Amaskan's Blood by Raven Oak (best self help books to read TXT) 📕

Adelei slid sideways and out of his grasp. “You couldn’t afford me if you tried, which I suggest you don’t.”

Prince Gamun tossed a coin into the hay by her feet. Its bronze face was vaguely familiar. “Well, your company has been enjoyable, Master Adelei, but I have someone waiting for me. Enjoy your evening with your thoughts. Think about my offer.”

“Wait—” she cried out, but he’d stepped back into the shadows and was gone.

I should go after him. But that was what he wanted. Adelei bent over to retrieve the coin, an old coin, its edges worn. She wiped the mud off with a fistful of hay and gasped when her own childhood face stared back at her. When she flipped the coin over, the other side bore her sister’s face: her nose just a tad smaller, and her brows less dense.

She’d not seen these coins in use before, not in the past ten years she’d traveled the Little Dozen Kingdoms. The coin must have been from before the war. How’d he get a coin like this? More importantly, how does he know who I am? While she shrugged it off for the moment, her skin still crawled where he’d touched her. She took her time leaving the stall. I’ve got to get a hold of myself. If I don’t, someone is going to get killed. Maybe me. Probably my sister.

By the time Adelei reached her rooms, she didn’t want sleep. Not after that. She sat cross-legged on the cold floor with only one candle to light the room. She remained dressed but had shed anything she carried.

Weaponless and vulnerable.

“I come before the Gods, an empty vessel. For guidance, for balance, for clarity and neutrality,” she whispered and closed her eyes. She pictured the candle flame in her mind and breathed deep of the herbs burning beside it. “I am not myself. I don’t know who I am, and all these questions only further the confusion in my mind. If I’m to do my job, to succeed and do what is best for all peoples, I need your help. I don’t normally ask for it, but I find myself adrift.”

Adelei focused on the inhale and exhale until she slipped into a trance state, ready for whatever the Gods saw fit to bestow upon her. An hour passed. The lack of burning herbs caught her attention first. Her legs tingled, but nothing filled her with a sense of peace or comfort. The knots remained in overly tense muscles. The old, confused self remained intact, brimming with a million questions that had no answers.

She bit her lip. Damn. Double damn. I’m on my own.

“Duke Remy and Duchess Nadine Dauphena of Brussell,” called out a young squire. The two approached the dais where Adelei stood.

Instead of merely hovering behind the royal family as one of the guards, Adelei was the center of attention this early morning. She hadn’t wanted this. Her job was to protect Princess Margaret and seek out the truth about Alexander’s borders, but King Leon had insisted. Required it even.

Instead of the black, tight fitting clothing she preferred, King Leon had adorned her in this blue get up, like she was little more than a guard. A blue tunic that reached halfway to her knees was tied off around the waist by a thick, black belt. Darker blue leggings tucked into mid-calf boots. And to top it off, a white, silk sash with silver stars marked her as Alexander’s sepier.

He’d refused to allow her a head scarf. “Besides, your hair has grown back enough. Bit on the short side, but most females in the royal guard wear their hair rather short.”

“There’s short, and then there’s this,” she’d said, pointing at her head. “I look like a freshly shorn sheep.”

The King hadn’t helped matters by laughing, but in the end, her black stubble stood out with the rest of her. The kingdom’s new sepier—on parade for the kingdom’s nobles.

Good old Remy looked like he was older than the castle. The man’s head was balder than Adelei’s now, and his joints creaked as he and his wife approached.

“May I present to you, Sepier Adelei,” said King Leon, and Adelei presented her dirk as instructed. He’d told her to wear the sword he’d presented her with at the ceremony’s start, but she had given it to Captain Fenton.

I may not get to wear my own clothes, but by the Gods, I’ll wear my own weapon. While the Duke grinned at her, the Duchess scowled as her husband not only bowed, but kissed Adelei’s hand, ignoring the dirk altogether. “By the blessing of the Thirteen, may your… dirk serve this kingdom well,” the old man said, and his wife mumbled his words.

Behind her, Prince Gamun yawned. Even he’s bored with all this pomp and circumstance. And a prince should be used to it.

The couple moved past, and the squire announced a single name, the Duchess of Verdon. She moved through the motions as quickly as possible and stepped on the hem of her long skirts when she ambled away. Most opportunities to dabble with the nobles brought a large crowd, at least thus far it had, but today it seemed the only ones present were those required to witness King Leon naming her as sepier.

And most of them would rather have been elsewhere. Her outfit wasn’t fooling anyone. From the stubble to the scar, the highborns of Alexander knew exactly what she was. I’m just lucky they turned up their noses at me rather than stoned me to death. At least the makeup disguised her other identity. No need to loosen that squall upon the highborns.

The squire moved on to introduce the earls and barons of Alexander, the first of which was Lady Millicent Sebald and her portly husband. At least the lady she knew, well enough to smile in greeting despite sore cheek muscles.

Other than those required, the royal guard stood watch over the proceeding and a scattering of city folk