Dedication
To Michelle Grajkowski.
For everything, all these years.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
For My Readers
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
Epilogue
Second Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
By C.L. Wilson
Copyright
About the Publisher
For My Readers
Thank you so much for picking up this book! Your support means the world to me. I hope you enjoy Gabriella and Dilys’s story.
Be sure to visit my website, www.clwilson.com, to sign up for my private book announcement list, enter my online contests, and scour the site for hidden treasures and magical surprises.
I’d love to hear from you. You can find me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/authorclwilson, tweet me at @clwilsonbooks, or e-mail me at
[email protected].
Chapter 1
Sunset Beach, Isle of Calberna
“Higher, Dilys! Higher!” Pangi Mahilo’s high-pitched squeal pealed out across the pink sand beach.
“Higher, eh?” Laughing at the squirming boy in his arms, Dilys Merimydion, Prince of the Calbernan Isles, cast a quick glance at Pangi’s mother, who rolled her eyes at the son Dilys had been tossing in the air but still nodded her permission. “All right then,” Dilys told Pangi, “higher it is. And you’d best hold on to your belly!” With a grin, Dilys tossed the gangly little boy several feet into the air over his head. Since Dilys stood seven feet tall, that meant the child flew a good ten or more feet above the ground.
Pangi’s piercing shrieks of laughter startled a flock of seabirds hovering near the Calbernan Islanders who had gathered on the pink sand of Sunset Beach to celebrate the marriage of one of the sailors in Dilys’s fleet.
“Me next! Me next!” came the chorus of childish pleading as Dilys set Pangi down.
“You’ve started something,” murmured Dilys’s cousin, Arilon Calmyria, with a grin for the horde of clamoring children.
“I always do.” Dilys loved children, loved interacting with them and making them laugh. Maybe it was because he’d never had brothers and sisters of his own. Or maybe it was because he longed for a wife and children of his own with a ferocity of emotion that even among passionate, larger-than-life Calbernans was rare. “I have a particular talent for entertaining the little ones,” he added.
“True. That’s why you’re the party favorite.”
“Ono—no—” he corrected with a grin, “I’m the party favorite due to my good looks and charm. Isn’t that right, Beno?” Dilys directed the question to one of the four-year-olds clinging to his leg like a barnacle.
“Right!” Beno cried.
Dilys rewarded the boy by plucking him out of the crowd and tossing him high into the air.
Nearby, another of Dilys’s cousins, Ryllian Ocea, laughed and said, “The veracity of answers provided in exchange for personal gain is questionable at best.” Ryll was studying law in preparation for his pending retirement from the sea and the mercenary work all adult male Calbernans performed until marriage.
That change of career would be happening within the year . . . for all of them. Ryll would take his place in his mother’s law practice. Ari would be working with his parents at House Calmyria’s shipbuilding business. And Dilys would begin his training to take over the daily operations of House Merimydion’s vast shipping and agricultural empire.
Because tomorrow, Dilys, Ari, Ryll, and every marriage-worthy son of the sea who’d sailed with them last winter to the Æsir Isles—the northern archipelago that included the kingdoms of Wintercraig, Summerlea, and Seahaven—would be returning to those shores to court and claim wives from among the unwed and widowed women of Wintercraig and Summerlea. And once they were wed, their mercenary days were done.
As if reading Dilys’s thoughts, Ari draped an arm across Ryll’s broad shoulders and pointed his chin towards the bride and bridegroom, both clad in shimmering sea blue, with circlets of fuchsia and yellow flowers on their heads, their necks draped in plump stoles made from dark green tili leaves dotted with tiny, delicate white merimydia blossoms. “Just think, cousins, before the year is out, that will be us standing on the beach beside our lianas, grinning like we just won the All Isles Cup.” The All Isles Cup was Calberna’s most coveted prize in competitive sailing.
“Speaking as a former All Isles champion,” Dilys said, “I can promise you I’ll be grinning much, much more on my wedding day.”
