Sterling

By Kieran Wisser

Dedicated to Mom and Grandma, who always had a few Historical Fictions around the house,

Maddy, who read this book three times but never the same version,

Mez, Sen, and Rudy because they're awesome and will be famous someday,

and to Dad, who found me lots of ways to procrastinate on the internet.

Table of ContentsProlog u e .......................................................................................................................................................

1. Eleven Years L a ter ...................................................................................................................................

2. Doing the Dis h es ......................................................................................................................................

3. I’m an I d iot ..............................................................................................................................................

4. Large Families Make f o r Great Fights .....................................................................................................

5. The Ginger M a n .......................................................................................................................................

6. Molly, Corvyn, and m y Hormones ..........................................................................................................

7. I Meet m y Father ......................................................................................................................................

8. The End of my Life as I Knew It .............................................................................................................

9. Angry Fathers ...........................................................................................................................................

10. The Truth A bout Margaret .....................................................................................................................

11. My Best M an ..........................................................................................................................................

12. Oo p s… ...................................................................................................................................................

13. Trou b le ...................................................................................................................................................

14. Knowing W h at to Do .............................................................................................................................

15. Mur d er ....................................................................................................................................................

16. Quiet Ti m e .............................................................................................................................................

17. Captur e d! ................................................................................................................................................

18. Dou b t ......................................................................................................................................................

19. My Trai n ing is Complete .......................................................................................................................

20. Batt l e ......................................................................................................................................................

21. Dea t h ......................................................................................................................................................

22. Corvyn ....................................................................................................................................................

Epilogu e .......................................................................................................................................................

Author's No t es ..............................................................................................................................................

Prologue

Corvyn Laramee

“Hold on, Charlotte, you'll be fine,” I said, panicking. Mother and child, was she supposed to

bleed this much? Where in the hell was the Doctor? She quivered with the fever, body convulsing with

shakes, pale and burning.

I uselessly wiped away sweat with a rag, but even I knew, she was too far gone. This was the

stage, the bleeding stage, no one lived through this. The bandage on her shoulder was already soaked.

“Mummy?”

I looked over to see the girl, practically an infant at five years old, hiding behind the doorway

and peering at her dying mother. “Back to bed, child.”

She glared at me, her irises a murky, watery blue. Perhaps one day she would have proper blue

eyes, like Charlotte. Stamping her foot on the ground, she shouted angrily at me. Sighing and rolling

my eyes, I stood up and walked to the doorway, ready to close the door on the child.

But I stopped when she hid in the shadows from me. She shrank back, trying to look very small.

“Corvyn . . . ” came the call. It was small, and weak, but it was Charlotte's voice. I looked at her

and hurried over, relieved to see that she was no longer shaking. And then it struck me – that look in

her eyes.

When I walked over, she snatched my hand and pulled me down to be closer to her face. “Swear

to me,” she snarled. “Swear that you'll protect her, that you'll watch over her.”

Her voice was so rough and so forceful, this must have been the last of her strength. “Swear it!”

she barked.

“Charlotte, I can't--”

“You don't have a choice. Swear it to me, or the knowledge that you didn't will haunt you for the

rest of your days.”

I looked at the child, a little girl with smooth auburn hair and white skin and a round little nose.

And eyes that reminded me so much of Tabitha . . .

“Well?” she said, shaking me with all the force left in her.

“Yes, yes, I swear,” I relented, not realizing that one day, this burden would be the greatest gift

Charlotte Rose ever gave me.

A hot breath rustled my hair, and she let go of my hand, closed her eyes, and was no more.

Standing up, I opened the window and tied back the curtains, then looked at the door. The girl was still

there. “Your name is Olivia, right?”

She nodded very, very slightly.

I walked over to her and offered her my hand, which she took slowly. “Come. It's late. You

should be in bed.”

“When will mummy wake up?”

Chapter One

Eleven Years Later

When we're little kids we all have imaginary friends. It's part of growing up, to make up a

friend. I think it's even healthy, to a point. Mine had always been a man with shiny wrists and black

hair.

Calm down! He seemed imaginary because I'd never actually met him. But he was very, very

real. I only knew he had black hair, and usually dressed in black, and had shiny things on his wrists,

some kind of bracelet or bracers, probably.

