The Tynder Crown Chronicles, Season One: Episode One: The Tynder Crown Chronicles (The Tynder Crown Chronicles, A Novella Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Ouch!” I yelp, moving to the more open space of the cell.

“Are you okay?” Desmond calls out, and I realize he is across from me in another room that mirrors my own. I rush to the bars, and the look on his face only makes me more terrified.

“What’s going on?”

“It sounds like we’re going to be brought before The Council,” he answers.

“Okay, pretend I still have no clue what you’re talking about. Who is this Council?” I huff, trying my best to ignore the pulsing inside my skull.

“It’s like I was telling you before: many things are the way they are because of your grandfather,” Desmond begins. When he talks about him I feel a twisting in the pit of my stomach, and the image of Joe lying on the floor, that expression of pain etched across his onyx face, haunts me.

“Like what?”

“When he inherited the family line—”

“You mean when his dad died,” I state bluntly. How this delightful little treat of an inheritance is passed along is very clear to me now. You only become a freak like me, if the freak before you dies.

“Yes,” Desmond hesitates, then continues with his story. “It used to be that a Royal Magistrate was the investigator, the judge, the jury, and then the executioner, if needed. It was more power than one individual should ever possess. It took some convincing, but The Queen agreed to appoint a Council.”

“There’s a Queen?”

“Yeah, but she’s supposed to be neutral; she rules over both sects, the light and dark Fae. When a Fae reaches the age of knowledge, they’re given a choice to follow a house. There are three houses of light Fae and three houses of dark Fae. A member of each house is appointed to The Council, and then there are Fae who are unable to fit into our society. They’re called the nether Fae, and by our laws, they’re not allowed to use their Fae abilities.”

“So ‘Fae’ is a term you use to include all of these creatures I’ve been seeing.”

“Exactly. And now that you’ve become the Royal Magistrate, your job is to investigate cases that are brought before you. Something seemed off lately. Joe started digging around, sat in on some of the trials and sentencing hearings. The way things had been shaking out didn’t sit well with him. I warned him to be careful of whom he asked questions.”

“Wait, are you saying they killed him for asking too many questions?”

“He must have found something out that scared someone,” Desmond whispers. “There has been a power struggle in the Fae world for hundreds of years, so this is nothing new. But Joe stumbled onto something they needed to keep him quiet about. I just wish he would have told me—told someone.”

I remember all the missed calls before my bath that morning, “I think he was going to.”

“What are you talking about?” Desmond presses his face against the bars.

I reach in my pocket. “My phone, it’s gone.”

“They would have taken it when they took us into custody, why?”

“Joe called me this morning … like, a lot. I had a—” I decide not to reveal my hangover. “I was in the bath. He was trying to reach me, and I never picked up.”

Desmond shakes his head and frantically waves his hands. “He must have known they were after him. He kept saying it was time to tell you about your birth right, but I couldn’t figure out why all of a sudden he was going to burden you with something when we didn’t even know if it was going to affect you. He had to have known somehow you would inherit his ability. How could he—”

“What if I don’t want to be this Magistrate thing?” I ask, biting my lip.

Desmond looks around, as if checking to see if anyone might be listening to our conversation. “You don’t have to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps, not if you don’t want. Nobody would blame you, but there’s something you need to know. If you want out, you’re out all the way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They’ll use a memory eater. You won’t remember me, you won’t remember that Fae even exist, and most of all, you won’t remember that Josiah was murdered.”

“What?” I gasp, narrowing my brow.

“They can’t risk humans knowing about them. You either have to play by their rules, or you’re out entirely. That’s just how it is.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” I whisper.

“Perhaps, unless justice is what you want,” he suggests, standing still now, watching for my reaction.

I shake my head. “How am I supposed to do that?”

He shifts uneasily. “You play along, get in deep, gain people’s trust, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll figure out what Josiah was on to.”

I say nothing as I think about his words.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tynder, but if you want to—”

“All right, that’s enough, you two,” an enormous guard snarls as he approaches. He has the head of a boar, including the two large tusks. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m not sure I will ever get used to seeing these things. He slides the key into Desmond’s door first, moving him forcefully into the dimly lit hallway. I’m next, and I consider resisting, but I have no clue where I am or how to get the hell out of here. “You two have a date with Queen Boru.”

