Feud of Four Houses: Curse of the Doppelganger

If Amara Alaire couldn’t kill Tristan Dagen, then she would just have to find another way to get rid of him.

Her blood boiled as the thought tumbled through her mind repeatedly as she switched on a light. She yanked open her bedside table drawer and pulled out the small pistol she knew was there. It was heavy yet familiar in her hand, its ridges just as much a part of her as her own limbs. Retrieving the handgun was a gut reaction after something moved under the covers on her four-poster bed.  

Once again, Tristan had left her a surprise and she was sick of it. For some, it would have been a leap to make the connection that the young Dagen heir was the guilty party, but not for Amara. No one else would dare leave something in her bed. Warmth barreled through her again as her anger sparked to exploding levels. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it wasn’t as though it was the first time he had tormented her in such a twisted way. But she wouldn’t think about that now. She cocked her gun and switched off the safety before flinging the blankets back, revealing a creature she’d only read about in lessons: the Barus.  

The moonlight streaming in through her bedroom window refracted off the Barus’s smooth onyx shell, thick with layers of protection. Its large pinchers snapped with every step she took toward it, much like a scorpion. Most scorpions were small, but the Barus was the size of one of her legs. Her legs weren’t unnecessarily long, more normal-sized. However, the creature peering back at her was unbelievably tall. The Barus were extremely poisonous, killing with just one sting, and Tristan had left it in her bed, buried beneath her pale green comforter. She was lucky it had moved before she climbed into bed for the night.

Tristan’s intentions were clear: he wanted her dead. The feeling was mutual. Amara raised her gun and lined up the shot right between its black, unblinking eyes. 

A gentle breeze blew through her room, rustling her light pink curtains. Amara took a deep breath and tried to remember that it was just another day. There was nothing new about cleaning up Tristan’s messes.

The Barus lunged for Amara, and she dug her finger into the trigger harder than she needed to. Unlike the loathing fueling her on, the creature would die at Tristan’s expense. A slight pop filled Amara’s ears, so quiet no one else in the castle would hear. She was thankful she’d had the silencer on, as she was using it indoors, and her mother would freak to find the creature in her bed. Not that she could do a thing about it. Her parents had their own stories when dealing with the Dagen family.  

Green goo poured over her covers from the hole she’d buried in the Barbus’s skull. It smelled of rotten eggs and garbage, making her plug her nose as her stomach lurched. They weren’t the most disgusting creatures roaming Carmanthia’s streets, but they smelled the worst.  

Amara snatched her phone off her bedside table, replacing it with the pistol. A picture of her parents smiling wide as they pushed her on the swing jostled with the shift. Her heart was beating fast, and even the air swirling around the room couldn’t cool her face.

With a renewed determination, she unlocked the screen with her fingerprint and brought up her best friend Megara’s number. It rang twice before her friend picked up, yawning dramatically loud. “Dude, it’s like midnight. Your girl needs her beauty sleep.”  

Amara rolled her eyes and ignored her friend, certain she was only half kidding. “Can you meet me here in twenty minutes? I think it’s time we checked the library for information.”  

“Amara, we’ve been scouring the web for weeks looking up information on your family feud, we’ve found nothing. What makes you think that musty old library will tell you anything new?”  

Amara’s lips thinned into a straight line. Finding a way to force the Dagens out of power was proving difficult, but she wasn’t about to give up. It wouldn’t be long until her mother would demand that she marry in hopes of making it seem like her family was more powerful than Tristan’s. It didn’t make any sense to her. How could shackling herself to someone she didn’t love make her powerful? But her mother would say, “Appearances are everything.” Not that Amara cared about such things. If the Dagens were no longer a problem, she wouldn’t have to marry at eighteen.   

“We’ve got to find something, Meg.” Amara sighed as she glanced at the mess on her bed. “I found a Barus in my bed tonight, courtesy of Mr. Hot Shot Dagen.”  

“A Barus? Man, he’s not playing around.” Megara huffed out a breath, and Amara knew she would relent. “Fine, I’m on my way. Open the window to the library for me.”  

Amara hung up the phone and wrapped a pink fluffy robe around herself. It was always chillier living in a castle. Sometimes she hated it. No one else she knew lived in a castle. Well, besides the family she hated more than anything. But Amara was a princess who lived in a castle. The one and only princess at that. It never made sense to her why their kingdom had two ruling families. What did they need two kings and queens for? Since her father died when she was young, only one king existed now. The Dagen King. She sighed at the thought. She glanced down at the picture of her parents again, and her lips twisted into a sad smile. She missed her father. He would never have forced her into a marriage she didn’t want. She was sure of that.  

Peeking out of her door, Amara made her way down the long corridor to find the library, passing portrait upon portrait of important Alaire family members. The library itself was primarily found underground, which meant she had to stroll through the entire palace in the middle of the night without being noticed by any maids or guards. It wasn’t the first time she’d done such a thing, but if she were caught, her mother would make her spend the entire day scrubbing the floors. She scrunched her nose. That wouldn’t happen.   

It wasn’t that it was forbidden to go to the library. Amara’s mother just didn’t want her roaming around after hours. Which was absurd since Amara was almost an adult and could kill most things that would dare to hunt her. Being an only child who had lost her father so young made her mother even more paranoid than most.   

A plush red carpet kept Amara’s bare feet warm as she rushed down the hallway. She cursed herself for forgetting her slippers. Once she ran out of carpet, there would be nothing but harsh cold stone. She scolded the light that flickered to life after sensing her presence. The castle was going to be the one to give her away. She rounded the wooden banister of the stairs, carved with flowers and swirls of gold designs, and peered down them while pushing her ear into the side of the railing. She didn’t hear the usual sounds of hurried feet and took it as a sign to dash down quickly.   

