no other choice than to accept the suitors coming to disrupt her life, much like their galloping horses disturbed the serene expanse of the steppe.

“Cheer up, Alena!” Leywani, Katell’s closest friend, grabbed her around the shoulders from behind and pulled her into a tight hug.

Her sharp ribcage poked Alena through her thin dress. The previous winter had been terrible and many families, including Leywani’s, had gone hungry despite the hunters’ efforts to feed the camp. Katell had tried to spare food from their own stash, but when both Alena and Damocles had fallen ill, they’d had even less left to share.

“I heard Camp Lukim’s sending the most suitors this year, so chances are Kat will end up with one of them.”

Beside them, Katell leaned against the weathered fence surrounding the goat pens, her sharp gaze on the approaching group of riders. Her lips were drawn into a tight line, betraying the tension simmering within her. She’d spent all season arguing with their father about the wedding, to no avail. As a respected councilman within Camp Bessi, Damocles was duty-bound to uphold the Freefolk traditions and that included his daughters. Any deviance from the rules risked not only their father’s status but also their share of fresh meat and grain the suitors had brought with them.

Katell had no choice—she had to marry.

“But what if she marries someone who isn’t from a nearby camp?” Alena asked, the fear of being separated from her sister coiling like a noose around her heart. “There are so many travelling from further east, closer to the Parthian Lands. That’s over three days’ travel!”

Tears blurred her vision. If Katell was sent to one of the faraway camps, the chances of seeing her sister again were slim to none.

Leywani exchanged a look with Katell. With a sigh, the tension in her sister’s face melted away, and she drew Alena into a comforting hug.

“I’m not gone yet, little star,” Katell said. “And even if I leave, I’ll make the journey back and visit each Harvest.”

“That’s only once a year!” Alena argued.

Katell tightened her arms around her in a gesture of reassurance and planted a gentle kiss atop her auburn curls. “I know. I don’t like this either. But I will return. That I promise you.”

“And then one day, soon enough,” Leywani chimed in, “it’ll be your turn to find a nice husband to settle down with and have his children.”

Katell’s body stiffened against Alena. “She’s only thirteen. Father won’t want her to marry too soon.”

Leywani tugged a strand of Alena’s hair, a playful smile dancing across her lips. “Perhaps she won’t have to worry about marriage at all if she keeps nabbing scrolls she’s not supposed to!”

Alena spun in Katell’s hold to confront their friend’s smirking face. Despite her delicate body, Leywani was one of the most vibrant and enchanting girls of Camp Bessi. Her smooth bronze skin, paired with deep brown eyes and dark hair, gave her a striking beauty. Only a year younger than Katell, their friend possessed the unique ability to coax genuine laughter from her sister while also teasing Alena incessantly.

“I don’t steal them, I borrow them,” Alena retorted, although they all knew that the Council, the rulers of Camp Bessi, wouldn’t see it that way.

Scrolls and artefacts from the Old Lands were confiscated in the Freefolk camps, especially if they detailed or depicted anything to do with the gods. Many generations ago, the Freefolk had migrated eastward to the vast steppe lands, seeking refuge from both the ravages of war and the wrath of the gods that wrought destruction upon their lands. From then on, the elders had outlawed the practice of worship in any form. In the Freefolk Lands, the gods were dead, and any man or woman who showed signs of magic was promptly exiled or killed.

But Alena was too curious for her own good. Ever since Damocles had told her stories about his homeland, Achaea, their twelve gods, and their Gifted heroes who possessed magic and defeated evil kings and monsters, she’d been desperate to learn everything she could.

Such adventures didn’t exist in Camp Bessi. The Freefolk lived a simple life in the steppe lands, harvesting wild grasses, and tending to their flock of sheep and goats. Amidst her daily routine of cooking, cleaning, and sewing, Alena’s sole excitement and joy came from learning more about the Old Lands.

