CHAPTER 1
THE DAUGHTER OF HOUSE HALE
It is customary for noble heirs of Vallenna to be betrothed no later than their twenty-fifth year.
– Principles of Vallennan Lordship, Article VII
Kara Hale’s hands were covered in the boy’s blood. Emerald magic seeped from her palms, trying to stem the bleeding, the scent of iron suffocating.
She felt his heart stop.
I’m too late.
He was barely full-grown. Eighteen at most. Long blonde hair. Dark eyes. She closed them herself. He had a dagger strapped to his belt – not drawn. A raider from the Ice Lands – only they would wear a heavy fur cloak during Vallennan summer.
Raiders attacked Hale’s borders occasionally, though rarely as far inland as Willowmere. Usually they’d take what they could carry and withdraw without bloodshed.
Not today.
Today they’d crossed paths with Thorne Peacekeepers, enforcers of Vallenna’s law.
Thorne hadn’t hesitated.
They never did.
The soldiers responsible for this had already moved on, barking orders, dragging those still breathing to their feet, hands bound tight enough that their wrists bled.
Four of them for every one prisoner.
A sharp cry of pain snapped her attention away.
She was on her feet in an instant, searching for the source of the noise, feet moving before her mind caught up.
An older Hale man was on the ground, arm slashed badly by a raider who was trying to escape.
The culprit barely made it three strides before a Peacekeeper moved faster than Kara could track – crimson magic flickering – and cut him down with a single strike of his blade.
The raider hit the ground with a sickening thud, his blood seeping onto the cobblestones.
Kara looked away quickly, dropping to her knees as she reached the Hale man’s side, green cloak billowing around her, emerald tendrils of magic already wrapping around his arm.
“Hold still,” she said. “It’ll only take a minute.”
A soldier stepped towards her. “Healer. Out of the way. We’re still securing the prisoners.”
She didn’t even glance at him. “They seem secure enough to me.”
“That wound is superficial–”
“He’s bleeding. So I’m staying.”
“I said–”
“And I said I’m staying,” she said, watching with satisfaction as the torn skin knitted back together, her own arm tingling in response.
At least him, she could heal.
The soldier moved away, muttering darkly about healers getting themselves killed. One of his comrades spoke to him under his breath. “Commander said bring what’s left back to Thorne.”
Their commander.
That would be Thorne’s heir. The one who carved through battlefields, leaving corpses in his wake. Terrifying, some said. A hero, said others. Kara looked around her – the bodies, the blood – and a very different word came to mind.
Brutal.
“Karalynna,” a reproachful voice called.
Kara jerked her head up from the leather-bound textbook she was supposed to be reading. She hated being called Karalynna. Hated it even more the way her Uncle Darian said it. Laced with disappointment.
This time, she supposed he had a point.
She hadn’t been studying. Not at all.
The boy from Willowmere kept appearing in her mind. Covered in blood. Unmoving. Even though it had been nearly a month, she still carried it. Not that she could tell anyone. Her father had made his feelings on ‘emotional attachment’ clear years ago.
Uncle Darian stood at the doorway to the library, arms folded, face like stone. He wore a dark tunic and a long emerald cloak the same as hers. His once-black hair had now faded to a steel grey.
“You have been staring at the same page for ten minutes,” he said.
“I was–”
“The Autumnal Ball is in two weeks,” Darian cut across her sternly. “Your father believes you are not yet prepared.”
Kara’s cheeks heated. The Ball. It was all her family could talk about. She was well aware how important it was for her House that she attend, though she had no desire to. It was just another opportunity for her father to make her play for the crowd. To use her as a pawn.
Kara glanced around Hale Manor’s library as Uncle Darian began pulling out more scrolls, more books, piling them on the table in front of her.
The oak-panelled walls were lined with portraits of previous Hale lords and ladies, watching her and, she was quite sure, disapproving.
The familiar scent of dust and old parchment hung heavy in the air.
She eyed the setting sun out of the high windows.
Another full day in here, then. Apparently, being a fully trained healer wasn’t considered knowledge enough, not if you couldn’t recite the histories of Vallenna’s eight Houses from memory.
Uncle Darian watched her closely. “You are preoccupied, Karalynna. Have been since the raid. Do not think I haven’t noticed.”
“I’m fine.”
“House Thorne did their duty–”
At this, Kara pulled a face and said, “Ah, yes. For peace, they sacrifice. Even if it means killing unarmed boys–”
Darian’s expression sharpened. “Do not sneer their creed, Karalynna.”