“I know that’s true,” Ryll agreed. It was no secret among Dilys’s close friends just how impatient he was to close the youthful, unwed chapter of his life and move on to the next.
Four years ago, Dilys had earned his ulumi-lia—the tattoo curling across his right cheekbone that proclaimed him a man worthy of taking a wife. Most Calbernans wed within a year, two at most, once they earned that mark, but not Dilys. And not by his choice, either. He’d been sailing the sea, fighting other people’s wars, for more than fifteen years now. He was more than ready for the comfort and joy of a wife and family.
Unfortunately, because his mother was both the Myerial—the ruling queen—of Calberna and the Matriarch of House Merimydion, one of Calberna’s oldest and most venerated royal Houses, and because Dilys was his mother’s only child, his marriage had become a matter of state.
He carried great power in his pure Calbernan blood—power that should have been merged with the pure blood of another great Calbernan House, not diluted by marriage to an oulani—an outlander—but the death of his childhood betrothed, Nyamialine Calmyria, had ended those hopes. And because any son of Calberna who wed an outlander remained a part of his mother’s House rather than joining his wife’s, marriage between Dilys and an oulani woman opened the door for a half-blood daughter to become the next Myerial of Calberna and the next Matriarch of House Merimydion.
A committee of the Queen’s Council, led by Dilys’s uncle, Calivan Merimydion, had therefore spent years investigating the bloodlines and magical gifts of Mystral’s most powerful families to select a suitable bride for their prince. The committee, which Dilys’s cousin Ari had jokingly labeled “the Bridehunters”, had concluded that Dilys should wed one of the daughters of the Summer King, but before the marriage could be arranged, Prince Falcon of Summerlea ran off with the Winter King’s betrothed, murdered that same king’s heir while making his escape, and threw Wintercraig and Summerlea into three long years of war.
It was only now—after two negotiated treaties and four years of war, rebellion, and a ferocious battle to prevent the return of a dread god who would have cast the world into endless winter—that Dilys was finally setting off to claim his outlander bride. Not all Calbernans were happy this day had come. A group calling themselves the Pureblood Alliance had been quite vocal in their opposition to Dilys taking an oulani bride, and they’d gained the support of quite a few powerful H
ouses.
“Is Spring still the Season of choice?” Ryll asked.
Dilys tossed another boy high in the air, caught him, set him down, and shrugged in answer to Ryll’s question before picking up the next boy and sending him flying up into the air. “If my uncle has his way.”
Spring Coruscate, eldest of the late Summer King’s daughters, was the wife Uncle Calivan and the Bridehunters had decided upon for Dilys. She was wise, capable, and from all reports, possessed the strongest magic of the three princesses known as the Seasons of Summerlea. Even though Summerlea’s weathergifts never passed down to children outside the kingdom’s direct royal line, Spring had other gifts—including a substantial talent for growing things, a gift that would benefit House Merimydion’s agricultural enterprises nicely. She would make an acceptable mother for Calberna’s next queen, they had decided. Assuming, of course, that the gods blessed the union with a treasured daughter for House Merimydion while Alysaldria lived. After the marriage, Dilys was also expected to combine the strength of Spring’s weathergift with the power of his own seagifts to reassert Calbernan power in the Olemas Ocean, where a band of pirates had been causing trouble and disrupting trade for the last year.
Ari cast him a sly grin. “Any chance you might win Autumn instead? Just, you know, by accident?”
Dilys laughed. Autumn Coruscate, the youngest of the three Seasons, was widely recognized as one of the most beautiful women in the world—if not the most beautiful. Her weathergift was no insignificant talent either. “Anything is possible, cousin.”
In fact, of the three Seasons, the only one who had been ruled out by the Bridehunters was the middle daughter, Summer. So far as the Bridehunters could discover, she possessed no magic beyond a weak weathergift that she used primarily to keep cooling breezes flowing during the hottest summer months.