The entry shone with an onyx gleam as she darted across the polished floor. Roses were placed on a table in the corner, filling the air with a fresh floral scent. Amara wrapped her robe tighter around her body. Cold always seeped through the stone castle walls, and nighttime was the worst. She quickened her pace, not wanting her feet to freeze after staying too long in one place. Amara glanced over her shoulder once to make sure no one was following her and smacked into a rigid body.  

She scrambled backward and forced her eyes up. A guard smirked down at her, his muscles bulging out of his perfectly pressed black uniform as he crossed his arms over his chest. Dark brown hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck, showing off the scar running across his tawny cheek. Brutus, the head guard, had caught her.  

“Now, where do you think you’re going this time of night, Princess Amara?” There was more than one question in his tone. It most definitely suggested, “What trouble are you getting into?”   

Amara bit her lip and crossed her fingers behind her back. She could admit it was a bit childish, but it reminded her of easier days sneaking around the palace. “Oh, just a midnight snack.”  

Brutus raised a brow and leaned back on his heels with a grin Amara would have loved to slap off his face. “If it is a snack you’re after, then why are you sneaking, and why not call for a maid?”  

She didn’t have an answer to that and quickly unhooked her crossed fingers and flicked her vibrant red hair over her shoulder. Her mind flipped through excuses that she could use but came up short. Amara glared into the guard’s eyes and quirked an eyebrow as an idea came to her. She knew exactly how to get out of this predicament. Bribery. “Look, I’m going to the library. If you don’t mention you’ve seen me, there is a shiny new pistol for you sitting on my bedside table.”   

He thought about it for a minute as though he didn’t want to agree or disagree. It was the same with all their guards. Some would like to please her as their future queen, while others ratted her out the first chance they got to gain favor with her mother. But Amara knew that Brutus had a collection of pistols. He’d bragged about them to anyone who would listen. Finally, after much thought, Brutus lowered his head. “Very well.” And waved her on.   

Amara grinned. She was killing two birds with one stone. She had another pistol to replace the one she offered him, and she knew Brutus would take care of the mess she’d made of the Barus. He wouldn’t tell anyone. Mostly because he feared the wrath her mother would bring down on him to find that he could be bribed so effortlessly by a seventeen-year-old girl. Amara laughed to herself before pushing her way into the library.   

A knock came from the window as soon as she entered. She didn’t have to look to know it was Megara. Living on the other side of the castle gates had its advantages. Her friend never failed her in the fourteen years they’d been friends when Megara moved to Carmantia from Lee, a kingdom destroyed when she was a child. A warmth of appreciation spread through her at the thought. True friends were hard to find, especially as a princess. Amara rushed for the window sitting right above the steps leading them into the stacks of bookshelves.   

Using all the strength she had, she managed to lift it enough for her friend to fit through. Thankfully, Megara was small. The window clearly hadn’t been used in years and stuck to the stone sill before finally popping free. A brown spot that looked like dried blood was left in its wake.   

“About time,” Megara said, her straight black hair spilling over her shoulder as she climbed through the window. Her skin was so pale that she practically glowed in the moonlight leaking in through behind her. Lavender eyes hit Amara’s, searching for an explanation for her delay. It always seemed strange to Amara that her friend had such unique eyes. Almost as much as her healing power that no other elemental in history had ever possessed. Amara was slightly jealous because her eyes were a boring shade of blue that matched almost her entire family. Amara glanced toward the wall, realizing she’d been staring again.   

“Sorry, Brutus stopped me.”  

“Is he going to rat you out?”  

“Pssh, no. I handled it.” Amara crossed her arms over her chest, earning her a smile from Megara.   

Amara and Megara stood side by side, staring into the library’s depths. There had to be a hundred different shelves, and from their angle, it looked much like a maze. The walls were crumbling in some spots, and an old chandelier hanging up above them seemed to be on its last leg. Amara hoped it wouldn’t fall while they were in there. That would be a mess she couldn’t explain to her mother. The two girls descended the stairs, dust kicking up with every pass of their feet and the smell of mildew wafted over them. A little brown rat scurried past them in a hurry.  

“This place is disgusting.” Megara scrunched her nose.  

“It hasn’t been used in years. Not since everything was digitized,” Amara replied. But she had to admit, it was unappealing being here any longer than she needed to be.   

A mural was painted on the ceiling of the first elementals who founded Carmanthia. She had seen it before but had never studied it as she was now. Amara couldn’t help but notice that one of them wielded the same water element that she  possessed. A wall of water floated out of the woman’s palm as she smiled. Amara ignored the portrait of the man with the fire element, just like Tristan did. Flame was no friend to her.  

Black signs hung from the ceiling showing what was in each row of books. Amara’s eyes glanced over all of them before finding one that said family history. She grabbed Megara’s arm and dragged her to the stack. Magic torches flared to life as they walked past them. Clearly, this room hadn’t been upgraded with electricity like the rest of the castle years ago—another sign of its neglect. 

It had taken Carmanthia a long time to figure out the technological advances of their forefathers. So many things in their world had been destroyed by wars past, and those who were left didn’t have the means to understand how electricity and technology worked until recent years. Their society was finally up to par with where their forefathers left off one thousand years ago. They’d had to start over essentially, even with magic’s help. 

