Blinding Beauty

  Blinding Beauty

  The Becoming Beauty Trilogy, Book Two

  *

  The Classical Kingdoms Collection, Book #2

  Brittany Fichter

  Blinding Beauty: A Retelling of the Princess and the Glass Hill by Brittany Fichter via Smashwords 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. To share this book, please send your friends to Smashwords.com.

  www.BrittanyFichterFiction.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Blinding Beauty / Brittany Fichter. -- 1st ed.

  Edited by Katherine Stephen

  Cover Art and Design by Armin Numanovic

  ISBN: 9781311419590

  To my big little brother, Danny, for always protecting your big sister and threatening to break the legs of any man who broke my heart. I forgive you for stealing my dolls and eating my cookies before I was able to finish decorating them. I now laugh in your general direction for calling me a nerd in high school. Engineers forfeit all rights to call other human beings nerds. Keep on truckin’ and protect that big brain of yours because one day, it might just save the world.

  CHAPTER ONE

  This Queen

  Isa’s weapon lay uselessly on the ground just a few feet away. She threw her hands up to protect her face, but it was too late. The blue flame from Ever’s sword hit her head-on, knocking her across the floor, where her head slammed against the stone tiles with a sharp crack.

  Sheathing his sword, Ever was at her side before the ever worrisome servants could make it to the center of the training room’s large floor. “I’m sorry,” he groaned, gently lifting her head and examining the spot that had struck the ground. “I didn’t mean to make that one so strong.”

  His wife gave him a weak smile, but winced when his fingers found the spot they were looking for, buried at the base of her thick, auburn braid. Pulling off his right glove, Ever placed his hand over the bump that had already begun to rise, releasing just enough power to draw the swelling down. As the blue light rolled back and forth between the knot and his palm, Isa’s breathing evened, and she let out a gust of air.

  “I truly am sorry,” he said again. Isa gave him a genuine smile this time, and as they often did, her large eyes caught him off guard, holding him captive in their midnight depths.

  “It was my fault.” She shook her head and accepted his help in standing. After dusting her clothes off, she went to retrieve her sword. “I don’t know why I keep missing that attack. I see you coming, but I’m too slow to parry.”

  “Your wrist is too stiff.” He moved to stand just behind her so he could put his hand over hers where she gripped the sword’s hilt to show her the proper form.

  Instead of fixing her stance as he demonstrated, however, she turned and leaned in for a kiss, and Ever couldn’t help himself as he bent his head to meet her soft lips. Somewhere behind him, he heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and he smothered a laugh.

  Before his wedding and coronation, the crowd that gathered to watch Everard’s combat practices had generally been large. In those days, as their then-prince took on single, double, even seven or eight opponents sometimes, his spectators would watch in awe. Fathers would point out specific moves to their sons, and the women would whisper about how graceful and strong he was. Everyone agreed they had never seen the like.

  Since his wedding and coronation, however, though he still practiced with his soldiers, the spectators had learned quickly that their king was not shy about flirting with his wife.

  Even during weapons practice.

  “I don’t know what else they think they’re going to see,” Ever had once overheard Garin, the Fortress steward, remark with a chuckle. “It’s only been five months since the wedding. They would do well to let the love birds be.”

  But in truth, Garin and Ever both knew what the spectators wanted to see from their new queen. And as time went on, everyone, Ever included, grew more anxious when it didn’t show. Today had been no exception, and the flirting wasn’t to blame.

  “That’s enough practice for one day.”

  Ever cringed as Gigi’s sharp words drenched the warm moment like a bucket of melted snow. He should have known the exiting footsteps had belonged to one of the kitchen mistress’s spies. Grudgingly, he stepped back to allow Gigi to examine Isa more thoroughly.

  “I thought we discussed this,” Gigi scolded him, lowering her gray brows when she found a rather large bruise on the back of one of Isa’s arms. “What if she were with child? How could this possibly benefit any of you?”

  At this, Isa let out a huff. “We have been through this, and I am not with child. Ever is right. I’m still not very good at defending myself.”

  “Well, you’re done for the day,” the older woman clucked, taking Isa’s sword and handing it to Ever as though it were a dead serpent. “We have to fit you for new gowns.”

  “More? What in the heavens for?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Speaking of which, Ever, Garin needs to see you.”

  Knowing better than to argue, Isa let the matronly woman lead her away, and Ever turned to find his steward smirking at him.

  “You may be king, but that woman orders you about more by the day.”

  “She doesn’t do it in front of the servants.” Ever sheathed his sword. “I can’t see any harm.”

  Garin didn’t argue. Gigi had been more of a mother to Ever than Queen Louise had. Certain liberties were hers for the taking. She had earned them.

  “How was practice?”

  “I thought she would be more in control by now. But she just stagnates.” Ever let out a gusty breath. “She’s so unsure of herself as it is. I just don’t know how to help her.”

