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Breaking His Spell
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A NineStar Press Publication
www.ninestarpress.com
Breaking His Spell
ISBN: 978-1-950412-43-3
Copyright © 2019 by Foster Bridget Cassidy
Cover Art by Natasha Snow Copyright © 2019
Published in MONTH, 2019 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at [email protected].
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which may only be suitable for mature readers, and kissing without consent.
Breaking His Spell
Foster Bridget Cassidy
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
To Gigs, rational when I’m not and vice versa.
Chapter One
TRUE LOVE. THERE were no other words in all the world as deceitful as those.
In my youth, I had believed.
I sought to find that one person to complete me. As a newly trained magician, the Alsa Alma sent me to tutor the third youngest prince of the Farlerotna Kingdom. In the palace, I watched Prince Vulten grow. I was his constant companion in study and in play. The prince had a devious mind, and we spent hours thinking of ways to trick his older siblings.
And on the day he turned eighteen he’d confessed his love for me. Shocking, to say the least, because I’d come to love him too.
True love. Or so I thought. Except, how could anyone truly, irrevocably love an immortal?
For the early years, we were happy. We took trips to foreign nations. We hosted lords and ladies. We played tricks on his siblings, even Rillik, who had taken the crown by then.
But as the years stretched and Vulten began to age, the love in his eyes lessened and faded, replaced by envy and jealousy. As an immortal Alma, my magic kept my body youthful.
He’d died, cursing my name.
For decades, I mourned. Not just the loss of his life, but the loss of his love.
“That,” Alma Carishina said at the end of my monologue, “is why you don’t have relations with mortals.” She leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm. She’d magicked her hair green, and the curls appeared serpentine, a gorgon with her snakes.
“No,” I countered, “that’s why you don’t have any relationships with anyone. If love could not last for eighty years with a mortal, how could it last forever with an immortal? It’s not possible.”
“And so,” Alma Franik added with a toothy grin, “you’ve turned into a grumpy old man at the tender age of two hundred.”
“I’m a hundred and ninety-five,” I fumed. “And I’m not grumpy. I don’t see the point in romance. There’s no such thing as true love.”
“I heard,” Franik stage whispered to Carishina, “he moped in the Farlerotna Palace for a hundred years before they asked for him to be taken away.”
Carishina laughed and the red in my cheeks was not all anger. Maybe I had moped, but my broken heart was understandable. I’d lost my lover, and at the same time, my childish ideas of the world. It had wounded me. I needed to reflect and get a grip on my life.
Had I really been there a hundred years? Rillik’s granddaughter—Simmone—had assumed the throne. How long had I wandered those halls, haunting them like a ghost? It couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty.
“The Alsa Alma had to fetch Klint himself,” Franik concluded with a smug smile.
“Ha-ha,” I told him sourly. “I’m not sure you have room to talk, Franik, as you’ve never even been sent outside these walls. What was it the Alsa Alma said? You ‘lacked any and all ambition’?”
Carishina snorted and Franik glowered. “As if I wanted to mingle with the mortals,” he said, drawing himself up. “I don’t ever want to get mixed up in their insignificant affairs.”
I allowed myself a small grin as Franik directed the conversation onto a new topic.
At times, I still missed Vulten. Our connection had been the one real thing in my life. As a wizard, I used unexplained solutions, backward thinking, magicking anything into reality. But with Vulten, the emotions had seemed more than magic. Better than magic.
At least I’d learned my lesson young. The pain prepared me for my lonely future.
The afternoon light shone in through the stained-glass windows, throwing splashes of color around the room. I adored the place, my favorite in the Alma Palace, a mixture of library and meditation room. Most of the time, no occupants filled the tables. Or on the occasions when they did, other magicians knew enough to leave you to your thoughts. Well, not today. Franik and Carishina had bombarded me with questions the moment I walked in.
They were young—Franik just turned ninety, and Carishina was a mere forty-six. Of course, they were curious about the gossip around the palace, and my experience in Farlerotna continuously made the rounds. Plus, many of the older practitioners didn’t have the time or inclination for dealing with the young ones. Apparently my years in the mortal world had tempered my patience.
“I hope I get an assignment soon,” Carishina said. “I’m ready to travel and see something besides these Mylforsaken windows.” The curse using the goddess’s name sounded odd in her cheerful voice.
“They won’t let you out for a least another twenty years,” I told her.
“Why not? I heard you were sent out at forty-five. I’m older now.”
I shrugged. “The world’s a much more dangerous place now, even to a trained Alma. Dark wizards are the least of our concerns.”
Her lips puckered in displeasure. “I heard there’s a prince in Terius who’s fallen under an evil spell. I want to be the one to rescue him.”
“What did I say about mixing with royalty?” I asked, exasperated. What was the point in telling them my tragic past if they didn’t heed my warnings?
