Magna's Plea (The Fate Challenges) (3 page)

“They’re hiding while the enemy is within our walls.” Disgust tinged Magna’s tone. Her family was alive, but Amora needed them to fight as well. Shame burned her cheeks and across her chest. She’d expected her mother to shy from battle, but not her father and brothers. Amora had fallen far from grace. No wonder the Apenthans were attacking the city! “Go back to the queen. Tell her you didn’t find me.”

“Princess, it’s not safe.” Fava grabbed Magna’s arm.

“No!” A blast of white energy shot out of her hand and struck Fava in the chest. The servant slid along the stone floor until she hit the wall.

“Are you all right?” What had Magna done? She raced over to her servant and touched Fava’s bony cheek. “Please be okay.”

Fava’s eyelids parted, and she blinked. “Princess,” she said in a wispy voice, “come.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I won’t let our kingdom fall.” Magna gave one last look to her servant and sprinted from the palace. Since the guards were either with her family or attacking the enemy, no one stopped her. The sheathed sword knocked against her leg while she ran out a side entrance and down the cobblestone streets.

She rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. Men marched along the main road to the palace. She ducked into a nearby alleyway. Had they seen her? She held her breath while they passed her hiding place. No one seemed to have noticed her, and she quietly released her shaky breath. Sweat dampened her palms, and she rubbed them on her nightgown. Why hadn’t she thrown on a dress? She unsheathed her sword and stalked after the enemy. The shadows embraced her. She darted between the open spaces. A scent of burnt mortar and wood filled her nostrils, and it took all her will power not to succumb to a coughing fit.

She found a secret entrance to the palace and slipped inside. The palatial stone bit into her back as she pressed against it. Around the corner, Apenthans milled in the palace’s courtyard.

“Search for the Royal family and gather them here. They are to be unharmed.” A glimpse of a smile brushed against Prince Cyrun’s lips. He waved to his guards, and all but two scattered to find the Royals. “If you find the princess, I wish to speak with her.”

Magna clutched the heavy sword in two hands. The weight felt uncomfortable to her, and she wished she’d had more lessons with her brothers. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. Although for weeks she’d wanted to participate in the battle raging beyond her walls, her resolve for the fight faded at her own threshold. When a shriek erupted within the palace, Magna opened her eyes.

It was time.

She edged along the walls. A dark stain of red appeared upon the horizon like a bloody paint stroke. She flicked a glance toward the two guards; they were across the courtyard at the entrance. Prince Cyrun stood alone.

Magna judged her distance to her prey. Ignoring the dull ache forming in her muscles from holding her father’s weapon, she lifted the sword and attacked.

Metal clanged against metal as Cyrun raised his blade in defense. Magna struck one more time before he lunged forward and backed her toward the wall.

“We meet again, Princess Magna.” Despite the bruises and cuts upon him, he moved fluid and graceful like a dancer.

From the first clash of their weapons, her arms tingled. He continued his attack as she went on the defensive and barely managed to keep her sword raised. A bead of sweat trickled into her hairline. Her feet skidded sideways as she bumped against the wall.

“Let my family go. You don’t have to do this.” Her breath spurted from her lips while a rosy-fingered sky stretched over Amora.

“Which one should I execute to save your kingdom by dawn? Perhaps Queen Vyvian, your mother?” His mock tone slammed into her as he threw her own mother’s words back at Magna. He slowed his attacks and played with her like a child with a wingless fly. “Speaking of which, here they come.”

Enemy guards flanked her mother, father, and brothers. They tossed her family to the ground like litter. Chains bound her family’s hands. They huddled together and their eyes grew wide as they focused on her.

“Magna!” Father struggled against the bindings, as if he alone could protect her.

Magna’s heart clenched in her chest. She’d never seen her family so frightened, especially her mother. Those tears in Mother’s eyes stole the breath from her. “Release them.”

Cyrun shook his head. “It’s not so simple. I’ll trade your mother’s head for peace. Amora will become a city of the Kingdom of Apentha. I’ll allow you to be queen.”

Mother trembled and clutched Father. “Magna, give him what he wants. Save yourself.”

Magna couldn’t detect what Thoran was thinking. His shoulders slumped, as if the life was draining from him. Father fought hard against the chains again, but a guard struck him and knocked him to the ground. Moran kicked toward that Apenthan, but Mother yanked him back. Bubbling fury welled inside Magna. She would be their champion.

Her newfound magic boiled through her veins. Despite her lack of skill, she knew what to do.

“Flames of fury, light my sword, so I may save my kingdom.” From the hilt to its deadly tip, fire lapped upon the metal. With all her strength, she attacked Cyrun. The blade turned a fiery red with each strike.

“Impressive.” Clutching his own sword with both hands, Cyrun retreated from her.

“Get him.” Moran cheered for her, although his voice came out shaky.

“Fire’s death is an icy retreat. May I quench its thirst.” Ice etched along Cyrun’s silver weapon.

When fire and ice met, thick steam bathed them. The haze twirled around Magna and distorted her vision.