  “I remember the day you first discovered your strength.” Garin waved his hand at the servants to open the doors to the king’s study. “You certainly never hesitated to use it.” The glint in his steward’s eye told Ever that he was remembering all the tricks Ever had played on the Fortress staff as a small boy. “You were quite imaginative, if I may say so.”

  “It came so naturally.” Ever shook his head as the doors closed behind them. “I never had the problems she’s having.”

  “There is quite a difference between discovering the Fortress’s strength as a child and discovering it as an adult,” Garin said as he lifted a stack of parchments from Ever’s desk and began rifling through it. “Children accept life as they see it. But Isa has had to face an enormous amount of self-doubt and adversity. Her confidence is still shaky, at best. I know you do not want to hear it, but give her time, Ever. The Fortress knows what it’s doing.”

  Ever placed his hands on his desk and let his head sag, something he never allowed any of his other subjects to see, or even his wife, for that matter.

  “In truth, did any of the other queens struggle this much with their powers?”

  Garin’s eyes grew very old, as they always did when talking about the Fortress’s past. “Let me remind you that many of the queens never even gained the Fortress’s strength at all. The Fortress never saw them fit to carry its power. As for those who did receive and master it, I’ve found it best not t
o compare. The Fortress will teach her in its own time. Her heart must be ready. Now, for other things to talk of.” He handed the stack of parchments to Ever. “I think you’ll find some of today’s reports quite interesting.”

  Ever grinned a bit when he took the papers and noticed their broken wax seals. It was nothing new to Ever for his steward to read his messages first, but Isa’s younger brother, Launce, had once seen it and gawked.

  “When you’ve overseen the Fortress business for a few centuries, you, too, may read the king’s messages,” Ever had told him when he had seen the young man’s astonishment.

  Today, Ever glanced at the first few reports, mostly numbers on taxes and regional crop production. But when he saw the letter from the Lingean king, his heart beat uneasily, and as he read it, he found his gut instinct was right to be worried.

  Everard,

  I fear I have no pleasant tidings to bring you this day. Though you know me as the sort to keep order in my own realm, I have had reports of a most heinous crime committed along our northern border. Indeed, it was so outrageous I would not give it heed until I had seen it with my own eyes.

  Ten of our region’s priests were journeying to a small town that has recently been taken with a terrible illness. It is my understanding that their intentions were to assist the healers. They never reached the town though. The day after they should have arrived in the village, a shepherd found their bodies strewn about in a nearby field.

  I regret requesting your assistance, as it is three days’ journey from your home, but I cannot fathom what kind of monster the murderer must be to cut down ten men appointed by the Maker Himself. If you are at all willing, I implore you to help me solve this mystery. My people are more afraid by the day.

  Your friend and ally,

  Leon Tungsvara of Lingea

  “I want a military contingent to escort two of the Fortress healers to Lingea at once. Have them examine the bodies and bring their findings back to me.”

  “I thought you would find that odd.” Garin’s voice was tight.

  “Ten holy men murdered in one day goes far beyond odd.” No wonder his northern neighbor had reached out to him. No such atrocity had been reported in decades. Garin nodded and went to relay the order as Ever read the next parchment, hoping to find better news. Garin walked back in just as he finished.

  “This one is truly odd.” He waved it at Garin. So that was why Gigi had wanted new dresses for Isa. “Since when do the Cobriens allow outsiders to compete to be the royal successor?”

  “Since now, I suppose.” Garin frowned slightly before smoothing his face. “Does that mean you’re going to find out?”

  “It does. Apparently, we’re going to Cobren.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fit for a Queen

  “Remove the sleeves up to the shoulder,” Gigi instructed the seamstress. “Now replace them with this.” She held up a white roll of sheer lace.

  Isa eyed it suspiciously. “That’s showing quite a bit of skin for a wedding betrothal, isn’t it?”

  “I know you don’t think so, but may I remind you that you are the most powerful queen in the northern kingdoms. It’s only appropriate for the others to see that you are not like the other women.” Gigi nodded once to the seamstress as she pinned the new fabric into place over Isa’s bare arms.

  Isa looked down at her new dress, and in spite of Gigi’s confidence in the daring design, felt all the more self-conscious. To be fair, Isa was a far cry from the crippled woman with a bad ankle and crooked wrist who had hobbled up the Fortress steps the year before. She now stood tall and proud as her etiquette instructors had taught her to. Her once lame wrist and ankle, now healed by the Fortress’s great power, no longer hindered her. But that didn’t mean she was quite ready to be put on display.

  After being healed, Isa had reveled in her new body. She had spent long hours out riding with her husband, practicing archery, learning swordplay, and trying to better understand her new powers as Ever had insisted she do.

