Fervor (The Fervor Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

Anona held tight as Addy tried to pry her fingers loose. Anona gave the servant credit, no matter how hard she pulled, Addy didn’t scream. Her training had been impeccable. Outbursts of emotion were not tolerated in the castle. A firm, “Stop,” made Anona pause mid-flight. So the princess could speak after all?

The princess rose from her chair and Anona took a step back, not realizing just how tall the princess really was. She topped Anona by a head and looked taller than most men. Firming herself, Anona stood still and silent, trying to assert her authority, to appear as in-control as the Glissante.

“What is the meaning of this, servant?” Princess Caprice’s voice was velvety soft, yet there was a bite to her words.

“The drudge tried to touch you, Princess. I could not let that transgression pass.” Anona was careful not to expose the truth. She would never admit to actually
seeing
the servant touch the princess. That valuable piece of information might come in handy, and Anona didn’t want to reveal her hand. Besides, what did she have to be afraid of? The princess couldn’t hurt her. She didn’t possess the
freeze.

“And who gave you the authority to mete out such punishments?” By this time, the princess was directly in front of her. Anona strained her neck to meet her eyes.

With a small smile she couldn’t contain, she said, “The authority was given by King Alexander Buitre of the Glissante. He has made me Predominant, and I take my responsibilities seriously.”

Addy gasped at the pronouncement. Anona hoped she was pissing in her pants at what that meant.
She
was in charge, having waited so long to become Predominant, knowing one day, her power would be unquestionable.

“So my father has finally granted your heart’s desire. To be ruler over all the drudges. Head servant. Tell me, what punishment would you dole out, Predominant?”

Anona paused, uncomfortable that the princess had such intimate knowledge of her desires. No matter. Maybe the daughter was more like her father than she realized. If so, she would want the servant punished harshly. “I will do what is customary; in this case she tried to touch you with her hand. I will have the offensive appendage removed.” Glee filled her heart as she heard the slut cry out softly.

The princess’s eyes flicked to the hand that still gripped a hunk full of Addy’s hair. “I see. So you feel you have domain over my personal drudge?”

“Your—Well, yes. She is a servant like all the rest. I must protect—”

“Protect whom? You think
I
need protection by the likes of you?” Her voice became even softer than before. The princess remained expressionless, her body still, her hands clasped in front of her, but her eyes… They glittered like ice just touched by the sun.

“I…”

“Tell me, Predominant, do you know anything of the marriage ritual?”

“A little, I think… Yes, of course I do.”

“So glad to hear that you actually
think.
But that doesn’t answer my question, does it? What do you know of The Binding?” The princess began to move, slowly circling, making it difficult for Anona to maintain her hold on Addy and meet the princess’s eye. When addressing a royal it was important to retain eye contact, showing rapt attention to every word that dripped from their mouths.

Straining her neck, trying to look back over her shoulder, the princess stood directly behind Anona, their bodies only inches apart. “I saw only a servant overstepping her bounds, your Highness. I did it for your protection… Who knows her intentions?” A blast of cold floated toward Anona’s back, numbing her from the outside, in, as it crept closer.

I may have made a mistake
.

“So you thought to enter my personal chambers—unannounced—and lay hands on my property without having any idea about what was happening?” She tsked. “Not so smart for one who would rule the drudges. But I am a generous leader, and I firmly believe in schooling the ignorant.”

Desperate to turn, to meet the princess head-on and to step away from the cold, Anona tried but Addy lay like dead weight, not helping her in the least, making it impossible to move. She tried to cut and run, listening to an instinct that had proven her well over the years, but chestnut strands were knotted around her fingers, and she couldn’t get them off fast enough.

“Are you leaving, Predominant? Not so fast, I think. Stop!”

Anona froze, unable to disobey a direct order. “Princess, I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Oh, please. I’m…” Her knees buckled, and the cold grew bleaker, stronger, penetrating her thick fur coat.

“Shut your mouth. You will never touch what is mine. Never! You thought to take her hand? Well, then I must give you a reminder to never put your hands on one of mine. Do you hear?”

“But your father…”

“Oh my.” Her voice dropped, even softer than before. “You are so familiar now with His Highness the King that you speak of him as my father?”

“Princess, forgive me—
Aaahh!”
The princess had laid her palm against Anona’s neck. Flash frozen, she felt the skin of her neck shrivel and pucker from the sub zero temperature of the princess’s hand. She began to babble, beg. The touch lasted seconds or maybe hours. She felt Addy disentangle her hair from her slack fingers.

Caprice stood back, and Anona fell to her knees, still feeling the cold eating through her skin like acid. She screamed again and again, unable to stop, unable to even touch the area that continued to burn through muscle, tissue, maybe bone.

“Whenever you think to touch something that belongs to me, I want you to look at my mark. It will be a reminder, a lesson to combat the ignorance you so obviously wallow in. And do not think to bother my father in this petty matter. He does not suffer fools gladly. Nor do I. Get out.” Calmly walking to her vanity, she continued, “Addy, finish with my hair. I have a ceremony to prepare for.”

Glancing back, Anona saw the princess for the woman she’d become.
I was wrong.
Princess Caprice was not like her father; the princess was like her
mother,
but far worse, far deadlier, and far, far stronger. Pushing herself up, she kept her head low and rushed from the chambers.

The pain disoriented her, and after stumbling to her room, she peered through the gold framed mirror that leaned against her wall. It was one of her prize possessions, allowing her to enjoy her favorite pastime—gazing at herself.

