Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1)

Morning came too fast. I awoke with an icy feeling of dread flowing through my veins.

For the next couple of months, I would be travelling through the distant north, without a proper bed or fine dining.

The only thing these people seemed to eat was boar. And they haven’t even seasoned it properly.

I stuffed my dresses in a large suitcase, my gaze falling to the books a maid dragged to my room during sunrise. I had to read fast. If I was supposed to keep this a secret, I most certainly couldn’t bring all the books with me. After all, I needed space for the dresses.

Everyone claimed the mage was the most important piece of the puzzle, even Danilo, which meant I had to find the possible whereabouts of the lost artefact that might be of interest to him. We needed leverage.

I glanced over the titles, some were familiar, like the History of Mages and the Northern Artefacts, which was the book that gave me information on the Vanishing Well. Some were completely unfamiliar; they weren’t even written by humans. War of Men from the Perspective of Mages, written five hundred years ago by someone called Ensi Chamilos Fotia Magos Tau Lor, whom I assumed was a mage.

There were other books I’ve never seen before, Fae Artefacts, Florans’ Potion-Making Secrets, Myths of the Western Peoples and hidden under the heap of books, something I wasn’t expecting.

Ars Magica, Beginner’s Guide to Magic Using.

I swallowed my heartbeat, realising Rixen sent this one on purpose. Of course, he knew about my magic. He knew too much about me. Perhaps I should simply come clean and tell Danilo all about this. He’d protect me.

But what would he think of me if he found out about the magic? King Bernard would never let him marry a mage. The fact I wanted to get rid of it wouldn’t matter. I would have to marry someone who tolerated magic and those were the lowest of lowest in our Kingdoms.

Gone would be the crowns and the titles. I’d probably lose my squires and stable boys as well. None would want to touch a mage.

Reaching Orathia and finding the Vanishing Well was now more important than ever.

Feeling a little agitated, I ignored the book and pushed it under the heap of others.

I put on a purple, silken dress sown with silver fibres. The hem was flowy and the neck-line allowed a generous look at my breasts. I dropped a grey fur robe over it and made my way to the hallway, which was stacked with Danilo’s men.

The garden before the great hall was where Danilo and the rest of them practiced. For a moment, I lingered behind the wall, admiring his muscled figure. His sword sliced through air in swift movements. Pale Bastian sunshine spilled across the stony flooring.

Nickeltinker was on the stony bench, cleaning his dagger. A bunch of trinkets lay scattered around him; herbs, vials, darts, daggers and other miscellaneous bags.

Torvald wasn’t far away, swinging his pitch-black axe, a determined, focused expression on his huge face.

I made my presence known by clearing my throat. Danilo slightly lost his balance as his gaze darted across my breasts. I batted my eyelashes and pulled the robe over my cleavage, making the poor knight cough out loud and look away.

“Your Grace.” Danilo murmured. “You should rest before the journey begins.”

“Ah,” I came closer, “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

Nickeltinker chuckled, “I thought the only thing spicy in Irenwell was the food.”

I ignored his remark, hoping it made me appear more innocent. As I approached Danilo, he lowered his sword, his piercing blue eyes full of confusion.

“I wish to apologize for my behaviour last night, Sir.” I bowed my head. “I do not know what’s gotten into me; it must be homesickness.”

Danilo nodded solemnly, like he understood perfectly, “No need to apologize, your Grace. I most certainly crossed the line...”

He wanted to say more. His eyes fell to the ground and trailed across the stone tiles.

I searched for his gaze, “What is it, Sir?”

“My uncle,” Danilo cleared his throat, “King Bernard has mentioned something.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrow, soft flutter caressing my stomach. “About?”

“The two of us, your Grace.” Danilo’s cheeks slightly flushed, making him look even more gorgeous. There was something incredibly attractive in making a man nervous.

“Family,” I chuckled, “Always sticking their noses where they do not belong.”