“I was only saying–”
“Between these walls, you know I share your distaste. They are brutes who present violence as virtue.” He ran a hand through his grey hair. “But publicly? You must be civil. As we all must be. Do you think Lord Thorne won’t notice at the Ball if you are not? Do you think his son won’t?”
“I wasn’t exactly planning on spending the evening in the company of the Thorne heir, Uncle.”
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Although our Houses disagree about many things, Vallenna requires all skills of the eight. Even the unpleasant ones.”
“I know, I know. Unity above all,” Kara said, though the words tasted bitter.
“Precisely.”
But Hale and Thorne didn’t mix. Not beyond what their duties to the High Council demanded. And Kara had never seen a reason to argue with that.
“You mustn’t let your emotions show so easily. Not everyone will be forgiving. Your father would be most displeased if you caused offence.”
Kara held back the words she didn’t dare speak.
Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just smile and obey.
“Yes, Uncle.”
Quick footsteps echoed in the corridor. Kara looked up as the library doors opened and her mother stepped into the room.
“That will be the Lyran blood in her, Darian,” she said, smiling. “We have always been an emotional people.”
Darian gave her a tight smile in return. “Yes, my lady.”
Kara glanced curiously at her mother. Eliyana Hale was effortlessly graceful, willowy and poised, wearing her ash-blonde hair in a braid over her shoulder, silver threads now at her temples.
Kara had inherited both her height and green eyes from her mother, but her own hair was a deep ebony – her father’s colouring.
“Kara, darling, your father wishes to speak with you in his study.”
Uncle Darian gave a curt nod and she rose to follow her mother out of the room, down the torch-lit corridors, the faint scent of lavender in the air.
Her mind raced. Her father rarely summoned her to his study.
Rarely spoke with her at all. Kara fiddled with her braid.
Although Eliyana looked calm enough, she felt her emotions like a wave.
Anxiety. Frustration. The Lyran affinity Kara had never been able to switch off, no matter how much her father had wanted her to.
She usually found the latent magic useful.
Right now it was doing absolutely nothing to reassure her.
As they approached the oak door to her father’s study, her mother gave her an encouraging smile, then stepped back.
“He asked to see you alone,” she said.
Only Lord and heir, then. Kara watched her retreat before knocking lightly.
“Enter,” came her father’s voice.
She stepped inside. Lord Alaric Hale stood by the open window across the room, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the gardens below. His cloak billowed around him in the late-summer breeze – the only thing that moved. He didn’t turn when she entered.
“Sit, Karalynna.”
She sat in the armchair by the hearth and waited. Alaric didn’t sit with her – only turned to face her, his dark eyes measured. “The match has been agreed. Henry Caldris will be your betrothed. The announcement will be made at the Autumnal Ball.”
Kara’s fingers gripped the arms of the chair hard. “I see.”
He watched her. “You’ve met him before.”
She had met Henry a handful of times, and each had been uninspiring. Conversation did not come easily. He was far more interested in his books – to be expected, she supposed, of a Caldris.
“I remember. He’s kind.”
“Then you’ve no reason to object,” Alaric said.
“I didn’t say I objected. I said he was kind.” Her father made to speak, but Kara cut across him. “Is this necessary, Father? Really?”
His expression didn’t shift. “Yes.”
That one word landed like a sword above her head. “But why this match? Why won’t you let me choose for myself?”
Alaric frowned. “Because you are to stand with a House that shares our values. Caldris will preserve our legacy, and quiet any who may doubt your readiness for Hale’s seat when the time comes.”
“There’s still time. It doesn’t have to be now, I could–”
“You are entering your twenty-fifth year, Karalynna. And the only heir to our House. It is expected. Hale must endure.”
His words were cool and certain. Fact, not cruelty. The only heir. She’d heard this many times. Her parents had tried for years to conceive a child, and had suffered many losses. No magic could help them. Kara had been their only babe carried to term.
“I’ve trained for seven years. I’ve poured myself into healing, into service. And now you want me to smile and link arms with a man I barely know, a man whom I don’t love–”
“Yes. I do.” His voice rang with finality.
Kara exhaled sharply. That was it. Her life decided.
“You will do your duty. As we do ours,” he commanded.
“What if I want more than duty, Father? Someone who loves me for me, not my title? Something that’s real.”