The mention of the name causes me to freeze. My vision comes back to me. The fiery bird and the mental message it sent me: ‘Beware the Boru’s circle.’

“No, that’s not right. I thought we were to go before The Council,” Desmond argues, seemingly frightened.

“Guess things have changed.” The hairy beast laughs, pushing us both forward.

“Let me do the talking,” Desmond whispers.

“What’s going on?” I ask, but Desmond just lowers his head silently and does as the creature commands. I follow.

We’re led up a set of cold and uneven stone steps; perched on the walls are torches. It feels like something straight out of one of the fantasy novels grandfather loved so much. We reach the top of the stairs, and I’m instructed to exit through the large wooden door. In an instant, we’re transported from some medieval dungeon to what I can only describe as a luxurious oasis. The floors glow a bright white; I’ve never seen any material like it. The grand hall we move down barely needs any lighting because of the brilliance that beams naturally all around us, though there are crystal sconces lining the marble walls.

“What is this place?” I whisper as our footsteps echo around us.

“The Royal Palace,” Desmond replies, keeping his answer short.

The guard stops and points in the direction of two massive doors, at least twelve feet in height. “Queen Boru awaits you,” he announces in a low growl.

“Through there?” I ask, apprehensively motioning toward the large doors. My stomach is nervous—I’m experiencing actual butterflies of anxiety—a reaction terribly unlike me. What kind of gorgeous and delicate creature could reside in such an exquisite palace? Perhaps the warning from the bird meant that someone in The Queen’s circle has betrayed her.
Is that what Grandfather discovered? Could this traitor have killed him? Is the bird trying to help me protect this Queen? Is it trying to help me find Joe’s killer?

The guard nods and turns, firmly holding his large axe with two hands. I’m certain from the look of him he will do his job, and we won’t be interrupted. “Ready for this?” Desmond asks.

“Not really,” I reply honestly.

“Don’t be scared. And don’t bring up the throne.”

“Why not?”

“Just trust me; she loves talking about it a little too much,” he replies through gritted teeth.

Before I can say another word, he puts his shoulder into the massive door and pushes it open. Walking into the great hall, the door falls closed behind us. Suddenly I feel Desmond’s hand clasp mine. When his flesh touches me I can sense everything he’s feeling; it’s like a shock wave hitting me, a tidal wave of emotions. He’s afraid—no, terrified. I’m no longer excited to meet this Queen; instead, all I can think about is why this man, who has been like an uncle to me my entire life, is so afraid of this woman.

I look around the room; the ceilings are so high I have to strain my neck to see the peak. The floors still glow, and along the walls are framed oil paintings with many mysterious creatures, each one encased in an ornate gold frame. I’m sure I could spend hours looking at every detail inside the room.

“This must be little Tynder Crown,” I hear a woman say from the far side of the room. Desmond grips my hand tighter as we move closer.

In front of us are a half-dozen gleaming white stairs that lead up to one of the most amazing spectacles I have ever seen. A brilliant white throne with intricate carvings over every inch of the surface.

On either side of the throne are pillars, a flame burning on top of each one. Everything about the room glows, except the woman on the throne. Her alabaster skin is draped in midnight. The dress she wears pools at her feet, and I notice the elaborate shadow-colored stones embroidered all over the garment. A neckpiece rises up around her head, with eight-inch black spikes jutting out from that, as if a halo of terror hovers around her. On one hand she wears a satin glove that climbs up her arm, on the fingertips, black metal claws. The other hand reveals a small peek at her pail flesh; the long and perfectly manicured nails on her slender hands are painted ebony to match the rest of her attire.

“Her hair,” I whisper in astonishment. “She’s beautiful.” The raven-black strands are pulled back into a shimmering bun, hidden beneath the massive crown she wears; what appear to be large glowing opals are set into the face of the crown, as well as into the setting of the necklace around her neck. I am unsure where to look when I peer up at her. I tell myself not to stare, but I can’t look away.

