Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1)

The long ray of sunshine tickled my nose. Trumpets played their off-beat tune. A clueless yawn came from my naked companion. I sat upright, my hazel eyes widening.

“Princess Irina! Your Grace?”

Fuck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I pulled off the covers and pushed the golden-skinned boy out of my purple sheeted bed. The poor fellow dropped on the floor with a thud, followed by a bunch of flower-shaped pillows.

His sleepy voice came from the floor, “What? What’s going on?”

A knock on the door, “Princess Irina?”

I threw the sheets to the floor and covered the handsome boy. With my heart thumping in my throat, I plastered the well-practiced, doe-eyed expression on my face.

The door opened, revealing a maid Gretchen dressed in light grey robes, “Princess Irina?”

“Uh-huh?” I smiled. “Good morning.”

Gretchen eyed the mess in my room, vials of liquor abandoned on the dresser, my lace lingerie scattered across the carpet-covered floor and Daniel’s leg peeking through the covers behind the canopy. Was his name Daniel?

The glint in Gretchen’s blue eye simmered with disappointment, “It’s noon, your Grace.”

I put both feet on the floor, realising too late I was completely naked, “And it is a beautiful noon indeed, Gretchen, now I beg of you, could you give me some privacy?”

“Kingdom of Irenwell is hosting this year’s banquet. All the lords will be here and look at you!” Gretchen frowned at the leg moving under the covers and began collecting the scattered lingerie. “The King requires your presence.”

“Ah, as if my presence is his to require.” I walked to the dresser hastily, pulling out some beige finery. “Tell my brother I will be downstairs in a minute.”

Gretchen let out an impatient sigh and cocked her head to the bed, “He is besmirching your honour, your Grace. If someone finds out, you will never marry.”

One of the vials was still full and I poured the contents in my mouth, “Do not worry, Gretchen. Men have somehow convinced people that their ability to swing both their swords and their cocks means they’re superior beings.” The vial tasted awful. “But they are not that clever.”

“Princess is telling the truth.” A voice came from underneath the covers.

I smiled thinly at Gretchen, “See?”

The maid’s expression was best described as tired of bullshit, “Get him out of here before someone notices. And for Goddess’ sake, get to the great hall before all the lords arrive.”

I let my eyes roll far into my skull and slammed the door in her face. Daniel, or whatever his name was, flung the covers off himself.

“It’s hot under there.” His cock rested calmly between his thighs, until his eyes landed on me.

I eyed him, “You have to go. King Rodrig is going to have your head on a stake if he finds out you were here.”

With a boyish grin and a glimmer in his dark eyes, he came closer, his cock twitching. I sighed longingly. Whatever his name, the boy was magnificent.

“We have some time.” His hands circled my waist and he pulled me in for a kiss.

A tingle dropped from my heart in between my legs. The lace hem of my dress ended up around my waist and Daniel’s fingers found their way to my gentle flesh. His tongue tasted of last night’s liquor, his skilled fingers slipped inside of me, tugging at me.

A shudder spread through my body, “Fine. Five minutes.”

Daniel lifted me off the floor and positioned me above his cock. I held the dresser behind me and lowered myself onto him. Although still sore from last night, the stretching sensation filled me with desire. A moan slipped from my lips and my hand dropped to the nub between my legs.

“Oh, Daniel!”

The humping stopped, “My name’s not Daniel.”

“Princess Irina!” Gretchen’s voice reached me once more.

I grunted, my core still throbbing with Daniel’s cock inside of me. But, duty called. I wiggled myself off his member and hopped to the floor.

“Get out of here.” I commanded him.

His lips fell upon mine, “When can I see you again?”

“Never!” I pushed him off. “And if you utter a word of this to anyone, I will have you beheaded.”

Hastily, I pulled my strawberry blonde hair in a bun on the top of my head and hid the entangled mess behind a silver crown. The beige dress would still work. I slipped on some silver shoes and pushed the empty vials underneath the bed.

Gretchen burst through the door, once again, “Princess Irina, it is time to go.” She looked at Daniel standing in the middle of the room with his cock hard and quickly averted her gaze. “Get the boy out of here, please.”

I stared at Daniel pointedly, “Out the window, like we practiced.”

The handsome boy took his belongings, which consisted of his servant’s grey uniform, flashed a seductive grin and disappeared through the huge window which overlooked the green, yellow and orange fields of Irenwell. I didn’t bother checking where he landed.

Gretchen’s already wrinkled face developed another line when she noticed the dusty brown tome on the makeup table, “Irina! History of Magic? Why are you reading this? What is this book doing here?”

“Resting.” I hopped over to the book and hid it in the drawer. “It’s very old.”

Gretchen’s gaze hardened, “You promised you wouldn’t, your Grace.”

The way her voice changed made me sigh. Indeed, I promised. But this would not be the first promise I broke in my life.