While most of the scrolls she’d snuck out of the Council’s storage tents were lists of supplies or other boring administrative records, every now and then she stumbled upon a map, a prayer to the gods, or even more exciting, drawings of the gods’ symbols. The same symbols that marked the skin of mortals who possessed magic.

In the Old Lands, Damocles had told her that those with magic were named Gifted. But among the Freefolk, they were referred to as Marked—a lesser term that conveyed their perceived difference and none of the marvel. All Freefolk were under strict orders to never approach a Marked one—not that Alena had ever met one.

“Father should have held his tongue instead of putting ideas in your head,” Katell said, spinning Alena around to face her. “Why do you even care about the Old Lands? It’s not like you’ll get to go. They’re not safe.”

Alena fell silent. Katell wasn’t being cruel, but her sister simply couldn’t understand the appeal of distant unknown lands where men and women could wield magic and accomplish incredible feats. Where they had the freedom to do as they wished, rather than listen to a group of elders and their archaic laws.

“Maybe she’s hoping to meet a Gifted hero.” A mischievous glimmer lit up Leywani’s eyes. “I caught a glimpse of those muscled men in armour on some Achaean red vases, and suddenly their appeal became much clearer to me.”

Katell let out a snort. A flush of heat rose to Alena’s cheeks and she lunged at Leywani. The girl darted out of the way with a squeal, then ran to hide behind Katell. Alena jumped left to catch her, but Leywani was too quick and laughed even harder.

“Just because you’re obsessed with boys doesn’t mean we all are!” Alena huffed, lifting her braid from the back of her neck. The day was too hot to be running around. “And the scrolls don’t have any drawings at all.”

“Well, speaking of scrolls…” With a dramatic pause, Leywani slipped a hand beneath her cloak and fiddled with her belt underneath. “I found this.” She retrieved a roll of parchment tied with string. It was the kind that came from the Old Lands, its edges weathered and frayed.

Alena’s eyes widened. Where had Leywani found it?

Katell cast a swift glance around, but no one else was present on the outskirts of the camp. The only discernible company they had were the goats and their pungent smell permeating their surroundings. Most of the camp families had already gathered at the central square to welcome the suitors.

“Where did you get that?” Katell hissed.

Leywani’s lips curled, her face radiating with satisfaction as she casually leaned against the wooden fence, basking in the moment. “Father was tasked with helping Elder Ignatius do some inventory, and he must have brought it home by mistake. I was cleaning around our tent and stumbled across it.” She gave it to Alena with a wink. “Here you go. Enjoy. Hopefully, it’s something fun to read and not a list of grain supplies like the last one you found.”

Katell arched a brow, unamused. “Ley…”

Their friend waved a hand. “It’s fine. Just bring it back when you’re done.”

Alena pulled at the string, but her sister plucked the scroll from her grasp and stuffed it down her tunic. “Not here. Open it at home.”

“Oh,” Leywani continued, tapping a finger against her chin, “I also heard that the latest refugee family who arrived two days ago by cart had some interesting artefacts with them.”

Alena perked up. “Really? What kind?”

Behind her, Katell clicked her tongue against her teeth, but her sister didn’t fool her. Although Katell pretended not to be interested in their father’s tales, she still listened to them and often asked about the Rebel Queen—the Western warrior queen who’d gathered an army and marched against the Rasennan Empire that had threatened to conquer her lands.

“Some vase depicting women in armour, apparently.”

Alena almost squealed. “Amazons?! By the Moon, I have to see it. Where was it stored?”

“In the storage tent where they keep all the blankets.” Leywani straightened up from the fence, mirroring Alena’s eagerness. “I can show you.”

Katell shot her a sharp look. “Ley, stop encouraging her! You’ll get her in trouble with the elders. Besides, we need to go. The guests are almost here.”

She grabbed Leywani’s arm and they headed back to camp. With a resigned sigh, Alena trailed after them.