I saw him occasionally, usually a few times a month. Always at a distance, or out of the corner

of my eyes, always watching me.

But tonight, he was the last thing on my mind.

The sun had set, and the party had been on for hours. The moon shined down on the fields as we

made our little pilgrimage out of the house. Someone had cried out, “everyone, outside! Let's go to the

fields!”

That may have been the drinks talking. And, I'll admit, I did have a drink, or two, but everyone

else had way more! Even my five sisters.

Yes, five sisters, six daughters. All adopted. Yes, I know it sounds like a weird hoarding

obsession. Wait until you hear my last name. My mom had always had this fantasy about having a big

family out in a small town, where we'd live on a big piece of land and play outside every summer.

When she couldn't find the right man to make that happen, she decided to make it all happen for

herself. I liked to think she was happy, even when we did stupid things like this.

“Olivia! Let's go, come on, let's dance!”

Emma grabbed my arm and started twirling me around as the music started to play. Random

light from flashlights and car headlights, glow sticks and light-up sneakers. The grasses were high, like

a plush green carpet under feet that were tired already from hours of dancing and running around.

The stars shined over us, their icy white light matching the temperature in the air. It was almost

a romantic night, as the last of the fireflies floated like will o' wisps around the ground and grass and

trees, the dew shimmering with their soft glow.

“Sissy!” she cried, her breath smelling suspicious and her laugh oddly slurred. “Look over

there! Mother and child, he is just . . . gorgeous.”

I giggled as I looked over – then paused.

“Who is he?” I asked, then I turned my face away as he looked at me.

It was him. It was the Black-Haired Man.

This was either really cool, really creepy, or really, really scary. Or really hot, depending on

what you liked.

“He's gorgeous,” sighed Victoria.

When I looked at him again, he seemed . . . calm. He was looking right at me.

He walked up to us, and said, “may I?”

I blushed, taking his hand.

I followed him out to where the other dancers were, where most sort of swayed side to side,

holding hands or shoulders and hugging tightly. “You're too young to be out here,” he said.

“Me? I'm almost 17. What's your name?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters,” I argued.

He chuckled, but didn't say anything. I couldn't really see his face, it was sort of hidden in the

shadows. I felt a raised red mark on his neck, though.

This was weird . . . wasn't it?

In my world, that meant it was exciting and romantic. But there was no way I'd admit that to

Emma.

I rested my head against his chest and listened for the sound of his heartbeat, his hand against

my rusty auburn hair. This was . . . nice.

“Listen to me,” he said softly. “You're not safe here. There's danger.”

“What?” I asked.

“Shh,” he breathed in my ear, and damn my hormones! My heart started to flutter. He looked up

suddenly, then swore under his breath. “Oh hell,” he said aloud. The silver vambraces that came down

over the backs of his hands gleamed in the faint light, as he stood in front of me and looked carefully in

the tree line.

It was a slow, low roaring sound, then a silent pause. No one moved. No one said anything as

they looked out past the trees and into the forest. Flickers of light danced over trunks and made leaves

shimmer. “Is that . . . fire?”

“Fire!” screamed one of the boys.

I found myself being pulled along by the tide of other teens and probably an adult too, being

pulled away back towards the house, and away from the Black-Haired Man. When I turned to look for

him, he had already disappeared.

Waving my arms, my sisters started to gather around me, followed by some other people, a few

friends. “Olivia, we have to get out of here,” said Emma.

“I know,” I said, and I looked around as the smell of smoke started to fill the air.

Back at the house, I heard Eugenie start to wheeze. “Relax!” I answered her, pulling her inhaler

out of my purse. She huffed on it as her friend patted her back lightly. Everyone was scared and no one

knew what to do.

I looked up to see small groups of people starting to drift off and out of the house, and I looked

up at Emma. “We need to get home,” I said. “Mum will find out about this.”

“Don't tell me what to do, Olivia,” she snapped, still way out of it.

“What started the fire?” asked Victoria aloud. All my sisters were around me, all five, and all of

them at varying degrees of sobriety.