“So what? Do we just start pulling out random books?” Megara asked with hunched shoulders while rubbing her eyes. Amara felt a pang of guilt for dragging her friend out of bed so late, but it drifted away as her eyes darted over the books in front of her.  

“I guess so. Look for the oldest ones. They’ve got to have something.”   

The two girls went to work pulling volume after volume off the wooden shelves they were housed in, each older than the last. The stirred-up dust made Amara cough uncontrollably. She swatted her hand in front of her face until the filth settled. The smell of mold filled her nose, making her cringe. How could the maids let this room get so bad? She shook her head and pulled a book into her lap as she crossed her legs on the stone floor beneath her. Although it was cold, she welcomed it. It would keep her awake.  

The first volume appeared to be some sort of history book about Kerinthia. Still, it didn’t make sense to her why it would be in the family history section, possibly because of the simple fact that her ancestors were gifted by the Goddess, Ketzia herself, with elemental magic at the time of Kerinthia’s inception. They were essentially human apart from the magic bestowed onto them. Their gifts came in variations of each element but always had something to do with air, water, earth, or fire in some way.  

Maybe there is something new in this book that wasn’t online?  

She skimmed the words until she noticed something different than what she learned in her history lessons. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she grabbed hold of Megara’s arm. “Meg, listen to this. Over a thousand years ago, the land Kerinthia, had once been called the United States. Countless wars had left the territory in ruin and abandoned by its rulers and people. When they fled, the people who’d been in hiding from the wars finally resurfaced to find a safe place to live. They were half-starved and mostly dead by the time the Goddess, Ketzia, found them. She then gifted enormous power to five families that had survived, as well as the land.”

“It was said that although they stayed mostly human, the Dagen and Alaire families in Carmanthia ruled with their elemental abilities. Meanwhile, to the north in Rukoth, the Bane and Shade families ruled over the warlocks with blood magic, making them immortal. There are no known facts about the fifth family. All sources point to no survival. The elementals and warlocks stayed in their own kingdoms, keeping the peace among the separate races. For centuries, this was the way of Kerinthia until the Bane family fell, leaving the Shades to rule Rukoth alone. No elemental knows what happened in Rukoth since the wall was built around it, further separating the races.”   

Megara cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re giving me a boring history lesson because?”  

Thrusting her head back, Amara groaned. “This says that there were originally five families. We’ve only heard of four, and now there are only three. Maybe there is something in one of these books about one family ruling without the other. Some sort of law or something. Maybe Rukoth holds the answers.”  

“I think that’s a long shot, Amara.”  

“Don’t you think it’s weird that there are so many gaps in our history?”  

“Um, no, not really. It wasn’t like there were proper ways to document things back then. It is all hearsay. Perhaps our technological advancements will help fill in the gaps someday.”  

Amara let out a breath before spilling all the secrets of her mind, full of questions. “Why would the Goddess choose two families per kingdom to rule if we were going to fight over it? For a thousand years, we’ve been feuding; when does it end? What happened to the Bane family? Where is the fifth family? What was their purpose?”  

“Only you would want to know such things,” Meg said, flipping through the book in her lap. It appeared to be older than the one Amara was currently reading through. Amara tucked a lock of red wavy hair behind her ear, a few strands getting caught in her earrings, and leaned over her friend as she flipped aimlessly through the pages.   

Megara was no longer looking while she moved from page to page, but Amara was. A small piece of paper between a few pages caught her eye. “Wait, Meg. Go back.”  

Her friend squinted at her in annoyance, but she did what she asked. As she suspected, there was a square piece of paper that didn’t belong. Megara grabbed for it before Amara could and turned it over.  

“Shut the front door. What the hell is this?” Megara asked.  

Amara didn’t have an answer to that question. Her palms itched to snatch the paper from her friend’s hands. To make it make sense. She swallowed hard. Nothing about this made sense.

Although it was faded and curling at the edges, she was still able to make out the picture perfectly. Standing in a ballroom, impeccably dressed, was Amara and Tristan Dagen.   

No matter how much she thought about it, it didn’t make any sense. She had no memory of taking this picture, yet it was the two of them, clear as day. Amara tried to rationalize that it was someone who looked like Tristan, but there was no way to disguise his dark hair and perfect features, mocking her in every way. There had to be some kind of mistake. Some sort of joke. The two in the picture smiled back at her, happy as two could ever seem. There was no discomfort written on their faces, no hostility. This clearly wasn’t them.  

Amara shook her head in disbelief, her pulse racing. How is this possible?  

“Amara, that’s your dress, the one you picked for the ball tomorrow,” Megara said.   

Glancing at the picture again, Amara realized her friend was right. She’d bought the same dress the woman who looked like her was wearing in the photo. The top contained lace with light green silk beneath it and had the same color undertrain to match. It stretched all the way to the floor, flowing out to the sides in ruffles of darkness. She thought it would be the perfect dress for Sarahia, an annual holiday celebrating the Goddess, Ketzia. Now she could see it was perfect for another reason. She’d worn it before, except she hadn’t.    

“What does this mean?” Amara asked although she knew Megara didn’t have any more answers than she did.   

“Let me see if there is anything else in this book,” her friend answered.

Megara flipped through the book, scanning for answers to the unnerving picture. Amara couldn’t fathom who the people could be. They looked just like them, but they couldn’t be. They appeared to be the same age as they were now, yet the picture was clearly weathered. She would remember this picture if they’d taken it, wouldn’t she?  

After a few moments, Megara flipped to the middle of the book, where there were only a few bits of pages left. Twenty pages were missing. Someone had torn them clean out.   

Someone doesn’t want me to find something.  

