Queen of Jastain

www.crescentmoonpress.com

Queen of Jastain
Kary Rader

ISBN:
978-1-939173-25-6
E-ISBN: 978-1-939173-26-3

© Copyright Katy Rader 2013. All rights reserved

Editor: Amy “Lyre” Turner
Cover Art: Jeannie Ruesch
Map: Allyn Bowker, Dark Leagues Fantasy Mapping
Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com

Crescent Moon Press

1385 Highway 35

Box 269

Middletown, NJ 07748

Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: April 2013
www.crescentmoonpress.com

To my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the one who gave me the gift and the desire to use it.

A Seed has been planted

But what will it grow

Darkness recanted

Be there any that know

How can it be thus, when Dark rules as night

Faith free the will to fight the good fight

Closed are the minds

The heart’s way is barred

Where love lies and hides

To betray advanced guard

Lay down the quest to fight and defend

Look for forgiveness to come from within

Wind’s breath cannot blow ‘til it’s released

Nor the sword be wielded ‘til it’s unsheathed

And the Crown in array of Light cannot see

‘Til fruit in its season illuminate the tree

Annum 1567 - Prophecy of the High Priest

Festival Keihev Neous (Festival of New Song)

(Galatians 5:22 -23)  But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self-control; against such there is no law.

Abby Randall shook her head to clear her mind before opening the front door of her best friend Lyndsea's house. The muffled sounds of music and lively conversation vibrated the door as she held the knob. This was no time for second guesses.

As she opened the door, a blast of cold air hit her face, contrasting against the humid Dallas evening. It was time to make her fashionably late entrance, say goodbye to her recently ex-boyfriend, and get the hell outta Dodge. She squared her shoulders and curved her lips into a smile she didn't feel. She could do this. Just get through the evening and she would be done with it—done with Chad. Her heart sank at the thought.

As she stepped into the living room of the single story brick home, a hush settled over the crowd. She craned her neck to see as guests packed in front of her. A dozen or so people blocked the way, but she could hear the lilt of Lyndsea's hesitant voice. Abby rolled her eyes. Lyndsea never had been good at public speaking. That was Abby’s job.

“Thank you all for coming. This party was supposed to be a send-off for Chad, but I am excited to say it has become something else.”

Something else?
A murmur rippled through the group. Abby's heart began to pound.

Lyndsea had agreed to throw the party months ago. When Abby had asked her to cancel it, her best friend had refused, saying too many people were already coming.

The muscles in Abby’s stomach clenched. Never a good sign. Her break-up with Chad, just over a month ago, had been hard and hurtful. His leaving would be a fresh start for both of them.
Keep telling yourself that, Abs.

“This celebration is also
our
engagement party.” Lyndsea's voice turned into a squee. “Chad and I are getting
married
, and I'll be moving with him. I've decided to finish college in Boston so I can be with the man I love.”

The crowd burst into applause and cheers of well wishes. Abby's vision blurred, and she swayed into the woman next to her, whose face blanched when she saw Abby.

“You didn't know?” Claire whispered, as she grabbed Abby's elbow to keep her from falling.

Abby shook her head and tried to swallow, but her muscles froze. Her body refused entrance to much needed oxygen. Her vision tunneled through the crowd and settled on the couple. Chad and Lyndsea smiled and greeted the onslaught of congratulations. Lyndsea held out her hand. The two and a half carat, vintage, diamond ring that had been Chad's birth mother's sparkled on her boney finger—the ring Abby had hoped would one day be on her own finger.

Her breath returned, and she sucked in a painful gasp, afraid she might pass out or get sick. The throng parted, robbing her of any anonymity she might've had.

The couple's eyes rounded at the site of her. Chad dropped his gaze and swore quietly.

The smile fell from Lyndsea's face. “I—I didn't think you were coming tonight, Abs. I—I'm so sorry.”

Abs? The little bitch dared to call me by my nickname?
“Sorry to disappoint you,
Lynds
. I apologize. I didn't bring a gift for the happy couple.”