Camp Bessi was comprised of rows of goat-skin conical tents, all draped in furs, and haphazardly arranged around a bustling central square. Already, a crowd had formed to welcome the riders. Men, clad in riding leathers and fur-trimmed tunics, marched solemnly from the stables to the elders’ pavilion in a single file. As they passed, a palpable buzz of excitement rippled through the square, whispers spreading amidst the onlookers. It was customary for the potential suitors to gather with the Council in the pavilion where they would eat and share news from each of their camps before meeting their brides the next day.

Damocles’ tall frame stood out among the Council members, his blond hair shining like a beacon. His friend Demetrius, another councilman, joined him and they welcomed the guests.

Alena’s father assessed the suitors, his keen gaze sweeping over each man as they entered the pavilion. They were all strangers to Alena, but she was surprised to see as many young men as old ones, some older than her father.

“They look awful,” Alena said bluntly.

Katell hummed in agreement while a nearby woman shot them a disapproving glance.

Each year, the whole camp was completely engrossed with the suitors’ arrival, the central square overflowing with families despite the summer heat. Alena observed the assembled crowd and in a moment of clarity realised it was the perfect opportunity to slip away, unnoticed. She knew the storage tent Leywani had mentioned. She could seek out the artefacts, take a peek, and then head back home before anyone was any the wiser.

“I’m going to find Octavia,” Alena told Katell, knowing the mention of her only friend at camp would stop any unwanted questions. “I’ll meet you back home.”

Katell nodded, her attention still captured by the suitors. “Don’t be too long, and don’t talk to—”

“—any outsiders,” Alena finished, already pushing her way through the sweltering crowd. “I know!”

Sweat trickled down her temples as she navigated through the dense throng. When she finally escaped the crowd and reached the first line of tents, she hastened her pace, anticipation growing within her. Thankfully, the rest of the camp seemed deserted, and she had no trouble reaching the storage tents and locating the specific one with the fur blankets. Her pulse quickened at the thought of what she might discover hidden within and, after untying the flaps, she entered.

Inside, the air hung heavy with heat. A beam of light pierced through the opening at the top, illuminating the motes of dust suspended in its path. On one side, a heap of furs lay beside neatly stacked woollen blankets ready to be distributed to new refugee families. On the opposite side, sturdy chests and wooden crates filled the rest of the space, some left ajar, revealing their contents. Some held an array of ceramics, while others contained pins, needles, combs, cutlery, and fibulae—items that the Rasennan used to fasten their garments—and scrolls.

She counted at least a dozen scrolls in one chest alone. Her breath caught in her throat, and she forgot all about the vase she’d been searching. Instead, her mind buzzed at the amount of knowledge the scrolls had to hold. With trembling hands, she started to reach for the nearest one.

Without warning, a deep voice interrupted the silence. “Alena.”

Startled, Alena let out a small squeak. Heart racing, she spun around to find her father’s looming figure blocking the entrance.

Arms folded over his chest, he fixed her with piercing blue eyes. “By the Moon, what are you doing here?”

“I was…” She racked her mind for an excuse, but there was no use denying her actions. “I was looking for artefacts.”

Damocles’ expression shifted, softening a touch. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.” He grasped the tent flap behind him, holding it open. “Come on out.”

Swallowing a rush of embarrassment, Alena glanced over her shoulder at the scrolls once more and then filed outside.

She stood to one side, her cheeks burning, as her father tied the flap strings in a tight knot. “How did you know I was here?” she asked.

“Demetrius saw you sneak off. It’s a good thing he told me and not the elders.” He paused, giving her a pointed look, and letting her imagine the consequences had the elders found her instead. “Let’s go. I need to head back to the pavilion, and Kat still needs your help with her dress.”

Alena wrinkled her nose. Katell didn’t like dresses, preferring the practicality of her rugged riding leathers. But it was tradition that she wear a bridal dress when meeting her future husband.

