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Short Stories

Short Story: Kane’s First Birthday Party

May 28, 2020 by Elizabeth Drake

The recent Kane shorts spurred a conversation between my husband and me over the character. Kane intrigued him, and he decided to try his hand at a short story featuring Kane.

I am extremely pleased with it, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

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Acrobats!

Kane’s First Birthday Party

Acrobats. Trained bears. Musicians. And clowns.

Kane was fascinated by the clowns. Not entertained, exactly, there was something about them…

Francis disengaged himself from a group of brightly dressed party guests and sprinted over to the table where Kane was sitting alone, sipping a cup of punch.

“Kane!”  Francis beamed at him. “You came to my birthday party!”

Kane put down the cup and frowned at Francis. He tried to read the other boy for any signs of sarcasm, hidden meanings, or obligatory politeness. None. Francis was genuinely happy to see him. As he always was.

“Baffling,” Kane muttered to himself, still not understanding why. But he sighed, got out of his chair, and allowed Francis to give him a big, joyful hug.  Kane awkwardly hugged the other boy back. Hugs were something Kane was never sure he was doing correctly as Francis was about the only person he ever hugged.

“So this is a birthday party,” Kane said.  “Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess Fullbright, throw you a party just for being born?  And they do so every year, even though you were only born once?”

“And later we’re serving cake!” Francis grinned.

“Francis,” the Duchess Fullbright called.

“Be right there, Mother,” Francis said. “Enjoy the acrobats. They’re quite good. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Kane ignored the acrobats. He struggled to see the point of the entire event. Francis had turned seven years old, but was that really an accomplishment worth celebrating? Did Francis suffer from some grave malady that significantly limited the number of years he had?

It seemed unlikely. Francis was the sole heir to House Fullbright, and if he were ill, Kane would have learned of it.

Retreating to the edge of the gathering so he could watch the other guests, Kane waited for the promised cake. He’d never had it before, and Francis’s excitement over it made him curious.

“Cake” turned out to be a nauseatingly over-sweet bread that made Kane gag.  The texture was nice, but it was topped with an even-more-sugary kind of grease called “frosting”.  To Kane’s disbelief, the other children devoured theirs.  Kane had two bites, managed not to vomit, then discreetly scraped the rest behind some rose bushes in the garden.

“No need to waste good cake,” said a voice.  “If you didn’t want it, you could have given it to someone else.”

Kane’s eyes widened in surprise. He stood up straight, turned to face the voice, and bowed low, holding his plate and fork behind him.

“Your Highness,” Kane said.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Prince William’s smile was warm and genuine. “You can relax with all that ‘your highness’ stuff. Only our parents care about it.  Please just call me William.”

Prince William was seven-and-a-half summers, and one of the few people Kane liked and respected.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, either,” Prince William said.  “You’ve never attended any of the other birthday parties. Your parents always said you were too busy.”

Kane didn’t reply.  He had only just learned yesterday that there were such things as birthday parties.  He was still trying to grasp their purpose.

“Your Highne….I mean, William,” Kane said, “have you ever had a birthday party?”

Prince William grinned, appearing more like a boy and less like a prince. “Of course!  But not one like this. Francis’s mother and father want everyone to have a good time.  With my mom and dad, it’s all about security. I was only allowed to come here because…”  William trailed off.

The prince had almost said too much, and Kane could guess what he’d been about to say before he caught himself.

As the clowns juggled, danced, and pulled coins from behind people’s ears, they also watched.

They didn’t watch William, but they watched the people who watched William.  Especially anyone who was near him or moving in his direction.

Knowing this helped Kane relax.  Prince William’s life was both very important and very targeted, and Kane harbored doubts about Francis’s family fully understanding that.  But of course Their Majesties would not have allowed the only royal heir to attend a birthday party without generously supplying some of the entertainment themselves.

William smiled as he surveyed the festivities.

“Francis seems to take after his father.”

