With a group of unlikely allies, Alethia must become an unstoppable force to let go of her haunting past and save the Four Kingdoms.
Two years have passed since Queen Liliana broke the Peace Treaty with the Gera Kingdom and began a deadly war. Howev...
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Snow crunched beneath his black leather boots, filling the silence. Branches piled with slush hung low as if to sweep the land. The crisp and harsh air stung his lungs as the path went uphill. Strapped to his back and lidded, the basket dragged down his steps.
Despite their meager gathering, it contained enough weight to make his trek slow. Samir admired the swift birds flying high overhead.
There was a need that he would trade a dozen baskets of fish to fulfill. He patted the journal tucked in his black trousers' pocket, resisting the urge to pull it out.
Today was tax day, which meant there was no time to waste. They'd fished most of the day away, and the castle gates would be closing before sunset. So he had to make haste.
The closer he got to the city, the broader and more packed the path became. The trees dispersed in the way of tall, grandiose weather-beaten stone buildings. Shops and homes cloistered together in a circular pattern that could only be seen from the hills. Snow piled high on their roofs, and icicles dripped from the backsides.
Clear paths for easy access, a mandatory shoveling system upheld by the occupants, stood before him. Samir could feel stares as he entered the bustling city. The breeze sent scattered whispers of his sleeveless shirt and wrinkled trousers along with the spiraling jet black tattoo running up his right arm, over his chest, and crawling upward toward his left ear. Their murmurs tangled with the dancing sounds of city life. From the merchants declaring their competitive prices to children giggling on nearby benches, the city clamored with more noises that Samir's unaccustomed ears throbbed with dismayed protest.
He much preferred the silence entrapping their cabin nestled in the forest near the shore.
Their palpable disapproval caused them to give him a wide berth as if to show without a doubt that they didn't associate with him. He disregarded them as he adjusted the basket that was beginning to dig into his lower back.
A sea of white laid before him, and it was understandable that his black attire caught their attention. But he would never understand why they refrained from wearing any other color. If it weren't for their golden eyes, they would blend in entirely with the snow with their bright colorless clothing and pale, glossy skin.
When he'd asked his mother, she'd huffed and called them idiots. It didn't make sense to Samir since they were all Witans, so were he and his mother idiots too?
His mother hadn't liked that response. Samir rubbed the back of his neck as he continued through the city, wiping away the phantom sensation of where his mother had smacked him.
Although they shared the same features, Samir knew he stood out like the rare celestial tigers that inhabited the Eastern Slopes. But unlike those revered tigers who had the backing of religious scripts, Samir was an eccentric and unwelcomed sight.
Not just his clothing and tattoos but the cluster of rings adorning his fidgeting fingers, his ruffled hair, and tanned skin. Everyone around him was neat. Not a single strand of silvery-white hair out of place, pale skin unblemished, and not a hint of jewelry to flaunt.