It was true! The legends were true. The touch of a Glissante’s skin was as cold as death.

But the same couldn’t be said for the king…

Anona’s fingers hovered above her neck, helpless to stop the pain. Looking into the mirror, she balled her fists and slammed them against the glass. On the left side of her neck lay a prefect imprint of the princess’s hand, seared in, the skin shriveled, solid black, and dead. Another scream ripped from her lips, this one of fury mixed with pain.

A memory from long ago swam before her eyes.
No!
She’d fought her whole life to quarantine the images. She’d locked them up tight, focusing only on the present and gaining power, ascending to the top. And now with one touch of a careless princess, the dam broke and the memories flooded it.

Whips, stones flying at her head and slicing her delicate skin, a river of blood. The pain… The screams…

She hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d been so tired, and all he did was cry. He’d made her so mad.

Stop crying. Stop crying! STOP CRYING!

He’d stopped, never to cry again. And then the punishment came. Curling into a ball, she fought the memories, but they overwhelmed her, guilt and horror… and relief. She hated it, hated to feel anything. Rocking herself back and forth, she fought the current, but was swept away nonetheless, a tiny face with downy hair, swimming before her eyes.

‡

C
aprice’s room was
on the second floor of the castle, just above the courtyard. Peering over the balcony’s edge, she had a full view of the gathering crowd below without being seen. Enormous black and white checkered tiles lined the floor, and sconces bracketed the walls with torches blazing and light dancing on the gray stone.

The space was full, overflowing with patrons. The whole kingdom was in attendance; anticipation saturated the air. The King Alexander Buitre of the Glissante had arrived and was seated on his platinum throne to the far left of the square. Directly in front of him lingered the aristocracy, the Vendri, who traveled far and wide to attend The Trade and her upcoming nuptials. Fighting back the urge to look beyond the crowd, she couldn’t resist and quickly ran her eyes to the right.

A large stage dominated the space, where sweaty and bruised prisoners were shackled and on display.

The captives were chained and escorted in, two guards per prisoner. The guards were well protected. Shields as soft as skin lined their black uniforms. Small swords were secured to their hips. Each soldier held the chains that linked to the manacles clamped around the prisoners’ wrists. From what she could see, most of the captives were placed behind the stage, the guards awaiting the signal to proceed from her father. Many of the prisoners were bloody, and most were unconscious. For those unlucky enough to be awake, the smell of fear poured off of them, inching through the room like a fog.

Nauseated, Caprice gripped the rail, allowing the horror to wash over her, accepting it, never allowing any hint of emotion to flick across her face. She came from ice, and no matter her private feelings, her subjects and the Vendri would never view her weakness.

Please, gods, let that be true.

Caprice signaled to Addy with a flick of the wrist and Addy glided in front of her, preparing to announce her arrival. Addy clutched the thick white coat that allowed her to function in the near freezing temperatures of the courtyard. She looked as lovely as ever, her chestnut hair flowing around her, the coat doing little to hide her friend’s natural curves. If only the shivering captives had such warm coats.

A deep moan caught Caprice’s attention. Looking up, she watched the swirling snow blanket the glass dome that framed the castle. The solitary winds appealed to her on some level; she imagined they called to her, beckoning her to join them.
Is that how my mother felt so many years before?

The Vendri milling below the icy winds seemed oblivious to the volatile snowstorm that raged around them. The Vendri. How their numbers had dwindled. Once a thriving kingdom, now only about fifty of the aristocracy remained. She watched the aging crowd. Their median age must be close to the mid two hundreds. They had about one hundred years left, if they were lucky. Caprice was the last, the only child born of ice in one hundred years.

The Vendri were aloof, vicious, and they thrived on controversy. If gossip was the food that fueled them, then they were starved, not having visited the castle since the king had left on his hunt. She should be awed by their presence, by the collective knowledge in the room, but instead she felt disdain. Luckily, that was one of the few emotions revered by her society, and there was no reason to hide the venom in her eyes.

The look would please the Vendri, never realizing from where the disdain came.

She hated everything about these people—and this night!

Striding forward, one foot stepping dutifully in front of the other, she descended the stairs, careful to hide her pain and any of the lingering fury she felt for the Pre-Dom. She didn’t regret her actions, only hoping her emotions had calmed enough to face her father. Truthfully, she might not give the incident another thought if it weren’t for Addy.

No one will harm Addy. Ever!

With each stride, she felt the cut of the tiny shards imbedded in her skin. All part of the Binding, a test to prove to her father and the kingdom that the icy numbness so characteristic of the nobility had entered her heart, imbedded deeply within, so even the pain of the glass wouldn’t disturb her.

As the crystals cut, she knew without a doubt, the test was powerful, yet simple, and she was a miserable failure. It hurt. And it reminded her of what she’d never be, a true Princess of the Glissante.

Even if she failed to block out the pain, the Binding still served a secondary purpose. It firmed her resolve. She may be weak, she may feel pain, but she’d be damned if she showed it. No one in the kingdom would doubt her; she wouldn’t allow it. She made this vow, not for herself, nor even her father, but for the few people she had come to love and care about.

Yes, she loved them. And she would keep them safe for as long as she could. That was why she hadn’t fought her father’s matchmaking, although the thought of it sat like rocks in her stomach.

Addy hovered just behind her as she came to a halt in front of her father’s throne. Caprice leaned down, bowing so low her nose almost touched the ground. The pull of the intricate garter under her dress cut so deep she momentarily lost her breath, praying she wouldn’t lose consciousness. She had to wait until her father bade her permission to stand.