“Why can’t she stay with us?” Alena cried out before her father could leave. “She’ll be no good as a wife, she can barely cook. And she’s got an awful temper. If her husband ever annoys her, she might even punch him in the face like she did to those boys from Camp Lukim.”

When three older boys, visiting for the Moon festival, had harassed Alena for the strange auburn colour of her hair and smeared her with goat droppings, Katell hadn’t hesitated. She’d hit all three boys and even made one cry.

A smile twitched at the corners of Damocles’ mouth. “Such high praise for your sister.”

Their father hadn’t punished Katell for punching the boys despite the Council’s anger. Instead, he’d taken her out in the steppe and had started teaching her how to fight and handle a sword. Her sister had shown innate talent, effortlessly embracing her training—yet another reason why she was unsuitable to be a wife.

“Father, please. She should stay here with us.” Alena held her father’s gaze, then added in a softer tone, “She could marry Scylas instead.”

Scylas had been friends with Katell and Leywani for years. As the grandson of Elder Ignatius and son of a councilman, he was the future leader of the camp, yet he spent all his time with Katell, sparring and hunting. It was clear in Alena’s eyes that her sister’s heart belonged to him. She’d even spotted the pair kissing under the oak tree by the stream once.

Her father’s brow furrowed. “You know that’s not the Freefolk way.”

Disappointment must have shown on her face because he walked back towards her and put his large hand atop her head. “Alena, do you understand why the elders insist on bringing suitors from other camps?”

She hesitated. “To forge alliances and bring in new goods?”

“Yes, but that’s not all. They are doing it to break up families so that traditions from the Old Lands are more easily forgotten when daughters leave to join a new camp. Those daughters in turn become mothers, start their own family, and when faced with a new environment, people tend to forget their old traditions and adopt the customs of their present surroundings—those of the Freefolk.”

Alena contemplated his words for a moment. “But you don’t want us to forget. You tell us stories about Achaea all the time.” She lowered her voice. “You’re even teaching us their language.”

“I am,” he agreed with a small smile. “Because I believe that erasing our past will not help our future. The Freefolk wish to break free of the gods and their magic, to be rid of the wars plaguing the Old Lands. But some things are not easily forgotten, and try as they might, the Freefolk cannot hide from the gods.”

Alena’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean? Do you think they’re watching us?”

“Perhaps,” he answered in his usual cryptic manner, leaving Alena perplexed. It was always difficult to get a straight answer from him.

He pulled away, glancing back at the storage tent. Sunlight illuminated his golden hair and the faint white scar running along his jaw. “I know I can’t stop you, Alena, but you’re not a child anymore. You know the consequences should you be caught. Be more careful next time. I may be able to influence the Council, but the elders are not so forgiving.”

He reached out once more, his warm hand tenderly tousled her hair. “I’ll see you at home.”

Alena watched him leave, the previous thrill of uncovering new scrolls replaced by a sinking feeling inside her stomach. She’d failed to convince him to stop Katell’s wedding. By tomorrow night, her sister would be married and then depart camp soon after. How long would it be before Alena saw her again?

Her fears plagued her all the way back home. By the time she reached the tent adorned by two wolf pelts hanging on either side of the flaps, her nerves were worn raw. She entered, muttered the customary Freefolk greeting and, after a moment, Katell answered from within.

The potent aroma of dried herbs that their father used for his medicinal potions hit her nose as she approached the firepit located at the heart of the tent. She stoked the remaining embers of the morning fire, coaxing them to life.

Katell approached from their side of the tent, cradling the delicate folds of her beaded bridal dress. The sight of it sent a pang of dread through Alena’s chest, causing reality to sink in—her sister’s wedding was the next day.

Katell held up the dress, a gentle warmth shining in her eyes. “Help me put it on?”

Alena forced a smile to her lips. “Of course.”

