Magics daughter, p.1
Magic's Daughter, page 1
Also by David Michael Williams
The Renegade Chronicles
Rebels and Fools
Heroes and Liars
Martyrs and Monsters
The Soul Sleep Cycle
If Souls Can Sleep
If Sin Dwells Deep
If Dreams Can Die
Available in paperback and e-book editions.
Magic’s Daughter
David Michael Williams
Magic’s Daughter is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by One Million Words, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, utilized, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, without prior written permission from the publisher. Inquiries can be directed to info@david-michael-williams.com.
First published by One Million Words, LLC, Wisconsin, USA
Smashwords Edition, July 2020
ISBN 978-1-7322117-5-9
Written by David Michael Williams (david-michael-williams.com)
Cover art copyright 2019 by One Million Words, LLC
Cover design by Mary Christopherson (mary.design)
Author photograph by Jaime Lynn Hunt (jaimelynnhunt.com)
Written by David Michael Williams (david-michael-williams.com)
Contents
Dedication
Family Tree
Prologue
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
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Praise for The Renegade Chronicles
About the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my brilliant, talented daughter, Gwendolyn Grace Williams.
Prologue
The lone rider raced across the countryside, her thoughts outpacing the sweaty stallion whose saddle horn she squeezed.
In Selena’s mind, she had already reached her destination, already delivered the devastating news to her father. The conversation played out differently each time she envisioned it. Sometimes, the man fell to the floor, weeping. In another version, he lost his temper and roared with fury—something she had never seen him do in reality.
As the cold wind pried tears from the corner of her tired eyes, Selena feared there was a first time for everything.
Only when she remembered to glance behind her to ascertain no one was following her, did she become aware that twilight had settled over the land. She had less than an hour before all evidence of the sun vanished.
And how many miles remained between her and the capital? Selena did not know the exact number, but it always took her father a week to make the trek by coach.
Angry with herself for not thinking of this more than an hour ago, when she had raced through a village whose name she had already forgotten, Selena reined in her mount. The horse, his wide frame heaving with every pant, dropped his head to the weeds that lined the well-trodden highway but stopped there, apparently too weary to feed.
Staring down at the horse, Selena felt a rumbling in her own stomach. She had been a damned fool to leave home without any provisions, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
The urgency of her errand had dictated a swift departure.
Selena pulled her flimsy jacket tighter around her. The thing had been a birthday gift several years ago, yet it showed little signs of wear. With its gemstone-capped buttons and silken lining, it had likely cost her mother—cost the family—a small fortune, which was probably why Selena had not used it much until now. It was all appearance and no substance.
At that moment, she hated it more than ever.
Cold, hungry, thirsty, and so tired she feared she might topple from her mount, Selena considered her options. Even if there were a blanket in the saddlebag, it would not be enough to keep her from freezing in the night.
Yet she would not backtrack, and so she must go forward in hopes of finding shelter.
With some prodding, she was able to urge the poor beast into a walk. Fending off another wave of self-loathing—she was not one to act impulsively, not under normal circumstances—she wrenched her thoughts away from the events that had expelled her from her family castle and focused on the unfamiliar, desolate road. She scanned the horizon to her left and right, longing to see an isolated cottage.
Selena almost nodded off in the saddle twice before she spotted something her mind could not immediately understand. She squinted into the thick woods that had, at some point, appeared to her right.
Deep within the trees danced a flicker of light. She drew in the cold night air through her nose. Was that smoke she smelled or the symptom of a desperate mind? She halted her horse at the edge of the woods. Peering through the tight wall of trees, she realized she was looking at a campfire.
Selena bit her lip, deep in thought. Then a brisk wind assailed her from behind, banishing all indecision.
She dismounted and winced when her sore limbs protested. The large liquid eyes of the horse watched her curiously. She began to lead the animal into the woods but stopped suddenly.
Anyone could have built the fire.
The stableman’s warning about brigands rang in her ears. Her jacket alone betrayed her nobility. She carried little money, but being the daughter of a duke made her a lucrative find for any ne’er-do-well.
