Fervor (The Fervor Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  “But Arun—”

  “Enough. I don’t have time. This portal might be the answer to our prayers. We live a thousand miles from the nearest kingdom. How are our people going to make it across the Hamada? How many will die under the heat of the sun?”

  “You can’t—”

  “No, I’m going,” his tone a little less gruff when he saw the genuine concern on all three brothers’ faces, “and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll come back through. I want you to work together while I’m gone. Can I count on you?” Going in order, Arun’s eyes rested on Fisk first. “Well?”

  “Damn, damn, damn! I hate this. I hate the whole thing. I’ll do what I have to, but I won’t like it.” As Fisk stood, he walked by Brant and slapped him upside the head.

  Frustrated he hadn’t gotten any action, Brant jumped forward to pummel Fisk.

  “Brant, don’t fall for it. Are you in?” Arun said, trying to resist the urge to smile. He couldn’t remember a time when Brant and Fisk weren’t at each other’s throats.

  Brant stopped himself and turned toward Arun. “You know I’m in, because I have integrity and stick to my word. For example, if my brother asks for my help and my professional opinion—I’ll always tell him the truth!”

  Finally, Arun went to Ives, the youngest in age but the oldest soul. The whole time the others were fighting, he’d remained aloof, removed. He was the one Arun had to worry about, because if Ives rebelled, he’d bring the other two right down with him. But Arun didn’t rush him; Ives would come to his decision on his own terms.

  Ives strode over, coming face to face with Arun. “If you die, I will roam the nine circles of hell, find you, and then kill you again.”

  “So?’

  “So, I’m in. You have one week.”

  Turning toward the cliff’s edge, Arun strode forward, never looking back, never slowing. With one last step, he was freefalling. As he soared over the side, he wished it didn’t feel like his stomach was smashing into his brain.

  Chapter 2

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  Princess Caprice Nue’mon of the Glissante gazed on nothing but swirls and gusts of endless snow. Leaning one hand against the protective glass, the sole barrier between her and the unforgiving elements of her volatile kingdom, she absorbed the deep freeze. Even protected behind the glass, the palace was kept at near freezing temperatures.

  I am chilled down to the marrow of my bones.

  “Prin, you must hurry. They’ll be here soon.” Only Addy would dare have a nickname for the princess.

  Sighing, Caprice pressed her forehead against the glass, shutting her eyes to the swirling eddies of ice. Her people subsisted on the northwestern side of the ledge, closest to the cold, having adapted to the freezing clime. The acclimation had kept them alive, but it had changed them. Deep cold had penetrated their hearts, their souls, creeping in and freezing vital emotions.

  The Glissante had adapted so well, that now touch equaled death. Her people called it the freeze. The warning had been repeated to her from a young age. Never touch, never touch, never touch.

  Caprice heard the sound of hushed voices and slippered feet pressing against the gray stone walkway. Did her servants dread the ritual as much as she? Would they feel sorrow when they tortured her, one tiny sliver of glass at a time? Wincing, she realized how misguided her secret thoughts were. A true princess would ponder topics like discipline and respect, not love, and certainly never kindness.

  As they entered, she straightened and prepared for The Binding, a ritual created so long ago, no one could remember when it began. She was to be tested. She must survive the pain, block out the agony, and demonstrate she was a true Princess Glissante. And although she knew she’d be a miserable failure, she would not shame her people, no matter how scared she felt. She would show no emotion.

  Standing, she faced the drudges, the female servants that had attended her most of her adult life. Facial muscles locked in place, Caprice gazed ahead, never taking her eyes from the tapestry hanging across the room.

  They approached, hands covered in thick leather gloves, each carrying a small bowl. In unison they bowed, beginning the formal ceremony that would launch the start of her new life. Tonight marked a change for two reasons, and both made her want to run from the room screaming.

  Not a word was spoken but Addy, her most faithful servant and only friend in the world, bid the drudges to rise. Each took a bowl and poured a fine glittery substance onto their gloves.

