The Hidden Princess (Mages and Kingdoms Book 1) Read online

  The Hidden Princess

  Copyright © 2015 by U. Mandy Carrico

  BKC Publishing

  First Edition

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  For my high school English teacher, Mr. Kearns.

  You may not remember me among the hundreds upon hundreds of students you’ve taught over the years but I remember you. Every student should experience someone like you at least once in their education.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Amelie

  She slipped quietly into the tavern, cloaked in deep red material and eyes trained into the dark corners. Standing off from the entrance, she scanned the room looking for him. The air in here was a stark contrast to the chill outside, thick with heat and sweat and the odor of ale. The man she was seeking would not sit among the bright lit tables for fear he would have to swap pleasantries with the mercenaries or get roped into a lengthy card game which would cost him coin left in the pot if the need for a hasty exit were to arise.

  Her sparkled marine eyes lit upon the bartender, a portly man with a bald head sheen with droplets. She wound towards him, careful not to brush up on any of his patrons. The men rose their faces to her as some realized she was a woman. They narrowed their eyes at her cloak, the brown liquid making them more brazen and intolerant of her folds of fabric. One even reached out with his hand to grope within her robes with slurred protests that serving wenches should show skin. She broke his pinkie finger quickly and silently, never stopping in her route to the barkeep.

  A sharp enough injury to cause him considerable pain, but not so outlandish that his table mates would start a brawl. The ale masked the extent of the damage and it would quickly dull to an ache. It wouldn’t be until tomorrow when his finger was purple and fat that he would experience the onslaught of suffering.

  The bartender’s smile was wide and sincere as she approached. His demeanor was agreeable, even before she had a chance to affect him. Before she laid a careful hand on his wrist, took him in with her eyes, spoke low and soft with enchantment.

  “Most of the women have retired for the night. It’s a strange to see one with your class persist. What will it be, my lady?” he asked, his thick hands spread out on the bar supporting his stocky frame.

  “Information, kind sir,” she purred. Her voice thrummed low and soothing. She had the feeling she could gather from him what she needed without her magical influence, but the tavern was crowded and the hour of the night meant the men had consumed several rounds leaving them more susceptible to her charms. Also, she had taken silver root before entering the town to enhance her abilities. It would not be much longer until they began to stir.

  The bartender’s eyelids drooped slightly and he gave a crooked smile.

  “What is it you seek?”

  “A man. A dark traveler with a gold seal of a horse on his breast.”

  “Aye he was here. I quartered a room to him upstairs. He did not care to stay for entertainment.”

  She dropped two coins on the counter. He hadn’t asked for payment and would hardly feel cheated come morning when the mist left his eyes, but her conscience wanted to repay him in some way. Guilt nagged her when she used her sway on innocent men.

  “Many thanks.”

  And she was gone. Crept back into the night as if she’d never been. But the way the men shifted in their seat, the way they glanced about the room for a moment, the way the heat prickled the back of their necks left a trace that she had indeed been among them.

  * * *

  She found his room instantly, the only window with a flicker of candlelight. Tucking her dagger into her boot blade-down, she climbed the fence planks and cracked his window until she was a whisper away from him. He was perched on the edge of his borrowed bed, sharpening his sword with block stone. He did not see her but felt her presence immediately. She could tell as his movements paused and he rubbed his ear, like his hearing was clouding.

  The silver root was a moist mass of pulp between her teeth and she sucked at the bitter juices silently while she watched him. Watched him work his blade. Solid, purposeful strokes that steadily slowed until his sword dropped and he leaned back against the wall. She closed her eyes and pulsed with energy, emanating her influence into his room.

  A smile spread on his lips and his eyes closed. A sigh of unknown pleasure escaped him. He welcomed it. She waited a moment longer making sure the seduction was taking root. It scared her to work quickly and though she’d done it before, it was not always successful.

  Finally convinced that he would not be a danger, she spit out the silver root to the soft soil below and intruded into his room. She climbed over his writing desk and stood before him, taking in his relaxed posture and unworried expression. Like it was commonplace for robed women to climb into his window. Her sea green eyes flashed underneath her hood, her only memorable quality. The rest of her was plain. Straight raven black hair cropped at her shoulders. Long enough to dress it when she needed to walk among nobles but short enough that it easily tied back for rough travel and combat. Dark maple skin with the shine beat out of it by weather and missions. She finished out with lean, powerful muscles packed onto a medium frame and cloaked in curves. The curves she loved. They belied the strength in her limbs and gave her the initial advantage more than once in a sudden squall. She tensed those muscles now lest the magic was not in full effect and a fight was necessary.