“Well, that’s a bust. Should we keep searching? There could be something in one of these other books?”  

Amara squinted as she searched the room for a clock. At the far end of the room, one ticked loudly with purpose. It was after two o’clock in the morning. “We’re going to have to wait. With Sarahia tomorrow, we should get a few hours of sleep.”  

“Good point. I can’t drink and dance as much without sleep.” Megara laughed.   

Amara smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She’d been searching for answers for weeks, and now she only had more questions. She wondered if she’d ever get the answers. She would have loved nothing more than to spend all day in the library scrounging for information. Though she knew her mother would never allow it with the holiday. Not to mention, if Amara’s mother knew what she was really up to, what she was searching for, she was in for a world of scolding that she just didn’t want. She hated it when her mother was disappointed more than anything. Perhaps it was because she was the only parent Amara had left. Her mother wouldn’t understand her daughter’s need for freedom; she was part of the reason Amara didn’t have any. It was like a weight pressing down on her heart.

“Come on, you can stay in the guest bedroom. You know Mom won’t care,” Amara said, pulling her friend toward the entrance.   

“Won’t she find it funny that I wasn’t here last night, yet I woke up here?”  

“No, it’s not like it would be the first time you snuck into the castle.”  

Megara laughed. “True.”   

Arm in arm, the two girls walked back the way Amara had come. Brutus seemed to be elsewhere this time, perhaps annoyed that he had found the Barus in her bed. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought of him cursing over the creature.   

Leaving Megara at the guest bedroom across from her suite, Amara went back to her bedroom.

Just as she suspected, Brutus had taken care of the nasty present Tristan had left her. She did, however, notice that the pistol was also gone. Payment for services rendered.   

The thought of lying down in the bed she had just killed something in a few hours ago made her cringe. But she did it anyway, cuddling into the fresh scent of clean laundry in the form of a pink comforter Brutus or a maid had somehow found. She noticed that the rest of her bedding was also replaced. Brutus wouldn’t know where anything was; a maid must have helped him. Amara laughed as she pictured him waking the poor young lady who attended her, agitated with how to clean up the mess. The smell of the Barus lingered slightly, but not enough to turn Amara’s stomach again. She only hoped the open window would get rid of the rest of the smell by morning.  

Amara let her thoughts wander to the photo again. She should have grabbed it from the library before shuffling off. She was too stunned to do anything besides jump from one thought to the next. Two enemies were smiling in a photo together. It had to be some joke that she didn’t know the punch line. It was the only explanation. Unless there were two of them walking around in the world. Amara snorted at the thought.  

She closed her eyes, realizing she could do nothing about it tonight. After Sarahia was over, she could resume her search. For now, she desperately needed sleep before her mother woke her to get on with the day. It was Amara’s favorite holiday, but with her birthday fast approaching, she couldn’t think of enjoying it as she once did. Her mother was already finding eligible men for her to marry.   

The thought made Amara squirm in her own skin and her stomach turned sour. She had no idea how earlier generations of Alaire’s had managed it, but she couldn’t. She would find a way out. There had to be something she could do, and there was always something. She refused to believe that her own fate was in someone else’s hands, even if that person was her mother. If she was to be queen someday, she would be her own kind of queen. One without a man that she didn’t love.   

Among The Radiance

It was really such a shame that most of Emery Dorsha’s extra-curricular activities were considered illegal, because she was so very good at them. A significant part of it was natural talent, and genetics most certainly played a role, but having been trained by the greatest thieves and assassins that money could buy probably also had a hand in why she was so exceptional.

She studied the little black device her parents had sent her to steal, before shoving it into the pocket of her leather jacket. They’d called it a fon, and it appeared to be just that: a rectangular phone with a giant green button on the back. The urge to press it called to Emery, but she’d learned her lesson about pushing buttons she knew nothing about when she’d gotten an eye full of pepper spray after stealing her mother’s lipstick.

A smile curled her lips as she crouched on the balcony of the Beverly Hills mansion she’d entered, right under the noses of the owners. The security had been easy to dismantle and replace with a constant loop to keep anyone from noticing her presence. She’d been learning how to work the system since she was ten. The rich and famous never thought anyone would dare steal from them when they were home, but they didn’t know Emery. She was a ghost.

An ebony face poked its way out of the open window Emery had used to make her escape. She flattened herself into the shadows as the night pressed in around her, her heart thumping an even rhythm in her chest. Most thieves thought stealing in the dark was the best form of protection, but with Emery’s ivory skin, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Dusk was her time of day.

“Honey, did you leave the window open?” a female voice asked.

Emery smirked; the husband would have no idea why the window was open, but she did.

A high-pitched bark startled Emery from the other side of the window. A little ball of brown and black fluff in the form of a dog had pushed its way onto the sill and was yapping right at her. On instinct, she drew the dagger she’d kept tucked in her high black leather boots. The urge to silence the annoying animal cut through her, though she wouldn’t. She hadn’t lost all of her humanity. It wasn’t the dog’s fault that she’d broken in and stolen from its owners.

Emery lifted her hand to her forehead in mock salute to the dog before throwing her long black ponytail over her shoulder and launching herself off the balcony. She flipped through the air, the warm breeze of the California night catching the sweat dripping down her face. The landing was hard, and Emery rolled on the soft fake grass to cushion the fall, before scrambling to her feet. The sky was mainly dark now. Reds, oranges, and pinks were being replaced by a starry night. A sprinkler started spurting out water, making her curse as her black leggings were sucked even closer to her legs with the spray. This was just her luck.