I would never, ever drink underage again, and I would definitely not be attending any crazy teen

parties for a long – ever again. Never, ever again. Ever, ever, ever, again.

My head still hurt a bit from last night, and I really wasn't in the mood for being bullied today.

“Olivia! Where's my red sweater!?”

“Do some laundry and maybe you'd know!”

“Olivia! Have you seen my blue t-shirt!?”

“That blue shirt is mine!”

We each had colors. My color was blue. It had always been blue. Ever since I was adopted, it

was blue.

My poor mother sat at the dining room table, on the computer, reading the Elysian Times, her

favorite horribly biased newspaper. She had headphones on, so that meant she was ignoring us.

I looked up from my homework and smiled as I saw him in the tree across the yard. He was

closer than usual, maybe the fire had freaked him out? The Black-Haired Man tended to be kind of like

a wild animal, skittish and silent. What was his name?

Closing my binder, I pushed aside the basket of laundry I had, and I opened the slider door. My

sisters were downstairs in the living room, and I crept out, then walked down the patio and turned the

corner, down the few stairs, and started my way across the yard.

“Um . . . guy?”

I didn't know how else to address him.

Because I’d never done this before.

That's right folks, in eleven years, I'd never once tried to talk to the Black-Haired man. Yeah, I

know, that's stupid, but I'd always either been afraid of him or angry at him for not making the first

move, but maybe last night had . . . changed my mind. I froze at ten yards from the tree. He stayed at

his perch in the tree, not moving. Staring at me.

I took slow steps closer and closer. He didn't move. Maybe he was just as tired of this as I was.

“My name is Olivia,” I called.

He didn't answer right away. Mostly he stared at me as he dropped to the ground.

Eleven years. Eleven years and one embarrassing night of bad judgment boiled down to this

moment right here. My heart fluttered, scared, nervous, excited, and I balled my hands into fists, then

released them, wiggling my fingers.

“Hullo,” he finally said with a nod.

“Why have you been following me all these years?” I demanded, something that threw him off

guard. He crossed his lean muscled arms, wrists wrapped in the same silver guards I'd seen before. I

saw now that they were embellished with beautiful swirling damask-like designs, one centering around

a lion's head, the other a wolf's.

“Well excuse me,” he said. “That's not exactly what I thought our first daytime encounter would

sound like.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Who said I was disappointed?”

“You're not answering my question.”

“You aren't very good at subject change, are you?”

“Answer the damn question!”

His dark eyebrows shot up, and I saw now that his eyes were a beautiful pale purple – no,

violet. His eyes were a pale violet color, streaked through with gold. His sharp jaw worked, then he

smiled. “You're just like I thought you were,” he said. “I was commanded to guard you as a child.”

“But I'm not a child anymore.”

“I can see that.”

“So why are you still here?”

“I couldn't leave.”

“Why?”

“So many questions,” he sighed, leaning against the tree. “I doubt you can really enjoy this as I

do.”

Was he happy? It was hard to tell. Emotion on his face was fast and fleeting, and changed

instantly.

But there was a light in his eyes, a shine there. “My name is Corvyn Laramee.”

“Olivia Gothel.”

“I know who you are,” he said, with a fondness in his voice. “I've been watching you for many

years, Olivia.”

Right. I'd told him my name already, and I'd known that he'd been watching me. Even though it

was a ridiculous creepy stalker thing, I couldn't think of him as a creepy stalker.

“Do you know what caused the fire in the forest?”

“Mm,” he grunted, and I was instantly irritated. “A poor attempt to . . . capture my attentions.”

There was the hint of an accent in his voice, which sounded just like I'd heard in my dreams.

Not dreams, right, not dreams. They really happened. His voice sounded just like I'd

remembered.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, sighing irritably. He made my heart beat too fast, my

thoughts rush around in gibberish. “Watching me for all those years is kind of creepy.”

Corvyn chuckled and nodded. “It is. Yet I did it anyway.”

I smiled. I had to go. But I didn't want to. It was too easy to stare into his eyes and just do that.

Just stare, just get lost, just smile and be happy. So while I should have been freaked out, or maybe

even angry, I was just euphoric. Frustrated, but euphoric nonetheless.

