In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

4. Rose

4

Rose

“ H ave we packed the healing charms yet, Rose?” my Aunt Morgana asked as she took a pouch from my hand and settled it in Ragnar’s travel bag.

I checked my notes. “Yes, I think we’ve got everything,” I said, tying a bow on an extra bag of protection herbs. Ash from a blackthorn tree and shredded mistletoe leaves—paired with the right spell, created a force field around your body that warded off any unfriendly advances. A few years ago, I’d experimented with protection charms and discovered that adding a stem of amaranth to this concoction made it not only a defensive spell, but offensive , as well.

I’d used it once walking home from the forest at night and noticed a shadow following me. When I started to run and the strange man grabbed my arm, he bounced right off me as if he’d struck a barrier, and the sickening crunch from his wrist told me all I needed to know.

I had some fun with that spell over the years. Probably another reason I wasn’t a favorite among the town.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I straightened. “That’s the last of it. We need to load up the horses and we’ll be ready for the morning. ”

The morning . It was strange to think the day was finally here. Tomorrow, we’d be leaving for Veridia City—which was only about two days’ travel, but given that I’d never stepped foot outside of Feywood, it might as well be a different world.

“About that…are you positive you want to join us, dear?” Morgana asked, glancing at me uneasily.

This conversation was getting old. It was the fourth time she’d tried to convince me not to go. I opened my mouth to respond, but my cousin jumped in instead.

“Give it a rest, Ma. Rosie’s already said she’s coming. Why are you hounding her about it?”

I shot him a grateful smile. Morgana bristled but held her hands up in surrender, sharing a strange look with Ragnar.

I didn’t understand why she was so adamant on changing my mind. She knew how eager I was to see more of the empire, despite the growing danger. I’d glimpsed Celestria through the Feywood Forest and could see the outskirts of Iluze to the north over Lake Leznem, but had never been allowed to cross. All I’d learned about the other provinces and the capital were from books and stories.

I was most familiar with Celestria through my friendship with Beth. We traded with them often, and I’d met several other Striders, as well. Although we shared a water border with Iluze, I had learned to stay away from the cunning Illusionists at a young age. Their magic had always reignited a fear rooted deep within me. Anyone with power such as that over the mind couldn’t be trusted. The Illusionist challenger won the Decemvirate more often than any other province, so their magic was always much more potent than ours. I never wanted to face someone with that ability.

To the east of Iluze rested the province of Emberfell, the furthest from Feywood. It was home to the Lightbenders—people who could create light with a simple touch, bend it to their will and even form it into solid matter.

Emberfell shared a border to the south with Drakorum, the land of the Shifters. Being the loudest and most volatile magic wielders, I’d heard plenty of rumors about their people. Everyone born to a Shifter line could transform into some sort of animal—whether it was a partial or complete transformation depended on the strength of their bloodline. If I was being honest, I hoped I’d get a glimpse of a Shifter or two in the capital. The idea of being able to turn into something else, become an entirely new being, all within your control…it fascinated me.

The final province wasn’t too far from us, separated on the east by a small strait of water. Tenebra was the most elusive of the lot, incredibly mysterious and unpredictable. They possessed a form of magic called Shadow Wielding: the power to turn incorporeal darkness into weapons of the night. To control shadows. Their land was brutal and harsh, with the iciest and most mountainous of landscapes, and I heard the people were just as cold. Ruthless and aggressive, most of the deaths in the history of the Decemvirate had come at a Shadow Wielder’s hand.

The six provinces of the Veridian Empire formed a circle around the capital. Veridia City was an island surrounded by the Eldertide Ocean, which we would have to cross to reach the nearest port. I could tell Beau was nervous about that part of our voyage, even if he tried to shrug off my concern, so I made sure to tuck a few potions for nausea into his bags.

“Beau Beau,” Morgana started, gesturing to my cousin. “Will you pass me the—umm, the purple crystal.” She snapped her fingers, trying to remember the name. “Yes—that one,” she said when Beau pointed to the crystal on the countertop.

“It’s amethyst, Ma,” Beau said with a laugh, tossing her the small, sharp rock. I was happy to see his mood had lightened considerably over the last few days, back to his endearingly scatter-brained and affable self. “If you don’t know what it’s called, maybe you shouldn’t be using it,” he joked.

“Do you hear that tone, Ragnar?” Morgana faked a gasp, red nails on her wide hips as she shook her head in mock disappointment.

“Yes, dear, and I have no idea where he gets it from,” Ragnar responded, jumping from the counter and placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek. He pulled a thistle leaf from his pocket—one of the few charms any wise Alchemist always kept on their person, since it could break almost all enchantments—and waved it in her face. “And this is a leaf , Ana, my love. In case you weren’t sure.”

I snorted, and Aunt Morgana lunged at him. “Ragnar Gregor, you better pray to the Fates I don’t curse you in your sleep,” she said as she chased him around the front of the store. He turned and grabbed her by the waist, slinging her over his shoulder as she squealed. Beau shook his head but chuckled along with his parents, his bright gray eyes crinkling in amusement.

I quickly turned to the glass cabinet behind the counter, hiding my sudden shortness of breath. It would hit me sometimes when I least expected it—the longing, the heartache.

I wanted to share in their joy. I wanted that sparkle in my eyes. I wanted the smile of a mother and the embrace of a father.

The Gregors loved me immensely—and I loved them, of course. They were the closest thing I had to parents. They took me in as their own daughter when their world fell apart with the death of my mother and father, long before Beau was born. But no matter how deep their love for me went, I knew I would always be a reminder of the family they’d lost, of the life they were forced into. Of the blood that stained their past.

I was a piece that would never fully fit in their puzzle. In anyone’s puzzle. People wanted neat, clean edges to mold into their idea of normalcy. Predictable. Ordinary.

