Page 2 of A Crown Without Mercy

“It sounds like treason. What are you doing?”

“It’s not treason, son, it’s Cynfadel clan business.”

“Does this have something to do with the dissidence of the Lycans against the Acherons?”

“Yes, and I’ll say no more.”

Alaric took a drink and peered at his father from over the rim of his cup, knowing there was more to this thanclan business. When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? You are going to disappear in the middle of the night? Are you at least going to tell your daughters?”

“No. They will have an incessant number of questions I am not prepared to answer.” He finished his ale, pushed his chair back, and stood.

Alaric stood and walked to his father. “When will you return?”

Kadric pulled him in for a tight embrace and patted his back. “Do I have your word?”

Alaric hugged him tightly, feeling as if it was the last time he was going to see his father. “Father, you have my word. I will protect my sisters, and I need you to give me your word that you will return.”

“Son, I have every intention of returning.”

Alaric and his sisters, Sylvana, Calista, and Mira were sitting in the parlor drinking ale, and playing a game of dice called Angon.

Alaric filled his cup and nodded toward Sylvana. “Your shot.”

Sylvana picked up the dice and shook them in her hands before tossing them onto the table. Once the dice stopped rolling, she looked at Alaric and smirked. “Beat that.”

“Looks like you’re losing again, Brother,” Calista chuckled.

Calista grabbed the dice and Sylvana picked up on a subtle scent of smoke. She looked at the hearth and then out of the window and noticed an eerie red glow coming from the top of the barn. “Shit—fire!”

“What?” Alaric shoved his chair back and by the time they ran out of the door toward the barn, swirls of black smoke and forked flames were already crawling across the wood planks. The girls filled buckets of water from the well and handed them to Alaric, who leapt onto the roof. The smoke and the sounds of hissing steam consumed him when the negligible amount of water splashed into the growing flames.

Calista ripped the barn doors open and she and Mira ushered the horses out. “Out—go!” Calista yelled, as she opened each of the stalls and slapped the horses on their hindquarters.

“The water, it will never be enough!” Sylvana waved her hand and an icy-blue mist enveloped Alaric and the scorching flames.

He felt a bitter chill and a haze of ghost-gray smoke surrounded him. He spun around and looked down. “Sylvana! What the fuck are you doing?”

Calista grabbed her wrist. “If anyone saw you and word gets out—”

Sylvana wrenched her wrist free. “What was I to do? Stand here and let the barn burn to the ground?”

Alaric leapt off the roof and grabbed Sylvana’s arm. “And if someone saw you, what then? We will never see this place again. They might as well burn it all down! How many times have you been told not to use your powers?”

She wrapped her hand around his fist and pulled his fingers loose. “Alaric, let go.”

“That was fucking careless,” Calista snapped.

Sylvana held her arms out to her side and walked in a slow circle. “Who’s here? The nearest manor is a mile away, and it’s pitch black out!”

Mira was standing with her arms across her chest, not understanding what was occurring all around her. She looked across the field to see if any of the horses were there when she noticed something in the tree line. She narrowed her eyes, sharpening her acute sense of sight, and thought she saw a silhouette leaning against a tree. Whatever, whomever it was slipped back into the shadows. Her pulse quickened, and she stepped backward toward her brother. “Alaric,” she said.

“Not now, Mira,” he snapped.

“You will not do it again. Do you understand me?” he bellowed.

---