She went to wash her hands as Katell pulled off her tunic. With each discarded piece of hemp-woven clothing, Alena felt her sister slipping further away. Her throat tightened, but she suppressed her tears.

They worked in silence, Alena helping Katell slip her arms through the bridal dress before adjusting the fabric around her body and then fixing her hair.

Once they were done, Alena took a step back to admire her work. “You look beautiful, Kat.”

The bridal dress was stitched with elegant orange, blue, and silver threads that Alena had spent days sewing with some of the women’s help. It fit her sister perfectly. Standing in her dress with braided hair and a clean face, Katell was transformed. Many girls envied Leywani for her big doe brown eyes and glistening hair, smooth as a waterfall, but Katell was also beautiful in her own right with olive skin that contrasted with her piercing green gaze.

And yet, the figure standing before Alena bore no resemblance to her sister. Nothing about the attire reflected Katell’s personality—the strong girl who liked to fight, ride, and hunt. On the contrary, she seemed erased—just another pretty bride for the elders to wed off.

Katell looked down at herself, looking unusually forlorn. It was obvious she didn’t want to get married. She was doing it out of respect for their father and to appease the elders.

Alena approached her, breaking the terrible silence of the tent. “Kat.”

“Hmm.” Katell seemed distant, her mind elsewhere as she stared into the firepit.

Before Alena lost her nerve, she blurted, “You don’t have to do this. Get married to a stranger, I mean. You could leave if you wanted. We could both leave.”

Her words snapped her sister out of her thoughts. Katell whirled around, her brow furrowed. “Leave? And go where?”

Alena bit her lip. It was now or never, even if it was a foolish idea. She would forever regret it if she didn’t at least try to convince her sister to stay with her. “Cross the Deep River and head south. To Achaea.”

Katell scoffed. “And what about Father? You’d just abandon him?”

“I… I’m sure he would understand.” As much as it pained Alena to think of leaving their father behind, perhaps he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea if it meant his daughters were free. Perhaps he might even go with them.

“Alena.” Concern laced Katell’s voice. “Where is this coming from?”

“I just don’t want to lose you,” she admitted in a small voice. “I guess I thought we would always be together and that one day, we would leave Camp Bessi together and travel… or something.”

Lifting the skirts of her dress, Katell took a seat on her bed and gestured for Alena to join her. Alena complied, although she already knew what her sister was about to say.

“You’ve been letting Father’s stories get to your head.” Katell gave her a rueful smile. “The heroes and the gods, they’re pretty tales, Alena, but the Old Lands are nothing like that anymore. You heard what Father said about the Rasennan Empire, the wars, even slavery—”

“I know,” Alena said shortly. She knew the dangers that awaited them beyond the Deep River, but those stories were all she had to entertain her in a camp where no one dared speak of their past. With a sigh, she covered her sister’s hand with her own and met her gaze. “That doesn’t mean you have to become a wife, Kat. You could do so much more with your life.”

Katell’s eyes widened, and in that fleeting moment, Alena hoped her words had resonated. That Katell would agree to leave.

Instead, her sister shook her head. “Thank you for believing in me, little star, but you worry too much. It’s my responsibility to take care of you, remember? Not the other way around. And if marrying is how I can bring honour to our family and make sure you and Father will be taken care of, then I will do it. Without a doubt.”

Katell’s decision was made and nothing Alena could say would change it.

“Before I forget,” Katell said, gesturing behind her, “I tucked Ley’s scroll between our beds. You can read it now if you want, I don’t mind.”

Alena paused. She’d forgotten all about Leywani’s scroll. Any other day, she would have jumped at the opportunity of reading it, but with her sister’s impending departure, its appeal had faded.

“Maybe some other time.” It could contain the entire history of the Achaean kingdoms for all she cared, but nothing compared to the precious moments she had left with her sister.

Alena wrapped her arms around Katell and held her tight, breathing in her familiar scent. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Me too, little star,” Katell answered, stroking her hair. “Me too.”