I was jagged cuts and sharp fringes. Nobody wanted to hold me for too long. And I was perfectly content with that.

But moments like this…sometimes, I wished for the soft spirit of my aunt, for the power of my uncle, for the innocence of my cousin. For tenderness and sweetness, instead of the bitter shadows that clung to me.

“Come on, Rose—let’s go get dinner. We’ve done all we can for tonight,” my aunt’s voice, still tinged with laughter, sounded from the front of the shop. I turned to find her and Ragnar hand-in-hand, Ragnar’s free arm draped across his son’s thin shoulders .

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Alright.” I walked to the far window, where the shop’s cat Spindley often perched, and gave her ears a good scratch. To my surprise, she leapt from my reach and strode across the floor to my aunt and uncle, her long tail swishing. She wound her lithe body between my uncle’s legs, brushing against him with a loud purr.

Ragnar laughed and ran his fingers through her fur. “Think she’ll miss me?”

My eyes snapped from the cat to his face. I forced a smile, but a sense of foreboding crept down my spine like icy fingers. Spindley never let anyone besides myself touch her.

I shook off the unease. It was ridiculous. Cats were fickle creatures—I was foolish for reading too much into her behavior.

But it felt like, for a moment, she was saying goodbye.

The next morning arrived with gray skies and biting winds. We hitched our two horses to the small carriage and loaded it with our baggage and supplies for the next month. The entire town had awoken with the dawn to gather in the main square to see us off, showering Ragnar with both words of encouragement and slander against the competing provinces.

“Finally, Feywood stands a chance at winning.”

“This is an old family recipe for increased eyesight and hearing—works every time, I swear!”

“We’re counting on you, Gregor.”

“Don’t forget—those Illusionists pricks can’t trick you if they can’t see you. If you get in a bind, go for the eyes, yeah?”

Interesting . I didn’t know that last part.

Ragnar accepted their words and gifts with a grand smile—ever the portrait of power and humility. I stayed hidden in the carriage, tired of the pointed stares and whispered remarks directed toward me.

“She’s not even his daughter. ”

“Nothing but a bane on that entire family. She’ll ruin his chances, mark my words.”

“Did you hear two people have now fallen under the curse at her shop within the last year? Wonder if there’s something to it.”

“She’s been visiting that cursed Strider for the last two weeks. If she loves their kind so much, why doesn’t she join them?”

It made me roll my eyes. Honestly, did these people have nothing better to talk about?

Still, their words pricked something in me. Stinging and sharp, like a needle under my skin.

Half an hour later, Ragnar bid the town farewell and led the horses to the main road leading northeast, where we’d travel for the day and stop in an inn on the coast. Tomorrow morning, we’d board a passenger ship to Veridia City, hopefully arriving on the main island before nightfall.

The bustle of the town square slowly faded as the sun rose higher, the cadence of wheels over rough gravel lulling me into a trance as I stared out the window of the carriage. Brick buildings and cobblestone paths gave way to pine trees and dark green shrubbery, the occasional fox or hare slinking into the shadows.

“Hey,” Beau whispered from my right. Across from us sat Morgana and Ragnar, snippets of their conversation drifting to my ears as they pored over notes. “Don’t listen to them. All that stuff they say…it’s ridiculous. You’re our family, Rosie.”

I cast him a glance and a tight smile. “Thanks, Beau Beau.”

He nudged my shoulder with his bony elbow. “I mean it,” he insisted. “They’re just jealous you’re so talented.”

I snorted and nudged him back. I never knew how to respond when he or my aunt tried to ease the negativity swarming me. They were my own personal rays of sunshine, whether I liked it or not.

A moment passed, then my aunt spoke from opposite us. “Are you two excited to see Veridia City? The new food, the colors, the people…there will be so many wonderful things to try.”

I contemplated her question as I fiddled with the pouch of herbs in my lap. On any normal day, I typically only carried thistle and amaranth in my pockets for protection, but I had a special container for when I wanted an abundance of charms on my person. Alchemists accessed our magic through items found in nature—herbs, seeds, stones, and the like—so I needed a way to carry many kinds all at once. This pouch had been my father’s. A leather-worn, hexagonal shaped container about the size of my hand that opened on opposite ends to reveal five small compartments each, giving me space for ten charms. Feeling the leather between my fingers always seemed to settle my mind.

“I suppose,” I finally answered. “Although probably not for the same reasons.”

“Right, I forgot how you don’t like anything fun ,” Beau quipped.

“No, not fun. Just people.”

Ragnar snorted at our exchange. “Then what are you excited for, Rose?”

The ironic part was that I was most excited to see the different people. Not that I necessarily needed to interact with all of them…but how many opportunities would I have in my lifetime to be in the same place as citizens from all six provinces? To observe their magic and learn how it works, maybe even take a few tricks back home to Feywood.

“The magic,” I said truthfully. “Alchemy’s in my blood, but I’ve always wanted to see what else is out there.”

“Well now, am I going to end up fending off some Shifter or Lightbender suitor who persuades you to move across the empire?” my uncle teased.

Beau barked out a laugh. “As if. I don’t think anything could drag Rosie away from the Arcane.”

I turned back to the window with a shallow smile as their lighthearted laughs and conversation about Veridia City became background noise to my thoughts.

He was right. I loved the Arcane, loved the connection to my parents and the sense of purpose in my bones. So why did his comment nag at me?

Perhaps that was all I was good for—experiments and concoctions, minding my own business and living a quiet life in my personal solace. Protecting what was mine at all costs. Ignoring the ignorant words of the town. Continuing the legacy my parents had left me.

There was nothing wrong with that.

That’s what I told myself as I peered through the window, watching the only home I’d ever known become a speck in the distance as rays of sunlight tried to dispel the growing shadows.