The Wolf King's Bride, page 1
The Wolf King’s Bride
Fate of Imperium
Book 1
By C.A. Worley
PUBLISHED BY:
C.A. Worley
The Wolf King’s Bride
Fate of Imperium Book 1
Copyright © 2018 by C.A. Worley
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.
This book contains mature content and is intended for adult readers.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book is dedicated to all my Indie Author friends, who put themselves out there every day. This gig isn’t easy and it’s been a godsend to be welcomed into such a supportive community.
I also need to give a shout out to my blogger friend, Dii at Tome Tender Book Blog. I almost faltered on this idea, thinking I should stay with comedy, believing I had no business attempting to write something not designed to make you laugh out loud.
Two words from her and I found a reason to stay the course. Thank you, Dii, for telling me to be brave. Whatever comes, I’m proud I gave it a go.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
Note From Author
Excerpt from The Vampire King’s Mate
Prologue
Westland, Kingdom of Gwydion
Elora giggled as she skipped through the field, her ribbon clutched tight in her small hand. The shiny, gossamer fabric trailed behind her, swaying easily in the summer breeze.
The sun was setting, but still warm on her back. She relished the soothing feel of it as the other children’s laughs tickled her ears. Moments like this were her favorite.
Moments like this were rare.
Being the daughter of Willem, King of Gwydion, did not produce many opportunities for friendship. It was a lonely station to hold in life; but the gatherings in the Great Hall afforded her the luxury of companionship, even if only temporarily.
Elora knew, all too well, most of the children dancing around the field were only being kind because it was expected. At the age of seven, she was by far the youngest of the group, but certainly the most powerful, as each child was well-aware.
The children knew because anyone in her presence was on guard, wary of what coursed through her veins. Elora put out so much energy, she was given wide berth, even in this field while playing—especially, in this field while playing, with few adults near.
Ever her father’s daughter, she tucked away all the instants of silent ridicule, those moments of being ignored, and buried them deep, choosing to overlook them.
Failing at it, but trying, nonetheless.
She felt as though she was playing beside the children, as opposed to with them. At the first hint of uncertainty regarding her presence, she simply picked up her ribbon and bounced away, hoping the others would join. Today, she was thankful she wasn’t alone in her play and would do nothing to scare them off.
There were others her age who lived near, but they tended to keep their distance. They feared Elora. She wasn’t sure if it was because their parents had warned them off or if they could sense she was different. Either way, it encouraged a sadness to grow within her.
Elora was smart enough to know she wasn’t what others of her kind considered normal. Her father assured her it was of no importance—she had much more significant matters with which to concern herself. Namely, she and her powers would grow and, someday, she would sit on his throne.
Elora wasn’t convinced this was a good thing. She didn’t want to sit on a throne. Queen was her mother’s title and Elora had no interest in taking anything more away from the deceased woman. It seemed a callous thing to even consider, which only furthered the sadness inside her.
Nevermind the fact Queens didn’t last long in Imperium. No, that little nugget of information would destroy Elora if she focused on it for too long.
Gwydions did not typically cope well with sorrow. Elora’s father often preached to her that life was too short to dwell on such things and she was far too young to be such a pessimist.
He taught her that contentment was a choice, that she needed to choose to be happy and appreciate all with which she had been blessed. This was the way of life in the Westlands, the area of the Imperium continent under King Willem’s rule.
Gwydions were a peaceful people, full of love and life. They had a connection to the world around them, in a way the other beings did not.
Legend held that the people of Gwydion were born of the trees, and each of their lives was bound to the elements of the world. Elora’s knowledge of her ancestors was vague, at best, but she learned not to question her heritage or how she was unlucky enough to come into such power. It just was.
Some foreigners called them witches, but the people of Gwydion called themselves elementals. Most could effortlessly control one primary element and had some level of influence over another.
Every few generations, a gifted elemental was born with the ability to fully command three or four. Elora could easily control them all.
Every. Single. One.
It was not only unheard of, it was, by all scholarly knowledge and standards, impossible. And, thus, King Willem ensured very few knew the extent of his daughter’s powers.
He feared some would attempt to exploit Elora’s magics, while others would choose to remove the perceived threat. She was only a child, but someday would be Queen.
An overtly powerful elemental on the throne could make some of the other factions nervous. It had happened in the past, more than once.
Elora also had another power, one her father forced her to keep completely hidden at all costs. Elora did her best to conceal it, but sometimes it simply could not be controlled.
