“She’s only found if she wants to be. She doesn’t like outsiders.” Then she bends down and whispers in my ear, “And she certainly doesn’t like noblemen who are looking for her.”
Her gentle breath in my ear makes the hairs on my neck stand as straight as my guards.
My mind races. I’ve come too far; I can’t give up now. This whole tour of Alarice was routed specifically to get me here so I can speak with Veteria. I’ll have to take my chances and seek her in the woods. Failure is not an option. I grit my teeth in determination.
“Thanks for information and the warning, you have my gratitude,” I say. “Truly.”
The barmaid inspects me again, her arms now crossed over her chest—which I swear I must stop looking at—her brow scrunched as if she’s trying to read me like a book in a language she doesn’t understand. She only grunts in acknowledgment and then leaves once more.
Left to my own thoughts, I sit in silence. For twelve years, I’ve carried this burden, the kingdom’s greatest weapons hidden uselessly in my flesh. The mere chance that someone could help me return the Rings to their rightful place feels so achingly real that something I barely recognize stirs in my heart: hope.
My gaze drifts back to the man I mistook for my old friend Cedric. If the fates were kinder, perhaps that is what Cedric would have looked like if he’d lived. Smiling, laughing, growing older. I can’t bear to look at the stranger anymore.
My curiosity that day cursed not just me but my whole kingdom.
After I accidentally stole the Rings, I did the only thing a frightened ten-year-old boy could think to do: I tried to hide what had happened. I thought my father wouldn’t open the box until he needed to defend the kingdom, so I replaced the missing rings with a replica set merchants sell to traveling tourists. I thought no one would notice.
The king noticed, of course. With the war drums sounding from Penrith even then, he had reason to ensure that these great weapons were ready within his reach.
As my father likes to admonish, I got myself into this mess, so I must find a way out of it.
I tried everything in my power to rid myself of the Rings in secret, but they were so thoroughly embedded that removing them would surely kill me.
The few healers who did try did so painfully and unsuccessfully. Every night, I’m plagued with the memories of those torments and visions of my death so real, so terrifying, I wake up in a cold sweat.
The Rings have become a part of me, so I can tap into their power without even thinking about it. My unchecked emotions can summon storms in my room; I call upon hurricanes and tornadoes as easily as breathing. I can destroy my surroundings with a single nightmare—and I have no way of controlling it.
And people have died because of me.
My face pales, and my blood runs cold. I try not to think about it, though it torments me daily.
If I don’t complete this dangerous mission my father and his closest advisors have concocted for me, my deadly power, along with my self-loathing, will only spiral further out of my control. The fork in my hands shakes as I bring a bite of ham and biscuit to my mouth. I must look like an idiot.
The great threat to Albion has materialized: the Usurper of Penrith is moving against us. We’ve known this day would come ever since he killed the rightful king and the rest of Penrith’s royal family. He’s made no secret of his ambitions to conquer all of Albion.
Soon, my father will have no choice but to use the Rings of Fate to stop the enemies at our gates, and then the whole kingdom—all the kingdoms—will discover the fake rings I left in their place. Without the real Rings, my father will fail, Loegria will fall, and Alarice will follow soon after.
And my parents will have been right about me all along—not only am I an irresponsible loser, but I’m an irresponsible loser not meant for the throne. Certainly not a leader who should be entrusted withtwokingdoms.
The Rings are a burden I’ve carried all these years, and if I’m to help defend us all against the Usurper, I need to unbind the Rings from my soul before it’s too late.
The sorceress Veteria is real. She will be able to help me. I’m so close I can almost taste it.
Speaking of taste, the biscuits and salt ham are truly the best I’ve ever eaten. I didn’t realize how ravenous I was.
I take a sip of the ale the barmaid gave me. I gasp and cough, pounding my fist into my chest to catch my breath. I’m certainly no stranger to strong drink, but Alarician ale could knock out an ox.
I look at the contents of the mug, bewildered. Did the barmaid play some kind of trick on me? But no, it appears every other patron in the Raven’s Beak Tavern is drinking the same brown poison. I turn my gaze to the barmaid, who’s watching me from the bar with an amused grin.
She raises a pint of her own, tips it toward me with a wink, and downs it in one.
Despite the burning in my throat, I smile back and match her, lifting the mug to my lips again and finishing it off. Now that I know what to expect, I can prepare for the heat, and the barmaid looks somewhat impressed. Her smile follows me even after I leave the tavern.
The world tips under me as I make my way into the night. The stars are out, bright and twinkling, and despite the heat of late summer, the wind cuts through the open fields, cooling my flushed cheeks and easing my mind.
The Whisting inside me feels at ease, too. Out in the open, I’m lighter than I’ve ever felt before, like I could spread my arms and fly. With the liquid courage in my gut, my confidence in seeking out the sorceress and persuading her to help me grows tenfold.
The clear, moonlit sky makes my recurring nightmare seem like a distant memory. For weeks, I’ve dreamed of my kingdom surrounded on all sides by forces so dark and magic so evil that I have no choice but to unleash the unquenchable power sealed in my soul. I can never control it, so each night I destroyeverything: our enemies, myself, and even the whole world. I wake knowing the magic shows me my future—that I’m going to die.
