Hawthorne

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—Leave me be

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—Set your sights away from me

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—Terrifying and fierce

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—My heart don’t pierce

Velmaran Children’s Nursery Rhyme

Three Hundred Years Later

“It’s time to wake up, sweetheart ,” a soft feminine voice whispers in my ear. I grunt, not ready to wake. She persists, gently shoving me, and giggles brightly when I throw a pillow blindly at her. “As your betrothed, I must insist that you wake so we can leave these chambers together, Hawthorne Vicant.” Silene’s warm amber eyes stare back at me with absolute mischief dancing in them.

“Why do you insist on waking me so early?” I groan. Silene only grins, then rolls out of the bed and begins taking off her cloak, leather leggings, and soft tunic. I avert my gaze even though she couldn’t care less what I see. Taking a dress from the wardrobe in the corner by the bathing chamber, she laces it up with expert precision.

Glancing down at me still lying in bed, she says, laughter in her voice, “I rise early because I can’t bear to be stuck in these chambers with your stinky arse for even a second longer than necessary.” Then she throws me a damp towel, and I use it to wipe the sleep from my eyes before drawing the water out of it with my magic and shooting it towards Silene. She ducks out of the way.

“I do not smell! My hygiene is excellent, and you know it.” I stand, stretching my arms above me to release the tension from my shoulders and back from another night of poor sleep. “How was your night?”

“Fine. Nothing out of the ordinary,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders that makes my eyes roll involuntarily.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you actually do when you sneak from my room on the nights we’re pretending to be madly in love?” I tease. Silene merely gives me a look that says it’s none of my business. Raising my hands in surrender, I study her closely. The dark circles beginning to form under her eyes tell me she’s clearly exhausted and trying to hide it.

At only forty years old, Silene is very young for a fae. She’s short by both fae and human standards, barely reaching my shoulders. Her black hair tumbles down her back to her waist in tight curls, and her deep, golden tan skin reveals muscles from training as a warrior in secret. Females are discouraged from fighting in Velmara, from doing anything that would put their childbearing capability at risk. Those customs chafe at Silene as tightly as the dresses she’s expected to wear.

After dressing quickly, Silene and I exit my bedroom hand in hand. We enter the sitting room attached to my chambers, where servants with watchful eyes prepare a breakfast for us. I squeeze Silene’s hand, then don the mask of doting fiancé and rakish, irresponsible prince.

Lifting her hands to my lips and lavishing kisses atop them, I murmur, loud enough for the servants to hear, “I will miss you today, love.” She flashes me a blushing, demure smile, one so unlike the real Silene. It breaks my heart to see her forced to play this role. Silene is effervescent, a force of nature, with a mind that rivals the King’s best strategists and the warm personality of a beam of sunlight. She doesn’t blush, doesn’t lower her eyes from anything.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom tonight to help you forget the stuffy meetings you have to attend,” she coos. I pull out a chair for her before sitting in my own, my gaze hungry with lust I do not feel for the female I consider my little sister.

“Leave us,” I command the army of servants my father insists I keep. “I wish to dine with my betrothed in peace.”

The servants hesitate, clearly nervous to disobey what are likely orders to stay and report anything interesting back to my father’s spymaster. I plaster a magnetic grin on my face. “Oh, come on,” I say with a loveable whine. “Give us a little privacy. You can tell Citus that we ate our breakfast quietly. You know Silene is shy. Wouldn’t want her to blush herself to death when I inevitably say dirty things to her. I can’t help myself.” I give them a wink, while Silene plays her part perfectly, her gaze looking down in mock embarrassment. The head servant softens, her own lips quirking even as she pretends to roll her eyes in mock annoyance.

“Come, let’s leave the two lovebirds alone,” she urges the other servants. On her way out, she gives me a knowing look, and I make a point of looking sheepish to cement the ruse. When they’re gone, Silene slumps in her chair, the picture of perfect nobility nowhere to be seen in her posture.