  “While being a ruler of the Fortress does provide special strength,” he had told Isa when he had handed her a crossbow for the first time, “it also means many people will see your power. And there will be others that covet it as well. I need to know you won’t be helpless when the time comes that someone tries to test you, to see how far you can be pushed.”

  Happily, Isa had agreed. And in truth, she had enjoyed the training. She just hadn’t noticed until now how tan and hard her lean arms had grown during her many hours in the sun. This new gown made her look almost fierce, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Gigi, however, seemed delighted, despite her great disdain for all of Ever’s activities.

  When the seamstress was finally finished, Isa donned a plainer dress and cloak, and using what little control she had over her powers, she made sure no one saw her as she made her way down to Soudain.

  Destin was full of many cities, but none were as impressive as its capital. Or at least, that’s what Ever said. There were no dirt roads, as Isa heard other cities and villages had. Instead, every street was covered in cobblestones or wooden planks. Lamp posts lit every corner at night, lighted by small boys who ran from corner to corner with tiny flames on long poles.

  Isa inhaled the scent of fresh bread and newly picked herbs as she passed through Soudain’s largest square. People milled about, most moving from stall to stall while others called out their wares to the passersby, but nearly everyone looked content. Since Isa and Ever had broken the Fortress’s curse, harvests were turning out to be been more plentiful than ever, which meant full markets and happy citizens. Isa felt herself relax a little in the familiarity of the setting. It was almost the same sense of belonging she’d had here at one time.

  True nostalgia was impossible, however, for she was suddenly aware of the two guards that flanked her. They weren’t supposed to be visible in their commoners’ clothing, but Isa knew her husband would never truly let her go into town alone anymore. She sighed a little. Perhaps she hadn’t been as stealthy in her exit as she’d thought, just another reminder of how unreliable her powers were becoming. But as she finally reached her destination, she mustered up a smile before walking through the door of the corner mercantile.

  “Isa!” Deline wiped her hands on her work apron and drew her daughter into a strong hug. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. Megane, take over for me while I speak with your sister.”

  They moved through the back door behind the store counter into the main room of the house. Isa exhaled deeply as she sank down onto the long bench beside the table and watched her mother stir whatever was in the kettle over the fire. It was here, with her mother close by and her guards outside where she couldn’t see them, that Isa could truly rest.

  “So,” Deline turned and sat beside Isa, “what is it that you want to tell me?” Isa gave her a wry smile, and her mother laughed. “I know you, love. What’s bothering you?”

  “I’m not sure if bother is the right word...” Isa said slowly, tracing the grain lines in the wooden bench with her finger. “We will soon be setting out for a betrothal ceremony in Cobren. Gigi says the travel itself will take two days, and the festivities could last up to a week, or even longer. Apparently, something about this betrothal ceremony is different from their traditional ones of years past. It will be a lengthy trip.” To her surprise, Isa looked up to see a smile on her mother’s face.

  “Isa, this is exactly what you and your husband need.”

  “Truly?” Isa blinked. “I thought you would be upset. It’s so far away.”

  “I am not saying that I won’t miss you, but I trust your husband to keep you as safe as anyone.”

  At this, Isa had to smile and nod. Ever’s strength wasn’t only known throughout Destin, but all of the northern kingdoms. And he took her safety more seriously than anything else. The guards outside were proof of that. She wouldn’t have been shocked if more were milling about, unseen as well.

  “You need to get away
though, and have some fun,” Deline continued, pulling a lump of bread dough from a basket and beginning to knead it. “You and Ever have been so busy since the wedding, I think some time together will be good for you. You may be king and queen, but you are also newlyweds. The strains on marriage don’t disregard couples just because they’re royal.”

  “I have to admit, it will be nice not to hear the Fortress gossips for a few weeks.” Isa stood up and took the lump of dough from her mother and began to knead it. Sometimes it was nice to have something to pound. They never let her knead dough in the Fortress kitchens.

  “With that, I can’t help you.” Deline let out a short laugh. “All I can tell you is that when the good Maker intends for you to have a child, He will give you one.”

  “You wouldn’t think that from the way people whisper,” Isa grumbled, hitting the dough a little harder than necessary. “You would think it has been five years instead of just five months!”

  Deline stopped stirring the kettle and took Isa’s hands in hers, pulling them away from the bread dough. “What else is wrong?”

  Isa took a deep breath. It was hard to talk with her family about the special strength the Fortress bestowed upon its monarchs. The way it flowed from her soul felt so natural, such a part of her that she didn’t really have words to express what it truly felt like. Or didn’t, as of late.

  “I practiced with Ever today, and it didn’t go well.” She shook her head and glared at the floor. “He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s worried. I just cannot understand what’s wrong with me. It felt like everything fell into place at the wedding, but now I can’t seem to do anything right. I feel like an impostor, like I’m just holding the throne until the true queen appears. I haven’t produced an heir, and my strength refuses to grow, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it!”