Not that Dilys intended to let the Bridehunters make the final decision about which princess he should wed, but in the case of Summer Coruscate, he had to agree with their assessment. From all reports, she was unsuitable. Her temperament too gentle for the mother of Calberna’s future queen. Though many Calbernans found great peace and joy wedded to sweet-natured oulani women, Dilys needed a wife who would command the respect of his people, not simply claim his devotion. His daughter—their daughter—would need a mother sharp and strong enough to be an asset at navigating the political undercurrents of Calbernan court.
One of the fathers walked over to retrieve his sons from the crowd around Dilys. “Food’s ready, my sons. Come eat.”
The boys pouted. “But, Dede, we haven’t had our turn yet.”
A hint of sternness stole some of the indulgence from Dilys’s expression. One of the lessons Calbernan sons learned early was obedience to authority. As they grew older, their lives might depend on responding with alacrity to another’s command. “Do as your dede says, boys. I’ll fly you later, after you eat.”
“Tey, Dilys,” the boys agreed glumly. They trudged off after their father with slouched shoulders, but Dilys was pleased to see that they both perked up and pasted happy smiles on their faces before joining their mother, a soft-spoken oulani woman with creamy skin and pale green eyes. They snuggled next to her, telling her something that made her laugh and kiss them both. Good. Until he was wed, a Calbernan son’s first duty was to honor his mother and to bring her joy in all things.
“Dilys.” Ari nudged him with an elbow.
“What?” Dilys followed Ari’s gaze towards a familiar Calbernan approaching from the city. One of the Myerial’s personal assistants, was walking briskly towards the beach.
“Sorry, little fry. Looks like I’m done for the day.” Dilys freed himself of the crowd of children and quickly closed the distance between himself and his mother’s assistant.
“Moa Myerielua.” My prince. The queen’s assistant thumped his right fist over his heart in a Calbernan salute. “Please, forgive the interruption. The Myerial requests your presence.”
“What’s wrong?” Dilys’s mother wasn’t the sort to recall Dilys from a wedding without a very good reason.
“Forgive me, moa Myerielua, but I cannot say. I was commanded only to locate you and escort you to the palace.”
“Of course. Just give me a few minutes to take my leave of the bride and groom.”
“What’s up, cuz?” Ari asked as Dilys tracked down the newlyweds to congratulate them on their union and apologize for his need to leave.
“Where are we headed?” Ryll added.
The instant, unquestioning way they followed him made emotion squeeze hard. They always had his back. The three of them had become more like brothers than cousins since that horrible day when Dilys’s childhood betrothed, Nyamialine, had died in the same terrible accident that had claimed the lives of Calberna’s queen, Myerial Siavaluana II and her sole heir and daughter, the princess Sianna. That one terrible day had forged Ari, Ryll and Dilys’s brotherhood in bonds of shared grief. Nyamialine lost to her brother Ari and her betrothed Dilys. Sianna lost to Ryll’s elder brother Ruluin, and Ruluin lost to Ryll when Ru committed kepu with so many others because of that terrible day.
“It’s all right, you two,” he told them. “The Myerial sent for me, that’s all. Stay here. Enjoy the day, and dance the calipua for the bride.”
“Are you sure, Dilys?” Ari asked.
He wasn’t. Something was definitely up, but he smiled with reassuring confidence. “I’m sure.”
Cali Va’Lua, Royal Palace of Calberna
Half an hour later, Dilys strode into Calberna’s soaring throne room. Sunlight filtered through the clear blue waters that surrounded the submerged glass chamber, illuminating the schools of fish, dolphins and other sea creatures that swam in the depths of Cali Va’Lua’s central lagoon. At the far end of the room, on a golden throne that rose from a bed of scarlet coral, sat Calberna’s revered and beloved Myerial, Alysaldria I, Treasure of Treasures, Queen of the Calbernan Isles.
Dilys’s mother.
As always, she looked beautiful and regal, draped in cool, seafoam-green silk. The long swaths of her obsidian hair were piled high and decorated with brilliant pink, fuchsia, and scarlet anemones, while a single wrist-thick cascade of hair, gathered every foot with gleaming pearl bands, spilled over her left shoulder. She also looked tired. Dilys tucked his concern carefully out of sight before approaching the throne. He stopped at the base of the coral steps and dropped to one knee, bowing his head in greeting and submission.
