Cornerstone
If Wishes Were Realities No Man Would Want
The Ones We Know The Best We Hurt The Most
What Once Were One Split Thrice
They're Yours if You'll Have Them
Desperation Breeds Strange Bedfellows
The Friend Of My Friend Is My Enemy
When All Else Fails Blame Family
By Kelly Walker
For my husband,
for being right.
You opened my cage and let me fly.
Copyright © 2012 by Kelly Walker
Published in the United States by Kelly Walker
Version1.2
Cover Design by Kelly Walker
All rights reserved. No portion of this book, whether in print or electronic format, may be duplicated or transmitted without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, names and events are a work of my imagination. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is a coincidence.
This book is provided DRM free for your convenience. You are welcome to make additional copies for use across your own devices within your household. You are not welcome to duplicate it for the purpose of distribution.
PROLOGUE
Lady Valencia Warren's head snapped up as surely as if someone had called her name. Placing her infant daughter in her maid's waiting arms, she hurried to the door.
Valencia didn't bother to grab her cloak before stepping outside; knowing what was coming chilled her more than the cold morning ever could. Her keen gaze searched the hill beyond the estate wall, fighting the wind's determined bid to block her view. Blonde strands whipped across her face as she watched the two small dots, moving purposefully closer, and closer still.
There was no time for fear. As Valencia raced back inside, her maid reappeared, leading Reeve by the hand. The maid's own daughter trailed behind, one sticky hand clinging to her mother's apron. Ignoring the question in her maid's eyes, Valencia took her infant daughter from Mairi's arms, kissing the fine blonde halo of curls on the top of her head. “My hope lies with you,” she whispered. Valencia swallowed hard, nearly choking on the lump forming in her throat as she handed Emariya back to her maid.
Valencia glanced back toward the doorway behind her. She was running out of time. She crouched down in front of her son Reeve, looking him straight in the eye. “I need you to go with Mairi. Be very, very quiet. I am counting on you to protect your sister; do you understand?”
Her son frowned around the thumb lodged between his lips.
With a quick hug, Valencia kissed him on the forehead. Moving without thinking, she led the maid and the three children to the small cellar beneath the kitchens. The little hollowed out recess would be dark, but they would be hidden.
“
Take the children, and by The Three keep them quiet no matter what.” Valencia ushered them into the hole.
“
Milady, who comes?” Mairi's voice quivered.
“
It matters not who comes. Only who survives.”
As soon as they were tucked securely inside, she slid the thin stone across the floor, disguising the entrance. She piled a sack of flour on top of the stone before at last heading back outside.
An ordinary woman would have prayed as she stood stoically on the steps, waiting. If Valencia had been an ordinary woman, the men would not have been coming for her. Valencia was relatively certain she wouldn't live long enough for her son's frightened expression to haunt her.
The heavy brown cloaks that were draped securely around the rider's shoulders wore the dust of many days of travel. Their sun darkened faces were set, steeled against the task before them. Deftly leaping off his horse, the tallest of the men strode toward Lady Valencia. The first rays of sunlight glinted off the circular pin fastened to his cloak.
“
Why?” he said.
Such an ambiguous question, but Valencia didn't ask what he was referring to. Loathing boiled unfettered just below the surface of his shrewd eyes. And fear—there was definitely fear. She could see it easily on the second man. It all but radiated off of him.
“
It was the only way.” Sadness colored her words.
“
Check inside, make sure there are no others. It ends here,” the tall man said over his shoulder. His partner was still sitting uneasily on his small bay mare. At the barked command, he dismounted.
The tall one turned back to Lady Valencia. “You would risk all of us, for what? This?” Anger made his voice hard as he grabbed her by her hair, dragging her inside. She followed as best she could, half standing, half stumbling. Releasing her, he shoved her to the floor near the ancient hearth. He looked up as his partner's footsteps echoed up the stone steps and into the front hall.
“
She's alone.” The second man wouldn't meet her eyes. “The servants must have gone with Oren.”
A small sob escaped from her lips when she heard Oren’s name.
“
I think I saw stables out back—check them. We'll need fresh horses. I'll be along.” His cold eyes bore into hers while the other man made his way out. “Did they tell you what would happen if you came?” He pulled a small steel dagger from a fold in his cloak.