Selena wrapped the reigns around a low-hanging branch, patted her horse apologetically, and stepped into the shadow-filled forest. Stifling a yawn, she wended her way through the trees, keeping as silent as she could. At first, she could hear only the dried leaves crackling beneath her feet, but then, as the firelight grew brighter, she made out the sound of voices.
She paused, trying to hear what they were saying. The wind stole the words from her ears. Frowning, Selena went forward at a pace that would have shamed a slug. After what felt like an hour, she halted again.
The voices were quiet, but a quick glance around the broad trunk of a hickory revealed three men sitting around the campfire, over which hung a brace of conies. The smell was enough to make Selena’s stomach growl, but she forgot her hunger at once.
One of the men was facing her, the flickering light playing upon his features.
Selena stifled a gasp and whirled around, leaning against the tree for support. Her heart pounding painfully, she forced her thoughts into some semblance of order.
Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her for what were the odds she had stumbled upon someone she knew?
Taking a deep breath, she looked again. She expected the man’s face to be different now, the mask that her hopeful imagination had molded for him destroyed by sheer logic. Yet the longer she watched him, the more she was certain she had been right.
By some bizarre coincidence, Uncle Will sat only a few yards away.
Almost dizzy with relief, Selena slipped out from behind the tree. She hesitated on the edge of the campsite, however. Everything she had ever heard about Willard O’Camber hinted—or downright insisted—he was a scoundrel. And though she trusted her mother’s brother would not harm her, she worried about the kind of company he kept.
One of her uncle’s companions had his back to her, so she examined the other, whose profile was cast in heavy shadow despite the firelight. A sudden thought struck Selena, and she held her breath. When her uncle spoke again, Selena distinctly heard him address one of the men by her father’s name.
Now she did gasp. It must have been a loud one for all three men leaped to their feet, squinting in her direction.
“Who’s there?” Willard demanded. “Come into the li
He held a knife. So did the others. For a fleeting instant, Selena considered running away. On the one hand, she had found food, warmth, and a familiar face; on the other, she was not sure she was ready for this confrontation.
Selena came forward slowly. She held out her hands to show she was unarmed, her gaze stuck firmly to the blade in her uncle’s hand.
“Wait a tick,” Willard said. “I know you.”
Selena allowed herself a sigh of relief. It had been more than four years since she had seen her uncle, and she had feared he would not recognize her as easily as she had recognized him. She was on the verge of replying, saying something like “Yes, I am your niece,” but her words were nowhere to be found.
Now that he had turned around, Selena realized that she knew the third man as well.
“Selena Nelesti?” asked the fellow who had had his back to her earlier. “Could it truly be you?”
Her head was spinning. Physically and emotionally exhausted, Selena could only stare stupidly at the unexplainable group—her uncle, her father, and her former lover—for what must have been an eternity.
Uncle Will let out a laugh that made Selena flinch. “You know my niece?” he asked of the man she had once considered marrying.
Selena’s father said nothing. He lowered his weapon, but he did not sheath it. The third man—the man she hoped to never see again—kept his blade out and at the ready.
“What a pleasant surprise!” he said, a savage smile splaying his face, which had once been handsome but now appeared dirty and vile to her. “The Goddesses truly smile upon me tonight!”
“Piers, what’s going on?” Willard’s narrowed eyes danced between his cohort and his niece.
Selena might have told her uncle that the fellow’s name was not Piers, but she could not move. She stared into the eyes of the man who had, not so long ago, meant the world to her. Even now, a small part of her was glad to see he was alive and well.
“What’s going on?” her former fiancé asked. “In a word, revenge!”
Then the man Selena had loved above all others rushed forward, knife raised.
Chapter 1
Her gown resembled an overstuffed toadstool turned upside down. Selena found it difficult to draw breath thanks to the corset beneath, a torturous device that rendered her already thin waistline almost nonexistent while thrusting her small breasts up into places neither natural nor comfortable. She wondered if fainting would be enough to get out of the night’s obligation.
Knowing her mother, Selena doubted it.
The fiercely frowning woman who had dressed her took a step back to examine her handiwork. Staring at herself in a full-length mirror that had been dragged from somewhere else in the castle, Selena saw the seamstress smile briefly before stepping away to fetch something off a nearby table.