Pressing herself against the house, Emery glanced around to make sure security wasn’t near. It was quiet, and in her experience, quiet didn’t always mean no one was there.

After a few minutes, she took off across the lawn, being careful to duck the cameras she was sure were back online. Thankfully, she’d studied where they were hidden in advance. She shoved herself through a hedge and maneuvered around a giant fountain which cascaded water into a pure blue pool, while keeping her breathing steady.

Mission complete.

She rounded a corner down the street where she knew her blacked-out Camaro was waiting for her, to find red and blue lights flashing as an overweight police officer studied the vehicle.

Great.

Emery crossed her arms over her chest and paused to take a deep breath before continuing toward the car. Again, just her luck.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” she asked, all innocent, leaning back on her heels and swinging her arms. Her round, youthful face gave others the impression that she was harmless, and she never ceased to use that to her advantage.

The man glanced up at her and smiled. His dark skin was weathered with age, and his brown eyes told stories of the things he’d seen. She knew that look better than almost anyone.  Emery almost felt pity for him in her own way.

“Is this your car, miss?”

With her lips in a tight line, Emery nodded.

“I realize you’re just a teenager, miss, but your car has no tags on it. I’m going to need to see some ID and registration.”

A smirk pulled on the corners of Emery’s mouth. The cop was studying her from head to toe now and smiled down at her with a compassion that made her stomach churn. Compassion didn’t belong in her world.

“Yeah, you don’t really want to keep the tags on the car after you steal it. Makes it harder for the owners to find it after you’ve taken it.” Her voice was calm and collected, as it always was.

It took the cop a few extra seconds to process what Emery was saying, and that cost him. His hand went to his belt, but before he could retrieve his gun, Emery slammed the heel of her hand upwards into his nose. The smell of fresh blood wafted on the breeze as a steady drip of crimson spilled over the officer’s face. With a wail, he dropped to his knees, clutching his nose with both hands.

Emery leaned over him. “Word of advice, find a new profession. You never know who you might meet in this one.”

The Camaro beeped, and the lights flashed as Emery pressed the button on the key fob in her pocket. She didn’t spare the cop a second glance as she slid inside the dark leather interior, started the engine, and sped off down the road. It was all part of the job, and no one got in her way.

She’d learned long ago that guilt didn’t belong to a person like her. Her parents would not reward her for her kindness, nor her cruelty. She was a pawn to do as they needed, and she always succeeded, no matter who had to pay the price. 

“I’m home,” Emery shouted, her voice echoing around the empty house.

It wasn’t exactly home, just the place they were staying for the time being while they conducted business. She’d seen so many places over the years that none of them were impressive anymore. The only house that stayed the same was the one her parents had purchased in Upstate, New York, that held all their stolen valuables. Stealing was a prosperous market, and someone was always buying. But the upstate house was the only place she had an actual bedroom, a place that was all hers. She missed the rare weapons she’d decorated the walls with instead of boy band posters like normal sixteen-year-old girls. They were practically her only friends. She’d even named a few of them.

 She took off her gloves and set them on the granite countertop. The tiny speckles of red suddenly reminded her of the dried blood that had coated her hands after her first kill. She tried hard not to remember it, but it haunted her anyway. She still had nightmares about the man’s face. He’d seemed way too young to die, especially by her hand, even though he’d tried to kill her first.

She flopped down on the tan couch and put her feet up on the table, waiting for her parents. Though they had some furniture in the house, it was mostly void of anything personal. No pictures were on the light blue painted walls, or art of any kind. There was a full kitchen that they’d never cooked in and a dining room table that they’d only used to spread a map on in preparation for the mission. The more she lingered in the space, the emptier Emery felt. She wondered how long it would take until the feeling took hold of her forever.

“Did you get it?” her mother asked, appearing abruptly at the end of the hall. Gray eyes the same color as her daughter’s bore into Emery. Her mother was tall, taller than her by quite a few inches, and those inches made a difference. She was dressed head to toe in a black-on-black suit, though her daughter knew she hadn’t left the house at all. Red locks tumbled over her shoulders in perfect waves.

“Yes, Mom.” Emery rolled her eyes before reaching into her pocket to retrieve the fon. Just once, she wished that her mother would ask if she was okay after a mission. She guessed that, since she’d showed up in one piece, her mother didn’t really care about the particulars. Emery wasn’t sure why it still bothered her.

“Good,” she said, and hurried down the hallway again.

“You’re welcome,” Emery whispered to herself. “Is there any food?” she called a little louder.

“We already ate, Emery,” her mom said, harshly.

She sighed and sprawled out on the couch, pulling out her phone to order a pizza. There was no doubt in her mind that her parents had already eaten, even before she asked, and she knew they didn’t care one way or the other if their daughter was hungry.

And after a mission, she was always hungry. Pepperoni with extra cheese was exactly the thing she needed.

“Any problems?” her dad asked, appearing out of nowhere. He was studying a group of papers, his red curly hair falling into his pale face, which was splattered with freckles much like her own. He didn’t even look up at her as he spoke.

“No, unless you call the urge to slit a yappy little dog’s throat a problem. I just call that a Tuesday.”

Her father huffed what would pass as a laugh and dropped into a recliner next to the couch, letting his papers have his full attention once again. Emery could only imagine what he was studying. Her father was the one in charge of numbers. He seemed to like them more than people, even her; especially her.

“I just got off the fon with your grandmother. She’s awaiting your arrival in a few days. We leave in one hour for the house in New York. You’re finally ready.” Her mother looked jubilant, satisfied, but Emery had no idea what she was talking about. Grandmother? Waiting on her arrival? Finally ready? Ready for what?

