Potent: Book 1

Chapter 26: A Near Thing

Note from the author:

Hello, dear readers! Since the last time I updated this story, I have gotten divorced, moved several times, taken a new job, and quit that job due to disability. I am now in a stable, safe environment. I'm also a little embarrassed to tell you that I have not thought about this project in years. 

I wanted to extend a special thanks and virtual hugs to PedrePaxim for bringing to my attention that people were reading this and were interested in hearing how Potent ends. Please check out their works on Wattpad - they are also a writer and their feedback has been so important to this project. The truth is, someone very close to me that I trusted once told me that Potent was no good, and I believed them enough to abandon it.

The good news is twofold: that person is now out of my life. Also, and even better, there is absolutely more of this story that is already written! I just have to post it!

The bad-ish news is that the copy may not be as clean as I would like. I have needed beta readers badly, and I will continue to welcome feedback and corrections as I post the rest of this book here on Wattpad. As a warning, this story is big - bigger than just one book, and from what I recall, the end sets up the next one. Hopefully over the next year, I can get this, book 1, to a place where it is ready to show to publishers.

If you've been reading along and you've had encouraging words or discrepancy catches for me, thank you so, so much. I hope you enjoy the next few chapters.

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Ber, Day 16 of Melia, Winking Moons, Year 602

Those who wish to become master combatants may look forward to passing two prerequisite levels; novice and journeyman, prior to completing their education. Combatants are colloquially known as Dippers because to aid in tasks, they frequently ingest or apply brews topically to their bodies or to weapons to produce certain effects. —Our Classes, Ourselves: A University of Craestor Publication

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It was early evening in Daitak Capital, and Alisia sat alone composing a letter in the outer portion of the apartments she shared with Emperor Bryn Beynon.

She thought warmly for a moment of Governor Watkyn from Craestor and how kindly he'd treated her.

Even after all these years, the Eralian princess was still a foreigner in Urda, and the residents at the capital treated her with removed formality. Having been raised by a large and friendly family, she missed the frank honesty of true friends and allies she could trust.

She dipped the modest goose quill into a pot of kohl and paused.

"...no new movement on that front, I am happy to report..." the last few words of her missive read.

Alisia had to be careful in her communications as they were most certainly monitored. She made sure to coat everything in eight or nine layers of meaning—and it was especially challenging to do this as Urdan wasn't her first language. As she puzzled over what to write next that would be easily discernible without alerting suspicion, she heard tinkling laughter emanating from down the hall outside her door.

At the sound of footfalls to confirm the approach of others, Alisia smoothly turned her letter written side down and moved her ink to the corner of the little table. She'd brought a book with her—some generalized title about Urdan geography—and she slid this into place over her parchment, assuming an absorbed look just as the door opened.

It was Bryn and that insipid concubine of his—Treese, she was called. She hung on his arm like a pretty little piece of jewelry, and fresh jealousy seethed within the young empress like poisonous vines clambering slowly up the keep wall.