“Oh, Klint,” she said fondly, reaching out to grip my hand. “Just because a relationship didn’t work for you doesn’t mean it won’t work for everybody. Or, maybe your prince was an ass who really didn’t love you at all.”
My mouth fell open. So did Franik’s. Carishina casually went on smiling at me, unaware of how tactless her words had been.
“Klint,” called a voice from behind me. I turned in my seat. Alma Peter leaned through the doorway. “The Alsa Alma would like to speak to you.”
I wrinkled my nose. It’d been awhile since I’d been summoned by the old man. After he’d come to Farlerotna and informed me I was creeping out the current royals, I’d kept my distance. Now, I hoped he had good news for me.
Chapter Two
I FOLLOWED PETER down the marbled hallway, paying no attention to the lavish furnishings on the walls. I’d lived in the pala
ce since the age of five, when my parents had found the Alma mark on my thigh and deposited me here. The splendor faded long ago.
We wound our way up staircases, under archways, over balconies, through gardens, all to get to the Alsa Alma’s office. The leader of the mages insisted his office change locations every day or so. Apparently, it’d moved since Peter had been sent to find me. Finally, we arrived at the well-known doors, newly located outside the dining hall. The elegantly carved blockade was constructed out of Rynce wood, made from the oldest, most magical trees found in the Forest of Helisbar.
As we approached, the doors shuddered, and an eye appeared within one of the ingrained knots. The eye, its iris a deep violet, looked at me for a long moment. Then it shut and became indistinguishable from the other parts of the surrounding wood. The doors swung out, allowing Peter and me to enter.
The massive office dwarfed the single man sitting at a desk in its center. The far walls were nearly out of sight. The ceiling stretched in elegant arches, fading to a single point above us. The side walls, several paces to either side, housed contraptions, potions, books, even a baby dragon. The small reptile let out a flame-filled snort in its sleep.
“Klint,” the Alsa Alma said, his voice wheezy but still enthusiastic. “Come in and have a seat.”
He waved a hand and a chair appeared in front of his desk. I walked forward, noticing Peter heading back to the doors. So, a private audience. Was that good or bad?
I sat down in front of him, discreetly giving him a once over. His white hair—the mark of a very, very old Alma—fanned out around him in waves. It fell to his lower back but looked like it hadn’t been combed in a century. Strands stuck out at odd angles, and a sizable tree branch was buried near his scalp. His face was no better, hidden by an equally scraggly beard. Above the tangled facial hair, beady eyes gave me a once over.
“It’s been a while,” he said.
“It has,” I agreed.
“And, how are you?”
“Fine, Alsa Alma.”
Silence.
I glanced to my right at the dragon still perched atop a shelf. It’d woken from its slumber and currently stretched its tiny wings. As I peered at it, it took to the air, flying in great swoops up to the distant ceiling. Then the creature dove back down toward us, a blur of green scales. At the last moment, it stuck out its wings, slowed, and landed gracefully on the Alsa Alma’s hair branch.
“We received a message,” the Alsa Alma said, reaching up to stroke the dragon’s head. The baby leaned into the touch, sending out a content plume of smoke.
I tore my eyes away from the dragon and focused once again on the Alsa Alma. “From whom?”
“The King of Terius.”
My patience wavered, but I forced it back into place. The Alsa Alma delighted in this sort of game. I had no choice but to play along. “And what did the message contain?”
“They’ve requested an Alma be sent to them, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeated, my voice taking on a slightly sick tone.
“And since you’re the one with the most experience in these matters, I’ve selected you to go.”
My stomach sank. This was not the news I hoped for. Since returning to the Alma Palace twenty years ago, I’d devoted my time to potions in the lower dungeons. I had hoped the Alsa Alma would see my hard work and promote me to a city apothecary. Being in a city had its perks but being transferred to another palace was the last thing I’d wanted.
“But… but…. Wait, did you say Terius? Are you talking about the prince under a dark spell?”
Even under so much hair, the Alsa Alma’s smile was unmistakable. “So, the rumors have started already? Yes, the King’s eldest son, Yarling, has been placed under a spell. The local magician claims to be innocent of the deed, and she doesn’t have the proper skill to repel it. You see, you’re the child’s last hope, Klint.”
“Why me? Carishina said a moment ago that she’d love to go save this prince. Can’t you send her?”
“She doesn’t have the knowledge to deal with something like this. Only you do.”
“So, it’s to do with a potion,” I said, realizing my hard work drove the final nail in my coffin.
The Alsa Alma nodded. “The king has surmised the prince drank some unknown liquid, likely poison. Your expertise on the matter will solve this in no time. So, off you go. There’s a lift waiting at the entrance to take you over.”