“I have to know something.” I let the murmur fall off my lips. “Otherwise, I cannot get rid of it.”

Despite scolding each of my choices, Gretchen was surprisingly on board with this. Still, fear coloured her voice, “You have to get rid of it, your Grace. If your brother found out-”

I met her gaze, “Rodrig will not find out.”

Rodrig should never find out about the tiny bit of magic brewing in my veins, which made itself known the moment my parents passed away, five moons ago.

All of Irenwell knew magic was not to be messed with; it was dangerous and evil. It corrupted its users, to the point they dreamt of slaughter and awakening terrible beings. And I had to get rid of it.

“Let us go, your Grace.” Gretchen’s eyes escaped to drawer I hid the book in.

I knew she wondered how I managed to get my hands on the book. Irenwell made sure all the magical tomes were burned a long time ago. Some remained, but mostly those that taught history. Learning about mages’ deviant deeds was enough for me, though. I wanted nothing to do with it.

The stone-dressed hallways of Irenwell spread in front of me, paved by silver banners with grey eagles on them. Trumpets wailed in the distance, giving me a headache.

She was taller than me and her steps were wider, which made me run after her, “Tell me, who came? Anyone worth knowing?”

“Lords of Inse and Iqua are both here.” Gretchen was mad, her pale lips formed a pout. “And you would do well to get to know them. One of them just might be your future husband.”

Inse was a mountain top with more sheep than men and Iqua, a green plateau where people took better care of their flowers than their weapons. Both part of the Kingdom of Irenwell. Both under my brother’s rule. And it would most certainly come to him choosing my husband.

“The pompous jerk and the short, fat one?” My hazel eyes widened. “You are aware I will not marry any of them? Irenwell does not produce good men, unless you count the help.”

“Irina!” Gretchen stopped in the middle of the hallway, startling servants who carried food to the great hall. “You are nineteen! It is your time to marry!”

“But what about my besmirched honour?” I grinned, but the smile was short-lasting.

The headache wasn’t trumpet-caused, it seemed. My vision blurred and I leaned against the nearest wall. Fuck, not now.

Gretchen’s worried voice called my name in the distance, but my presence had already slipped to another place.

I watched the snow-covered hill through another’s eyes, an eerie, queasy feeling spreading through my veins.

These feelings weren’t mine. They belonged to another person whose mind I had been entering for the past couple of months, utterly unwillingly. Coldness gripped me, a chill that could only be produced in the distant northern lands of Bastia. Irenwell had never had a winter quite like that and most definitely not at the beginning of spring.

In the distance, something brewed. Red smoke rose above the snow-covered woods. Unparalleled fear coursed through my veins. Words appeared in my mind, or the person’s mind. It’s starting, the thoughts whispered, King Bernard had finally done something right collecting the debts. What a useless waste of space.

And then it was gone.

“Irina?” Gretchen’s voice seemed far away and coming closer.

I blinked a couple of times, my eyes returning to Irenwell’s stony hallways, lacking colour and life. It’s been that way ever since my mother passed away. No one took care of interior design anymore.

“Princess?” Gretchen called. “Are you alright?”

I nodded, trying not to alarm her, “Too much ale, it seems.”

Gretchen’s blue eyes iced, she grabbed my upper arm and dragged me down the hallway the rest of the way.

Visions began at the same time my magic awoke, five moons ago. At first, it only happened when I slept and I thought it was a dream, but it kept on continuing each night, like I was watching someone else’s life. And then it happened. The man whose life I was watching mentioned King Bernard of Bastia and a letter soon to be sent to Irenwell. A month later, the letter arrived.

Those weren’t visions, or dreams. It was another life in the same time in history. I was watching through someone’s eyes. And everything within me feared that person was, in return, watching my life.

Weakness passed quickly, but the eerie feeling remained in my memory.

“Gretchen,” I was now capable of walking and willing to walk on my own, “Are the lords of Bastia here?”

Gretchen’s brows furrowed, wisdom unknown to young folk etched between them, “I’m afraid so, my dear.” She pushed me towards the giant wooden door and shoved the scroll in my hands, “Now, go, your brother is waiting. And make sure to keep your guest list near, so you don’t confuse your lords.”

I scanned the paper. Letters danced in front of my mind, finding their place in my head. One name popped, Sir Danilo of Danth, King Bernard’s Champion and his nephew, which made him the only legitimate heir to the throne. A beast on the battlefield and a beast in the bed, or so I’ve heard.

I pushed the paper back to Gretchen, “Danilo of Danth is here?”

“Take the paper!”

“There’s no need.” I fixed the strawberry blonde mess on my head, ready to use my wit and charm to persuade my brother to let me marry a foreigner.

“Irina!”