“Tynder,” Desmond nudges me, and motions for me to bow my head.

But I can’t, I’m locked in her gaze, and I can see that she knows that. She licks her black-lipstick-covered mouth as she inspects me, rising elegantly to her feet. I notice she has the slightest hint of fangs peeking from either side of her mouth. Desmond falls to the ground next to me, and tugs persistently at the hem of my jacket. I feel the woman’s eyes on me, waiting to see what I will do. I decide in an instant. She intimidates me, and though she scares the hell out of me, Joe raised me never to take a knee for anyone. I bow at the waist; it’s the most I’m willing to offer this stranger.

“Yes,” I answer at last. “I’m Tynder, granddaughter of Josiah Crown.”

“Thank you, your grace, for honoring us with your presence,” Desmond grovels, and I’m now embarrassed for him.

She flicks one of her metal-clad claw fingertips in his direction. “Silence, you fool. You speak only when you are spoken to.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Desmond quickly replies, lowering his head as close to the ground as he physically can.

She ignores him, descending the stairs and walking over to me. Desmond is practically in a ball on the floor now, I don’t move. She walks a circle around me, looking me up and down.

“You know, your grandfather kept you such a secret for the longest time, I was beginning to think you didn’t exist at all,” the words roll off The Queen’s tongue like silk. She comes to a stop directly in front of me.

“Funny, I could say the same thing about you,” I toss back, determined to show this woman I don’t fear her. I look past her at the throne again. Her eyes follow my gaze.

“Like it?” she asks.

I remember Desmond’s warning not to talk about the item of furniture.

“I’m sorry, like what?”

“Why, my throne, of course,” she begins. “Come, have a seat.”

I don’t move. I watch her as she practically floats back up the stairs and stands next to the massive white masterpiece of craftsmanship. I glance down at Desmond, but he doesn’t budge.

“Come now,” the woman presses. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I narrow my brow.
I’m not afraid. Nothing frightens me,
I tell myself. With a nod, I confidently stride up the stairs, hesitating for only a moment. I take a seat on the throne and run my fingertips along the cool surface; I still can’t figure out what it is made of. At first I thought it was marble, but it’s clear to me now it’s no stone I’ve ever seen. I hear a whimper from Desmond on the floor in response to my sitting.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks me.

“Very,” I answer honestly.

“Eight hundred years ago an army rose up and attempted to seize power from the Boru family. I come from a family of warriors. They slept outside our gates, ready to attack at first light. The army never awoke. My family slaughtered them under the night’s sky, bathing our countryside in their warm blood.” I look up at her as she retells the horrific tale. Her tongue presses against one of the fangs in delight. “We made this throne from their bones. So that no one else would ever forget who they serve.”

I swallow hard, stand, and add “delightful story,” before returning to Desmond’s side.

She offers a tight-lipped smile. “Josiah was a good servant,” she adds at last. “I’m sorry for your loss, and don’t worry, his murderer will swiftly be brought to justice.”

I tilt my head. “You know who it is?”

“No, but our most seasoned Royal Magistrate will be assigned to the task,” she informs me. “As for you…” She turns her head in Desmond’s direction. “You have failed in your job, you understand what this means?”

I see Desmond nod, never lifting his chin. The Queen begins to descend the stairs toward him.

“Wait!” I exclaim, moving between her and the man I have trusted most of my life.

“Yes?” she asks impatiently.

I have to think fast. I have to say something that will keep her from possibly killing him. I’ve lost far too much of my life for one day. And then I know exactly what I must do. “I need him.”

“Excuse me?” she attempts to clarify.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

I wave him off. “I have so much to learn, and I need to learn it quickly. I’ll need an assistant. I need Desmond.”

She narrows her gaze, her brow heavy with distrust. “You mean you plan to carry on your family legacy and be a Royal Magistrate?”

“I think it’s what my grandfather would have wanted,” I lie, then grit my teeth.

She sighs heavily, looking at Desmond, then back at me. “Very well. I’ll instruct The Council to put you on active duty for a probationary term. They’ll monitor you and decide if you’re up to the task.”