“Okay, back up. I think I’ve missed something here.”

“We will discuss more of the particulars when we get to the house, but right now, all you need to know is you’re finally ready for the mission we’ve been preparing you for. You’ll be going to our home island to steal something more important than anything you’ve ever stolen before,” her father answered.

“Home island? What the hell are you two talking about? And grandmother? I have a grandmother? How come you’ve never mentioned her before?”

“You didn’t need to know about her, dear. The fon was the last thing you needed for your mission. We decided it was time to move on with our plan. Things are different on the island.” Her mother appeared annoyed by her questions, but Emery couldn’t stop now. She needed answers.

Emery pushed to her feet, taking a few steps closer to her mother. “Different how?”

“You’ll see,” her father replied, dismissively. It was clear he wasn’t going to say another word, but Emery has to try to get more out of her mother. She had never been so confused in her life. How could their home island be different? They’d been all over the world.

She had to tread carefully, or she’d get another split lip. “Is there anything else you can tell me before we leave?”

“Twenty years ago, the Solas family stole something from us, and now you are going back to claim it. Unlike us, you were not banished, so it has to be you. Your grandmother is far too old, but she will help if she is able. This is the most important mission you will ever be sent on. Kill whomever you have to, and steal what you need, but you will do this. We will have justice for what the Solases have done to this family. They tried to destroy us,” her mother spat, her eyes glowing like an unbanked fire and her hands clenched into fists. Emery was pretty sure she wasn’t mad at her, just mad in general. Volatile.

In some ways, this was a revelation. Emery had always wondered why her family was the way it was. They were angry, angry at the Solas family for whatever they’d stolen from them. It made sense. Yet, so many things didn’t. Banished? How could anyone be banished from an island? They were the Dorshas, and no one told them where they could and couldn’t go.

“I won’t let you down,” Emery said, and she meant it. This was the mission that was finally going to make her parents proud, make them pay attention to her, or at least get them to ease up a bit on the anger. Maybe they would thank her even. Her chest lightened with the thought; she was almost excited. They would be thankful she’d pulled off the mission that they were unable to complete themselves.

Though she wouldn’t ask any more questions now, she could only wonder what these people were like to make her parents so violent and cruel. It was clear this was the thing they cared about most in the world, even more than their daughter. Emery’s heart sank a little at the thought. Everything had always come before her, but she could change that now. She spun the hoop ring in her nose with nervous hands. She couldn’t screw this up. Not if she wanted to fix her family.

“No, you won’t,” Her mother commanded. “We will have our revenge. It is the only thing that matters now. If you fail, you won’t like the repercussions,” she said, before once again retreating down the hallway.

Emery’s eyes widened slightly of their own volition, but she was used to her mother’s threats. She always went through with her promises.

She gazed over at her father shuffling between two different papers in the stack. Questions chased each other in her mind, and her pulse raced with promise. She dared to ask one more thing of her father, knowing she could end up with a broken finger or bruised cheek. Her parents did not like being questioned. “Dad, when this mission is done, what comes next?”

He raised his stare to match hers with great intensity. “A whole new world, darling. A whole new world.”

From the way he said it, Emery wasn’t sure she wanted to see the whole new world he had in mind. But it couldn’t be any worse than the one she was already living in, could it? She smiled as her father grinned, but in the back of her mind, she knew there was so much more they weren’t telling her.

Among the Unkindness

A chilling smile graced Emery Dorsha’s lips as she dug her feet into the polished palace floors, trusting her legs to move faster. She tried to keep the majority of her weight on the tips of her toes, as from experience, she knew the floors could be dangerously slippery. She observed countless maids and servants gasp and clutch their chests as she raced past them, probably trying to figure out if she was running to someone or away. She paid them no mind, since it really wasn’t any of their business why she was rushing through the castle like a mad woman.

Taking a fast left, Emery grabbed hold of a golden light fixture, probably as old as the castle itself, and propelled herself forward. The cool metal temporarily soothed her sweating palms as she pumped her arms at her sides. She could hear the slapping of the guard’s boots closing in on her, but they would slow taking that turn. They weren’t trained to run for their lives like she was.

Her heart galloped like a herd of horses had taken up residence in her chest, giving her the thrill she craved, but didn’t satisfy as often these days. It had been a month since Sorin Solas had taken the throne of Arnin, and a month since she’d taken the job as head of security. It had been an entire month of stolen kisses, making plans, and training the guards who were now ordered to follow her, even if they didn’t all agree with her appointment.

With her new empathy power, she could feel the exhaustion and dread coming in waves from behind her. Unfortunately, those weren’t the type of weaknesses she knew how to get out of a person who was supposed to be a warrior without breaking some fingers. Sorin had mainly given her free reign over her new troops, but he was very persistent about not using force on them as much as possible. However, in Emery’s experience, sometimes force taught the lesson better than anything else could. It was as much a lesson for her as her lessons were for them.

Sweat was rolling down Emery’s pale cheeks, and dripping into the collar of her new navy leather jacket. Strands of her dark hair were stuck to her face, but thankfully having it thrown up in a bun on top of her head, it wasn’t as annoying as it usually was.

Up ahead, another turn was coming into view. The guards were still a little way back, so she took a second to make the split decision to turn left and stop. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm her overexerted body. Quickly shucking off her jacket, she threw it into the middle of the hallway. With the guards split up, she could have a better chance.

With only the black tank top she wore underneath, Emery was much cooler, but in no time, she was running again and the sweat once again followed.