During those times, her father would carry her off to her quarters and her governess, Mara, was the only one allowed to tend to her. There were no other family members alive to help her navigate this scary world.
Elora was her father’s only child. Her mother died in childbirth and now that Elora was seven, Willem was considering remarrying. It was one of the reasons he decided to hold this gathering today. He was hoping to find a potential bride.
People arrived from all over the kingdom, some as far as the coast. There had even been a few Burghards on the grounds this morning. Elora was disappointed they kept their human form. She’d never seen one of the Northland Wolves in their other skin, but heard it was a sight to behold.
After morning meal, Elora had watched from her window as groups ventured into the hall, dressed in various finery. She’d wondered if any of the pretty women would catch her father’s eye.
Elora prayed to the Goddess of Sanctus Femina to send her a mother. Mara was lovely, but she was young and often acted as more of a playmate than a governess.
Sometimes, she thought Mara was too invasive, wanting to know the extent of Elora’s powers. In their culture, it was considered rude to ask another Gwydion to demonstrate his or her strength.
Elora overlooked the indiscretion because Mara was almost family to her. Though, on some level, she knew Mara was wrong to ask.
She also didn’t appreciate how often Mara batted her eyes at her father. Instinct told Elora it was beyond improper.
Elora’s only friend was Edward, the twelve-year-old son of her father’s most trusted advisor. She was thankful that Flynn, Edward’s father, had never attempted to sway Edward’s affections away from Elora.
She saw Edward as an older brother, and he thought himself her protector. He was the only child who had ever sought her out to play, who never treated her as someone to be feared. Elora cherished Edward.
He sometimes taunted her that no other elemental could handle her impish behavior and she’d never find a husband. Elora never corrected him despite knowing otherwise. His tone was always light, and she never felt affronted. Not from Edward.
His voice rolled across the field, laughing and teasing one of the other children. Her gut tightened knowing he was giving someone else his mischievous attentions.
Elora was tempted to drift towards them, but she stayed the course she was on, twirling the pretty ribbon in the air. No matter his actions, it would not change what she knew to be true of his future. Of their future.
As Elora edged closer to the point where the field gave way to the woods, she began to feel a hint of s
She immediately stopped so she could assess her person. Sometimes, when the elements called, an energy would move through her, begging to be connected to something, such as the wind or the earth.
It would push and pulse under her skin until she released it. Any time she attempted to hold it in, she paid for it dearly, as did anyone in close proximity.
Magic that should not be contained—that grew enough to demand its freedom—was dangerous.
Elora’s father told her it was perfectly normal to have these moments, especially as a child still learning to control her emotions. Most children went through periodic bouts of excessive energies.
He had warned her, during times of strife or emotional upheaval—such as experiencing jealousy for the first time—the feelings could become overwhelming.
The elements of the world would act as a lightning rod. They would attract her extra energies and Elora should allow them to siphon anything she could not contain. She’d mastered this skill early in life after several harsh lessons from her father.
Unfortunately, this feeling was different. It wasn’t a build-up of excessive magic. It was something not even her father, the wisest man in Gwydion, understood.
Elora had no other word for it other than calling it a wave, like something that was building, climbing towards a crescendo, and would eventually crash through her mind.
She envisioned it much like the waves she had seen on the beaches of Gwydion, quietly building up force before slamming into the dark rocks. Mesmerizing, yet perilous. No elemental would survive the force.
Elora had always believed she’d eventually be unable to survive the waves within her small body. Each time they hit, they came with more and more vigor, growing in power just as her body did. She knew she would have no control over what happened once it hit.
Elora would be helpless, much like being stuck in a riptide, dragging her out to sea before spitting her back out onto the shore.
She needed to get to her father.
Elora sprinted as fast as she could back towards the hall, desperation clawing at her to get to refuge. Edward noticed her movements and gave chase. Elora could hear him calling, but she would not stop.
She flew through the tall goldenrods, parting them with short bursts of air and allowing them to close behind her. She hoped it would give her the extra steps she needed to outrun Edward. Falling prey to the wave out here in front of the children would be disastrous.
The Great Hall’s huge doors were in sight and she focused on them, pushing a strong gust of wind to blow them open. Her father would not be pleased with her use of magics in such an abrupt manner, but she could not chance any impediment.
Her sole purpose was to reach his arms, the one place she was always safe.