“Thank the aether they’re gone. I would have vomited all over this breakfast table if I had to pretend to be seducing you for another moment,” she jests, filling her plate with eggs, meat, potatoes, and fruit.

“Seducing me? I assure you it takes much more than pretty smiles and insinuation to seduce me.” She murmurs something that sounds like hardly under her breath before she stuffs her face with food. “Whatever you did last night,” I start. Silene looks up and scowls. “That you aren’t going to tell me about,” I add, holding up my hands in surrender, “must have been… exhilarating, if you’re that famished.” She only rips another bite of sausage off the link she’s holding, chewing aggressively, then gives me a wink.

A year ago, my father, King Mazus of Velmara, and Silene’s parents, some of the wealthiest and most influential Velmaran nobles, announced our betrothal to the kingdom via pamphlets delivered across the realm. Announcing Prince Hawthorne, the Shining Prince, and his Kalmeera Bride , the headline read. Receiving our own pamphlet was the first time either of us had heard anything about it. I’d fought hard against the match, insisting Silene was too young for marriage and that I had no interest in the institution. My father and his advisors, including her parents, only conceded that we’d have a long engagement.

Neither of us has any intention of following through. I hate that my father forced me into a betrothal with a female I don’t have those kinds of feelings for, nor does she have them for me. But I’m lucky she’s one of the two people in this entire kingdom I fully trust.

“I have to go,” I tell her as I stand. “Stay here and finish breakfast. No need to rush out on my account.”

“Oh, I plan to stay here all day and have a little nap in your massive bed, then I’ll take my time sampling all the fancy soaps you keep in your bathing chamber.”

I smile, happy to give her access to a comfortable space away from her family and the expectations of the noble females of Velmara.

After sitting through several hours of meetings, I finally sneak away.

Fionn, my best friend of the last three hundred years and the second person I wholly trust in this kingdom, waits for me by the gates to the city. Leaning against a wall, his towering frame is instantly recognizable—at nearly seven feet tall, he stands a head above everyone in the courtyard, myself included. Fionn pulls his shoulder-length blonde hair into a knot at the base of his neck and scratches the scruffy beard he tries to keep neat but never quite manages, scowling at the other guards who gape at him. He spots me and prowls over, and everyone lingering near him practically trips over themselves trying to get out of his way.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, bronze eyes looking down at me.

I clap him on the back, then say, loudly, “Yes, my friend. Thank you for agreeing to escort me through the city to shop for a gift for my fiancé. This close to the Forum meeting, we can’t be too careful.” My father has eyes and ears everywhere, so Fionn acts as my guard. As one of the greatest warriors in Velmaran history, it’s a good guise, but we both know I don’t need his protection.

The gate guards open the side door for us, and we step into the capital of Velmara. The city of Arnia sprawls across the entire southern peninsula. As a seaside capital, the people here are on the water nearly as much as they’re on land. The Floating Market, the city’s largest shopping district, is nestled in a cove and sits atop the water, held up by ancient magic. Fionn and I head there to meet with our contacts for updates on the recent shipments of thayar flower.

As we walk, evidence of my father’s effective propaganda machine is on full display. His eyes stare at me from drawings plastered across walls and buildings, with headlines like Golden King Heads to Forum of Royals typed in bold ink. My own image is also present, stories about the Shining Prince just as popular as those about the Golden King. Fionn chuckles when we see an advertisement for an exclusive interview with a fae female claiming to be my long-lost mate. The masses will believe anything—especially stories about mythical mates. At least a dozen females a month show up to the palace gates demanding to see me, claiming they suddenly feel a bond with me that hasn’t been seen in our world for millennia, if it ever existed at all. I always send Silene to them with a bag of gold, knowing only the most desperate would attempt anything like that.

Fionn and I continue to duck and weave through the throngs of fae and humans. They notice as I pass by, pointing and whispering, telling their companions whatever recent story or rumor they’ve heard about my exploits. Fionn’s looming presence is all that keeps them from swarming me. The people of Velmara know me as a fun-loving drunk, the Prince who has no interest in ruling and spends his days gambling, drinking, and flirting with women, despite being engaged to the most desired female in the entire kingdom. Of course they want to get close to that version of me. I play it up when I’m in public, the mask a protection from letting anyone, my father included, get too close to the real version of me.