Danilo smiled, “If we survive this journey, Princess, your brother can expect a letter signed with my name, asking for your hand in marriage.”

My eyes widened. Nervousness crawled through my skin. I would be the Queen of Bastia. Instantly, my mind went to the books hidden in my suitcase. And the future once again seemed fragile. Everything I’ve ever dreamt of was on the line.

I had to pull this off, somehow.

“Your Grace?” Danilo’s concerned voice reached through the fog of my thoughts.

“Forgive me, Sir,” I smiled, “I must be overwhelmed.”

Pain spread through my temples and my vision blurred. Fuck, what now?

Before I slipped to Rixen’s mind, I latched onto Danilo’s arm, “Hold me.”

“Your Grace?”

His voice was merely a whisper amongst the screams that reached me. Bastian village spread in front of me, the stairs leading to the castle smeared with blood. My heart, or Rixen’s heart, raced. Bile rose to my throat.

Around twenty people, horribly hurt, blood seeping through the fabric of their clothing, their faces covered with dirt and tears and blood, stood in front of me. Panic surged through my, or his, body, making our blood run cold.

Rixen’s thoughts reached me, Irina, get the King!

He shoved me out of his head forcefully, causing blunt pain to spread through my chest. Air left my body, making me gasp, trying to breathe in. My own reality settled back in and my eyes found Danilo’s concerned gaze.

Before I could form words, Torvald sniffled the air, “Ugh, blood.”

Nickeltinker and Danilo turned towards him and the brute looked around, his dark eyes widening, his face distorting.

“What is it, my large friend?” Nickeltinker asked.

The brute roared, an inhuman sound reverberating through the stone around us, “Blood!” He leaped towards the gates and ran down the stairs.

Alarm showed on Danilo’s face, his head snapped from the brute disappearing in the distance and back to me, “Irina, go back to your chambers.”

I shook my head, “I will not do that.”

Nickeltinker pulled himself off the bench, “I’m going downstairs.”

“Me too.” I said hastily.

“Irina-”

“Get the King, Danilo.”

Danilo’s blue eyes regarded me with dissatisfaction, when the Kingdom’s bells rang. As if on command, Danilo’s face changed, falling into a calm, composed expression. He grabbed the hilt of his sword.

His voice was the voice of a knight, “Nickeltinker, get the King!”

The green-skinned boy stopped in his tracks and swiftly turned around, immediately running faster than the wind towards the great hall.

Danilo glanced at me, “Stay here.” And he rushed down the stairs where the brute disappeared moments ago.

But I wasn’t that good at listening to direct commands, so I followed.

As I began to descend to the bottom of the castle, the height made me so dizzy I had to go slowly. At the same time, Rixen seemed to be pulling me in every now and then. My vision blurred, the mountaintops in the distance replaced by scenery of hurt individuals somewhere underneath me. Healers and physicians gathered around the people.

I had to fight it off. I might stumble to my death if I kept jumping from mine to his body. I gripped the fence and descended so slowly that eventually, even Nickeltinker reached me.

“Your Grace,” the green-skinned boy grabbed my hand, “you’re awfully slow.”

“Why do they call you Nickeltinker?” I asked, trying to distract myself from looking down.

The boy chuckled, “I tinker with coins. I’m a thief, your Grace.”

“Oh.” My vision blurred again. “Fuck. I think I might fall down.”

“No, your Grace.” Nickeltinker said gently. “You wouldn’t want that.”

“What are the bells for?” I glanced at the church rooftop underneath me.

Statue of Is, the God of Ice, was awfully small, barely detectable. But the steel bells were loud, even louder now that I came closer to them.

Nickeltinker sighed, “Possible threat.”

“We have drums for that in Irenwell.” I noted.

“Different cultures, different gods, different alarm-systems.” Nickeltinker smiled, holding my hand tightly, making sure I didn’t fall or collapse.

