Blakeshire (Insight #9)
Jamie Magee
Chapter One
Drake
Agony. My constant companion. Every battle of wits or arms against the former king Donalt weakens me. Even though he is in ghostly form and withering away with each blow that Landen, Willow, and I throw at him, I still pay the price. He is within me. I can feel him in my veins. His cold claws gripping my soul.
My first thought after this last battle was her. I had to get to her. I had to make sure she was not in any more agony than I witnessed over the past few days. It was clear that Willow’s emotions had been washed away in this last face-off with Donalt’s twisted web of spells, souls, and hearts. If the same were true for her doppelganger, the girl made for me, I had no chance in hell at redemption. Without the emotions deep in her soul whispering to her that she belonged to me, she could easily walk away. Even with the emotions, she had every reason in the world to walk away. I had betrayed her. I had forsaken my kingdom’s queen. Just as Donalt had designed me to do.
I stumbled into my chambers, wanting to hide this weakness from anyone in my court, whether they be friend or foe. No king—or soon to be king—could ever show weakness. Or even humanity. We are meant to be flawless, unchanged by emotions or the wavering shifts of life. We are expected to be balanced at all times.
My soul was screaming at me to just go, to let her see me in this weakened state. That maybe, just maybe if she saw the real me, she would understand that under this royal name and crown I am nothing more than a fragmented, angry, obsessive man.
I collapsed on the floor seconds after I secured the door. I felt my heart hammering in my chest, the cold seeping through my body. I was fighting to stay conscious, fearing if I let go Donalt would finally slip his evil soul into mine.
Right as my eyes closed, I felt someone harshly slap my face, the splash of cool water on my brow, then the harsh scent of ginger under my nose; my mouth was cupped, so I would have no choice but to breathe in. As soon as I took in that deep breath, my eyes flew open.
Zander.
I had very few people I trusted in my life. Zander was one of them. I had known him since I was twelve. He was barely ten when we met. I always took him as a symbol of my humanity and I trusted him implicitly.
One of the first lessons I was taught by Donalt was to be judge and jury. To rule with an iron hand. Zander’s mother was the court’s noted clairvoyant. She had escaped the palace nearly a decade and a half before the day I met Zander. Her whereabouts were given to Donalt by a man who was set to be executed for stealing food. He assumed the information would save his life. He was wrong. Donalt killed him and ordered that his clairvoyant be brought to him.
When she approached the throne, Zander was in tow. He was small for his age, dirty, and clearly terrified. Even though I was young, I did the math. She left to have him. Left to protect him, and that was all for naught at that juncture in time.
Donalt demanded a reading from her. I will never forget the look in her eyes when she stared into the face of the feared king of Esterious. She was calm, balanced, and lingering on her lips was a sinister smile. “Your death is eminent. Your Creator has already replaced you and each of your brothers that have forsaken Him. You will never find all the woven souls He has placed to destroy you.”
She had more to say but was not given the opportunity. An invisible force seized her body, and she suffocated in front of both Zander and me. Donalt ordered me to kill Zander as he left his throne.
I was all alone with him, certain that if I didn’t obey Donalt my fate—and the fate of my parents—would be the same as the fallen clairvoyant.
Zander never trembled as he looked up at me behind the matted hair that hid his face. In a voice that resembled what I imagine angels sound like, he said to me, “When you find her, she will bring fire to seize the ice in your veins.” At the time, I had already lived through more frigid moments than I wanted to. Donalt was already preparing my body for a hostile takeover.
I stood in awe of this fragile boy. I knew he was not telling me this in the hopes that I would spare him. He was telling me because he knew I was just as afraid as he was.
At that moment, like an angel from above, my father, Livingston, arrived. He stoically stood at my side, making no effort to stop me. He and I had never been close. I knew he cared about me, but I didn’t think he cared about me as much as I wanted him to; if he did, he surely would not have let Donalt control me the way he had.
I couldn’t do anything about the actions of my father, but I could control my own. In the kingly voice I was trained to use, I told him to hide Zander and find a body to show Donalt. I walked out of the room without another word.
My father did exactly as I told him to. Hours later, when Donalt returned to his throne he found the body of a boy that had died of sickness dressed in Zander’s clothes. Another lesson Donalt taught me was that every harsh action is to be followed by an act of mercy; therefore, the body of the child was given a royal burial at the clairvoyant’s side. His family was notified as to where he lay. Their beliefs told them that their child was free and now set to be royalty in the next life.
Zander was placed in the care of a servant in Perodine’s wing, a place Donalt would never dare go. I saw him every day that I could get away. I taught him to read, write, and fight. The world of Esterious taught him to be a warrior. He spent most of his time outside of the palace walls with the people I was meant to rule. He was their voice. Through him, I knew exactly where I stood. He was barely seventeen, but his eyes, which were more gray than dark, held a far greater length of time within them.