Heir of Amber and Fire Read online

  Heir of Amber and Fire

  Kingdom Legacy, Book One

  Copyright © 2021 Miss Lana Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. References to historical people, organizations, events, places, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  Editing and proofreading by Tom Loveman

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde Media

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader: YOU ARE AWESOME. | Thank you for reading this book.

  Read on for an exclusive excerpt from the next book in the Kingdom Legacy series

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  THERE WERE TIMES I really hated magic.

  This was one of them. I was working on a new spell I had recently learned, one that was proving to be particularly challenging. I couldn’t seem to get the hand motions exactly right. If I could eventually master that, then I wasn’t able to hold my concentration long enough to marry the gestures to the spoken part of the spell. I had been working on this for the greater part of an hour, and my head was throbbing.

  “Your Highness!”

  Gracefully, I sketched a figure in the air —

  “Princess Jennica! Where are you?”

  And then I — Oh, never mind.

  I stood up, brushing the leaves off my dress, and moved away from my little hiding spot in the palace gardens. I turned the corner, trying to make it appear like I was just strolling among the roses. As soon as she spotted me, Taryn, my lady-in-waiting, rushed over to me.

  “Your Highness, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Taryn said breathlessly. She dropped into a belated curtsy that somehow conveyed respect and hurry up all at the same time. Her blond curls bobbed around her face as she straightened and took a good look at me. “What have you been doing, sleeping in the bushes?”

  I smoothed my hands down my long, straight black hair. My hands found a twig, some leaves, and a little fuzzy prickly bur. “No, I was practicing my magic.” I aimed for dignity but ended up sounding faintly defiant. “Is there a problem, Taryn?”

  She clicked her tongue at me, her green eyes dancing in mild disapproval. “Just as well you were practicing out here. You know how His Majesty feels about you learning magic.”

  “Don’t remind me.” King Hendon’s hatred of magic and magicians was widely known. Earlier this week, Father had dismissed my magic tutor. That was the fifth one he had sent away, for no concrete reason other than a vague dislike of all things magic. I often wondered how he was able to tolerate ruling in Calia, a kingdom known for its magicians. Pretty much everyone in the land was born with some innate magical ability, although only those who could afford lessons were able to cultivate their talents. Of course, Hendon had inherited the kingship when he married my mother, Queen Melandria, and my grandfather had passed away. But still, for him to hate the very thing that set Calia apart from the rest of the Gifted Lands.... Well, there were many things about my father that, even after nineteen years of being his daughter, I have never understood. “Well, if you’re not here to stop me from practicing, then why were you looking for me?”

  “Your Highness, we need to get you ready for dinner right away,” Taryn said. She stopped just short of grabbing my hand and tugging me, but we both knew she was thinking about it. Taryn wasn’t the type to be easily flustered. Whatever sent her out here in a panic to find me must be pretty important.

  “All right,” I acquiesced. “I’m coming.”

  We left the gardens, hurrying through the ornamental rose garden and then past the fruit and vegetable patch used by the kitchen servants. Taryn chattered at me as we walked, catching me up on the latest news and gossip. Passing by the stables, we entered the courtyard. As we walked, various courtiers and servants saw us and dipped low, bowing or curtseying and murmuring variations on, “Greetings, Your Highness.” I barely noticed. My attention was captivated by the sight of the palace, as it always was when I saw it.

  My family had ruled Calia for at least ten generations; I believe we had founded the kingdom, although after all those generations the history gets a bit fuzzy. Somewhere in our family lineage we had a water mage, who loved water (obviously) and had designed the Calian palace accordingly. Cool grey stone shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting off the blue and green cobblestones which were laid out in an eye-catching pattern in the courtyard. It gave you the sensation of swimming. Two impressive stone fountains flanked the front doors of the palace, always flowing with pure, clear water. Although the overall effect was very calming, it didn’t quite resonate with me. I could appreciate the palace’s beauty, of course, but privately, I would have preferred something more... exciting.

  And speaking of exciting... I pulled my attention back to my one-sided conversation with my lady-in-waiting. “Excuse me. What was that, Taryn?”

  Taryn paused mid-ramble. “Sava ate too many blueberries, and now the kitchen staff is unsure there will be enough for the dessert Cook had planned, but I doubt Sava will be punished for it?”

  “No. Before that.”

  “Oh! Sava’s brother came home. Sort of. They found him sleeping on the street, in an alley in the town, just a few blocks from my brother Rufan’s house.”

