Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

Prologue

Four hundred years ago…

T he young king surveys the immense field of black tulips spread before him beneath the light of the three moons—Queens of the Night, Lucentia’s favored flowers and named after Lucentia herself. Each flower stands sentinel—still and stoic—within the thick stand of fir trees surrounding them. Their color is pitch black, and when the moonlight hits the petals just so, a hint of deep purple rises from their depths. Some sort of fluffy, tiny bird settles on the pommel of his saddle, quirking its head, an intelligent eye appearing to stare into his soul. It appears to nod and then takes flight with a flutter of wings and feathers. He swallows and slides from the saddle, leaving the reins of his horse with his men.

His best soldiers sit astride their horses around him, all weary from the long and rigorous journey, but prepared to defend him, if need be.

“I go alone,” he says, holding a hand out to stop those who move to join him.

He makes his way through the field, noticing the white birds humming from their nests in the trees, flying and swooping all around him. Tulips appear to bend to either side slightly, creating a small path toward the sheer mountainside ahead. He stares with a furrowed brow at their unnatural movement. Magic. He pulls back his shoulders against the unease stirring at the foreign power and continues along the path. What he is looking for, he doesn’t know.

After a time, the path of dark flowers guides him to a cliffside with an intricate engraving depicting a woman, the same white birds… and the tulips that surround him, framed as if he simply has to walk through a doorway to greet her. He places a hand on the wall. Nothing.

“Lucentia,” he says.

Only the soft flutter of the birds overhead breaks the silence.

He searches the engraving, scanning its details. The path led here, but how to reach Lucentia, the goddess of lucent magic?

Far across the field, he sees his men, waiting. Everything depends on his securing Lucentia’s help. The thoughts of his brother-turned-enemy, and the large part of his army that followed him, weighs his shoulders down with sorrow. This is their only recourse. With the continual battles, so many of his people dying… If he does not gain Lucentia’s aid, his kingdom will fall.

He clenches and releases his fists, stretching his fingers as he gazes around, trying to decipher what to do next. Moments later, one of the small birds coasts through the air with a freshly picked tulip in its tiny beak. He holds out a large hand and cradles both gently. With intelligent eyes, the bird gives a jerky nod toward the mountainside picture.

He turns toward the engraved, sealed doorway, uncertain. Never has he taken instruction from a bird. He reaches out a hand and presses against the engraving once more. “Lucentia,” he says, unsure if what he’s done is correct, but the engraving in the doorway begins to take on color and depth until it’s no longer a picture in solid rock, but an opening. Dripping vines obscure what lay beyond, and he looks back once more at the soldiers waiting for him before using a shoulder to push aside the greenery and step through.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds a woman in a dress of deepest black that matches the petals of the black tulips standing guard in the field he just crossed. The small, fluffy, white birds surround her and settle on her shoulders in small blobs of stark contrast. He releases the one in his hand, and it joins the flock of others, roosting around their mistress. Black tulips are woven within the almost-white gold of her tresses, and more tulips at her feet spread before him. The greenery and trees, even the stars spattering the dark night sky, seem somehow more vibrant in her presence. Power emanates from her, almost tangible.

“Lucentia, Queen of the Night.” The youthful High King kneels before her.

“Rise, King. You are worthy.” She considers him with a knowing gaze. “You have a request.”

The handsome, battle-hardened king squares his shoulders. “You are known as the goddess of lucent magic, the magic that combats darkness… I am the rightful heir to the throne of Moneyre, but my twin brother does not agree. I exiled him when he attempted to take my life and many of my people left with him. He has led formidable attacks on my kingdom these past years and we tire of warring. Our people are dying needlessly in battle. I would abdicate the throne but?—”

“He is not worthy.” She finishes his sentence. “I also have a brother who craves the fight.” She says it so quietly the king barely hears it. A sad smile pulls at her lips.

She twists the stem of a black tulip between her fingers. The woman contemplates for a moment, her face pale, granite beauty. After what seems an eternity, she finally speaks.

“I am bound with the lucent magic of this world, it, bound with me. I am lucent magic, lucent magic is me. My magic protects and shields from darkness. I am the Queen of the Night. The light in the dark.” Her voice, both powerful and smooth, pauses as she eyes the king with a shrewd look. “To maintain balance and order I allow humans to work things out amongst themselves, even if it leads to kingdoms destroying one another—a natural course is usually best.” She looks at him pointedly.

