The Sorceress of Lycaster (Lycaster #2)

Prologue

I could not breathe until the Hytons disappeared.

As the golden carriage pulled away, ribbons of sunlight broke through the clouds over Ravenwood Manor.

I basked in the sunlight as the memory of Derrick’s sweet words from mere minutes ago filled my mind. “ Seven years is a long time, Serafina, but I am counting down the days until I see you again. ”

Warmth filled my chest like a flickering hearth and I smiled. The heir to the Dukedom of Lycaster was mine.

Before Derrick and his father had visited the manor, I was trapped in a cage of circumstance. My older brothers were dead and Ravenwood province was doomed to desolation and poverty.

But Derrick was my key out of the cage. If he married me, I would be the next Duchess of Lycaster. If I had that power, I could save the province. All I had to do was make him love me.

If he loved me, he would free me.

I ran back into the manor to tell my parents the good news. I was a mere fourteen years old, but I was going to save the House of Ravenwood.

My footsteps echoed through the dark halls as I rushed to Father’s study. I pushed open the cracked door to find Father at his desk with his head buried in his folded arms. A thick black ledger was open in front of him.

Just as I was about to cheer up Father with the promising future I had crafted, the weight of the darkened study crashed on my shoulders. The smell of fresh ink filled the air. A piece of parchment laid on top of the ledger, stamped with the Hyton seal.

A deal with the Duke of Lycaster, but for what?

My first step into the study creaked a floorboard and Father’s head slowly rose.

I swallowed. “Father, I can help the family. I already have a plan to—”

“Never you mind about that.” His glassy eyes fell to the shining blue wax of the Hyton seal. “Let the…men handle things.”

I knitted my brows. “But I am the last Ravenwood and I can—”

“Go find your mother, Little Ember.” He still refused to look at me. “She is out in the garden.”

I bit my tongue. Fine. Father was the Baron of Ravenwood, a man of business. What would he know of the importance of marriage?

My footsteps were quieter as I walked through the manor to find my mother. She would be proud of me, at least. She had wanted me to charm Derrick and I did. I had eased his nerves, gained his confidence, and even stole a little of his affection.

I pictured our last night together—in the garden enjoying treats I had snuck from the kitchen. Starlight crested Derrick’s cheeks as he laughed. His eyes were both as dark and as beautiful as the blue evening sky.

I traced the back of my hand with my thumb—where the memory of Derrick’s kiss lingered like a promise—and the little spot of heat in my chest warmed.

I pushed on the door into the garden and caught a glimpse of Mother’s dark hair through the shrubs. Pebbles crunched beneath my feet as I ran after her.

She turned as I caught up with her. With her toes in the dirt and her foraging basket tucked in the crook of her elbow, she was only my mother and not the Baroness of Ravenwood. She had abandoned the beautiful mask she had worn with Duke Hyton over the last fortnight and a hard look burned in her eyes.

I straightened my back. “I charmed him, just like you wanted.”

She did not even smile. “Did you?”

What was wrong with her? Maybe she just needed to hear what I had done. “Derrick kissed my hand and said he was going to—”

“Lord Hyton,” Mother said firmly. “You refer to him as Lord Hyton.”

My voice hardened. “He asked me to call him by his given name.”

Mother’s mouth formed a fine line. A breeze rustled the leaves of the tall shrubs around us.

“You want control now that your brothers are gone, I understand,” she said with a low voice, “but you cannot get your hopes up—”

“I am not getting my hopes up!” I snapped. “I know better than to do that after you told me that Erik and Endre would come back from the mountain—”

“Forget what I told you before.” Mother’s tone carried a cudgel of finality, but her eyes lacked any explanation. “Lord Hyton is not yours to choose. None of the men are, for any of us.”

I gripped my skirt so tightly my fingernails nearly tore holes through the wool. “But you wanted me to look beautiful for him, and wear perfume, and smile—”

“And you had better do it.” Mother tightened her dark green shawl around her shoulders. “Your survival hinges on his good favor. And his father’s.”

The warmth in my chest faded as the backs of my eyes stung.

How could I have executed every move perfectly and it was still not enough for her? How was it not enough to save me?

Mother turned toward the woods but kept her emerald eyes on me. “But good favor does not give you control. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

She headed to the trees to stuff her basket full of mushrooms and I turned on my heel back into the garden. I shoved past the iron gate. Walls of green shrubs stretched into the sky around me.

I crashed to the ground and hid in the shade of a towering bush. Cold, grey numbness had trapped me for weeks, but now noise filled my head and my arms. My body was a needle, ready to poke and stab.

I would show them who was in control.

I slowly uncurled my tight fist on top of the garden path. I picked up a pebble and rolled it in my fingers, picturing that I was smashing that red spot of heat in my chest—that weakness Derrick had left within me. I dropped that pebble and picked up a larger one, mentally stacking it on top of the other.

Over and over I picked up pebbles and crushed the weakness. I was in control. My fate was mine to choose.

I threw the last pebble down with a crash, but the tension did not release. My breath escaped my nose in short puffs.

I hated the Hytons. I hated my parents. I hated my brothers for leaving me.

I hated the world that made me small.