I opened my mouth but promptly closed it, my protests unspoken. There was no point in arguing. The Alsa Alma had made his decision, and my opinion on the matter was of no consequence. If I refused, he’d likely bind my magic for a year. Or longer. Not a pretty punishment.
Sighing, I stood. I gave a bow of my head—barely a nod—but the Alsa Alma accepted with one of his own. I went to the door. I reached out my hand and grabbed the brass knob.
“One more thing, Klint.”
I looked over my shoulder and the tiny dragon flew toward me. It landed on my shoulder, sinking its talons into my cotton tunic.
“Please return this little one to its master. He’s the one who delivered the message.”
I nodded again and left.
Chapter Three
AS I ANTICIPATED, Carishina waited by my bedroom door. I had half expected Franik to be there too, but his lack-of-any-and-all-ambition attitude probably kept him away.
I placed my palm on the door’s magical seal and pushed it open. Carishina followed me inside.
“So?” she asked, sinking onto my bed as I went to my wardrobe. “What did the old man say?”
“I’m to rescue a prince from a dark spell.”
She gasped loudly. “Really? The prince from Terius?”
“Yes.” I pulled out shirts by the handful and tossed them behind me.
“But I wanted to save him!”
“I know, and I recommended you for the job.”
“You did?”
I faced her, noticing the hint of pink creeping into her cheeks. “Of course, I did. I knew you’d have far more interest in traipsing off to Terius. But it seems the prince has been poisoned, and my knowledge of potions may help.”
“Oh. I guess you’re the best choice, then.”
“I am not! I don’t want to go at all. I’ve had my fill of dealing with royalty.”
She stood up and approached me. She went to grasp my shoulder when she spied the little dragon perched there. Then, instead of consoling me and easing my discomfort, she fell into a fit of cooing noises and stroking the tiny beast’s head.
“He’s so cute,” she said. “What’s his name?”
I held up my hand to the dragon and his talons moved to grasp my finger. I brought him in front of my face, wanting a better look. He was no taller than my palm, a vibrant green, with a forked tail clasping my thumb. “I don’t know. The Alsa Alma said I had to deliver him back home. He was the messenger who brought the king’s request for help.”
Carishina held up her hand to him and the baby dragon went to her palm. She carried him to the bed and fussed over him, making sure he was comfortable on my pillow. With the two of them distracted, I resumed packing.
I raided my wardrobe and dresser, grabbing everything I could. I had no concept of the current court fashions in Terius so my outfits would likely not fit in. Still, there was a chance I had something suitable, so all of my possessions went into my bag with a flick of my wrist.
Carishina had gone suspiciously quiet, so I glanced at her over my shoulder. She was gone, the dragon curled up on my pillow.
“How’s that for tactless,” I told the dragon. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”
This younger generation of magic users seriously lacked in their manners.
I cast around the room for anything I might have missed. Besides clothes, I packed several books, my set of vials and potion ingredients, chewing mint, lavender soap. Anything else?
“All right, little one,” I told the baby. “We are set to go.”
Outside the front door, no one waited to see us off. The lift, a horseless carriage magicked into flying, waited at the bottom of the steps. I directed my bag atop the carriage, fastening it down with a sticking spell. Glancing over my shoulder one last time, still no one came.
Sighing, I climbed inside the lift.
I slid into the seat, ready to wallow in my misery when I noticed legs opposite me.
Carishina sat there, a bonnet resting atop her green locks, a fine silk gown snuggly covering her up to the chin.
“I—” I began, unsure of what to say. But she beat me to it.
“Up!” she commanded, with a flick of her wrist. The lift took to the air.
“Carishina,” I finally blurted out. “What are you doing? Turn this thing around right now!”
Since she’d initiated the spell, only she could direct its path. The lift would be too vulnerable if just anyone could command it.
“No,” she said, her brows drawing down, her lips thinning to a line. “I’m sick of being passed over for missions.”
“This is not a…. Never mind. The Alsa Alma tasked me with this job. I wish you could have it, but you can’t. There’s no going against his wishes, you know that.”
A spark of fear dashed through her eyes, but the glimmer retreated instantly. “The Alsa Alma won’t even notice I’m gone, Klint. You know that.” She leaned forward and clutched my hand. “This is a chance for me to do something. Can’t you understand?”
I squeezed her fingers. Poor child. “I do, Carishina. I remember feeling the same.” She smiled sweetly, so I rushed on with the brutal truth. “But there are proper channels to go through. Protocols to follow. Dangers and risks to comprehend.” I glanced around us at the lift’s interior. “I mean, have you ever flown one of these before?”
She pulled her hand back, the pout reemerging on her face. “Of course, I have. I’ve been to the Forest of Helisbar several times to collect supplies.” Her eyes grew big and pleading. “Klint, I can help. I can save the prince, I know it!”