Chapter 7 - Nick

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Karen and Ella have been working hard to stock up on herbs for the first autumn and winter ailments. Emily was keen on assisting them before Frederic's eldest swooped her off her feet. She's a Laneby girl; they'll be wed by next Spring.


Nick buried his face deeper into the ashes. The pressure built up in his throat, his heart pumping louder the longer he suppressed the urge to cough. He had to hold on. One odd sound, one glimpse of his shredded shirt, and he would be reduced to a pile of burning bones.

A pair of light footsteps rushed him by. Alex had fooled the demons into thinking she was nothing but a silly girl.

But Fox...

Nick shuddered upon hearing the pleading cries. His friend was lost forever. As impressive as Fox's outbursts of courage may have been, his only options were to head north or face death. The Greenlander laws were clear on the matter: no magic allowed; under no circumstances.

At least in the north, there was a chance that he would grow up a good and kind magician. It was the only way this horrendous day could have some purpose.

Abby. 

She had to live. The Goddess of Kindness had to show Billy the way so Seb and Abby could complete the journey to Sundale. She wasn't allowed to die. His sister was the only family he had left.

Fox and Seb had relatives in other parts of The Greenlands, and Alex had an uncle who owned a large trading company on one of the Jade Islands. But not his family. Generation after generation, they had lived and died in Laneby—first as farmers, later as all-rounders to serve the Lord. Now it had become his duty to carry on their legacy. 

He held his breath to kill the tears that were threatening to reveal his hiding place, but the bittersweet memories weren't so easy to smother. 

It was here, behind the blacksmith's workshop that Abby always hid when he and George were playing hide-and-seek with her. It was the only game that they managed to play together as siblings without quibbling like a bunch of bored woodland fairies, as Mother often put it.

All of that gone now. All because the death of Lord Brandon and Seb would give King Ariel a claim to rule these lands.

As the clopping of the horses echoed through the deserted valley, Nick's hands chewed the ashes until his skin was as raw as the emotions toiling inside of him. The magician's story sounded absurd. It would mean that Lord Brandon and Seb were of royal descent.

Royals living in Laneby. He had never heard anything of the like. When people weren't distracting him with warrior training, childish games, or unexpected hunting trips, he was either devouring every book he could get his hands on or finding ways to eavesdrop on Lord Brandon's council meetings.

And he was good at it too. Whenever his father and Lord Brandon were discussing trips to Sundale or made plans to host a surprise feast, Nick was always the first to hear about them. But nobody had ever mentioned anything of the Lord's royal blood.

Or had they? He had questioned Father often enough of why he was the one to go to the capital for official ceremonies instead of Lord Brandon. His curiosity had been laughed away with jokes about the Lord's stubbornness and how he would cause conflict at court just by being there.

A conflict with the King.

Nick scrambled up, his back resting against the forge, and ran his hands across his face to brush the dirt off.  It wasn't fair. Fox abused the words often enough when things didn't go the way he had planned, but they couldn't ring truer now.

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