Kane had wanted to ask William more about birthday parties, particularly the why of them.  But he let it go for the moment.

“How do you mean, Your High…err…how do you mean?”

William kicked a pebble and looked up at the clouds as he answered.  “Most kids our age, at their own birthday party, want to have as much fun as they can.  Now watch Francis for a moment.”

Kane raised an eyebrow and frowned, but did as William suggested.  Francis was sitting amidst a group of children watching one of the puppeteers.

“He seems to be having an awful lot of fun to me,” Kane said. As he watched, another party guest got nudged by a child chasing after a ball and dropped her ice cream.  Francis got up and left the puppet show, went over to where the ice cream was being served, and pointed to the girl. The server gave him a new cone, and Francis brought it over to her just as she was beginning to cry.

“He’s spending his own party trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time,” said Kane.  He remembered Francis talking to him earlier and telling him to enjoy the acrobats.  Talking up the cake.  But Kane had been too puzzled by it all to enjoy any of it.

“Is this another birthday thing?” Kane asked. “Is Francis rewarded in some way if he makes enough people happy?”

William smiled. “It’s not a birthday thing. It’s a Francis thing. And I think he does it because, to him, it is the reward.”

            ###

 The cake had been eaten, the games played, and the musicians and animal-trainers were packing up.

Kane still didn’t understand why so much fuss had gone into an anniversary of Francis’s birth, but aside from the cake, he had enjoyed himself. He must have enjoyed himself, he reasoned, or else he wouldn’t be feeling disappointment that it was over.

The adults were finishing up their conversations and saying goodbye to one another.   Soon they would begin rounding up their children for everyone to head home.

Kane found Prince William, still being discreetly guarded by the “clowns”, with several of the other children all saying their goodbyes to each other and to Francis. Many were admiring Francis’s presents.  Kane figured he’d say goodbye to William because he genuinely admired the young prince, and he’d bid Francis farewell because it was his party and politeness demanded it.

To Kane’s surprise, when he got near enough, the other children smiled and cheerfully said how happy they were that he’d been able to come. A few of them even hugged him. Kane stood stiffly as they did so, then realized he should be hugging them back, and made his best attempt.

William didn’t hug him, but gave Kane a warm smile and a respectful nod.  Kane imagined what it would be like when they were grown. He would be the Duke of Erembour, and William would be the king he faithfully served. William would be a good king.  Kane wasn’t sure that he would be a good duke, but was determined to try his best for William.

Francis, of course, did hug him.  He hugged everybody.

            ###

 On the coach ride home with his mother, Kane’s thoughts swirled in a vortex of questions.  He wondered which ones he could ask without upsetting her.

His Highness, Prince William, says that the children of all the other Paragon Houses have parties for their birthdays.

Phrased that way, it wasn’t a question.  But his mother would know that a question was implied.

His Highness, Prince William, came to Francis’ birthday party.  Do you think he would come if we had a party?

That was just as blatant, but might convince her that he cared about the sort of things she wanted him to care about. There was nothing more important in House Erembour than serving the royal family.

I’d never even heard of birthday parties before, but everyone else seemed to know what they are.

That was another statement that just implied the question.  He could probably state it with enough disinterest to avoid setting off one of her moods, and she might even give him a casual explanation.

Why were you and Father telling everyone I was too busy to visit them? And why aren’t you telling them that anymore? Is it because Father is dead now?

He pressed a hand his chest where he could still feel the raised edge of the scar through his tunic.

No. Kane could imagine her fury if he came right out and asked that.

Kane knew the anniversary of his own birth (his “birthday” as everyone apparently called it) was only a few weeks away.  He’d be turning seven as well.  He wondered if his mother, the Duchess of Erembour, would host a party for him.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.

But he hoped that she would at least ask him.

Filed Under: Short Stories, Uncategorized Tagged With: acrobats, Birthday, Birthday Parties, clowns, duchess, duke, Kane, Prince William, Romance, romance author, Romance Novels, Romance Writer, William

Short Story: The Meeting (Prince Eli)

April 23, 2020 by Elizabeth Drake

A short story from before the events in To Love a Prince. Prince Eli has been in my thoughts lately.