“Where’s King Bernard?” I asked.

The green-skinned boy averted his gaze, “He refused to come down, Princess.”

I did not know what to make of it. The staircase might have been a challenge for me, but for the obese King Bernard, it had to be downright impossible.

Yet, his decision to stay safely tucked up in the clouds irked some forgotten, empathetic part of me, possibly inherited from my mother.

Eventually, Nick and I managed to reach the bottom, only to find the havoc awaiting.

White Bastian stone was smeared with blood. The stench of decay lingered in the air. Healers carried equipment to those in need. Twenty-something people screamed their hearts out at the front gate.

Faces covered in dirt, blood and tears. Torn clothing. Blood pouring out of deep cuts. The sheer desperation underneath the pain.

Villagers gathered around, shouting, demanding for the King to come down. Frenzy ruled.

“They came out of nowhere!”

“Where is the King?!”

“During the night!”

“We barely managed to escape!”

“Get the King!”

“Our entire village is wiped out!”

The voices intertwined and mashed together. I noticed both Rixen and Danilo somewhere in the distance, helping the people, carrying things. I lingered in the distance, hiding safely at the bottom of the stairs, too afraid to come any closer. There was nothing I could do, after all.

A woman stepped forward, her clothes dirty and torn, deep cuts covered her skin and tears gathered in her eyes. In her arms, she carried a boy. Couldn’t be older than three. A deep pit of pain opened up inside of me as her eyes found mine.

“He’s not breathing.” She shook her head, her voice almost disappeared, shushed out by the loud crowd.

My heartbeat accelerated. Dread glued me to the floor. No one heard her, no one came to help.

“He’s not breathing!”

I looked at the boy. He was pale, so, so pale. His tiny hands lifelessly dangled around as his mother sobbed. Sweat covered his forehead and his dark hair, like he was going through a fever.

The woman’s eyes widened, demanding my reaction, “Help him!”

But I didn’t know what to do. There was nothing I could do. I remained frozen. My legs turned heavy and numb. It felt as if I grew roots through the stone, strong and unbreakable.

The woman’s face relaxed, turning into bitter disappointment.

I felt helpless.

I felt weak.

Danilo stepped in front of me, blocking the woman’s harsh, heartbroken gaze. He put the child on the ground and tilted his head back. He closed his nose and breathed into the child’s mouth.

With my mouth agape and my heart steadily and loudly beating in my chest, I couldn’t quite tear my eyes off the scene. Everything else around me blurred. The crying, the screaming, the blood.

It all narrowed down to the lifeless child on the ground and Danilo pushing the boy’s chest, his hair hiding his eyes. He appeared so calm, so stable.

It lasted forever.

Danilo kept on reviving the child, patiently, determinedly.

Until eventually, he gave up.

The boy remained lifeless.

His mother broke down right there, screams tearing through her throat, raw and animalistic. She cradled the boy in her arms, against her chest. But his spirit was gone and he needed no comfort anymore.

Danilo dropped on the ground, a painful grimace gripping his beautiful features. His blue eyes dimmed. And I thought he might cry, but he had to remain strong.

My legs gave out. I fell on both my knees; a burning sensation spreading through my thighs. My breaths turned shallow and quick.

Once Danilo noticed me, he pulled himself off the ground, “You have to leave, your Grace.”

“I did nothing.” I shook my head, the lump in my throat sending waves of tears out through my eyes. “I just- I just stood there.”

“Come on.” Danilo pulled me up. “You have to go back to your chambers until we make sense of what happened.”

“I didn’t-” A loud sob fell off my lips. “I didn’t help-”

“There was nothing you could have done.” Danilo’s strong hands held me up, held me in place. “You’re not trained for these kinds of situations.”

“But-“ I couldn’t breathe, I could barely speak. “He’s dead-”

“Come on.”

In a matter of moments, it turned real. Everything turned real. And I wasn’t ready to face it.