“Ollie!!”

“I have to go,” I said suddenly, turning and darting up the hill and breaking off all hope of him

continuing the conversation. “Erm . . . you will still be here, right?”

“As I have always been.”

He bowed his head, and I turned, hurrying back to the real world while my cheeks burned candy

apple red and my chest fluttered angrily.

Chapter Two

Doing the Dishes

Eugenie was the last to leave, and I watched as she leapt into her friend's car and closed the

door. Finally.

The house all to myself for a few hours. It was a rare thing, peace, and after taking a deep

breath, I turned and walked into the kitchen. The cats lingered around the door, and a man clad in black

stood there. I froze, but he looked up and I panicked!

“Aah!” I shrieked, and Corvyn straightened out, holding his hands up. “It's just me!” he shouted

behind the door. I sighed as I dashed over and pulled it open.

Um, by the way, don't let random men into your house at night. It's actually not a very good

idea. “You scared the living --”

“Watch your mouth,” he warned.

I sighed and watched as he raked his fingers through his shaggy black hair. When he pulled off

his coat, he smelled like sweat and forest. “Ew!” I shouted, even though the smell really wasn't

horrible. Mostly he smelled like himself. “You reek!” I lied. It wasn't really all that bad.

“Well pardon me!”

“Do you ever shower? Actually, do you ever leave?” I asked, suddenly aware that the reason he

was out there all the time was me.

“A few hours, to town, every now and again. I'm not around all the time.”

When he stretched to pull off his sweater, his shirt lifted as well, revealing flat abs and porcelain

white skin, same as his face and hands, but he pulled it back down quickly. “If . . . if you want, you can

shower,” I said, pointing my thumb to the hallway, where the downstairs bathroom was. “I can . . . hold

on,” I said, running into the laundry room, throwing stuff around to find the clean basket of – ah ha!

“Here,” I said, handing him one of the big men's t-shirts we kept around for cleaning and

painting. He took it with a nod and went to the bathroom, and I started cleaning up in the living room

like my mom had asked.

My chest was weighed down with a strange kind of guilt. If I wasn't here, he would be in a

home with his family, or maybe, I dunno, living. Did he have a family? He looked really young.

But why was he here?

'Me' wasn't a good enough reason. There had to be a reason he was supposed to watch over me.

I was walking into the kitchen again when he walked in, drying his hair with my blue towel. I

turned on the sink and started rinsing dishes. Corvyn picked up a dish towel and started drying the

dishes I washed. “I never looked in the house. Well, I saw in lit windows. Like these,” he said, pointing

all around at the panoramic windows to the yard. “But not in a bedroom window.”

“Am I supposed to believe you?”

“I don't know. This is all . . . rather difficult, Olivia. Something . . . something I hadn't planned

on.”

“What did you plan on?” I asked.

“I don't know.”

“Why now?”

“Because you came to me. Because you wanted me. And, perhaps, because I was tired of

watching.”

I dropped the cup and sponge in the sink and turned around, leaning against the counter. He

smelled like lady scented body wash, and had strapped back on those wrist guards. “What are those?” I

asked.

“They're vamguards. One for a Champion, the other awarded to me on knighthood.”

“Why do you talk like that?”

“I'm much older than I look.”

“Why don't you age?”

“I am a Nightling. ”

“Oh.”

One question answered. Nightlings were legendary. They could be compared to light elves in

fantasy books. Or vampires, minus the bloodsucking and the evil. And the cliché. I could see the peek

of a red mark under his collar, and creeping up into his hairline, where it disappeared into a shaggy

black mop badly in need of a trim.

“Why are you here? Why are you 'guarding' me?”

He shrugged. “I could have left a few years ago. My orders were over, and I haven't received

any since. So I stayed.”

“Why were you ordered--”

“I'm not allowed to tell you,” he interrupted abruptly. “I'm sorry . . . I can't tell you. I know I'll

sound like a deranged maniac for that, but I just can't.”

Was it wrong to want to kiss him? Probably.

This was weird! He was my creepy stalker guy! He'd been trailing me for years. He said he

hadn't been looking in the windows, was I supposed to believe him? He probably knew more about me

than I did about myself, watching me ever so vigilantly.