 

The Meeting

Prince Eli burned with restlessness, clenching his fists at his sides. He needed an outlet, but it was the day the Knights of Valor trainees were using the royal training facilities.

He’d have to wait.  He despised waiting.

Prince Eli growled, as annoyed with himself as anything.  He should have better control over his emotions.

Glancing at the wall in the direction of the gardens, he could almost see them through the alabaster stone. He hated those gardens even more than he hated waiting.

She’d died there, surrounded by a hundred flowers he couldn’t name, and while her body rotted in the cold ground, the gardens had the audacity to continue to bloom. The same damn roses she’d been tending that day, the roses that had once been spattered red with her blood.

And he’d been forced to stand in those gardens all that afternoon, surrounded by the things and their stench. The entire area reeked of them. But his father had received the diplomatic delegation there, and as expected, they’d been charmed by the gardens.

To the seven hells with the delegation and anyone else that professed love for roses. Prince Eli wanted to burn the whole thing to the ground and lay pavers over top of it.

Perhaps he would when he became king.

“Your Highness.” Sligo emerged from the shadows and bowed to him.

Prince Eli grit his teeth. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his shadowguard. Though the boy wasn’t much older than the prince, Sligo was already among the best in the shadowguard. It was as much a testament to Sligo’s skill as Eli’s preoccupation that he hadn’t noticed his guard, but the prince didn’t care.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He would see the next assassin before it struck and know how to respond. The smell of blood and roses assaulted him, and Eli squeezed his eyes shut. He was too late to save his mother, but Eli wouldn’t forget the lesson the gods had taught him.

“You are restless, Your Highness. You need to focus during dinner with the delegation.”

Prince Eli tightened his fists, but he said nothing. Sligo was correct, but then Eli already knew it.

“We should go to the training rooms.”

“The Knights of Valor are using them today.”

“We will exercise royal privilege.”

Prince Eli seldom did that, but he seldom needed to as most simply stayed out of his path. And Sligo wouldn’t recommend it unless he truly thought Eli needed it.

The prince nodded.

Sligo led him down to the spacious training rooms. The space was brilliantly lit as the warm afternoon sun streamed in through the wall of leaded glass windows. A servant had arrived before them and laid out fresh leathers for the prince.

Prince Eli trained in heavy armor, too, should the day ever come that he needed to lead Tamryn’s forces from the front lines of battle. But for kings and queens, the forces of the dark god Uzakiel and His assassins were of far more concern. That meant not relying on armor.

Forgetting about the gardens, his mother’s death, and the diplomatic dinner he would have to attend with his father, Prince Eli picked up the practice daggers and faced Sligo.

The sparring match began.

Sligo charged the prince, then feinted to the left before coming up behind him. But Prince Eli dodged to the right, avoiding the blow altogether. A fortnight ago, Sligo would have succeeded in getting past his guard. Eli was getting better, but that just meant the Shadowguard would throw something new at him.

Prince Eli relished it.

It was a game of cat and mouse, as much a thinking match as raw physical strength. He had to be fast, adaptive, and cunning.

He learned something every time he sparred with Sligo, and he took that with him, would use that when he faced the diplomatic meetings as king, or when he faced the nobles and their demands.

Flow like water. Cut like steel.

A noise to his left drew his attention. The Knights of Valor had arrived, and rather than waiting for him to be done, they were watching.

The boy at the front of the group drew his attention. Though younger than Prince Eli, he was taller, broader, stronger. His blond hair all but shone in the sunlight, and he already wore the heavy shining armor of a Knight with an ease Eli would never master.

Prince Eli glanced down at the black leathers he wore. He knew what he looked like beside the other boy. Slim and dark-haired, nothing like the Tamaryn ideal of righteousness and valor.