“Wind, I summon you to clear my sight.” A gust brushed against her feet and rose like a tornado to disperse the fog. The ring of metal deadened in the blustery gale.

“Water, come to my aid.” Cyrun summoned the element. A torrential downpour swirled around them. “You can do better than that.”

“Leave my kingdom alone.” Her sword struck Cyrun’s as she aimed the small twister at him.

The wind hit him in the chest, and his weapon flew across the courtyard. His lips parted in surprise as he fell. The water collapsed and extinguished the flames upon her sword.

Magna placed a sandaled foot upon Cyrun’s chest and pointed the blade at his throat. “I don’t wish to kill you. We can still have peace between our two kingdoms.”

“Still believe in fairy tales, Princess?” His amethyst eyes focused upon the sword and then her. An amused smile played along his lips. “You won’t kill me. You can’t.”

She hesitated, and the sword trembled in her hand. Maybe Cyrun was correct. She couldn’t kill him. Despite their kingdoms’ animosities, Apentha and Amora were family. Her gaze met those gathered around the courtyard. Moran assisted Father in standing. Thoran gave her a comforting smile, but best of all, her mother straightened to her queenly height. Pride shined bright from her eyes. All other fighting had ceased. The city walls still stood, despite the burning flames. In the east, the golden orb peeked over the horizon. Dawn had arrived.

“I love my city and kingdom. Order your men to stand down and let us speak peace, my cousin, or else.”

“Or else what?” His challenge rang out.

She edged the tip against his neck where his life’s blood pulsed beneath it. His cocky grin irked her. She would die before giving up her kingdom. Dark fury swelled within her, and she broke his skin. A thin line of red blood trickled from the neck wound. “Don’t think I won’t.”

His hard façade faded from his features. Once again, he was the prisoner in Amora’s capable clutches. “Lay down your arms, Apenthans. Perhaps we can brokerage an agreement.”

Upon the Prince’s command, the Apenthans set down their weapons.

“Have them release my family too.” Magna didn’t budge.

“Release the Royal family.”

The Apenthans listened to their prince and freed her family from their bonds.

Father, Thoran, and Moran seized the Apenthans’ swords. To Magna’s surprise, magic pulsed from Mother’s fingertips.

“Take his head, Magna.” Mother zapped a nearby Apenthan. “They will kill us all.”

“Princess, see how Amora treats family.” His whispered words pierced her. Sweat beaded down his temple, and he remained very still, so she wouldn’t cut him further.

Magna swallowed. A single downward movement could remove his head from his body, but she wouldn’t be the one to continue this war. “Cyrun, I want a guarantee of peace.”

“It’s hard to make guarantees by the sword.” His breath hitched.

“Your people had no problems with weapons before.” Magna spat her words at the ground. Fear and hatred burned her. She’d been so close to losing everything: her family, her people, her kingdom.

“I know.”

“I’m not my mother. Tell me why you started this war.”

“My father heard rumors Amora planned to attack us.” He shrugged slightly. “We Apenthans thought our kingdom’s safety resided in destroying yours.”

“We had to scurry to form an army. You caught us unprepared.” Whoever started these lies should be imprisoned. Magna started to withdraw her sword, but could she trust him?

“Perhaps we were wrong.” He caught her gaze, and she melted a little more. “I can’t say what my father and your mother will decide, but you showed me kindness when I thought there was none left. I’ve been the fool, not you.”

They both thought they were doing the best for their kingdoms. The last of her anger broke. Sheathing the weapon, she stepped off his chest. She stuck her hand out toward him.

Without hesitating, he grasped her hand and rose to his feet. “Nice nightgown,” he whispered hotly in her ear.

“Do I have a guarantee we will work together to bring harmony between our peoples?” She kept hold of his hand, despite the fire burning her cheeks at his proximity. The sun rose farther in the sky, and it bathed them in light. Night was over, and a hope of friendship lifted her spirit and dissipated the fear and doubt.

“A wise woman told me we aren’t all that different.” Cyrun kneeled before her. “I vow to you I will do everything in my power to help create a treaty.”

“Let there be peace.” Magna knew in her heart she was doing the right thing. Although they had a lot of work ahead of them, a prince and a princess could persuade their families to end the bloodshed. Golden tendrils of magic entwined around their hands and bound them to their vow of amity and family.

God-chosen as the Phoenix Prophetess, Yssa dares to challenge Fate to save the ones she loves. No matter the cost.

Forthcoming May 2014

Turn the page for a sneak peek of Cherie Reich’s debut novel.

The Island of Mournia

23 Day of Inasham

Year 2500 AUC

The infant lay limp upon the table, a thin cloth separating her from the wood. Her dark hair was matted down, and a smudge of birthing fluids tainted her pale flesh. The midwife had rushed to wipe off the baby after birth and deposited her in the nursery away from the child’s parents. Apenth, the God of Prophecy, Wisdom, and whatever else mortals had labeled him with this day and age, believed the little girl was perfect, except for one tiny thing.