CHAPTER ONE
Truth Or Consequences
A heavy frown stole Emariya's generally pleasant expression as she abandoned the dirt road, leaping into the waist-high weeds to land clear of the horse’s hooves. Even more odd than the unfamiliar horse rushing up the road was the fact that the rider paid Emariya no mind. As the daughter of the Lord of Warren's Rest, Emariya was not accustomed to being ignored.
Emariya could only assume the rider had come to see her brother. With the optimism of a child, she hoped it would be news of her father. With the discernment of a lady, she suspected it wasn't. In the three years since Oren Warren's disappearance, they'd heard no word of him.
The rider probably hadn't identified her as a Warren, considering she looked more like her mother than her father. Emariya couldn't say for sure herself; Lady Valencia died before Emariya's first year feast. Still, most people in Eltar recognized her easily. Her blonde hair was unique, most closely resembling the cream colored locks of the palomino mare she rode when she accompanied her brother to the other estates. Each strand curled in its own way, giving the illusion of a wild mane swirling around her.
As she came around a bend in the road that tied the main estate at Warren's Rest to the little village tucked a short walk from its walls, Emariya spotted Jessa just ahead. Jessa waved as she hustled toward her. Even in a hurry, Jessa didn't have a single strand of red hair out of place; it was braided neatly in simple rows over the crown of her head.
“
Milady! There you are. Your brother is all out of sorts looking for you; it's late to be out here alone,” Jessa scolded as she glanced toward the last traces of the sun, which was dipping beneath the hill that bordered the walls of the estate. She dropped to a more familiar tone, “Riya, come, he's waiting...” She hesitated before adding, “…with the Council.”
Emariya's blue eyes grew wide as she stopped and looked at Jessa. Two years her senior, Jessa was a short pixie of a girl. She barely came up to Emariya's shoulder. “The Council is here?” Emariya asked, making sure she hadn't somehow misunderstood. Eltar was ruled by the Council. Since its inception, the High Seat of the Great Council belonged to the Warrens. Normally it would have been occupied by her father, but now her brother had to sit in his absence.
When the other girl nodded, Emariya took off up the road. The fool who had almost knocked her down must have been a squire for one of the Councilors. Why had the Council gathered, and what did it have to do with her? When she reached the courtyard, she veered toward the great stone columns adorning the entryway of the sprawling manor at the heart of Warren's Rest.
She paused outside the heavy wooden door as she tried to brush the dust off her gown. It wouldn't do for the daughter of Oren Warren to appear unkempt before the Great Council. Like it or not, she must appear to be a proper lady. While the residents near Warren's Rest might be used to seeing her a bit windswept, such carelessness wouldn't do with the Councilors. Emariya was considered the lady of the estate and therefore expected to play hostess.
Time to don your proper lady’s shoes
, she encouraged herself.
The Councilors would be weary after their long rides from their own estates, which were spread throughout Eltar. It was worrisome that they hadn't taken the customary day to rest before assembling in the meeting hall. Whatever the cause for the meeting, it must be urgent.
Emariya shoved aside her annoyance over Reeve not warning her that they were coming. Stalling, she smoothed her skirts with her hand. The dusty green gown she wore was simple and practical, only slightly finer than what a common-born woman would wear. Taking a deep breath, Emariya lifted the heavy iron latch and pushed the door open.
Where Emariya's blonde features and fair skin were bathed in light, Reeve's boasted a mysterious edge. Reeve rose as she entered and addressed the room, saying, “Here she is now.” Crossing the stone floor with his easy, determined stride, he kissed Emariya's cheek. “I was worried,” he said quietly enough that only Emariya could hear. His tone held a slight rebuke. He had been extra cautious, as well as quick to anger lately. Emariya sighed; she hadn't meant to worry him.
Looking around, her eyes took in the six Councilors standing as stiffly as the intricately carved wooden legs of the table in the center of the room. She had never actually been inside a Great Council meeting. Each had risen from their place at the table out of respect. Although each of the men were familiar from the many trips she had taken with both her father and Reeve, her palms grew clammy seeing them all gathered in an official capacity. Emariya glanced backward at the still open door. As tempting as it was to retreat, her curiosity won out. She had to know what brought the Council together.
The flickering candlelight from the sconces on the stone walls made it difficult to judge the Councilors’ expressions. The looks they tried to mask bordered on pity. The way they kept nervously averting their eyes didn't help quell the uneasy feeling brewing deep in Emariya's chest.