The prince clenched his fists at his side. Dracor might have done nothing while his mother was murdered, but Eli was still a Dracasan. Still a member of the royal family that had been blessed by Dracor to rule Tamryn since its founding.

Tension thrummed through him again.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Your Highness.” The boy bowed.

“Too bad you did.”

“If you are done practicing, Your Highness, would you teach me your style of swordplay?”

“My style?”

“That’s not very Knightly,” one of the other squires behind the blond boy said.

“But we’re going to face more than Knights of Valor on the battlefield. We need to learn how to fight against that, too.”

Prince Eli tightened his grip on his daggers. He wanted to knock the golden squire on his bottom and maybe bloody his nose while he was at it.

Sligo moved to stand between Prince Eli and the Knights. “You may not spar with His Highness.”

“I suppose that is a bad idea. I am sorry.” The boy bowed again to Prince Eli.

The prince glanced at his bodyguard and shrugged. “If you want to go a round with him, you have my permission.”

“Your Highness?”

The squire stared expectantly at Sligo.

Eli moved to the sidelines and motioned to the shadowguard to proceed.

Sligo glanced at him then at the blond-haired boy. Sligo nodded once at the Knight-in-training.

The boy grabbed a sword and shield, wielding both with a skill that far exceeded his youth. Sligo stalked around him, but this was a very different game than the one he played with Prince Eli, and Eli instantly recognized the difference.

The squire was taller, stronger, his reach longer.

He was also a very skilled combatant despite his youth.

The blond-haired boy narrowed his eyes as he dodged another strike from Sligo. “You’re toying with me.”

With a burst of speed that seemed like it should be impossible given his size and armor, the boy sprinted past Sligo and charged toward Prince Eli.

Prince Eli froze, and for a moment, it was like it had been in the gardens all those years ago. Then he reached for his daggers. This time, he was ready.

The squire then spun around, his blade already raised to block Sligo’s.

The Shadowguard had Marcus flat on his back with a dagger to his throat in less time than it took Prince Eli to blink.

He gaped at Sligo just as the rest of the knights-of-valor in training did.

“Yes, that,” the boy said. “That’s what I want to learn. I couldn’t have defended His Highness from you, and I must.”

“It is not your place to protect him.”

“For what Dracor wants of me, I must be able to stand against even worse than you. I must be able to protect Tamryn.”

The earnestness in the other boy’s words tore at Prince Eli. If only he’d been born twenty years sooner, Eli’s mother would still be alive.

It wasn’t fair, but then when had the gods ever been fair? Even the god of justice and righteousness didn’t follow His own path. Eli would carve his own.

Prince Eli dropped his daggers and left the training room.

 

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: grief, loss, loss of family, love, mother, prince, Prince Eli, Queen, romance author, Romance Novels, Romance Writer, To Love a Prince

Short Story – Ice Queen’s Ball

February 26, 2020 by Elizabeth Drake

For those curious, yes, this is the same Callen and Daniella from Seducing the Ice Queen. They were haunting my thoughts again, so I decided to let them tell a little more of their story. This short story takes place before the events of the book.

 

Ice Queen’s Ball

Lady Daniella glided across the ballroom, pausing to touch fingertips and exchange pleasantries with some of the most distinguished ladies in the realm.

She maintained her poise despite the whispers and speculation circulating around the room. Most predicted a wedding announcement was coming. Her father was the Duke of Calloway, and he was far too wealthy, too well-connected, and too powerful for his only child and heir not to be sought after.

Even if she was an ice queen.

A mask she wore out of necessity as so many watched and waited for her to make a mistake. A mask she hoped she could stop hiding behind once she was married and the gossips turned their gaze elsewhere.

Lady Daniella inclined her head to a mother and her daughter. While Daniella was the same age as the other girl, she felt so much older. Perhaps because the weight of the Calloway duchy had already been on her shoulders for more than a decade.

Her father always said that which didn’t break under pressure grew stronger.