I cocked my head, “I memorized the names, alright? I took the picture with my mind, like I always do.” My mind did this strange thing where it just memorized things it’s seen once.

Gretchen puffed, “Do not tell people you can do that.”

“Goddess, Gretchen, brain is a magnificent organ, be more open-minded.”

The great hall opened up in front of me, full of people and food and music. Tables were laden with delicacies from all parts of the world. The fruit of Irenwell, large grapes and apples and oranges of southernmost regions of Iqua, almost at the edge of the Empty Desert. Rabbit meat and pork meat from Inse mountains. And our famous wine, the sort grown on the fields of Irenwell.

For our foreign friends, we had imported boar meat from the borders of Bastia, as well as fish and octopi from the Bordering City, a merchant town settled on the thin peninsula, separating the Southern and Northern Oceans, as well as Irenwell and Bastia, the two major kingdoms.

As was food, so were people easily distinguished. Irenwell folk wore silver and light colours, made to allow air during scorching summers. Bastians were bigger and bulkier, their armour heavy and their colours dark. Where Irenwell folk chatted, drank and laughed, Bastians remained quiet, lingering in the corners.

My brother’s right hand, an older gentleman of sixty, Bobrich – Bob – grabbed me and pulled me towards the throne. My brother rested in the silver chair, his orange hair sticking out of his crown, which was slightly too big for his head. The whole seat seemed to eat him up.

Bob shushed the musicians, “Princess Irina of Irenwell!”

I crossed my arms on my chest and offered my most unimpressed, disinterested glance. It might shoo the Irenwell lords away from me and who knew, it just might turn the Bastians on. The men looked over me and their wives looked over them.

This was the precise moment I remembered I forgot to put on lingerie after my rendezvous with Daniel, or whatever was his name.

I said nothing, because awkward silences were fun, especially when people expected you to talk. The silver banners of Irenwell stood still, not matching the crimson curtains.

My brother leaned over his silver throne and murmured under his breath, “You’re late.”

“Your crown is falling off.”

King Rodrig fixed the entangled mess of sapphires, rubies and silver on top of his head and put on his serious face, which was his normal face with a wrinkle between his orange eyebrows.

Introductions were made. Lord of Iqua was the first, sunshine sparkled off the silver crown on his pretty head. A decorative crown, lacking power and acknowledgement, much like the man himself. Lord of Inse was the second, a short, buffed lord in purple fabrics, a drunk and a cheat, apparently.

I bowed my head to my brother, “I will not marry any of these men.”

“Despite your obnoxious ability to make everything about you, we are not here today to marry you.” King Rodrig hissed, his eyes following the dark figure approaching the throne.

“And where is Ira?” My younger brother. He had it the easiest, he was neither a king to have to rule nor a woman to have to marry. All his time was spent on touching his prick in the royal chambers.

“He’s twelve, now, be quiet.”

A tall, muscled man approached the throne. Unlike his fellows Bastians, he kept some elegance. His muscles strained to stay in his leather gear, but he walked like a royal. His long brown hair was clean and his beard shaven, allowing a generous look at his sharp cheekbones, his squared jaw and the edge in his piercing blue eyes.

Danilo of Danth, the Champion of Bastia. A knight. An eligible knight.

I crossed my legs and allowed a charming smile to my lips.

The knight glanced at me briefly, his eyes landing on Rodrig, “Your Grace.” He dropped on his knee.

Oh, I’d like to drop on my knee in front of him.

“Sir Danilo of Danth, it is the utmost honour to meet you.” Rodrig used his kingly, serious voice which did not suit him. The role of the king was still too fresh, he had not handled the effects of our parents’ passing on the kingdom well.

“Your Grace,” Danilo got up, “I’m afraid we are here to discuss troublesome matters.”

“We’ve received the letter a month ago.” Rodrig nodded.

The same damn letter I had heard about in my visions. I remained quiet, hoping Rodrig wouldn’t command me to leave, and put my ear to the ground.

“There’s been whispers of magic in the woods of Bastia.” Danilo spoke, his voice royal and serious. “Oracles have spoken, it is time to collect the Irenwell debt.”

Silence hung over the great hall of Irenwell. Musicians have stopped playing, people have stopped eating and talking and drinking. I felt the sudden surge of fear. The vision snapped back into my mind.

It is starting. King Bernard has done well collecting the debts.

“Let’s go to my chambers.” Rodrig said after a moment, nodded towards Bobrich and got off his silver throne. “Irina, keep the guests entertained.”

My head snapped to him, “Oh, no, no. I’m coming with you.”

Rodrig’s eyes fell on me, “Irina. Keep the guests entertained.”

There was nothing I could do against his command, especially not in front of lords of our lands. They were already thinking he wasn’t capable of ruling and undermining his authority in front of them would have been foolish.

But I could, most definitely, undermine it behind his royal back.