  But she needn’t worry because as soon as she dropped her robe, the dark rider simply stood, smiled at her stupidly and held out a hand. She took it and he coiled her to him. Too easy. “How is it that I’m passionately in love with you, stranger?”

  She stroked his cheek with a gloved hand and smiled mischievously at him. Yes, she had him. “We needn’t be strangers.”
>
  He bent to kiss her and she expertly ducked and came about his back, moving her hands across his shoulders to appease him. “Tell me, rider, from where did you travel?”

  “I traveled through Draeden. From the southern region beyond the mountains.”

  “And where is it you are headed?”

  “To my contact in Grantham. I have a message to deliver.”

  He turned to face her. His brown eyes were troubled as if he knew he shouldn’t be divulging this intelligence, but his mouth retained the stupid smile.

  “May I see this message?”

  He drew it from his breast pocket even as his head was shaking no. “I do not even know the contents. All I know is that this message brands me a traitor to both crowns,” he could not stop from saying. “It is not for your eyes. The royals would have me killed.”

  She took it and tucked it away in her own fabric, down her neckline. His hand tried to follow. She did not know if it was to retrieve the message or to begin to alleviate the pain she knew his unfilled desire was starting to impart on his body. She had used her magic quickly and strongly and was all too aware of the urgent effect it had on her target.

  She ducked again, but he caught her and held her closely against his body. “Tell me,” he sighed, burying his head in her hair, tasting her neck. “Tell me your name.”

  She gave a small laugh. “My name? Is that what you want from me?”

  “That and more!” He pressed closer into her. Her leg lifted, rubbing against his thigh. He took the action as seduction and groaned into her shoulder, hardening in his pants. Her leg was high enough for her to grasp the dagger in her boot.

  “My name is Princess Gabriella Amelie Lamour.” Her tone took on a ferocity as she spoke the truth and stabbed the dagger deep into his chest. “I am one of those royals you so fear.”

  She watched as the spell broke and his eyes swam with panic. He had no sound as he collapsed on the bed, the life no longer in him. A quick swish of scarlet fabric and she was once again shrouded. The candle winked out as she left the way she came, leaving nothing but a ghost of her presence behind.

  Chapter 2

  Amelie

  Amelie sat against the rough bark of a tree looking out towards an expansive canyon. The canyon marked the line between her kingdom of Candor and the neighboring kingdom of Draeden. She sat on the foreign side now, gazing at her home land. She’d only slipped over the border a handful of times in pursuit of fleeing spies and once to gather intelligence from a nobleman who lived just over the divide.

  The inhabitants of each of the five kingdoms did not intermix or trespass into the others’ realm. They have enjoyed peace for over two hundred years after the treaty of The Great Divide. Before the treaty, tribes of men were locked in war battling over land, game, and stones. The leaders of each – some friends, some enemies – agreed to put down their weapons and meet to discuss how to exist next to each other without bloodshed.

  Each kingdom received a fair share of forest, lakes, and borders that included land and sea. They agreed to operate independently of one another. No tribe member dared cross onto another tribe’s territory and jeopardize the treaty. Monarchies rose and cities established themselves in the wake of the treaty, allowing people to focus on building and growing rather than fighting and surviving. Any of the few subjects that still dared to cross into neighboring lands were met with punishments that were harsh and swift to the trespassers. In time, those examples kept subjects in line and slowly border defense dropped away as the norm of isolation took over and all the kingdoms remained truly segregated. Amelie risked much crossing into Draeden but Sir Duncan, the king’s highest and most trusted advisor, felt it necessary of late as many of the spies were being traced back there. Amelie found this to be an odd coincidence since he had spent the most time teaching her the laws and customs of Draeden, even before this trend arose.

  “Because we share such a massive border with it, almost our entire southern line,” he explained once when she asked him. Her eyes narrowed. Sir Duncan rarely omitted information from her but she felt he was dancing on a lie with this response. Sharing a border hardly garnered importance on which kingdoms to study.

  Grantham’s royalty was unstable. They were constantly overthrowing each other in the monarchy and if any kingdoms were power hungry Amelie guessed they’d be the threat. The kingdom of Palmina kept to themselves but treasured their mages. They were the strongest magically, requiring laws that mages marry other mages in an attempt to build a more powerful race. If it was working, Amelie did not know. News from Palmina rarely left the kingdom but from what she could tell they were no different than the scattered mages found in Candor. Perhaps a little larger in number. Of all the kingdoms, an attack from them would be the most surprising and subsequently the deadliest. Finally, the kingdom of Wales was a peninsula that jutted out into the North Ocean and shared a slight border at its base with Palmina and Grantham. Though the tiniest kingdom, they were the most militant. Having been attacked more than any other by its neighboring tribes seeking to absorb the peninsula, they reportedly trained their boys from childhood to brandish weapons and killed any foreigners on sight.