If that were true, Lady Daniella should be stronger than tempered steel.

She swept her gaze across the room again. Henry, the Duke of Westlake’s eldest son, and the man she’d been engaged to earlier that week, still hadn’t arrived. And they had planned to announce their engagement that evening.

Odd he hadn’t arrived yet. Stranger still, her own father had disappeared from the ballroom. Had something happened? Had Henry decided to withdraw his offer?

Relief flooded her, and Daniella was ashamed by her reaction. It was an excellent match, one that would bring stability and prosperity to her lands and the Westlake lands. And with the royal family in such disarray, it made the match even more desirable.

That she didn’t love Henry was of no consequence. They would be partners.

As Daniella scanned the crowd again, she startled as a pair of strong hands brushed over her shoulders. Turning, she found herself trapped in Lord Callen Westlake’s golden gaze.

Words escaped her as the heat of him sunk through her dress.

“I understand congratulations are in order,” he murmured, his voice too soft for anyone else in the crowded ballroom to hear.

“Nothing is official.”

“Then my brother is a fool. I didn’t think you abided fools.” Mischief twinkled in Lord Callen’s tawny eyes.

“I must or I would’ve sent you away already.”

His grin widened. “As you haven’t, perhaps I can convince you to share this next dance with me.”

She knew she should tell him no and escape to the ladies’ sitting room until her father returned. But she didn’t want to escape to the ladies’ sitting room. She wanted to dance with Lord Callen. Just this once.

She arched a haughty brow, an expression she had been practicing. “Are you going to offer me your arm and escort me to the dancefloor, or perhaps you were going to remove a frog from your pocket instead?”

Surprise then delight passed over his face. He bowed to her then offered his arm.

Daniella accepted, and he swept her out onto the dance floor. While she’d had numerous dance partners during the balls she’d attended, none of them compared to his graceful elegance or the way he focused on her so completely it was like there was no one else in the room but her.

Lord Callen was warm and strong beside her, surrounding her as he guided her through the steps. The scent of him reminded her of sunlit afternoons, stolen cookies, and laughter.

She wanted the dance to last forever.

But nothing good ever lasted, a bitter lesson she’d learned all too well.

As the final chords drifted to an end, Lord Callen smiled down at her. “Would you…go for a walk in the gardens with me? They’re well lit, lots of chaperones, but…I…wanted to ask you something.”

She had never seen Callen blush before, never seen him so uncertain of himself. In an uncharacteristic expression of friendship, she touched his hand. “Of course. Is something troubling you?”

“No…well, maybe…Let’s walk.”

She inclined her head and laid her hand on his sleeve. As he turned to lead her out into the gardens, Daniella glimpsed her father striding towards her. He no more than inclined his head to the myriad of people that whispered something to him as he passed.

Lady Daniella forced her face to remain impassive even as her stomach tightened. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Perhaps the Duke of Westlake had called off the engagement.

Her stomach unclenched, and a whisper of hope bloomed in her chest. That would free her, allow her to… Allow her to what? Be sold off to the next promising young man?

She glanced up at Callen tall and strong beside her. Unless…

Lord Callen bowed to the Duke of Calloway. “Your Grace.”

“Thank you for protecting my daughter. The wolves are out tonight.”

Lord Callen stiffened under her fingers, though his ready smile never faltered. “My pleasure, Your Grace.”

“If you will pardon us, I need to speak with my daughter a moment.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Lord Callen bowed to the duke then placed Lady Daniella’s hand on her father’s sleeve.

Before she could say another word to him, Callen disappeared into the crush of the ballroom. She turned back to her father. “What’s happened?”

“Not here.” The Duke of Calloway laid his other hand over hers and led her out of the ballroom.

Few tried to engage the duke in even the merest of pleasantries as he escorted her to a small room deep in the house. The music of the ball was a distant echo, and she could hear the croak of the frogs. The sound almost coaxed a smile from her.