  Caprice stepped forward, dropping her gown, never changing expression as the women gazed upon her naked frame. She heard a gasp and understood the response. She bit back a sigh. Most likely they had never seen a royal in the flesh and must have wondered at what they saw.

  The princess stood taller than most, meeting the men of her kingdom eye to eye. She was broad of shoulder and long of leg, a direct contrast to most of the servants, who were shorter and curvier. Her white-blond hair, shot through with the finest of gold, was unusual. She tried to hide the color by pulling it back in tiny braids that ran well past her waist.

  Glissante royalty were to have hair as pure white as the snow.

  Her skin glistened, stripped of every hair that existed below her face, in preparation for the ceremony. As the women approached, she steeled herself for the pain; her heart racing so fast she was convinced they could see it beating against her chest. Gloved hands rubbed against her skin. When one scraped against her breast, she bit the inside of her mouth until the metallic taste of blood ran over her tongue.

  Do not reveal your pain, do not…

  When one of the drudges hesitated, Addy snapped, “Don’t stop now. Once we begin, we must finish quickly, now hurry.”

  In the bowls were glass crystals, ground down to a fine, glittery powder. Shutting her eyes, Caprice fought for calm. Hands, tiny hands, pushed and pulled, massaging her skin from the bottom of her chin to the tips of her toes, coating her in glassy shards. The binding ritual was meant to ground her, to bring her in focus with the ice, the cold.

  It didn’t work. Instead, it set fire to her blood. She hated it! Instantly ashamed, she wondered, for the thousandth time, why she couldn’t be a proper Princess of the Glissante. Why hadn’t the cold crept into her heart, freezing her emotions as all the other princesses before her?

  Perhaps she should open the window and walk into the snow, never to return, just like her mother. For years, there had been whispers she’d killed herself when Caprice was only three. All of it rumor, of course, because no one spoke of it. They wouldn’t dare. Perhaps her mother knew, deep in her heart, that she could never embrace the cold, not the way her people expected.

  As is the mother, so shall be the daughter.

  “Enough.” Caprice kept her voice modulated, calm. The drudges must never sense her pain; they must believe she was so frozen that she was oblivious to the pain.

  That was the purpose of The Binding.

  All of the drudges left the room, save Addy, and as soon as the coast was clear, Caprice slumped against the window seat, a small cry passing her lips as the glass dug in.

  “I am so sorry. I know it hurts, but we don’t have much time. You have the ceremony at midnight tonight, but first we have the Trade.” The raspy tones of Addy’s voice held comfort and concern.

  “How could he have done it to me, Addy? Planned the two worst events of my entire life on the same night. I…”

  “He doesn’t see it that way. I’m so sorry,” Addy repeated as she carried Caprice’s girdle in one hand and her gown in the other.

  Tonight would display her people at their worst. The custom of the Slave Trade had grown out of necessity. They needed workers. There weren’t enough Glissante to maintain the kingdom, and no one would willingly live so close to the northwestern end of the ledge. So, they stole people, kidnapped them from their homes. And her father hardly batted an eye. In fact, this year he’d attended the hunt and had been gone for close to six months. Caprice wanted nothing to do with it, yet
what choice did she have? She was their princess, their future queen, and she was expected to support her father without fail.

  “Caprice, are you listening to me? You know how important tonight is. The Pre-Dom is on her way and she will sing like a snowbird if she suspects anything’s off. We’ve had six blessed months without her, so we’ve gotten soft. We have to remind ourselves of how insane she really is. Come now. Let’s get your girdle and gown on.”

  Pre-Dom was the name Addy had assigned her father’s Head Drudge. The Pre-Dom’s goal in life was to become the Predominant, Head Mistress to all Drudge. It wasn’t enough that she was personal assistant to the king.

  And gods, the Pre-Dom hated Addy, jealous of all the male attention the pretty maid received. The laughable part was the Pre-Dom was gorgeous; Caprice had never seen a woman more physically beautiful, but she couldn’t hold a torch to Addy. No one could. Addy’s plain exterior housed an inner light that shone throughout the kingdom, and people fought to bask in her glow.