The wave was upon her, pushing up through her legs towards her lower back, and climbing. Once it crashed through her mental shields, she would be lost to it. She did not know how to control this power, the one her father forbade her to practice.
Elora couldn’t help but think if her father had allowed her to seek the wave, to hone it, maybe she could manipulate it, direct it. But he’d been very clear that knowing the future could be a curse, especially to a child.
Her breath was short as she pumped her legs. The wave was consuming her chest and creeping into her neck. She only had seconds.
Edward was now at her back and his fingers brushed her dress, trying to grab at the fabric. She knew better than to allow him to slow her. Elora called her magic and pushed air towards Edward’s approaching body to slow his advance.
She shot through the doorway, like a round exploding from a cannon. The harsh sound of the heavy wood echoed through the room. The harpist’s fingers faltered, and the people inside flinched as the notes screeched against their ears.
Elora’s eyes searched frantically for her father in the dim light of the dining hall. Her entrance was so loud she immediately seized his attention.
When their eyes met, Willem rose out of his seat and called her name. His deep voice clipped, evidence of his concern.
It was too late. The wave was here.
Elora knew her father would not want others to witness her episode, but there was nothing to be done now. The thought vanished almost as fast as it came.
She lost herself to the upsurge of energy crashing against the weak shield she’d built as protection. It punched through like a stone moving through wet paper.
Edward entered the hall and gaped at the sight before him.
Elora’s body seized, rigid, in an arched pose. Her head flew backwards, towards her spine, painfully so, while her eyes snapped to the ceiling.
Elora’s arms hung uselessly out to her sides and her toes skimmed the floor. She was hovering. The air was holding her up. Edward could sense it. He’d never seen anything like it.
The second he had noticed Elora take off through the field he knew something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t a child’s spirited bounce he saw. Elora was running for her life.
Edward was afraid to touch her but stood close in case she fell. The hall was silent, all attention on the small light-haired girl. Her father began walking purposefully towards her.
That’s when she spoke. But it wasn’t Elora’s sweet voice that came from her mouth. It was something deep and dark. Something … other.
Willem froze.
“Three days and this house shall fall. One menace to kill them all. Northland, Eastland, and Southland quest. Heed the threat from the West.”
Edward furrowed his brow and concentrated on the last of her words, for they did not make sense. Gwydion was the only land in the western part of Imperium. It wouldn’t be a threat to itself.
The entire continent was surrounded by an impenetrable mist. Only those who were other could move in and out of it. The rest of the world knew nothing of Imperium.
Beyond the mist was ocean, inasmuch as he knew, for thousands of miles. What possible threat could come from the ocean? Unless, the humans had somehow found out about their existence?
Edward felt the air shift and release its hold on Elora. He caught her easily as she collapsed, and he held her small body to his as tight as he could, fearful she might float away.
When Edward looked up at Willem, he saw pure terror in his eyes.
Three days later, the King was dead.
Chapter 1
Thirty years later …
Kellan made his way through the crowded market, easily shouldering past the witches. They seemed to sense and respect his brute strength, scurrying out of his way and rarely making eye contact. It was as if they suspected the spirit of a predator resided in his soul.
They were right.
Kellan preferred not to deal with any of them anyway, so he made no effort to hide his natural aggression as he would normally. He’d rather not be here in the first place, so the scampering aside to avoid his path suited him just fine.
Many here thought him an arrogant ass and he lacked motivation to prove otherwise.
The market’s scents filled his nostrils. Spices and meats were the most prevalent. He also caught whiffs of oils and medicines. Some were pleasant, some were repulsive. Some, he knew, were miracles.
If his people could create such magics, his kingdom might be experiencing far better circumstances.
He opened his senses, taking in all he could. Searching and not finding what he sought. He did it again to be sure. Interesting.
Kellan frowned, looking around at the witches selling their wares. There was one noticeable scent absent in this Westland market’s fragrance today. He wondered if his companion had noticed.
He knew he should start referring to them as elementals. He had heard the Gwydions took offense to the word ‘witch,’ and Kellan did not want to accidentally initiate this specific offense on his trip. He might be egotistical, but he wasn’t inclined to hurt a young lady’s feelings with his words.
Many of the market’s odors had changed, become more subdued, since the last time he’d visited. Granted, that was 18 years ago. Perhaps they could shield scents now? Contain their magic? He would have to remember to report this to the Council.