Despite his years, her father was still tall and broad. His hair, as pale as hers, showed no grey or white, but the softening at his middle and the lines around his eyes belied his years. He’d never looked as old as he did when he turned to face.

Burying her fear, Daniella kept her voice neutral. “Father, what’s happened?”

“You will not be marrying Lord Henry, next Duke of Westlake.”

Daniella didn’t allow her relief to show. “We may not have suited all that well anyway. Perhaps-”

“Not because he called it off.”

She paused, the dread in her stomach blooming and threatening to choke her. “Then why, Father?”

“Prince Eli Dracasan has offered for you.”

Her eyes widened. “No!” The word escaped her before she could stop it, and Daniella pressed her trembling fingers to her lips.

“I cannot refuse.”

Daniella sank to a chair, the world spinning around her. This couldn’t be happening.

Prince Eli.

Cold. Ruthless. Amoral Prince Eli.

He would trample anyone beneath his boot in his quest for the throne, including the gods themselves. Every day with him would be a battle. And she would have to…produce an heir with him. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

“I am sorry, Daniella.”

She thought of her dance with Callen, of her promise to walk with him in the gardens. It nearly brought her to tears. But tears solved nothing. She was a Calloway. She would do her duty to her family, to the people that depended on her, and to Tamryn.

Even if it meant marrying Prince Eli.

Standing, she straightened her spine. “I’m certain you will negotiate the best possible marriage contract. We should make our rounds through the ballroom, then I would like to retire. I’m certain His Highness will have his own plans to announce our marriage.”

Her father looked relieved. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.” Lady Daniella rose with cool grace, her ice queen mask never wavering even though she wanted to cry, to scream, to weep.

How she wished her mother were still alive or her sister, someone who would hug her and share her pain. But she was alone, as she had always been.

As she would always be.

 

 

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: Callen and Daniella, duchess, duke, Ice Queen, romance author, Romance Novels, Romance Writer, Royalty, Seducing the Ice Queen

Short Story – Love of the Romance

August 29, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

In honor of the release of my third book, my daughter wrote her own romance novel. She figured she’d learned a lot reading over my shoulder despite my protests.

I have warned you that she is precocious.

She wanted me to share it with you here. I think we may have another budding writer in the family.

Love of the Romance

 

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Love of the Romance: A Love Story about Layla and Mig
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Clearly this is a friends to lovers novel. You can totally see the confusion the characters struggle with as they come to understand their feelings.

Layla’s first day at preschool, she met a nice boy named Mig. She and he fell in love.

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Layla seems a bit more unsure. Mig is all in. A lot of plot potential with that. 

She met him in K5. She loved him a lot.

 

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Now we have love at first sight, built on the love they had as children. 

Layla is a secretary at school. She fell in love, unlike yesterday. The boy’s name is Mig.

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Hmmm, more time jumping. Makes you wonder what happened that pulled them apart. I am also wondering where Layla’s arms are. I need to ask the illustrator about that.

(Four Years Later) Layla’s first day, she met him again. She liked him more.

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Things are moving pretty quickly between Layla and Mig!

Today they date. They want to kiss. So they do. They play Princess of the Dragon World.

 

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Really unsure about those vows!

When they were twenty-five years old, they married. They had fun at the wedding.

 

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This might explain the quick wedding!

Thirteen weeks after they were married, they had a baby! They love it.

 

For a child more interested in Wings of Fire than anything else right now, she has an amazing grasp of the romance genre. Now, to keep feeding her Wings of Fire books and keep her out of my “open door” romance novel stash for as long as possible!

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: daughter, Family, Guest Post, romance author, Romance Novel

Short Story: Mara’s First Hellfire

August 22, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

I sometimes enjoy taking my characters for a spin in the sandbox of my imagination.

I have a character that has been knocking around in my head for sometime. You met her in Knight of Valor, and while I have a hazy idea of where her future takes her, she’s very different from other characters I’ve written. To help me better understand her, I wrote a short story from her point of view.