“Split up,” someone yelled behind her. It seemed even without giving the guards directions, they played into her hands.

A small black tuff of fur-streaked past Emery, slowing to a cat equivalent of a jog to keep up with her. In the past, Ash had been the Goddess Selene’s cat, but he now belonged to Emery.

More like pestered her.

“I don’t understand why you humans make this look so hard,” he said, leisurely keeping pace with her. It was weird that only she could hear him speak, but slowly, she’d gotten used to it.

“Yeah, well, not all of us have four legs.”

Ash snorted and raced on ahead of her. “They’re gaining on you, empath. Thought you’d want to know.”

Emery shook her head and checked her surroundings. They were deep in the castle now, to places she hadn’t quite explored as thoroughly as she would have liked. There was an entry way coming up that led to the back of the palace. She hadn’t been there since the day Sorin was crowned and her grandmother was locked up. The space itself had changed since then, with tons of arm chairs and bookshelves brought in to give the space a homey-hang-out feel. There was a wooden cherry table laden with a golden tea set. Either someone expected to use the space, or it was only for decoration.

Coming to a halt, the former assassin breathed in all the flowers wafting in through the open bay window. At one time, she’d hated the smell, but now it reminded her of her life here in the palace and felt something that was still new: at home.

Slap Slap Slap. The sound of boots hitting the floor brought Emery out of the sweet feeling, reminding her that she needed to prepare for a fight. Three guards came rushing into the room first, each sizing her up in their own ways. She circled them, playing with them as Ash might play with a mouse. The smile on her face was most certainly feral, but that was the point, this was what she was best at. Fear radiated from the guards surrounding her, and the feeling made Emery wish to laugh, they should be afraid.

The guards glanced at each other as if they were trying to decide the best route to taking her out. Emery watched them watch her as they rotated around her. They took in her stance, assessing for any potential weakness as she’d taught them. Their faces dropped, and a feeling of defeat radiated off them, promising to choke Emery. She could tell they realized unlike most opponents they would face, she didn’t have a weakness. At least not physically.

Two out of the three charged at Emery, knowing she would reward their bravery and not their cowardliness. Even if she didn’t have a weakness that showed, there was always a way to beat your opponent. The third hung back watching and thinking, trying to come up with a plan, she saw it all play out on his face as she dropped and threw out her arms, making the two guards who charged her tumble onto the floor. They crumpled and grunted, before quickly making their way back to their feet to try again. These were her most elite guards, ones she was hoping to make her close confidants, though they weren’t as impressive as they needed to be yet.

“Come on, boys. I can do this all day,” Emery taunted, spreading her legs wide into a fighting stance while curling her fingers to entice them further.

The guard in the middle charged, aiming at her middle. Emery considered her options, she could easily sidestep the man, or she could bring her knee up hard and drop him like a sack of potatoes. The latter would be messier, but it’s what she would have done in the real world. The only thing that gave her pause was her new found power. She felt a certain sense of confidence coming from the younger guard that the older two hadn’t possessed. He thought he’d have a plan that would work. Emery just couldn’t figure it out.

Almost a moment too late, she figured out what he doing. He was feigning charging her middle in a misdirection technique she might have missed without her empathy, which in reality, she was still learning to use. Most of the time it put her at a disadvantage with emotions she didn’t understand.

Quickly, the younger guard leaned to the side and swiped out a leg perfectly aimed for Emery’s. Her heart leaped into her throat as she jumped a fraction of a second before he might have put her on her ass. She smiled, finally impressed. This guard had a brain, and he knew how to use it. As he rolled to the side and came back to his feet, the older guards charged again, clearly not learning anything from their first mistake.

“Clearly, you two will never be able to be taught,” Emery bit out.

This time when they charged, she ripped her dagger, Greg from her perfectly twisted bun of black hair, and Alice from her left leather boot. She twirled both blades in her hands, and brought the pommel down on the tops of their heads, putting them out of business for the time being. She spun around, facing her last opponent, her hair whirling behind her like a perfect stormy night.

The younger guard took a step back, surprised. Though she’d seemed to shock him, there was something like awe shining in his dark brown eyes. Sweat dripped down the planes of his tanned face, and although Emery could tell it was getting into his eyes, he made no move to swipe it away. The curls of his dark brown hair were sticking up in a way that looked as if he’d jumped out of bed. If she were honest, he was handsome, for one of her guards.

“Unlike your comrades, you’ve impressed me, Eron. You have a brain, and I’d like to see it in action,” Emery said twirling her blades once again.

Eron reached down and grabbed the sword strapped to his side, sliding it free of its sheath, a smile of pure joy following his emotions, hitting Emery like a truck. She’d made him happy with something she said, though she wasn’t exactly sure what. Perhaps the guard had never been praised before. The new head of security now believed in positive reinforcement as much as possible, even if it wasn’t what she’d experienced in her past. Even if she knew it didn’t always work. She wouldn’t subject her men who were trusting her to that kind of torture. 

With modern day weaponry at their fingertips, it still didn’t make much sense to Emery that so many on Arnin still used swords instead of guns, but seeing as how they liked to separate themselves from the regular humans as much as possible, she’d made peace with it. As far as she knew, there were no firearms on the island aside from the gun her grandmother had taken from her parents and tried to use on the former king and queen. That particular weapon had been locked up in Emery’s rooms since she’d moved into the palace.

Back in the moment, Emery raised her daggers as Eron lifted his sword and shuffled his right foot backwards, preparing for attack. Emery bared her teeth to him and charged, adrenaline pure as gold running through her veins.

