Chapter 1
Amasir POV
When my mother died, I felt nothing but sadness and rage as I watched the men lower the coffin into the grave. We were a family of four, and the day mother died, it struck my sister, and me the hardest. My eyes burned with tears, and my hands clenched into fists as I stared at the coffin.
Noticing my expression, my father approached me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I couldn't hold back the tears as they flowed down my cheeks. I raised my head to meet my sister, Esther's, gaze. Her eyes were swollen from many nights of tears. As the older sibling, I knew I needed to be strong for her. I took the handkerchief from my father, wiping the tears from my eyes.
Every relative and close friend of my mother attended the burial, all dressed in black. As my father was the Lord of the house of Rivendell, many came to pay their respects to the former Lady. One of them, an older woman, approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Everything will be alright, Amas," she said.
I nodded.
After the funeral, we returned to my father's mansion. My maid, Nayalirr, prepared a bath for me, and as she washed me, neither of us spoke a word to each other. After taking my bath, we gathered in the living room as my father had summoned us. Minag had cried throughout the day but managed to stay strong now. Nayalirr handed a cup of herbal tea to ease the headache I was feeling.
Taking a sip from the tea, I leaned my back against the plush sofa, waiting for my father to speak.
"You look tired, Amas," my father said.
"I couldn't sleep," I murmured. I wasn't close to my father as I was to my mother, but I knew that after today, we would have to be close to each other. We would have to grieve for mother's death together. The image of my mother's face as they lowered her in the coffin flashed in my mind, and I shook the thoughts from my head. I needed to be strong for Minag. We were only a few years apart; while I was eighteen, Minag was fifteen.
"You'll be fine," he assured. "All of us will be fine."
"I know," I said. But it would take time for the wound to heal.
"That is the reason I called you two here," he said. "I received a letter from the capital."
The capital, Dhunark, was where the dragon King and his two sons recided. The dragon King was my father's older brother.
"The King of Atlanta is asking that you marry his son, the heir to the throne," he said. My eyes widened, lips parted.
"What?" I asked, a bitter feeling settling at the back of my throat. My hands clenched around the cup. Just a few hours ago, we buried mother, and now father is bringing this up.
"Amas, you need a husband," he said. "Both of you."
"Minag is only fifteen!" I frowned.
"That really isn't an issue," father said. "I've seen a lot of young girls of twelve get married."
My lips curled into a deep frown as I glared at my father. Was he serious?
"Father!" I exclaimed. "Have you forgotten that mother just died a few months ago and was buried today?"
Father leaned his back against the sofa. I took a sip from the tea, trying to calm myself down. I didn't want to get married. I wanted to think about my life now that mother passed away. Mother had told me we could get married after the age of twenty. Why was father bringing this up when he knew mother wouldn't have agreed to this? And Minag? If I get married, she would be lonely. The grief would be too much for her to bear on her own.
"You are not going to stay here and grow old. You need to get married so you won't think much about your mother's death."
"Not now, not today should you have brought this up," I said, setting the cup down. "You expect me to marry and leave Minag behind?"
"She will get married too," he said. "I have someone in mind for her."
Letters from suitors who were interested in me have been flooding the house since I turned sixteen. But what I didn't expect was that my father would wish for me to marry at this time, just after we buried mother.
"I know it's not a good time to discuss this, but this letter was sent from Dhunark by the King himself. Do you know what this means for our House? For me? For you?"
"I really don't care, father," I said, biting my bottom lip. "I don't want to marry now."
"I know it's disrespectful to talk about this now, but I cannot wait any longer. You need a husband, and you must marry Prince Waghan to bring us more closer to the crown."
"I won't," I said, standing up and turning around to leave.
"Amas!" My father called after me, but I didn't listen. I climbed the stairs up to my room, and once inside, I collapsed to the ground.
Minag came in shortly after, sitting beside me on the floor.
"I hate him," I cried out. "I hate that he's treating us like this."
"I know father acts annoying sometimes, but he's right. We can't reject the invitation, especially when it comes from the Dragon King."
I raised my head to meet Minag's gaze.
"You should marry him," she said. "He'll warm your bed and ease the pain."
"No," I shook my head, frowning.