 

Mara’s First Hellfire

Mara swept the first young Knight’s feet out from beneath him and shoved him hard with her shield. He crashed to the ground, and before he could roll away, she hit his breastplate with her sword.

A second Knight charged her, and she pivoted, letting his momentum in full armor carry him past her. As he tripped over the first Knight, Mara hit his back with the flat of her sword.

Two kill shots.

Both Mara’s.

Anything but a training exercise, and the two Knights of Valor would be dead.

There was laughter and teasing from the sidelines, but a quick look from Mara silenced the other Knights. “How long will any of you survive in the eastern provinces? A day? A week, at most?”

Knight Keenan helped the two younger men back to their feet. “We’re practicing. They’ll get better.”

“But not good enough.”

“Not all of us can be Sir Marcus,” the Knight Mara tripped growled.

Mara pierced the boy with her hard stare. “Sir Marcus spent his life training to fight a lich. You spent yours training to protect the safe streets of Tamryn. The difference shows.”

Knight Keenan cleared his throat. “We’ll keep practicing.”

Mara studied the assembled Knights, her gaze resting on each man in turn. “Anything you face in the eastern provinces will be alive because it’s survived worse than whatever haunts your nightmares. Do you think a wendigo gets knocked down during practice then toddles off to say a few prayers?”

The Knights stared back at her, and several of them were clenching their fists at their sides.

Good. Let them get angry. Better angry than dead. “Next lesson.” Mara motioned to a figure on the sidelines dressed in a plain brown cloak.

The woman walked over to Mara and bowed, then turned toward the Knights.

“Mage Skyla,” Sir Keenan said. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s helping me demonstrate a lesson,” Mara said. “Are your healers out here?”

Sir Keenan nodded toward Knight Matthias, but concern reflected in his pale green eyes. “Is this safe?”

“Less dangerous than sending out half-trained men.”

Knight Keenan glanced at Skyla then stepped back. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Mara glanced back at the woman in the robes. Her brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her large eyes seemed too big for her face. She was easy to underestimate as so many mages were.

“Just like we practiced,” Mara said.

Skyla nodded and walked several sword lengths behind Mara.

“Do you think your Knights can beat Skyla and me?” Mara raised a challenging brow at Sir Keenan. “Or are you going to send them to their prayer vigil and hope Dracor gives them fighting skills?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Not what I asked.” Mara smiled at the gathered Knights, a taunting expression meant to rile them. “Pick your best seven. If they can get three hits in before I get a killing blow on each of them, your god wins this round, and I will come back and help you train them until the new moon.”

Sir Keenan glanced at the recruits then back at Mara. “You called for a healer. What do you have in mind?”

“Don’t think seven of your Knights can get in three hits?”

“And if they can’t?”

“You owe Skyla and me a hellfire at Ndrek’s bar.” Not that Mara wanted one, but Skyla did if Sir Keenan was buying.

Sir Keenan stared from her back to the recruits. “Seven against you and Skyla?”

Mara nodded.

“Until the new moon?”

Mara nodded again. knowing she had him. He wouldn’t get her help until the new moon, but the young Knights would still learn a very valuable lesson.

“They could really use the practice against someone with your skills. You’re sure Skyla won’t be hurt?”

“It’s not her you should be worrying about.”

Mara fell into her battle stance, and she felt Skyla building the first spell as seven young Knights took their positions opposite her.

Sir Keenan signaled the start of combat, and Skyla let loose with the spell.

A wall of flames scorched the ground and rose up between Mara and the Knights. Mara ignored the fire, ducking her head as she charged through them and hit the breastplate of one of the Knights. Pivoting, she tapped the breastplate of a second before any of them had recovered their wits enough to close their mouths.

The remaining five backed away from the fire and Mara’s blade.

Just as she’d anticipated.

Skyla loosed her second spell, and the ground under the remaining Knight’s feet turned to mud.

Mara charged.