Was I gonna trust him?

I sighed as I decided. I was about to trust him.

“I'm an idiot,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Perhaps – get down!” he shouted, pushing me down by the shoulder. I gasped and fell down, as

he switched off the lights. I heard loud thumping from the deck outside, and Corvyn was beside me in

an instant. “Great . . . ” he muttered.

“What's going on!?”

“Shh!”

“What!?”

“Dammit woman, shut up!”

He pulled me around the island in the center of the kitchen, and pulled me against his chest. His

heart was beating fast, and his every muscle was tensed to pounce, like a cat. My heart had started to

pound too, and I felt like if I had to run, then I'd be screwed.

“Olivia, when I say 'go', you run, and don't look back, do you understand?”

“Why – yeah,” I whispered, then turned and hugged him as I heard the lock on the back door

start to jiggle. My stomach was in my throat, as was my heart, and I felt like I couldn't even stand

because I was shaking so hard.

He clung back to me for a brief second, then pulled me away, and disappeared around the

corner.

I was alone.

My knees came up to my chest, and I held my hands together, peering at the corners of my eyes

and wondering if this is what Corvyn felt he needed to guard me from.

I heard the sounds of a struggle, and, because I'm an idiot, I stood up and ran towards it, turning

the light on.

“Corvyn!” I shouted, as I watched him fighting with a man clad in an all black uniform. He

looked back at me, his violet eyes glinting. “What the hell did I tell you!?” he demanded, as he grabbed

the man and turned him around, holding one hand behind the man's back. He pulled his arm around the

taller man's neck and kicked his knee at an awkward angle, squeezing his neck so that he slumped to

the ground without a sound.

“I told you to stay down!”

“No you didn't!”

“It was implied!” he shouted as he looked around, his hand on my arm.

“You never – what the hell is going on!?”

“Um . . . it's complicated.”

“Really?” I snarled.

We were trapped. Hopelessly, completely, totally trapped. “Oh hell . . . ” muttered Corvyn. “If I

tell you to stay put, will you listen this time?”

“Um, sure, whatever!”

He disappeared again, turning around a corner, and came back with my blue coat. It was too

cold out for that, but it'd have to do. “We're gonna have to fight our way out,” he said.

“What!?”

“Trust me, I'm a professional.”

Suddenly, attackers started to fall, and the sound of their bodies slumping to the ground was a

strange kind of relief. Not much of a relief, but still one.

Corvyn grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door, down the long driveway and pushed me to

Eugenie's black sedan. “Get in,” he ordered sharply, and I did. It didn't occur to me to look back at my

house, but if I'd known it would be the last time I'd see it for 24 hours, I'd have definitely taken one

last, lingering look.

Chapter Three

I'm an Idiot

In the car, I panted, still freaking out but trying to calm down. “What about my mom!? And my

sisters!?”

“They'll be fine. They aren't targets.”

“Why do you sound so reasonable!? You can't sound like that! My house was surrounded by a

bazillion dudes in black outfits!”

He looked pointedly at his own clothes, which were mostly black except for the white t-shirt.

“Could you just tell me what's going on!?”

Corvyn sighed with his hands on the wheel. “I . . . I am not the right man to tell you.”

“Not the right man. Okay, yeah, cool, let's just run with that. Or we could work on the theory

that you have no idea what the hell is going on either!”

He glared at me, his eyes so cold and mean that I shrunk back and slammed against the door.

Turning away suddenly, he focused on the road. I didn't move. He didn't look at me.

“You are very strange, Miss Rose,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“You're a jerk.”

His mouth was pressed into a hard line, and I looked straight forward.

Crossing my arms, I looked out the window and started to panic. But our troubles weren't over

yet.

Corvyn mumbled a swear word, then looked in the rear-view mirror. He sped up, driving way

over the speed limit, not that anyone was around to see it. “Are they following us?” I asked.

“No, it's your mother.”

He turned a quick left, then a right. “You have to take me home--”

“No! No, I can't, it's not safe for you there yet.”

“Dammit Corvyn, give me some answers!”

“I'm working on it!” he snarled back.