“Moa Myerial.” My queen. Had they been alone he would have called her Nima, Mother, but this was no informal meeting, not with the Lord Chancellor of Calberna, the matriarchs of five royal Houses, the High Priest of Numahao, and half a dozen high-ranking officials all gathered in the room as well. “You sent for me?”
His mother did not smile in greeting as she usually did. Whatever this was, it was bad. But of course, he’d already surmised as much, both from the manner of the summons and the throne room’s high-ranking assemblage.
“The Shark attacked the convoy we were escorting to Ere,” a brusque masculine voice replied at his back. Dilys turned to face his mother’s twin brother, Calivan Merimydion, Lord Chancellor of Calberna. “Your cousin Fyerin’s ship, the Spindrift, was sunk. There were no survivors.”
“What?” For one long, frozen moment, Dilys couldn’t believe he’d heard right.
For the last year, pirates led by a mysterious figure known only as the Shark had been harrying ships sailing through the Olemas Ocean northwest of Calberna. The attacks had become so frequent and increasingly brazen that Calberna had begun offering armed military escort to ships sailing anywhere in or near the Olemas. But while the pirates could—and had—attacked even ships sailing under the Calbernan flag of protection, the idea that they would confront a Calbernan-crewed ship of any sort was beyond comprehension. Calbernans ruled the seas! There were no better shipbuilders. No better naval tacticians. And thanks to Calbernan seagifts, the oceans themselves obeyed Calbernan comm
and. To confront a Calbernan on the sea was suicide. Or so it had been for millennia.
One time—and one time only—a massive armada comprised of the naval fleets of a dozen nations had assembled against the might of Calberna. Had attacked them not just on the seas but in their own waters. Outnumbered more than one hundred to one, not even the greatest magic Calberna had ever possessed had been enough to rout the invaders. At least not before Calberna had been dealt a blow from which they were still struggling to recover, twenty-five hundred years later. The Slaughter of the Sirens, that invasion was called. Or to native Islanders, simply, the Slaughter. A bloody, vengeful act that had nearly caused the extinction of the Calbernan race.
But this? A single pirate had not only attacked but sunk a heavily armed Calbernan military vessel? Such a thing had never happened. Ever.
“There must be some mistake. That’s simply not possible.”
“Word of the attack came from Prince Nemuan, who found and searched the wreckage himself. The convoy was looted and sunk as well.” Calivan’s expression was grim. Nemuan was the son of the former Myerial. Though he and Dilys were far from the best of friends, as a prince of Calberna, his word was beyond dispute. “There were no survivors.”
Dilys cast a concerned glance at his mother. Now he understood the weary sense of frailty about her. She had loved Fyerin as deeply as Dilys. Everyone had loved him. Fyerin was the sort of Calbernan who drew people’s affection as surely as a blossom drew honeybees. Ari was much the same way. Full of laughter and courage, brimming with loyalty, daring, joy, a truly vibrant spirit.
“And Nemuan’s sure it was the Shark?”
“He’s sure. He found Fyerin’s body in the hold of the ship.”
Dilys sucked in a breath and quickly veiled his gaze to hide the telltale flare of golden fire as emotion-fed power bled into his eyes. The Shark was careful not to leave behind witnesses to his crimes—that was one of the reasons he hadn’t yet been hunted down and stopped—but he clearly wanted credit for his kills as well. The captain of every ship he sank was found locked in the hold of his sunken ship, gutted like a fish, tongue and eyes missing, forehead branded with the symbol of a shark. The horrifying consensus of those who had examined the Shark’s victims was that they’d been alive for the process. The thought of Fyerin dying such a death made Dilys’s battle fangs descend and his claws spring out from the backs of his nail beds, the sharp points biting into the palms of his hands as he curled his fingers into fists.