Slamming her shield into the first Knight’s sword, she shoved hard and sent him stumbling back then barreled into the second. Surprise widened his eyes, and when he tried to turn, he slipped in the mud.

Mara slammed his chest plate with her sword, and if it hadn’t been a practice blade, she’d have accidentally killed the Knight. Instead, she sent him into the mud with the first, whose chest plate she’d already hit.

Both young men would hurt, but the bruises would teach a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

The remaining three Knights extricated themselves from the mud as Mara circled around them. She smiled as one tried to flank her while the other two came at her. Sprinting towards one, she used her shield as a battering ram and knocked him to the ground as the second scored a glancing blow against her arm.

She pivoted and knocked his feet out from underneath him them hit his chest plate with her sword. Leaping over him, she tapped the Knight she’d steamrolled to the ground.

One Knight remained.

As he stared at her, black vines shot out of the ground and encased his feet, rooting him.

Mara circled around him, but he couldn’t turn to face her. She came up behind him and tapped the middle of his back.

There were growing whispers that the battle hadn’t been fair. That they hadn’t been warned.

Mara only smiled. “Combat isn’t about fair. Or justice. Or right and wrong. It’s about winning. In real combat, Skyla would’ve been using fireballs, poison clouds, and ice storms.”

The murmurs grew louder.

“You were so focused on me, not one of you tried to stop her. You’d all be dead now because of it. Never underestimate a mage.”

“Good lesson,” Sir Leopold said. “Well done, both of you.”

Mara felt the High-Knight’s faded blue gaze fix on her. She met his stare, her face impassive even as her stomach clenched. Tall and broad, the only thing that belied his age was the silver in his hair and the rank insignia on his uniform.

She wondered again what he’d feel like beneath her.

Stabbing the thought and leaving it to bleed to death, Mara handed her practice sword back to Sir Keenan.

She picked up her sword, inspected it, then sheathed it. “One hit to seven kills. See you at Ndrek’s.”

Sir Keenan nodded then hurried to check on his men.

 

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: hellfire, Knight, Knight of Valor, mage, magic, Mara, romance author, Romance Novel, Romance Writer, wizard

Short Story: Siren’s Song – Part 2

January 8, 2019 by Elizabeth Drake

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Siren’s Song

Elysia had only seen Lorik this bad once before, and it was the night he’d agreed to throw his life away to see justice against Thorne Thaaxune done.

He was sinking back there because of her.

Because she’d tested him rather than trusted him.

After all they had seen together, all they’d been through, she’d known Sy wouldn’t win. But Lorik hadn’t known that, and she wanted him to give him that knowledge.

Elysia sheathed her sword and offered him her hand. He looked at the whiskey and then at her.

“Please.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but she knew he’d come. Lorik had never denied her anything, not even joining her on this fool’s errand.

Lorik groaned, but he pushed the glass away and followed her back to their room.

She closed and locked the door, then took off her armor.

Lorik climbed into bed and faced the wall, counting backward from 100 as he controlled his breathing.

She sat on the bed beside him.

“We both need our sleep. Go to bed,” he grunted. “Sy is too scared of you to come back.”

The hint of regret in his words stung her. She reached for him, then drew back her hand. “The Light doesn’t forbid physical contact.”

“Good thing, because I’ve seen you slay a dozen zombies with one strike. Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She lifted his hand and laid it against her cheek.

“I know what you meant.” He turned and met her intense violet gaze. “And you have no idea what you’re saying. No idea what I want to do with you.”

His dark hair curled over his cheek. He was as battered and worn as his armor. Used and hardened by it. But he was still a good man. One of the best she’d ever met. And she loved him all the more for the dents and dings. Because he’d endured them, and they had toughened him, but they hadn’t broken him.

Lorik thumbed over her cheek as the heat of him caressed her through her shift and the scent of him stole through her.

“Show me,” she whispered as she leaned forward and touched her lush full lips against his.

 

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: Elysia, Friends, Lorik, love, Romance

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