  It was only a matter of time before the Pre-Dom became Predominant. Caprice knew Addy hoped it was later rather than sooner. Caprice couldn’t muster the energy to care.

  She remained on the bench, her unseeing gaze caught in the forest of white outside her window. Laying a hand on the glass, she felt her body pitch and sway as Addy adjusted the cups of the boned girdle, built to dig into the flesh, creating optimum curves. Gritting her teeth, she let out a gasp. The girdle felt as if it were lined with a million needles that punctured her skin. Next came the billowing white gown, strapless, hugging her tightly then spiraling out into layer after layer of billowing satin below her waist.

  To remain focused, she zeroed in on the palm that rested on the window, letting the pain run from her heart, down her arms, to the tips of her fingers. Cold spread and ice raced across the pane of glass, traveling in five shooting arcs from the tips of each finger. For once, she welcomed the freeze. The cold grew so intense, the window started to crack. Just before the pane shattered, she reluctantly removed her hand.

  As is the mother, so shall be the daughter.

  “Addy?” Her face remained motionless. She had been diligent these last months, practicing, not twitching a brow, determined to show her father the princess she could be. But a strange sensation tickled her eye. Liquid welled and one lone tear slipped down her cheek. It was such a rare occurrence, even Addy stopped her fussing. Caprice had always allowed her true personality free reign in front of her life-long friend, but it had been years since she’d seen her cry.

  “Prin, sweets, don’t cry. Please. Shh.” Addy reached up and dared to touch her, stroking her cheek, brushing against the only area of skin not covered in glass. Because Addy was the only person in the world who knew the truth.

  I am flawed.

  She had learned at a young age that she was imperfect, able to touch without killing. As far as she knew, she was the only Glissante princess in history who could control the freeze. And that control, that power made her crave, crave things she should have surrendered to the cold. She needed touch, ached for it, yearned for it with a never ending ache.

  This was her secret, and if her father were to find out, it would mean certain death.

  Caprice leaned in, needing Addy’s warmth for a few stolen moments. The slight weight of her palm on Caprice’s cheek grounded her, and she hoped when Addy removed it, she wouldn’t float away.

  Never touch a living soul. Never touch… Never, never, never… It echoed through her head, bouncing against the walls of her mind. “Addy, I don’t think—I can’t do it! I hate everything about this. I will meet my husband for the first time as I’m marrying him, only hours after the Trade. How could my father have done this?”

  “How could he not? He doesn’t know of your aversion to the Trade. You never dared expose that weakness to him, and you never will.” Addy pulled back, her dark eyes firing with purpose. “You’ll get through this night like you have all the rest, because you have no choice. None of us do.”

  “But Addy, gods, to look on their faces, chained like dogs. If he brings children, I’ll break.” Another tear tracked down her face, pooling on her lips, surprising her at the salty taste.

  “You will not. What will happen to them if you aren’t strong? What will happen to all of us? Caprice, please, we only have a few minutes before the Pre-Dom shows up. You don’t want to let her see you like this, do you?”

  Taking a deep breath, she brushed away the tears, stopping to stare at her wet finger. Gods, she hated tears. They represented all of her weaknesses, dripping from her eyes, liquid proof for the world to see. She could still feel the sting of her father’s whip all those years ago when she’d cried as a child.

  Allowing herself one last moment to embrace the pounding emotions racing around her heart, Caprice gazed at her friend. Addy had been placed with her at the tender age of five, because none of the children of the aristocracy were anywhere near her age, their population having dwindled rapidly. Addy and Caprice had become inseparable. Her father had warned her that Addy was expendable, merely a servant, but Caprice had loved her instantly.

  She remained the only person in the world she ever showed her true self. Reaching back, Caprice placed a hand against Addy’s arm as she stood behind her, preparing to work on her hair. Caprice said, “Thank you.” She hoped everything she felt for her friend shone in her eyes. She didn’t have the words.