As we pass by an open-air stand selling sweet treats, I lean over to pinch the bottom of the raven-haired shopkeeper, who I visit regularly to trade flirtatious barbs with. She lets out a flirty giggle and slaps me across the arm. I only wink at her as I keep walking, her laughs lost in the noise of the market. We pass another stall, this one selling various tinctures and ointments, run by a widower and his daughter. She’s as tall as I am, her long legs lean and golden. She doesn’t see me approach, wrapped up in restocking a shelf.

I lean in to whisper in her ear. “Hi, Kareena.” She jumps, nearly dropping the jar in her hand.

“Hawthorne! You can’t just sneak up on me like that,” she chides half-heartedly. I smirk, and she rolls her eyes flirtatiously. I wrap my arm around her waist and spin her in my arms as she laughs in protest, before setting her down and whispering in her ear again.

“Any news for me?” I ask, this time my voice low and serious. She shakes her head subtly, so I give her a kiss on the cheek and sweep away from the shop, Fionn on my heels. We continue in this way as we make our way through the Floating Market. I stop at each of my contacts’ shops, using my magnanimous charm as cover for my real mission—gathering information about my father’s and the noble’s movements. There’s little news for me today, only confirming my suspicions that with the upcoming Forum of Royals, my father is being extra careful about what might leak.

A gangly adolescent fae has the courage to approach us and hands me a thick trifold of parchment before quickly darting away as he calls out the topic of the missive. “The Witch Queen of Thayaria will be at the upcoming Forum. Read all about how the once prophecy-blessed Queen turned vile and became the phantom we all fear! Witch Queen news you don’t want to miss!” People swarm him, eager to get their hands on the government sponsored material.

I scan the parchment for any new information before dropping it on the ground in disgust. My father pays orphans to walk the streets and stir up commotion about the Queen of Thayaria every few years. They hand out informational pamphlets , as my father calls them, telling people they need to read whatever new story he’s uncovered to keep their families safe. As a result, the people of Velmara are terrified of the Witch Queen across the sea, afraid she’ll swoop onto our shores at any moment and steal their children in the night. The common enemy keeps them from turning their sights on their true oppressors—my father and his greedy nobles.

In reality, we know very little about what Queen Laurel Elestren has actually been up to for the last three hundred years. Thayaria and its reclusive Queen have been sequestered away behind a thick wall of mist since the war my father launched against them three centuries years ago. But my concern lies with my people, not with those hidden behind mist an ocean away.

“What information are you hoping to gather?” Fionn asks once we’ve cleared the dense thoroughfare and are walking down a quiet side street of the Floating Market.

“I hope the thayar shipments are reaching the Nivan Desert, and that Ragnor tells us our fears haven’t been realized. The people of Eastern Velmara need the goods the merchants ship across the desert. And the kingdom needs trade to be flowing to keep the economy bolstered.”

“But…” Fionn continues for me, sensing my hesitation.

“But I don’t think that’s what we’re going to hear,” is all I say, lips tight. Fionn only nods.

We reach our destination, a jewelry store in the Floating Market known for magically enhanced adornments. The building is painted red, the chipped paint standard for the shops that constantly battle salty winds. When we enter, a beautiful female greets us with a frown, shoulders squared and hands on her hips. She tosses her long honey-blonde hair over her shoulders in a huff and narrows her bright blue eyes on me.

“Thorne Vicant, what have I told you about conducting your little business in my shop without giving me warning that you’re coming?” she admonishes, though there’s amusement in her tone.

I quirk my lips in a half smile, instantly turning on the charm that’s become second nature to me. “Oh, come on, Enessa, don’t be cross with me. We both know you love being in on all my schemes.” I give her a wink, and she leans into my body. I wrap my arm around her waist and plant a kiss on her cheek while she pretends to bat me away. Fionn only stands near the doorway, bored. “Tell me, Enessa, what whispers have you heard since my last visit?”

