Page 4 of A Storm Rises

“Pfft, pretty?” Mateo threw a pebble at Gareth. “Who cares? She is a Stromm.”

Lirien’s attention stayed glued on the small hole he was digging. “I bet she looks like a harpy, but everyone has to say she’s pretty or they’ll be hanged.”

Laughter burst out of them. The kind that eased doubts and worries. Mateo’s heart warmed, and his nerves cooled. He nodded at his friends, then tossed the rock he’d been holding. “Ugly or not, I will show her and all the Stromms soon enough what we Sublanders are made of.”

Mateo, Lirien, and Gareth made their way down the craggy path. They maneuvered the familiar trail with ease, their sharp eyes tweaking and adapting to the darkening sky. Though lowborn, their fae side dominated the three best friends. They were tall and lean with keen senses, athletic prowess, and graceful dexterity.

A large black wolf with a white streak down her back leaped from a prickly brush patch and took her usual place at Mateo’s side. The thin, long tail of a field rat hung from her sharp teeth. Stormshroud bucked her head and toyed with her snack. With one swallow, she gulped it down. Even rats were scarce in the Sublands.

The trio entered Mateo’s modest home. Usually, it bustled with activity, but tonight Mateo found his home empty. Mateo’s father, Manny, wasn’t cooking. His older sister, Camilla, wasn’t reading to his sickly little sister, Floriana. Gareth’s sisters weren’t visiting.

“Where is everyone?” Lirien asked.

Mateo glanced around. “Maybe at the market for more seeds. Floriana’s cough has been getting worse by the day.”

Lirien turned away. His voice trailed off. “We are low too.”

Gareth grunted with a nod. They were low on seeds as well. But nobody’s bowl was lower than Mateo’s and his family’s. Their dismal supply of healing seeds dwindled faster than anyone else’s.

Dim light from the sun’s last remnants filtered through a row of tiny windows set deep within the thick beige stone walls. Blue and purple woven rugs covered the rocky floors. They provided warmth on cool nights and soft padding for bare feet.

With nightfall a blink away, Mateo made his way to the fireplace. He struck a long match from the wooden mantle and used the flickering flame to start a fire. Then, he lit the oil lamps hanging from the walls.

When Mateo finished the last lamp, the back door opened and then closed. Camilla rushed in with little Floriana at her heels. Their small-framed father, Manny, followed. Puffy eyes. Red noses. They had been crying.

Mateo’s gut clenched. “What is it?” His heart pounded like a blind man’s cane. “What happened?”

Little Floriana ran for Mateo and clutched his leg. Tears burst from Camilla’s soft brown eyes. “Oh, Mateo.” She held out a crumpled parchment paper. “It’s awful.” Her hands shook as he snatched the note.

He cleared his throat and read it to himself. The words chilled him to the bone. “No, no, no—this cannot be.”

“What does it say?” Lirien moved closer. With his hand on Mateo’s shoulder, he inspected the note.

Body trembling, Mateo swallowed a huge gulp of stale air and read aloud. “The High King of Faevenly does hereby proclaim by royal decree that the last place finisher in the Summit Range Hunt will earn the penalty of death. There will be no exceptions or excuses. Let it be known far and wide throughout the realm. Signed, High King Sylrik Stromm.”

Silence fell on the room as if everyone had been instantly suffocated. For years, the Sublands’ elders had petitioned for a spot on the hunt. Not only so they could be seen, but in hopes of winning the much-needed rewards as well. Now that the Sublands had joined the hunt, of course the Stromms imposed a death penalty decree. Honor, fairness, and dignity knew no home with the Stromm family.

Camilla gripped Mateo’s arm. “You are not hunting.”

“You are not doing it,” little Floriana cried.

“I agree, Mijo,” his father added and grasped his shoulder. “It is way too dangerous.”

Lirien and Gareth nodded while Stormshroud whimpered at Mateo’s heels.

Mateo stepped away, searching for the right words. He would never back down to highborns or a Stromm. Not now. Not after such an unfair edict from the High King. He turned to face them. “We need those rewards. All of us. So, I am in. No matter what.”

His older sister’s eyes widened. A rigid furrow formed on her smooth forehead. “No!”

“Yes, Camilla. I am competing. I can win. I know it.” He shook the note in front of her. “They will not get the satisfaction of taking me out of the hunt. I am sick of being controlled!” He crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the flickering flames of the fireplace. “Aren’t you?”

His father shuffled closer. “Of course, she is. We all are. But Mijo, this is different.” His shoulders slumped as his voice lowered to a whisper. “This is your life.”

“Life?” He almost laughed. “It is always about life here in the Sublands. You know that. Mother’s life and—” Floriana grasped his leg harder, and he held his tongue. He didn’t want her to know how desperately he worried about her health.

His father waved him off. “Enough, enough.”

A full-blooded human, Mateo’s father came to Faevenly during the Strong era after he and his best friend Julio found a portal. He liked the realm so much he decided to stay. Without the potion he sipped daily from the mysterious healer Lady Sonia, Manny would’ve departed this life for the Passing Place decades ago.

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