I flopped back in my seat, and started to gasp. Tears had started building in my eyes, and I

clamped them shut and swallowed my fear. Corvyn finally slowed down as we neared the city. The

lights poured in through the windows, and not even my favorite place could comfort me. I felt like

there was a weight on my chest, bearing down and crushing me.

“I know this can't be much comfort, from me, but it will be okay. You will be okay.”

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“Somewhere safe, with a friend. Don't worry, they won't hurt you.”

He was trying to sound calm and soothing, but the plain fact was that he wasn't. In fact, his

assurances only freaked me out more. He was doing a bad job of being the cool, assertive hero. He was

just as freaked out as I. Only now, his fear coupled with anger, and a rage that seemed to make his eyes

glow an angry violet.

He turned onto a brightly lit street, and got out of the car. Handing me a cellphone, he said, “call

your mother, tell her you've made sudden plans. Not until we get inside!” he added as I turned the

phone on, and we walked into a hotel.

I don't remember what the hotel lobby looked like, or who I met, or how Corvyn was able to

waltz past the desk. All I know was that I passed out as soon as I saw a bed.

I opened my eyes and sat up, looking around. Sweat made my hair cling to my face, and the sun

streaked in through the windows. I was gasping.

“Is she finally awake?” asked a man.

“Yeah,” breathed a female voice.

I looked around to see a tall dirty blonde woman looking at me. Her olive toned skin contrasted

sharply with her red lipstick, which, altogether, made her look like a supermodel.

“Are you alright?” she asked me, touching my face lightly and staring at me with a maternal

kind of concern.

“Um . . . yeah . . . ” I answered slowly.

“Give her some breathing room, Angel,” said another male voice.

I looked over to see that the first man that had spoken was even taller than Angel, with olive

skin and piercing hazel eyes. His hair was cropped short, and he wore nice clothes, a crisp white shirt

and a pair of gray trousers.

The boy beside him looked no older than 14 or 15, but there was a wisdom in his gray eyes. He

looked like an owl, with shaggy hair a hundred different hues of gray and brown and gold, and pale

white skin.

“Miss,” he said to me.

“Lucas,” the man said softly to the boy.

“I know Elliot,” snapped Lucas. “I can speak to her if I wish.”

Angel smiled and wrinkled her nose at Elliot playfully, and he smiled at her lovingly. There was

a calm in the air, these people had a gentle serenity around them, and even Lucas had an air of the

same, though he had a haughty look in his wise eyes.

“Her eyes are too big and blue,” he noted, and Elliot nodded. “And her hair is auburn, too red.

She's a little . . . portly, as well.”

Lucas continued to make observations, but I ignored him as I stood up, ignoring a shout of

“she's so short!”

Pushing aside filmy curtains, I gasped as I realized I wasn't even in the same city as I had been

last night. “Why am I in Lavonne!?” I shouted, seeing the silhouette of the Edgemont hotel, an art-deco

masterpiece and a famous building here and in the old country.

Lavonne was a much bigger, much cleaner city than Hibernia, where I lived. Hibernia had the

feeling of a city that had started to wear itself out, while the sun shone brightly through the clouds here.

The buildings stood neatly along the streets, classical Georgian style architecture, modeled after the

houses in the old country.

I looked down to the street, and saw Corvyn standing by the entrance. I wasn't sure how I could

pick him out so easily from everyone around him from ten stories away, but his wavy black hair ruffled

in the breeze, and his arms were crossed.

“What's he doing down there?”

“Standing watch no doubt. The old bastard's as hard headed as he is dangerous.”

“He's not dangerous,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He's just . . . different.”

I turned to the kid and the couple. “Now what's going on?” I asked.

“You've been called,” answered Angel, walking up to me with her hands outstretched to take

mine. “Called to join your master in the old country. To fight for your homelands.”

I stared at her blankly, and then realized she was serious. “What!?”

“Damn her eyes, you were not meant to tell her!” shouted Corvyn through the door.

“Hey! I can't help it, she just . . . made me want to tell her the truth! I cannot hide the truth from

one who has been through so much to get here!”

“The homelands are at war, Angeline and this is no time to be sentimental about a little girl!”

