The Fate of Crowns (The Fate of Crowns #1) - Rebecca L. Garcia Page 0,1

drowns in the river of your rage. You will lose yourself if you do not learn to control it.”

I wanted to swallow the fury from my expression, but it lingered around my frown, a tell Morgana always picked up on.

“It won’t work unless you’re calm,” she stated.

Her eyes closed, and she wrapped her fingers around mine. She searched through the clutter in my mind. Slowly, she untangled my web of thoughts.

It felt like fire at first—a flame licking through the veins in my arm and traveling to my chest. I wanted to pull away, but the teacup, still in our grasp, grounded me. I needed to know my future. I was a cardboard princess, an empty crown. Pointless. The truth tugged at my heart. My father had never paid much attention to me until today. He had looked at me as if seeing me for the first time since I was a young child. I was a woman now—fifteen and ready for a purpose. Perhaps I would finally be useful to him. I was never going to take the throne. That was my brother’s fate, but I needed one too. I was desperate, and Morgana knew it. She kept me waiting, testing my patience. She did it on purpose, to teach me restraint. It irritated me, but I knew better than to go against her. She could out-stubborn us all.

Sparks flickered under her touch and through my skin. The flame sensation turned to ice, freezing me from the inside. Finally, a wave of serenity washed through me as destiny revealed a message. I couldn’t make it out—Morgana had pulled it from my head before I could—but I sensed something else. A kiss lingered on my lips, but from whom, and what did it have to do with my fate?

Morgana let go, my fingers quivered, and the teacup tumbled from my grip. She stepped back when the china shattered against the uneven ground. Her hands were charred black.

“What happened?”

She exhaled a raspy breath. “Death. I saw death.”

My breath hitched. Broken shards pointed upward at me, and the tea leaves clung to them. Her watery eyes locked onto mine.

“Whose?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

She fished into her deep pocket and pulled out three smooth, gray stones. She flipped them over to reveal their symbols. Running her fingertip along the ridges, she closed her eyes. She shivered, snaking her back up as she did.

“The deaths will mark the beginning.”

I stood, leveling myself with her. “Deaths?” I questioned, noticing the plural. “Of whom? Morgana, what did you see?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t see them, but I know one’s a boy, then another one... in a battle.” Her eyes opened again. The brown in them had turned to the color of smoke. “I see a crown.”

Hairs stood erect on my arms. “What one?”

“The only one that matters.”

***

I walked somberly to the banquet hall, weaving through ancient passageways and long corridors. My confusion from the reading flitted through my mind like a swarm of flies. Blindly, I reached the open doors and reoriented myself. I’d been so lost in thought, I didn’t remember how I got there.

Tables lined both sides of the grand room. I took my seat at the back, away from prying eyes. Shuttered light beamed through the arched windows, making the chandeliers glimmer. Everything about Ash Court shone. The stones on the walls were embedded with millions of tiny crystals. It was enchanting, especially to the visitors. Our home was intended to be a fortress against our enemies, but it also served as a place for dignitaries to stay, rooms solely to entertain. My family and I were the main event, the real-life royals people begged to see. We had to pose for portraits and smile at strangers. I tried my hardest to stay out of the limelight, which was easy when standing next to my brother, André.

I squinted at the window. Fractures of blue light bounced off the diamonds set in my tiara, drawing attention to where I sat. I hated wearing the heavy thing, but Mother insisted. I never did desire to attract those only a crown could entice. I grimaced and held my staff close to my chest. I watched the beady, wanting eyes of noblemen from the tables in front of mine as they stared at my head. Making it a point to look away from them, I clutched the ash wood until my knuckles turned white. Beating magic pulsated through the polished wood and into my hands.