I place my head in the crook of her neck so that my warm breath tingles across her ear, though I’m careful that’s all I do. A peck on the cheek or a quick pat on the ass is as far as I’ll allow my actual affections to go with those I’m playing pretend with. They may think it’s more, or wish it so, but there are lines even I will not cross to get what I want.

“You know the only people who visit my shop are wealthy nobles purchasing gifts for their mistresses. They’re the only ones who can afford me,” she says, voice low and seductive with innuendo as she pulls me tighter into her.

“And that’s exactly why you’re the best informant I have.” Another smile, another wink, and she’s melting in my arms, telling me everything I want to know. I’d sigh with the mundanity of it all if I weren’t so practiced at this point.

“The nobles are still angry with the King for cutting their supply of thayar. With me, they talk boldly of their plans to remind him of their influence and how much he needs them, though I imagine it’s another story with the King around instead of a pretty face.”

Enessa also knows how to get information using her good looks and charm. I only nod before releasing her. She pretend pouts but tilts her head in the direction of the back room, hidden from view by a thick velvet curtain. “They’re back there,” she whispers. I teasingly slap her backside with a look of pure mirth before parting the curtain to enter the hidden space beyond, Fionn on my heels.

There’s a small worn worktable with two males seated at it. They’re both dressed in the light layers of merchants who travel the Nivan Desert. When I enter, they stand and bow quickly.

“Your Royal Highness,” the taller of the two says.

“Ragnor, please, we’re beyond those formalities.” I smile, then clap him on the back. He gives me a grin, and we sit at the table. Fionn and the other male Ragnor introduces as his son sit on either side of us. Enessa busies herself polishing jewelry, though I know she listens despite pretending not to care. “Thank you for meeting. I know it’s been a long journey. How are things?” I ask.

Ragnor hesitates before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “It’s been a challenging few months. Fewer shipments of the thayar flower are making it to the desert. You know we need to use the tea we brew from the flower to enhance our magic enough to channel wind. We’re having to resort to manual labor more often. Pulling sand ships across the desert with ropes is back-breaking work. Without the flower, none of our channelers are strong enough to access their air magic, and we have no way to fill the sails with wind. It’s hurting our ability to get supplies to the far reaches of the kingdom. Not to mention, everything we get we have to use, so we haven’t been able to add at all to the stores you asked us to create.”

I frown. “That doesn’t make any sense. Imports have increased threefold in Arnia, but supplies here have also been limited. My father’s advisors are telling the nobles and the people that magic is getting even harder to channel in the desert, so Velmara is sending more of its shipments there. If you aren’t receiving it either, where is it going?” I lock eyes with Fionn before returning my gaze to Ragnor. Ragnor’s eyes narrow and his lips purse. “What is it?” I prompt.

“There are rumors…” he says slowly, “rumors that there’s a massive stockpile locked away in the mountains northwest of the desert that the King himself oversees. We haven’t been able to confirm or deny the rumors, nor can we find anyone who’s seen the stockpile firsthand. But the people of the desert believe the King is hoarding the flower for himself.”

My stomach drops. This is the third merchant I’ve heard it from. There’s nowhere else the shipments of magic-enhancing flowers could be going. But for what end?

“Thank you, Ragnor. I’ll do what I can to divert more shipments to the desert. Send word if you learn anything else.”

Once Ragnor and his son are gone, Enessa leads us to the front of the store and hands me a small, wrapped parcel.

“Your alibi.” She winks. “Silene will love it.”

“Add it to my father’s account, and charge him double,” I tell her with a grin. While I’m careful who I reveal the full depth of my intentions to in this kingdom, I’ve built a network of trustworthy allies who share my contempt of my father. Enessa and I have a complicated relationship. We flirt, shamelessly, and pretend we’re having a poorly hidden affair to provide cover for what’s really going on. Most of the court, my father included, think she’s my mistress, and that she provides expensive jewelry to my betrothed. I can’t think too hard about it, deeply uncomfortable that I’m perceived as someone who would do that to my fiancé, even if it’s a marriage neither of us intends to enter into.