The king opens his mouth to speak, but Lucentia continues.

“ But your heart is worthy and your desires noble, which inclines me to offer aid. A gift that requires much from you.” She tilts her head to the side and looks at the king. “Are you married, worthy King?”

It seems she already knows the answer, but he shakes his head, confused. “No, Your Majesty.”

A serene smile lights her lips. “I will share my magic with you and your kingdom on two conditions, both which will ensure my power is not abused and used for selfish gain.”

The king nods his agreement, and she continues.

“First, your soul and those of your heirs, and all kings hereafter, will be bound to your kingdom, and with it, your magic. If your people suffer, you will suffer. If your people thrive, you will also thrive.”

The king considers carefully before nodding. “That is fair. My fate is tied with those of my people. ”

Now her gray eyes light like liquid silver, and a power he’s never felt before rises heavily in their midst.

“Second, you and every heir hereafter must marry and bridge your magic with a Queen of the Night, a Black Tulip, a woman chosen by my magic to maintain the lucent magic your kingdom will require. Your souls together will be inextricably bonded with the kingdom itself. You cannot do it on your own. Only a Black Tulip is capable of this.”

The king nods, listening carefully.

“With more power comes more responsibility—and risk. If you, or your heirs, fail to do as I have said, gloam will slowly overtake lucent, until, eventually, the lucent will be overcome by gloam entirely, and you will lose the protection my magic, and my Tulips, have offered, leaving your kingdom vulnerable to past and future enemies… and I will not help you. Your kingdom, people, and heirs will perish—engulfed in inescapable darkness.” She lets her words sink in for a prolonged moment before she continues.

“As specially chosen conductors of my magic, and chosen by me, my Tulips deserve the deepest of respect and adoration and will be treated as such. If they aren’t, I will not send one strong enough to bridge, until a king worthy of her takes the throne. By then, it may be too late. Ensure that you, and your future heirs, do not fail in this.” She caresses the soft petals of a tulip in her hand.

The king carefully runs the words through his mind. “Every heir must simply marry and bridge with a Black Tulip, a Queen of the Night. Care for her and protect her. That’s your price?” He stares, bewildered that so simple a thing be asked in return for so great protection.

Lucentia nods. “Yes. But beware the jealousies and passions of mortals. ”

The king lifts a confused brow. “Is that a prophecy?”

“Take it as you will, but let neither you nor your heirs forget it.”

“I agree.”

“Magic is presented in many forms, different for every person. All born with magic will be marked according to their strongest gifts to show that all are equal and chosen by magic. But you and your heirs will have a different mark, one that will grow with every generation and indicates your direct bond with your kingdom.” She stands. “Bare your chest, King.”

He does so, his movements sure and unwavering even as the weight of what he’s doing settles on his shoulders.

Lucentia’s eyes glow silver once again as she places a pale, delicate hand against his heart. The black behind his lids is replaced with warm light, all he can see is light, and behind that light, the width and breadth of his kingdom and people flow through his mind and find a place in his soul. His soul tugs and knots, woven and made as one with the very fabric of his kingdom. It fills his chest, his vision, his blood. Then, curling warmth travels down his upper left arm, down the top of his shoulder blade, and down to his collarbone. Lucentia removes her hand, and the light fades from his vision, but his gaze is drawn to where the still lucent mark now rests, one with the skin of his shoulder, arm, and chest. Wonder lights his eyes as he feels the magic running freely through his veins. His vision sharpens and clears, his hearing amplifies, his senses of touch and smell increase, and his muscles fill with easy power and strength like never before.

Lucentia smiles. “You are a hunter, as will all your heirs be. You will learn to control it, to use it to help your people.”

She gestures to the tulip the king still holds in his grasp, its petals tightly hugged together. “You’ll need this to bridge your magic with my Black Tulip. Every bridging must take place with a black tulip, not yet in full bloom. Already a woman has been chosen and marked, her magic complimentary to yours in every way. Your soul calls to her, the heat of your magic yearns for her cool—and hers to yours. Go, King, have care , and have magic.”

“Thank you, Queen of the Night.”