Selena had not had occasion to smile all day, and seeing herself in the garish yellow dress certainly would not change that. She estimated there to be nearly a dozen layers of fabric in her outfit. Already her skinny legs were roasting beneath the glistening canopy of her gown. As beads of sweat dripped down her back, she could not help but think of the boar that was to be the sixth course of tonight’s feast.
At least she was covered from the waist down. It seemed to Selena that the dressmaker must have run out of silk by the time she got to the top! Her arms and shoulders were bare except for the pair of straps whose duty it was to support three tons of cloth.
The seamstress returned, carrying a piece of jewelry. Selena jumped at the touch of cold metal against her skin. The necklace was heavy. She asked the woman if she were trying to transform her into an anchor and received no response. The two of them stared at the pendant for a moment before the seamstress’s reflection left the mirror once more.
Selena, however, continued to study the big red gem resting against her chest. She did not think she had ever seen the necklace before, though surely it was a part of her mother’s ever-growing collection.
Duchess Charlotte Nelesti harbored a fondness for rubies. In fact, her mother wore rubies whenever she had an excuse, believing they brought out her color of hair, which had once been as vibrantly red as Selena’s.
Selena did not like the idea of people’s eyes being drawn to the necklace and, hence, her pitiful excuse for a bosom. She felt a burning in her cheeks and saw the fair-skinned face of her reflection turn pink.
Standing as stiff as a scarecrow, Selena watched her attendant return to brush back her long hair and clip dangling earrings to her virgin lobes. A ring and two bracelets later, the seamstress departed, only to be replaced by two more women, one of whom went straight for Selena’s hair. The other began concocting something out of sight.
During the eons-long primping that followed, Selena’s anxiety over the night’s affair evolved into full-blown dread. After her helpers departed, she was left with naught but the company of her mirror image. The sight was enough to make her eyes sting with unspent tears.
Unlike the fairytales, Selena had not made a butterfly-like transformation from childhood to womanhood. In the mirror, she saw a tall girl who might have looked a bit pretty if not for the dark rouge on her cheeks, the sparkle of too much jewelry, and a dress that made her bottom half take up ten times the space it did normally.
And I am supposed to dance in this outfit? she thought incredulously.
The sight of that little girl in grownup’s clothing was almost enough to make her break her promise and lock herself in her room for the rest of the night. If she had made the vow to her mother alone, Selena would have done just that, but she knew her father had gone to a lot of trouble to make her fourteenth birthday party an extravagant event.
For his sake, she resisted the desire to tear off the dress—all one hundred layers of it.
A little while later, there came a knock at her door, which was followed immediately by the appearance of her second-oldest sister. Daphene lifted the hem of own her dress up off the floor as she ushered herself into Selena’s bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind her.
“What are you doing just standing there, Selena?” she asked.
Daphene would have found Selena sitting or perhaps lying on her bed if the cruel yellow dress had allowed for such things. She was simply biding her time and was not about to do anything until she absolutely had to.
Anyway, she was not sure what she was supposed to be doing. She could not go down into the great hall until all of the guests were there and waiting—“Let them revel in the anticipation of your arrival,” her mother had said—and so she would stew in her room until fetched.
“It is nice to see you too,” Selena replied dryly.
She had not seen Daphene in five months, when she and her husband, Count Raynor Vanguard, had spent the summer at Castle Nelesti. No, Selena mentally corrected, the Count had had enough of his in-laws after a week and a half and left early. Neither husband nor wife had seemed to have any problem with spending the rest of the season apart.
Daphene ignored Selena’s sarcastic greeting. Wearing a bemused expression, she said, “I hardly recognize you, Little Sister. Where did you get that necklace?”
“You can have it.”
Daphene rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This is the biggest night of your life, Selena. I barely got a wink of sleep the night before my coming-of-age ball.”
In fact, Selena had not slept well last night, but it had not been due to anything akin to anticipation.
“You were seventeen years old when you became a woman,” Selena pointed out. “So was Vivian. And Evelyn was sixteen when she had her coming-of-age party.”
Daphene shrugged, as if to say, “What difference does it make?”
“Why in the Seven Hells do I have to do this now?” Selena demanded.
Daphene laughed, and if Selena had at all missed Daphene the past few months, she certainly had not missed her nasally, haughty laugh.
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