Chapter 11
Amasir POV
In the middle of the night, while others slept in their houses, I knelt beside my sister, Minag. She wasn't moving. There was a split on her lips, her neck nearly severed—almost decapitated. Blood was everywhere.
It felt as though I were in a dream.
"Please wake up," I whispered, hoping she would open her eyes.
She hadn't been dead when I left the house with our uncle. She had bid me goodbye and asked me to return on time.
I must have heard the bell ringing in the distance. They had rung the same way when our parents were killed. I knew the killers would come for me soon.
Minag was dead. She was really dead. Dead. Dead. Dead...
Tears streamed down my face.
The gods were cruel. They had allowed my sister to die, even after I had prayed and begged them.
I stroked her beautiful brown skin, wondering how much pain she had endured before she passed away.
My handmaiden watched from a distance, the sound of her cries filling the room. The death of Minag touched everyone in the castle.
Just then, the door opened, and in came my uncle, Ghalun.
"Uncle Ghalun," I cried out. He was the only family member who had stood by me and my sister when everyone else tried to claim the House.
"My sweet little cousin, I have come. Do not shed tears anymore."
"They killed her... They slit her neck..."
"Hush now. You do not want people knowing about your presence here," he said, stepping closer. "Come. We must flee. They'll come for you soon."
"But Minag," I said, "she needs a proper burial."
"I will have men take care of that," he said. "I heard men murmuring about your presence here."
I wiped my tears and turned to Minag. I had been cuddling her body for hours. Her body was growing cold, and soon she would begin to decompose.
Stroking her hair one last time, I let go of Minag and stood up. Glancing at her again, I followed Uncle Ghalun.
My handmaiden rushed toward me with my veil, placing it over my head.
I nodded for her to come with us, and she followed. As I walked downstairs, I began to think of the time when there was peace in this house—when I still had my father, my mother, and Minag.
"Uncle Waghan is behind this," I muttered, as if no one already knew. He had hated my father—jealous of his position as Lord of the House.
"Hush, sweet thing," Uncle Ghalun said as he led me downstairs. "Once we are outside, you must say no word. Make sure not to lower your veil."
I slowly nodded.
Within a few minutes, we were outside the house. I kept my head lowered as he led me through various corners.
"Why are we not taking a horse or carriage?" I whispered.
"Be quiet," he scolded. "No more questions."
One more turn took us to a different gate.
I was shaken. I thought of Minag, wondering if it was cruel of me to leave her there. I wondered if the men would prepare her body for burial. I was burdened with so many thoughts.
"Be strong, Amas," I told myself. "We are almost there."
Uncle Ghalun opened the gate and led us out. We ran for a while until we reached a carriage.
"Where are we going, Uncle Ghalun?" I asked.
"No talk," he muttered. "The walls have ears."
"Come in," he said, helping me into the carriage. I sat down.
I saw my handmaiden standing there, holding a small bag. She must have gathered some of my clothes in it. How sweet of her.
"Nayalirr," Uncle Ghalun said, surprised.
"How did you get here?"
"I followed my lady," Nayalirr said.
"Naya will need to come with us," I said, taking off my veil.
"Aye," Uncle Ghalun nodded, closing the distance between them.
Before I could react, his hand was around her neck, strangling her.
A scream tore from my throat but was silenced by a hand clamping over my mouth. I struggled as I watched Uncle Ghalun strangle her. She fought until she could fight no more, and then he laid her on the ground.
My eyes widened as Uncle Ghalun looked around, then stepped inside the carriage and closed the door.
The hand remained over my mouth. My eyes were wide in shock.
The carriage started moving, and the hand slowly slipped away.
"You... you killed her," I stuttered. "You killed my maiden."
Clutching my veil, I trembled in shock.
"Amas," he murmured. "Don't waste your tears on her."
"But she was my maid. She had been with me since I was twelve." And now I was eighteen.
"We could not take her along. Moreover, she was a lowborn. A small bribe from anyone could make her betray you."
I felt sick to my stomach.
"Do not worry yourself. Soon, everything will be over."
"Where do we go from here?" I asked.
"There is a dragonborn waiting for us near the border. He will take us far away from here."
I clutched my veil even tighter.
"Put Waghan from your mind, sweet cousin. Put your father away, your mother, Minag—everyone. For you'll have nothing but a mind full of worries if you continue thinking. You are safe now."