  We entered the palace, the guards standing at attention as we passed them. The Great Hall stood before us, its imposing wooden doors firmly closed. The room had been used by generations of Calian kings and queens for banquets, formal events, and — most importantly — weekly open forums where the people of Calia could bring their issues before their sovereigns for assistance and judgment. Nowadays, the Great Hall was usually silent; when my grandfather passed away, my father didn’t keep up the weekly tradition of listening to his subjects’ petitions, much to my mother’s disappointment. The most we used the room for was the occasional, and uncomfortable, family dinner. On those rare occasions when I was in the Great Hall, I envisioned it as it might have been in my grandfather’s time — full of people talking and laughing. Joy was
something in scarce supply these days, at least in the Calian palace.

  The great gilt-framed painting that held a place of honor right by the entrance to the Great Hall caught my attention. I slowed my pace slightly to take it in, as I liked to do whenever I passed by it. It depicted the most recent event in royal history. And for me, it was the most personal.

  As a little girl, I would spend hours running up and down the torchlit corridors of the castle, which held our family history in various paintings. And while I loved looking at our family portraits — the water mage who built our palace, the princess who could command air, the king and queen who raised an earthquake against an invading army — it was the painting by the Great Hall that always captivated me. Chronicling the events from twenty years ago, it depicted my brave, handsome father, back when he was the knight, Sir Hendon. In the painting, he defiantly held a shield against the flames from a massive golden dragon, whose claws clutched a beautiful maiden and held her captive.

  The entire kingdom of Calia — and beyond — knew the story of how my parents met.

  The people loved their love story, and we celebrated Hendon’s victory every year, along with their marriage and coronation anniversary. How an evil dragon had ravaged the kingdom of Calia, and taken my mother as a tithe. How my grandfather, the former king of Calia, had called upon the neighboring kingdoms, asking any brave princes or knights to rescue the Princess Melandria, in the hopes of winning her hand in marriage and, thus, the kingdom. How the noble knight Sir Hendon faced down the wicked beast, driven it away, and rescued the fair maiden. Sir Hendon and Princess Melandria’s wedding had been the biggest event Calia had ever seen; their marriage and their love, legendary.

  Well, I knew from personal experience, living in this household: Sometimes legends lie.

  Taryn and I continued on, down the grey stone corridors, up a flight of stairs and down more hallways toward the private apartments of the royal family. My room was at one end of the hallway, with my mother’s rooms at the other end. My father’s much larger suite of rooms was around the corner from my mother’s, further down the hallway. As befitted his status as king, his chambers took up nearly the entire wing.

  My lady-in-waiting was still talking, recounting (again) the story about Sava’s brother. Well, I had asked. I reeled in my attention (again) and tried to follow her story.

  I vaguely remembered hearing about a situation with Sava, one of the kitchen maids. Her twin brother, who was apprenticing with the blacksmith, had gone missing about a week ago. Taryn had mentioned it while doing my hair one morning; it had been a bit of scandal, apparently, since the boy was known to be a conscientious worker. Unlike his flighty twin sister. No one knew what would have caused him to run off, and the family had been worried sick over his disappearance.

  “Well, that’s good that he’s back,” I said now. “But why wouldn’t he just go home? Was he afraid of being punished?”

  “That’s the thing,” Taryn said. “He’s completely lost his mind. Won’t talk for days, and then he’ll start screaming out of the blue, and it’s hard to get him to stop. He didn’t recognize anyone in his family, not even his twin sister. And you know what a strong bond twins have.”

  Since I was an only child, I could only guess. But I did know that certain bonds between people were stronger than others, and that twins especially had strong magical ties to each other.

  “That’s a shame,” I said. “Poor Sava, she must be heartbroken.”

  “It’s odd,” Taryn mused. “She’s more jumpy than anything. She said she had nightmares every night while her brother was missing, and now she’s afraid something might happen to her. Poor thing.”

  I agreed, but didn’t really know how I could help. While I was skilled with magic, I didn’t have the ability to take away a young girl’s nightmares. “I guess... I could talk to Cook and definitely make sure she’s not punished for the blueberries?”

  Taryn laughed and pulled open the door to my chamber. Once inside, she all but pushed me in a chair to start dressing my hair. Her hands were a blur as she combed, teased, tucked, and pinned my heavy black hair into something she muttered was “acceptable.” I watched her flitting about in the mirror as my hairstyle took shape. It was fancier than I expected.

  “Taryn, what — ”

  “Here, Princess,” Taryn interrupted me. She must have really been frantic to let such a breach of etiquette take place. She stepped back, indicating a dress that lay on the bed. “Your father requested you wear the red.”

  Now I was nervous. The dress in question was gorgeous, the most stunning gown in my collection. But the fact that my father wanted me to wear it was suspect. Whatever his reasons were for wanting me to look extremely elegant tonight, I knew I wouldn’t like them.

  “Taryn, it’s just dinner with my family. There’s no need to be so dressed up.” I reached up toward my hair, intending to pull a pin or two out.

