Author's Note: I was going to write a seperate novel following Warren and Abigail on a parallel timeline with Nirel, but decided against it. I wanted the trilogy to flow easily between each volume without readers needing to read side novels to understand the full story.
I wrote this before I started on Dissonance and before I had plotted all the twists for the second book. While I would have loved a Warren POV, I could NOT add another. I also really wanted to have a good balance of diverse male and female characters and I wasn't willing to cut Daiyu's perspective.
Warren's Story: Prologue
Rough shouts in Laevini hit my ears. I froze, sprigs of rosemary dangling from my dirty hands. We spoke Trestainian in the village, even though everyone was fluent in both languages. The rough accents meant the voices were…
Saint’s curses.
The wooden fence and various berry bushes concealed me from the village road, but I had to get inside and check on my sister. Hopefully, mom was back from treating poor old Sharin's infected big toe. I dropped the rosemary with the sage and potatoes in my garden basket and half stood to scramble into the apothecary undetected. I was so focused on the foreign voices that I didn’t see mom until I nearly knocked her over.
Relief pounded in my chest. She was back.
“Warren, soldiers,” mom whispered in my ear.
Dread made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. That explained what I heard and confirmed my worst fears. Without father to protect us, it fell on me to keep mom and Nirel safe. But I was not trained to fight. How the hell was I supposed to keep them safe?
Mom and I quickly got back inside and closed the door as quietly as we could. A flash of forest green in the hall meant Nirel was already packing. She moved like a cat, here, then there, grabbing essentials.
“Get your things,” mom murmured.
I dropped the basket of herbs on the table by the door and ran to my room. My heart beat in my ears as I tried to slow my breathing and take what I needed. A few tunics, trousers, a long sleep tunic, socks, leather gloves that father had given me, the scarf Nirel had knit for me last winter, and my apothecary satchel. I opened it and cursed under my breath. Why hadn't I listened when Nirel suggested I refill my tonics? I slapped the satchel closed and buckled it with pursed lips. We'd make do.
Mom's ruddy fingers gripped my shoulder. I jerked in surprise. Before I could calm myself, mom held out father's silver ring. My jaw tightened, and I took a shuddering breath.
“Take it.” Tears slid down mom's cheeks, her golden-honey eyes rimmed with red.
“Mom,” I choked.
“He wanted you to have it.” She waved it even closer.
I coughed to hold myself together and held out my hand. She slid it down my second smallest finger, then gathered my hand into hers and kissed it.
I wrapped her in a hug. "We're going to be alright," I whispered, not believing a word, but hoping I was right, anyway.
Mom sniffed and looked up at me, cradling her palm on my cheek. "He would be proud of you, Warren. You've grown into a good man."
A soft sound left my throat as I squeezed my mom even harder. She'd suffered so much when father died. All I wanted was to take some of that burden off her shoulders. And here she was, still taking care of me when I should have been taking care of her.
Her words meant the world. But I wasn't a man yet. Not for another month.
Chapter 1: (Unfinished)
I should have died. Even now, I still felt the hum of her light inside my gut healing me. Saving me. Destroying everything we had done to keep her safe.
They took my sister, and it’s all my fault.
Abigail gripped my elbow, her pale fingers digging into me. Together we watched the king’s officer carry my unconscious sister to a wooden cart, and it took everything in me to not run after her. I focused on Abigail’s fingernails, almost cutting into my arm through my bloody tunic. The discomfort kept my thoughts in the moment.
The logical part inside my head told me any attempt to interfere would be a death sentence.
Don’t throw away your life when your sister just gave up hers to save you.
“They can’t,” I gasped. Tears filled my eyes unbidden, but I couldn’t stop them. They took mom. Then they stole my sister.
And I’m a seventeen-year-old who can’t save either of them.
If I was eighteen, they could have drafted me as their apothecary instead of mom. Then the arsehole wouldn’t have tried to kill me and Nirel wouldn’t have revealed her healing magic. Why hadn’t mom lied about my age in the first place? Why wouldn’t she let me protect them?
I knew the answer, but it didn’t make accepting the outcome any easier. My guts churned, remembering that they were skewered just minutes ago. My fingers traced the knotted scar on my stomach between the tatters of my ruined tunic.
Abigail abandoned me and ran after my sister, her best friend.
“Nirel!” she screamed.
Mr. Gallagher reached out for her, but her petite frame slipped past. “Abigail, stop!” He yelled, the panic clear in his voice.
I watched with a lump in my throat. They’d kill me if I ran after, but my intuition told me they wouldn’t hurt her. She reached the officer just as he lowered Nirel into the food wagon. He turned to her just in time to catch her wrist before she could slap him.
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