“You speak of her as though she were a child, which she is not.”

I listened awkwardly as Elliot cleared his throat and poured me a cup of tea. “So . . . Olivia, is

it? Erm . . . I trust you are not ill? It was . . . rather difficult to wake you this morning.”

“I sleep like a rock,” I told him awkwardly. “I'm kind of notorious for it.”

“Do you play as hard as you sleep?” asked Lucas. “Sports, games and the like?”

“Uh, no, I'm more of the uh, the sitting around, doodling type.”

“Well you certainly aren't lazy. Otherwise you'd be thicker.”

“Lucas!” warned Elliot sternly. “Mind yourself.”

“I was sent to procure the Champion. How am I to know the Champion if I ask her no

questions?”

“You volunteered to go and meet her.”

They talked like they were in an old play, with a reserve I didn't understand. They seemed

comfortable with each other. Why weren't they playing around, why weren't they teasing each other?

Lucas sighed. “Don't look so shocked at our reserve, Miss Rose, obviously a Champion of your

caliber would not understand such silence.”

He sounded arrogant, and in my bad mood, he sounded a lot like was insulting me.

I reached right across the table and slapped him upside his streaky head. His mouth popped

open, and he stared at me like he was shocked. Elliot stared at me, mouth open. The bickering in the

other room stopped. The door opened.

Corvyn walked in and looked around. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Erm . . . Miss Rose . . . she struck Lucas,” explained Elliot.

“He called me low.”

“If you don't want to be insulted then don't open yourself to insult at all,” said Corvyn irritably.

“And you, keep your mouth shut. You know damn well that we need her.”

“This!?” squealed Lucas, standing up, his shaggy hair standing on end. “She can't be the right

person, they've got it wrong.”

I watched as Lucas and Corvyn started arguing, then stood up and slowly crept out of the room.

“You are part of a long, ancient bloodline,” I heard, and I whirled around to see Angel sitting at a table

by the window. She looked pensive as she stared at her teacup, stirring her tea. “Did you know?”

“Um, no. I'm adopted, remember?”

“Of course . . . perhaps one of your family's . . . less than fair traditions.”

“My . . . family?”

“Yes. Erm . . . miss Olivia, I will ensure that you are replaced to your mother and sisters as soon

as possible. But I will not let you go without an explanation as to why you were brought here and what

you were born to.”

I sat across the table from her, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Corvyn, hovering at the

edge of the doorway. He was listening.

“Olivia, your family, the Rose, have long produced strong, valiant Champions. Now, for who

these Champions work is another matter for another day. The point is that you are from a bloodline of

what could be called knights, and their duty is to protect the holdings of the great families. Do you

follow so far?”

I nodded.

“When you were five, you were chosen to be a Champion heir. You were sent away from your

family to make sure that you would not be influenced either way, as well as to keep you safe from those

like the ones who broke into your home last night. And now that you are 16, and old enough to make

such decisions on your own, there will be those who will seek you out to fight for them. Those

attackers last night were one such enemy.”

I asked, “well who am I supposed to be fighting for?”

“Well, Lucas' family, the Stone, would like you on their side. They are a . . . a good family to be

employed to. They are wealthy and powerful, and hold a large tract of land here in New Elysia as well

as a fair portion of it in the Old Country.”

Finally, some answers. And I didn't even have to ask for them now. I couldn't think of any

questions to ask, even though a thousand unanswered ones bounced around in my head.

“I can't be this . . . Champion. Mrs . . . erm . . . ”

“Paridamie. But you will call me Angel.”

“Got it,” I smiled. But it was a half-smile, and Angel knew it. “You want to go home,” she said

knowingly.

“That would be really, really great.”

Angel nodded and her red lips split into a broad, beautiful smile. “Of course. Corvyn!” she

called lightly. “The miss is ready to be taken back. You will take her home and stay with her as you

have before.”

“Understood,” he said plainly, and he walked over to grab his jacket and keys, and I looked at

Angel. “Thank you,” I said.

“No, dearest, thank you. And I promise, Lucas will not be so mean next time,” she added with a

wink. At the edge of her sleeve, I saw a brick red mark stretch down to her fingers.