At the convent, she’d grown up loving her adopted sisters and the nuns who had raised them with kindness. Love there had been soft and comforting. Easy and natural. But that safe cocoon had been ripped to shreds the day Luciana had left to face the unknown.
For the first time, Sorcha had found herself floundering in a deep well of fear, a fear so profound she’d had trouble eating or sleeping. After a few weeks, they’d learned that Luciana had found her true love, but by then, Sorcha had felt physically ill. She’d hid it well, concealing her pain and distress behind a facade of anger and strength.
Life had become peaceful for a short while, but then, the notorious pirate, Rupert, had kidnapped Brigitta in the middle of the Great Western Ocean. Once again, Sorcha’s fear for a loved one had consumed her.
Brigitta had fallen in love with her kidnapper, so Sorcha had tried to relax in the following three peaceful years. But then something dreadful had happened. The sister closest to her heart, Gwennore, had been snatched up by a dragon and taken off to Norveshka. There, Gwen had learned that she was half elf and half Norveshki, two peoples who were constantly at war.
Even though Gwennore was now happily married to Silas, the new king of Norveshka, all these events served to reconfirm something Sorcha had suspected about herself for over three years now. When she loved, she loved too desperately. She loved without reason. She couldn’t be practical like Luciana, trusting like Brigitta, or clever like Gwennore. When her loved ones were in danger, she was overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness. Love didn’t make her strong as it did her sisters.
Sure, she could put on a good show of being fierce. If someone was rude to her sisters, she had no problem cursing or threatening the offender. This had most people fooled into thinking she was strong, but deep inside she knew she was weak. Whenever her sisters had been in danger, she’d been unable to help them. And that had nearly killed her.
The best solution, as far as she could see, was never to allow anyone else into the small group of those she loved. Recently, she’d had to include her newly found brother and cousin, but that was where she drew the line. No one else would be given entry into her heart.
Unfortunately, her older sisters were so happy in their marriages that they wanted her to experience the same sort of marital bliss. And, just as unfortunately, now that everyone knew she was the Norveshki princess, suitors were swarming around like a pack of greedy rodents.
Noblemen from Norveshka as well as the nearby kingdoms of Eberon and Tourin had made offers for her hand. She’d turned them all down. There had been a few Norveshki courtiers who had been reluctant to take no for an answer, so she’d finally resorted to publicly slapping each one of them in the Great Hall. Now, the courtiers were spreading the word that the princess was a volatile creature with a temper as fiery as her red hair.
Her hands curled into fists as she wandered over to the battlements. She was on the roof of the southern wing of Draven Castle, where Annika had insisted they would have enough room for a proper self-defense class. Now that the truce with Woodwyn was in place, Annika’s medical skills were no longer needed at the Norveshki army camp.
In spite of the truce, the elves remained encamped just south of the Vorus River. So Silas had no choice but to keep his army close to the border in case the elves suddenly decided to restart the war that had gone on for over two years.
Sorcha propped her elbows on the stone battlement and leaned forward to gaze at the garden below. It was a shame she couldn’t turn into a dragon like her brother. Then she would be tempted to simply fly away. Or breathe fire on anyone who threatened her sisters.
Oh, how she missed them! Her sisters had come for Gwen’s wedding and coronation six weeks ago, but a month ago they had left. Brigitta and her husband, Rupert, had gone back to Tourin. Luciana and her husband, Leo, had returned to Eberon, and Maeve had gone with them. The youngest sister liked being close to the Ebe River, where she could shift into a seal every month when the moons were full.
When they were all here, they had talked and laughed into the wee hours of the morning. They’d also played the Game of Stones to predict Sorcha’s future.
The number five, the colors white and lavender—those were the stones Luciana had selected for Sorcha. They had suspected the five referred to the mysterious Circle of Five, who wanted to take over the world. No one was quite sure who the Five were, but they figured the Chameleon and the power-hungry priest, Lord Morris, were two of them.
As for the colors, white and lavender, none of Sorcha’s sisters had wanted to state the obvious. They only had to look at Gwennore’s white-blond hair and lavender eyes to predict that Sorcha was fated to meet an elf.
Ha! Ridiculous. No way would she ever fall for an elf. The white and lavender had to signify something else. White teeth? That would be nice. Maybe he would give her lavender flowers. Or his clothes would smell of lavender. Not that it mattered, for she had decided never to fall in love.
A movement in the distance dragged her away from her thoughts. A group of horsemen was headed north, along the Norva River toward the village of Dreshka. The men in the back were holding flags aloft, one white, one dark, the material stirring slightly in the constant breeze that swept down the river valley from the surrounding mountains.
Perhaps the men were merchants? Sorcha knew from her visits to the village that different shops used different flags to indicate what type of goods they were selling. And this group of men had several mules packed with parcels.
As they came closer, she was able to count ten men. Six were dressed in the uniforms of the Norveshki army. They seemed to be escorting the other four men, who all wore hooded cloaks.
A stronger breeze whipped down the river valley, causing the flags to unfurl for a few seconds. Sorcha’s breath caught as she realized the white flag had a golden sun in the middle. All four mainland kingdoms worshipped the sun, calling it the Light, an all-powerful male god that reflected their male-dominated society. This flag, with a sun in the center, meant these men were requesting a peaceful parlay. They were probably official envoys.
But from where? Brigitta and her husband usually sent messages by carrier pigeon, and Luciana and her husband sent Brody. Since his Embraced power was the ability to shift into any animal, Brody was able to reach them quickly when he took on the form of an eagle.
That left Woodwyn.
Elves. Sorcha grew tense. Was the elf predicted by the Telling Stones on his way to meet her? Good goddesses, she hoped not. She shook her head, trying to convince herself that these men couldn’t possibly be from Woodwyn. The elves never ventured this far away from their homeland.
Only once had she encountered any. A few months ago, three elfin envoys had crossed the border to the nearby Eberoni encampment, and there, they had demanded the return of their princess, Gwennore.
At first Sorcha had been struck by their handsome looks and elegant demeanor, but their snooty attitude had quickly annoyed her. And when Brody had overheard them calling Gwen a half-breed and a pawn, Sorcha had realized that beneath their pretty exterior, they were ugly, two-faced bastards. Luciana and Leo had been relieved that Gwen was far away at Draven Castle, so they’d been able to send the nasty elves back home empty-handed.
Now, as Sorcha watched the approaching horsemen, she focused on the four men wearing dark cloaks, their heads hidden with hoods. Who would wear a hooded cloak in the summertime? Maybe an elf, who was hiding his pointed ears so no one would know who he was?