Page 27 of A Storm Rises

She turned to see Eiric’s eyes boring a hole through Mateo. Eiric had no claim over her, though he sure acted like he did. Before she could decline his request, Mateo dropped her hand. He released her waist. “Thank you for the dance.” His head tipped, and then he bowed. “It was my privilege to learn from a princess.”

Mateo couldn’t leave the gaudy ballroom fast enough. Filled with wealth and oozing with opulence, it was no place for him. The sneers and side glances from the crowd confirmed it. Grabbing two glasses of bubbling drink from a silver tray, he downed the liquid as he exited the palace and marched to the wing where he was staying. Tossing the empty glasses in the shrubs, he bounded up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and headed toward his bedchamber.

When Avalynn had entered the ballroom, she appeared like sunlight filling a room, dazzling. Smooth, flawless skin and long, lustrous midnight hair. He had taken in every inch of her face, neck, and shoulders until settling on where his eyes did not belong. But then he noticed Eiric Lind of Cuesta holding her hand.

He had no claim or right to the princess. Who cared that she walked in with Eiric? He did, that’s who, and he could not help himself.

He had turned away, but it only took her two minutes before she was batting her eyelashes in front of him, asking him for a dance. He knew she was playing a game, but went along. And then she suggested an alliance. She must have thought him a fool. He would never believe that she truly wanted to work with him, a lowborn. As if he would trust the highborn ice princess at all. He knew better.

But then something else happened… Something odd and entirely out of his control…like the force of the moon toward the shining sun. With each movement, an unspoken attraction found them. Everything about her pulled him toward her. Her floral scent, her magnetic touch, and her sweet breath. He could have kissed her in that moment, even if it meant being struck down by the Stromm witch. He would have dared it. But Eiric tapping her shoulder took that away.

Good thing because it wasn’t real.

He flung the bedchamber door open when a hand clutched his arm and pulled him in. Rhyka stood next to Lady Verona. She slammed the door behind him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He snatched his arm back and moved away. They were dressed in formal gala attire. Verona in a simple red sheath dress. Rhyka in all black, her flaming hair standing out like a fire in the night. “Why are you in my bedchamber?”

Rhyka pulled back and pressed her finger against her lips. “Lower your voice. Who knows what ears are near.”

Lady Verona stepped forward. “We have received a raven from home.” Her tone hit a serious note. “A message from Camilla.”

Mateo’s concern soared as his stomach dropped. “What message? Is it my family?”

“Poppy has fallen into the Dragon Bellow slumber.” Verona exhaled a long breath. “Manny and Floriana are still conscious but slipping fast.”

A chill raced down his spine. Few survived the deadly slumber. Could little Poppy? The world around him blurred. His family was ‘slipping fast.’ He had no choice but to win the hunt. A heavy and unfair hand gripped his heart. The need for the healing seeds reached a critical point. He had to win and save his family and the Sublands. He lowered himself onto the edge of his bed but couldn’t speak.

Rhyka stepped closer. “With the hunt tomorrow, the hour is nigh for me to finish what I began in the carriage. About your destiny. About the Strong blood running through your veins.” Her diamond eyes flashed with urgency. “Are you ready now?”

A venomous swirl churned in Mateo’s stomach. Ready? He would do anything to save his sister and father and Poppy. “Of course, I’m ready.”

“Good.” Rhyka motioned him to sit on the edge of the bed then stepped closer. “This will not hurt.” She placed her cool palm against his forehead. His ears fell silent as if stuffed with straw. Feeling suddenly weightless, his vision tunneled to black. His body lost all sense of self as he drifted into nothingness. Within seconds, his feet hit solid ground.

“Open your eyes,” Rhyka whispered from within his head. “Go on.”

Mateo cracked open his eyelids. No longer in his palace bedchamber, he stood in a dark, misty place. Rhyka lowered her palm from his head.

“What is this?” He couldn’t see anything but a gray blanket of haze. “Where are we?”

“Keep looking.” Rhyka stepped aside. The mist around them faded.

He was in a cramped bedchamber. A woman in a purple nightgown lay on the bed. With eyes closed, her white-streaked brown hair plastered against her face. Blood stained the white sheets around her legs. A stocky dwarf dressed in all-white maidservant clothing held a swaddled baby. Tears streaked down her face while the baby wailed. Another small maidservant huddled in the corner.

Mateo’s heart skipped a beat. He took two steps back. “What is this?”

“Your birth.” Rhyka pointed at the baby. “That is you.” She pointed at the lifeless woman on the bed. “That is your mother. Princess Gabriela of Strong Haven. You are the son of Gabriela and Leaf. You are the grandson of Princess Celyse and Lord Julio and the great-grandson of High King Rowan and High Queen Anise. You are the last remaining heir of Strong Haven.”

Mateo turned away. He’d heard of those people from history tellings, but he didn’t know them. “I am no Strong.” He knew who he was. “I am Mateo Vela, son of Manny and Faeryn Vela.”

Rhyka’s vision continued as the maid shushed the baby, and the infant’s wails lessened. He glanced over his shoulder at the scene again. A long, dark staff leaned against a marble table. A tall, dark wooden wardrobe chest with intricate flower and leaf carvings took up one wall. A dressing table with vials of silver and gold took up another. He caught his reflection in a circular, gold-framed mirror. Tall, pointed ears, long dark hair and fair skin. He averted his eyes from the woman on the bed. “I look nothing like her,” he seethed between clenched teeth. “I look like my mother, Faeryn Vela.”

Rhyka clapped back. “No. You look like the mate to Princess Gabriela, your father, Leaf of the Sublands.”

Heat rose in his cheeks. He clenched his fists. The veins inside his hands pulsated. “Get me out of here. Now.” He had no reason to stay. He invaded someone’s sacred space. That was not his birth.

Rhyka swooshed her arm. The scene dissolved.

A jerk and a tremble and Mateo was back on the edge of his bed. He snapped to his feet and spat on the floor. “Lies.” He paced his bedchamber, his insides burning like an inferno. “Why are you showing me lies?”

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