The clash of metal rang through the room as the two of them parried back and forth. Whomever had taught the young guard to handle a sword had done a throughout job, and a few minutes in, even without her leather jacket, Emery was sweating. Generally, before being appointed, this would have worried her, but she had hope in her guards and she wanted them to do well. The better they were, the safer the people on Arnin would be.

Emery shifted to the left, hoping to catch Eron off guard as she could tell from the dip of his shoulder that his left wasn’t as strong as his right. It’d been another feign though, and one his emotions didn’t betray this time. Quicker than she could move away, Eron took a swipe at her with his blade. It caught her in the shoulder, bringing a line of bright crimson blood bubbling to the surface. The cut was shallow, and barely even stung, but he’d still managed to cut her.

“I’m so sorry, Emery. I didn’t mean to actually cut you. I was only just trying to prove myself,” Eron said, his gentle voice full of remorse.

Emery glanced at her shoulder and scolded it, somewhat ashamed he had been able to cut her, but also, she was proud. She was probably one of the strongest opponents he’d ever attempted to fight and he didn’t back down, and had also managed to get a cut in.

Though she somewhat wanted to laugh at the look of horror on the young guard’s face, she didn’t. Remorse was something she didn’t want to take from any of them. Remorse made you human, and Emery had experience in being a monster with none. “Don’t worry about it, Eron. I will have Sorin’s mother heal it later. It’ll be good as new.” It also gave her a reason to seek out the former queen, not that she needed a reason really.

Eron still didn’t look too sure of himself though. “Really, it’s fine. Actually, how would you feel about a promotion?”

Before the words even fully left her mouth, a million different expressions passed over Eron’s face accompanied by a horde of emotions. They hit Emery one at a time, overwhelming and far too much to deal with on top of her own feelings.

“Could you turn down the beaming a bit, you’re going to give me a headache,” she said rubbing her temples. If she were honest with herself, she liked that she made him happy. Though all the sweetness pouring off of him was going to give her a toothache.

“Thank you, Emery. I promise I won’t let you down,” he promised, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

“As my right-hand man, you better not. It’ll be my ass on the line,” she replied, making Eron turn up the beaming by a million.

Focusing on all the emotions her new right-hand man was processing at an inhuman rate, she almost didn’t hear the whistling sound ring through the large space until it was too late. She pushed Eron away, and turned, throwing up her hand, still gripping Greg with white knuckles and sending a blackened dagger out of the way before plunging into her skull.

Pulse sky rocketing, Emery searched the room for the threat. The older guards were still soundly sleeping on the ground where she left them, and Eron was unsteadily climbing to his feet after she’d apparently knocked him to the ground. A slow clap sounded from the doorway as a man stepped through it.

No, not a man, a boy about her age. He moved with all the same grace as the assassin she was as he strode into the room like he owned the place. His pitch-black hair spilled over his pale forehead as if he was bored with the entire situation. Yet his sharp blue eyes danced with excitement as he took in every inch of Emery standing in front of him. His tight leather jacket hugged his sculpted arms and chest and was paired perfectly with the black skinny jeans slightly shoved into the bottom of the black and white conserve strapped to his feet in a more modern style not often found on the island.

 “That was always one of my favorites of your tricks,” the boy said, reminding Emery of their past.

Her heart beat so fast in her chest she worried that it would never calm again. What was he doing here? Was he here for her? Had her parents hired him? What was happening? Emotions flitted through her so fast she couldn’t grasp onto a single one, but panic. And panic wasn’t something she was accustomed to. She tried to get a read on his emotions with her new empathy power, but it seemed beyond amused, he wasn’t feeling much.

There were a million things that she wanted to say, but unfortunately, none of them came out. “What are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth as if to answer her, but at that moment, Sorin walked in, shining like the sun he was named after. His golden blond hair was tamed into the adorable swirl she loved so much, and his blue eyes radiated pure joy as he took her in as if she were the only girl in the world. It was a look that made her stomach usually soar with butterflies, but had her in a panic with the boy from her past so close. He wore his usual navy suit and his gleaming crown atop his head. He looked royal, regal, as he always did.

“Ah, Emery, I see you’ve met our special guest. I’m sorry I didn’t brief you on his arrival, it was a little last minute,” Sorin said, meeting them in the middle of the room. Eron bowed to his king, but Emery would never bow to anyone, not even Sorin.

“Come on, Sor. You know how I like to make an entrance,” their guest replied with a teasing grin that Sorin returned as if they also had their own history together. To say that Emery was confused was an understatement. She wanted to use all the curse words in the book for this particular situation.

“Emery, this is Lucien Damaris, Prince of Velair. His island is Arnin’s closest ally.” Sorin waved toward Lucien with a hand as he presented him.

More and more panic surged through Emery as she glanced at both Sorin and Lucien. How had she never known Lucien was a prince? And a prince of a magical island no less. Did he know who she was the whole time? She was a Dorsha, and her family were notorious villains, but Lucien had never let on that he’d known her at all.

There were no words for her circumstances and Emery was desperately trying to find some. But instead, Lucien held out his hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Emery. I look forward to getting to know you better.” He smiled as if the two of them were in on a joke that Sorin was the butt of. Something that left a sour taste in her mouth.

She took his hand and shook it only because she wasn’t sure what else to do. She couldn’t exactly tell Sorin that she’d once been romantically involved with a prince from another island who trained with her to become an assassin. Some secrets were better left kept, and until she figured out what Lucien was doing there, and figured out what to do in her predicament, she was keeping all of their past to herself, even from her king.