  Candor did not share a border with Wales and the army would have to cross through an entire kingdom to get to them, so Amelie understood why they spent so little energy focused there. Draeden by all means was peaceful. King Armiss and the two princes agreed to uphold the separation of kingdoms and little discord emanated from its lands. Why Amelie studied them at length was beyond her understanding.

  Why Sir Duncan’s knowledge was so plentiful when he could only teach her half as much about the other three kingdoms was also a puzzlement.

  “You must take extra caution when you cross into Draeden,” he warned. “Mages are illegal there. You will be tried once for crossing into their land and again for your magic. The second will undoubtedly be the harsher sentence.”

  Amelie would have liked to make the cross and camp on the safe side in Candor but she knew navigating the canyon in the darkness would be treacherous.

  She did not risk a fire on the road so Amelie and her companion, Millie, ate a cold supper of bread and apples. She wiped a trail of milk from her chin. The drink was a bonus she found in the barn behind the tavern as she left. Much of her time was spent in a convent complete with a farm and chores and she could coax milk faster than any of the nuns in the compound. Plus, she needed only enough for the two of them. Millie had been especially delighted and Amelie thought this would buy her a night off from her grumbling over stale bread and water.

  “I don’t like you going in there alone, my lady,” Millie complained. “Captain Lucas trains me in defense as well and I can handle my share of rowdy men. Especially as drunk as they were.”

  An old argument, one the two girls tossed around since they began these missions. “There was no need, Millie,” Amelie explained again trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. “Please learn quickly that stealth will always be the path of choice. It’s much easier to continue this work if you are left unremembered.”

  “I just worry. I shall not return home without you in one piece, lest I lose my head or worse!”

  Amelie smiled warmly and placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Your concern is noted and appreciated. No matter whose hide it worries over.”

  Millie threw bread crumbs at the Princess and laughed with her at her joke.

  “The ball honoring the Forest Nobles is tonight,” Millie said wistfully, staring into the darkness.

  “I pray they are enjoying themselves.”

  “But don’t you wish to be there? The palace balls are always so grand.”

  Amelie rolled her uneaten apple between her hands. She had never attended a ball among her own people. “My only regret is your absence from such a night. I know you adore dancing. I have no taste for balls.”

  “You’ve never been to a proper ball. Slipping into foreign parties for a few moments to collect informatio
n is not the experience I’m thinking of. Don’t you want to know what it’s like?”

  “Claudia is the princess with the public face. I need to move unrecognized.” Amelie sighed and took a bite of the apple, crunching silently.

  “Your sister is an excellent ambassador,” Millie agreed. “But you are the eldest. People only whisper of your existence now. How will you marry and lead the kingdom when no one’s seen your face for the last seven years? You’re not the same gawky girl I met all that time ago when I arrived at the palace.”

  “I do believe this is the longest you’ve gone without a complaint about our travels. The weather, the food, your sore thighs, the dust in the air.”

  “I only go on about such things to put a voice in the air,” Millie huffed indignantly. “Your silence makes me count the time passing. Besides, I can fight, brew a poison, handle a bow, and protect your back but I am still a woman. It’s only natural to want to feel like one.” She frowned at her traveling partner. “But don’t change the subject.”

  “Why is this a subject all of a sudden, Millie?”

  “You're twenty-one next week. Many women are already married with a babe on the horizon by now.”

  “Your age surpasses mine a year and a half,” Amelie said with a steady gaze. She did not want to venture down this topic. Millie met her gaze and nodded slightly.

  “I do not think of husbands yet, either. Right now I only think of your safety.”

  “Well, let us not think or talk of them anymore tonight.”

  Millie did not answer and Amelie knew a retort hesitated on the stubborn woman’s tongue. She always had one. It’d been like that since the day they met. Millie had crossed her arms, glowered down at the princess in all her gloomy brooding and demanded a decent acknowledgement of her presence. Then she shook out all the curtains to “free the darkness from this hellhole” and went about making herself at home in the room. Amelie had only been banished to the convent for a few weeks and was in no mood make friends, but Millie’s mindset was that there was always someone somewhere in a worse state. Even so, she learned to tread carefully around the princess’s pain and was wise in picking her battles: stomping out unnecessary self-pity and quietly soothing the particularly harsh pains.