Chad looked up at her. “Abby,
please
….”

She held up her hand, and her eyes prickled and stung. “There's nothing to say.”

Her pulse throbbed in her temples, and she bolted for the door. Her Italian-leather heels clip-clopped down the sidewalk, echoing behind her like a rapidly approaching army. Tonight she wouldn’t be overtaken. Not in front of them.

The need to escape gripped her throat like the hands of an assailant. She reached out to the first option she could find—her Nissan X-terra. Beads of sweat rolled down her temples. For now, the SUV would have to do, but it couldn't take her far enough to forget this. Maybe her old standby, vodka, could.

She jumped in the car and screeched out into the street, not looking to see if anyone had followed her from the house. She doubted they would. They'd seemed pretty shocked to see her.

Speeding onto the freeway, she ground her foot into the accelerator. She shook so hard her hands could barely grip the steering wheel. Chad and Lyndsea were….in love…getting married…moving to Boston.
How could this have happened in barely a month’s time?

Did she still love Chad? She'd asked herself that question a lot the past few weeks. Of course she loved him. He was her first love—the only guy she ever had been with. Her throat constricted, but the tears wouldn’t come. She hadn’t cried when her dad died, so she sure as hell wouldn't cry over Chad.

Thoughts of her dad pierced her mind like shards of shrapnel in the emotional bomb her life had become. In typical Jonathan Randall form, he'd left her everything: the house, the car, all the patents and book royalties. They were all hers, including the contents of the hidden safe in the study. She widened her eyes to stay the tears that pooled there. Her dad’s study, the one place she was never allowed as a child, was now the one place in the world she never wanted to go again.

He was dead. Chad was leaving. And she was alone.

But what Lyndsea had done hurt her more than anything. How could the girl, who was like a sister, do this to her? Lyndsea and her parents were the closest thing to a real family in Abby's life. Her eyes burned, and her breath hissed out in jagged wisps. With her father always gone, Abby had spent most holidays with them. Those days were over now. How could she ever go there again? Lyndsea hadn’t breathed a word of this in the last five weeks. Not a word!

Abby wove the car in and out of the evening traffic like a demon on a mission. The recklessness of her driving mimicked the out-of-control feeling careening through her mind. Her dry eyes masked the sob in her throat. She was about to start hyperventilating if she didn't calm—

A bright light gathered around her, and an electrical sensation coursed suddenly from the back of her jaw through her eyes.
What the hell?

 A bolt flashed, and she was blinded, feeling like her head had been struck with electrical current. She shuddered at the sharp pain.

The X-terra bounced wildly as if epic potholes littered the road. She still couldn't see from the flash. Not even caring, she slammed to a stop and collapsed on her steering wheel. Let the freeway traffic hit her. Let the fucking car roll over for all she cared.

Heaving dry sobs, she screamed at the loss of her first love, her best friend, and her dad. They were all gone, dead as far as she was concerned. And there was no one else to lose.

Tears finally filled her eyes. She lifted her head to let out a cry, but it hung in her throat. Her jaw fell open. Daylight streamed in the windows. Abby and her X-terra sat in a meadow surrounded by mountains as tall as skyscrapers.
Holy shit!

A man sprinted toward her with six men on horseback chasing him.

As he neared the vehicle, he held up his hands in a plea for help. She blinked and tried to get her bearings. He stopped directly in front of the SUV. The man shot a look behind him then turned to her, pleading. His sapphire gaze penetrated her mind, and a voice—
his voice
—echoed inside her head.
“Please help me!”

The horsemen closed in fast, a blur of leather and chainmail charging behind the lone man in some kind of renaissance chase. Abby's chest tightened. She looked from him to the riders flying across the valley. They headed directly for him—and her. The lead horseman drew his sword and pointed the rest forward.
That is not a welcoming gesture.
Her gaze flitted back to the man in front of her car. His chest heaved from running, and his blue eyes beckoned her to trust him. There was no time to think this through.  God only knew there was plenty to keep her mind occupied.