  Taryn made a motion as if to grab my hand, but pulled her hand back and pushed it through her hair instead. Seeing her consternation, I slowly lowered my hand and left the hairstyle intact.

  “Please, Your Highness.” Taryn was all but outright pleading with me. “You need to wear the red dress. Please.”

  I looked at my lady-in-waiting sharply. “What’s wrong, Taryn?”

  Her voice barely above a whisper, Taryn said, “The king insisted you wear the red dress and come to dinner formal. In the Great Hall. Otherwise, he’ll have me dismissed immediately, with no pay for the last month.”

  I was seeing red, but it wasn’t just the dress. How dare he threaten Taryn like that? Taryn gave me an imploring look, knowing my thoughts. “Don’t say anything to His Majesty,” she begged. “Please, just wear the dress. And we need to hurry and get you into it. We’re running late as it is.”

  Sighing, I turned and let her nimble fingers roam over the laces of my current attire, loosening my day dress and letting it slip to the floor in a heap. I silently stepped into the red dress, feeling the satin swish against my skin. Taryn had a matching pair of slippers ready, and then I was out the door, heading toward the Great Hall for what was supposed to be dinner.

  Instead, it felt like my doom.

  Chapter Two

  I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE the minute I stepped into the room.

  The first indication was when I approached the door to the Great Hall. The footman flung the door open dramatically and announced, “Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Jennica Allayne Kenetria Denyah of Calia.” What a mouthful. My formal title included the names of my two grandmothers and one of our ancestors — Allayne the Clever, who had saved the kingdom of Calia with her quick thinking against the Djinn of Krean. It was customary for royal children to have at least one name honoring an ancient ancestor, with the thought that the qualities that made that ruler so revered would be passed on to the namesake. While I loved hearing the legends surrounding Allayne the Clever, I doubted I would ever be called upon to save the kingdom like she did.

  And why introduce me like that, when the only others dining were my parents?

  Except it wasn’t just the three of us. There was another man present, who, along with my parents, stood when I entered. That was my second clue.

  My father and mother were arrayed in their formal finery as well. In addition, my father, King Hendon of Calia, was positively dripping with the royal jewels. It was a constant source of amusement to the courtiers and the servants (or so Taryn told me) that the king liked to wear more jewelry than his wife, Queen Melandria. My mother only ever wore her simple gold wedding band; she hated fussing with other pieces of jewelry, and barely tolerated wearing her crown for official functions. In contrast, my father adored showing off his wealth and position. His fingers boasted a myriad of rings, and he often wore at least one, but usually several, gaudy adornments around his neck. Tonight I could see a deep red ruby at his throat, ostentatious even for him.

  Once I reached the table, my father introduced me to the
newcomer. “This is Prince Anders, of the kingdom of Rothschan. Prince Anders, may I present my daughter, Jennica.”

  Prince Anders bowed over my hand, placing a delicate kiss on it. “You’re lovelier than I could have imagined, Princess,” he said. “You look beautiful in that dress. Of course, red is my favorite color.” The prince himself was resplendent in a deep red and gray tunic — the colors of Rothschan. Now my father’s insistence on choosing my dinner dress made sense.

  Rothschan, to the west, was where my father was from. He didn’t talk much about his life before coming to Calia; all I knew was that his parents had died when he was young and he served for several years as a squire to a renowned knight who was stern, but fair. Shortly after my father was knighted, his master died in battle, and the newly knighted Sir Hendon left Rothschan to find his fortune.

  “Thank you,” I stammered, unsure of how I should react. I looked at my parents. My father had a smug look on his face. My mother, however, looked worried.

  Sign number three.

  “No need for such formality,” my father declared. I gave him a dirty look, considering I was the one who had been forced into formality for this surprise meeting. My father handily ignored me and swept his arm across the table. “Shall we dine?”

  We all sat. My father was in his usual spot at the head of the table. My mother was in her usual spot on the king’s left. I, however, had been unseated. Prince Anders was at the king’s right, which was my normal place at the table. It moved me down one seat and put the prince in between me and my father. The seating arrangement ensured that I would have to talk to the prince during the majority of the meal. I could still converse with my parents, but it would be potentially considered rude, since they weren’t directly next to or across from me and I would have to talk over our guest’s head to address them.

  Clever, father. Very clever.

  The first course appeared before us. I picked at the food on my plate, my appetite gone.

  Putting my fork and knife down, I stared straight ahead, my eyes alighting on the swords hanging on the walls. Like the paintings, these also represented the rich history of Calia. Many of the swords had belonged to former kings and queens, with the Sword of the First King in a place of honor by the throne. It was mostly used for ceremonial purposes, although we hadn’t had a knighting or anything like that in a few years.