  Addy leaned down, brushing her lips against her cheek. “I love you, too.” Swiping away the tears, Addy turned to gather pins and combs for her hair. Her light brown curls brushed against Caprice’s skin, causing a small shiver.

  Closing her eyes, Caprice breathed deeply, fighting an internal battle to still the riot of emotions bombarding her. It was as if she’d opened a floodgate. She hoped most of her emotions had disappeared, but it was becoming clear she’d only suppressed them; they lay dormant, waiting for the chance to spring free. She both loved and hated these feelings. Some nights she craved their warmth like a drug but the joy was only temporary before the guilt set in. She owed it to her people to fulfill their expectations, expectations of a perfect princess as cold and pure as the snow.

  “Now what am I going to do with this mess? Your makeup, it’s ruined.” Addy laughed, trying to tease Caprice into a better mood. Taking a cold cloth, Addy made quick work of removing the dark smudges while simultaneously pulling the pins from her hair. She was a tornado of efficiency when she put her mind to something. “So sad to have to hide this shining glory from the world.”

  “My father hardly thinks so. I’m flawed, remember? Through and through. Do your magic, Addy. If I’m to be married tonight after the Trade, I might as well look presentable. The sooner it begins the sooner it will be over.”

  Chapter 3

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  Anona, former Head Drudge to the King—and now Predominant to all Drudges—swept through the stone corridor. The walls were gray concrete, bare except for the torches strategically placed along the walls, creating mischievous shadows that danced behind the flame. As Anona approached, she caught site of an elderly servant leaning against the cold stone. The servant had a bundle of clothes sitting at her feet, and she appeared to be catching her breath.

  Lazy wench. Anona slammed her across the back of the knees with her cat-o’-nine-tails, and watched as she hit the ground, hard. “Get up and get to work, drudge, before I strip the skin off your back,” She watched as the woman waddled off, lumbering as she balanced the large basket on her overly-wide hips.

  Anona resisted the urge to laugh, to yell aloud, You’d better not fuck with the new Predominant!

  Rounding the corner, Anona focused on the business at hand. Time to see the princess.

  Gods, she is such a bore.

  Countless years, she’d watched the wallflower grow from an awkward and skinny girl into an even bonier woman, the sole princess to a frozen kingdom. When Anona had come through the Bicullis over twenty years ago, she’d never imagined th
is, this icebox dipped in snow. And now she was expected to check on the dull princess; the idea of it insulted her. Fighting back a sigh, she pushed the never ending loop of regrets from her mind and focused on the task at hand.

  Tonight she’d been ordered to make sure the little princess was prepared for her coming nuptials. This time she’d decided to obey the command simply because it paid to stay informed. She wondered if the prude had changed any in the six months Anona had been gone.

  And what an important six months it had been. Tirelessly, night after night, she’d serviced the guards, sucking, tugging, bending, screwing—anything to get her chance for five minutes alone with the king. And it had worked! She’d finally made her way into his bed. She wasn’t going to let the tenuous power she’d gained slip through her frozen fingers. Not again. Never again!

  Standing at the doorway, she marveled again at the princess’s sparse room. No paintings adorned the walls—only a few tapestries, and no colors beyond muted blues and greens. How depressing. Obviously, Prinny Caprice was taking the whole Future Ice Queen role a bit too seriously.

  I’d die of depression if I had to live here.

  Striding through, not bothering to knock, she spied the princess with her constant companion and the castle slut, Addy. Why the fat cow got so much attention was beyond her. But that didn’t matter now. The crude, little bitch might have the princess’s ear, but she had the king’s. Her step faltered a bit when she pondered whether that was true. Yes… Yes. She had the king, and she would keep him.

  Addy stood behind Caprice. The princess sat at her window bench with her head slightly bent, her eyes avoiding her reflection in the glass. Not that Anona blamed her. Who would want to look at all that pale, icy skin? Gods, to be a princess and look like that, so sad. Her own dark coloring and exotic eyes were far superior to the pale snow-weed.