*Book One of the Amor Fati Series*
Prince Calanthe Ámarent, once the child of a beloved queen regnant and now a disgraced prince, goes on a journey to re-discover his identity after experiencing tragedy, loss, and abuse at the hands of his Aunt, Qu...
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An unshakeable chill lingered in the walls of Eglantine's castle, as if the walls spoke for themselves. Hrafn touched his fingertips to the coarse stone, skimming them along as he dragged behind Sindri and their guards. Hrafn shuddered then jerked back and tucked his hand close to his chest. The stone nipped at his flesh, biting with dangerous sharpness. It was a warning.
Those native to Gharash weren't attuned to their senses as those in Jiahao were. They brushed off such feelings as coincidences or matters of unimportance, preferring to stick to the material world rather than metaphors. Hrafn never understood it. His insights had saved them not long ago when they had been traveling through Solveig. He'd sworn that they had been followed by wolves since they'd entered the dense forest. Their shadows had hid in the darkness and their low growls had threatened from the brush. It hadn't been until a blood-curdling scream had awoken them from a dead sleep that all had seen.
After the Tarynians third day traveling through the woods, the wolves had pounced and claimed one of their men. It was only then that every eye had turned to Hrafn, bewildered that he had known. Hrafn remembered clearly the gaze of Erlendr, staring wide into his eyes. Every soul that night had been witness to the power Hrafn held, though Hrafn never put himself on that pedestal.
He himself did not consider himself a blessed being but a person attuned with his senses. He trusted his every being and the convictions within him. Just now, everything told him to leave, to not disturb what was buried here. The ceiling hung heavy overhead, the walls bit with the viciousness of a wolf, and the eyes of the servants told a tale of suffering and woe. The guard who led them, a man named Jax, had an aura about him that Hrafn couldn't shake. Every now and then Hrafn caught Jax glaring at him and Sindri, sinisterness disguised itself behind his eyes.
Hostility and cruelty hid itself within these castle walls and it was about to be revealed.
"Not cold, are you?" Sindri jested, a playful grin toying at his lips.
Hrafn tilted his head, confused by Sindri's words. Sindri pointed with his eyes to Hrafn's hands, shaking at his sides. Hrafn shook his head, then placed a hand on Sindri's shoulder, feeling his palm grow steady against Sindri's warmth and hardiness.
"There's a discomfort in the air," he stated, drawing near Sindri's ear. Sindri was a firm foundation in uncertain times. "I worry that we may have crossed a point of no return with fate. Eglantine has been a kingdom of misfortune for twenty years, bringing it to those who fall from their pride. Does that not frighten you?"
Sindri's grin fell, replaced by a scowl. "It's them who should fear us, not the other way around. I feel nothing towards these people." Sindri stiffened and growled, "They are but mice among men."
Hrafn dropped his hand away from Sindri and crossed his arms over his chest. "A haughty spirit has been the downfall of many in Gharash. History is doomed to repeat itself and follow the same linear line of self-destruction until we see that fate has other plans."