“Will you come see me again soon?” Enessa whispers in my ear on the front step of her shop, pressing her body to mine in a seductive arc that pushes her breasts right into my line of sight.

Some days, it’s hard to know if Enessa wants more. We’re outside, where there are eyes watching, so she could be playing her part to maintain our cover. Not to mention she too is as practiced at this as I am, having been my spy with the nobles for decades. But the way she clings to me, body pushed firmly against mine, makes me question how much is pretend for her. Either way, I can’t afford to lose her as an ally, so I squeeze her tightly. I bury the shame I feel at using her, then lean down to her ear and let my breath send shivers up her spine.

“I’ll send word next time before I come. I promise.” She grins satisfactorily. Then I’m pulling away, her arms lingering to get one last touch, leaving her staring after Fionn and me as we make our way out of the Floating Market.

“Do you think you’ll ever actually take a lover? A real one?” Fionn asks, his assessing gaze seeing everything as usual.

“I could ask the same of you,” I challenge with a smirk. He merely nods, and we continue our walk out of the Floating Market in silence. Once we exit the pier that marks the end of the market, Fionn heads in the opposite direction of the palace. I stop him.

“Silene needs to be with us when we debrief. She’s got more brains than us both combined.”

“That’s why I told her to meet us there,” he says with a cocky smirk, nodding toward our favorite gambling den.

I grin wide. “In that case, lead the way.”

The Salty Saloon is dark inside despite the bright Velmaran daylight, its windows covered with light-blocking curtains. Despite it being the middle of the day, the wobbly wooden tables are all filled with patrons drinking tankards of the golden ale and gambling away their savings.

Once we’re settled into a dark corner, away from prying eyes or listening ears, Silene says, “It makes sense with everything we’ve heard that the King is stockpiling thayar in the Northern Mountains, despite intense political pressure about declining supplies. I overheard my parents discussing plans with another noble house to coerce him into restoring their stores. He doesn’t often deny them something like this. He’s got to be planning something big.” We sit in silence for a few moments, lost in our thoughts. “So, here’s what we know,” Silene starts. My lips quirk up in a smile at what Fionn and I tease is her catchphrase. When she faces a problem she can’t sort through, she goes back over the facts methodically. “We know supplies of thayar in Arnia are limited. We know the nobles are pissed about this.”

“Because they are impotent, sniveling rats who rely on its magic-enhancing properties to stay in power and oppress the people of this kingdom,” Fionn interjects.

“Yes, Fionn, we know how you feel about the noble houses. Your commoner birth is showing, and you’re not helping,” Silene remarks, then sticks her tongue out at him.

He gestures in mock offense. “Just trying to add to the list of things we know. We know the nobles are losing their shit because they know what will happen if the people see how weak their magic has become from centuries of inbreeding.”

“As I was saying ,” Silene continues as she tucks an unruly coil of hair behind her pointed ear, “the nobles are pissed, because they need the flower supply to maintain control.” She gives him a look that says, Satisfied? He nods. “We know the story being told in Arnia is that the imports are being diverted to the Nivan Desert. We know the Nivan Desert is also seeing fewer and fewer thayar shipments, which they need to power their air channelers to ship goods across the desert. And we know most of the desert merchants believe the thayar is being secreted away to the Northern Mountains…” She fades off, stopping where we always stop.

“He has to be stockpiling it for a magical purpose, right?” I say. “Maybe another one of his experiments?”

“That is one big fuckin’ experiment,” Fionn adds. He’s not wrong. The amount of thayar that’s disappeared could power the kingdom’s trade for centuries.

“All we can do right now is wait for more information to reach us,” I finally say. “With the upcoming Forum, what my father negotiates with Thayaria and the other kingdoms will be illuminating. Until then, we sit tight.”

They both nod their agreement while I push down my feeling of uneasiness for what must be the tenth time today alone. I need to do something to stop my father. And soon.