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Whisper of Weapons: The Castors of Wrynford Saga, #1
Whisper of Weapons: The Castors of Wrynford Saga, #1
Whisper of Weapons: The Castors of Wrynford Saga, #1
Ebook451 pages6 hoursThe Castors of Wrynford Saga

Whisper of Weapons: The Castors of Wrynford Saga, #1

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If she succeeds, the life of her dreams is within reach. If she fails, she loses everything.

Sixteen-year-old Mella's future among the aristocracy of her medieval city rests on a single test to produce a strong and beautiful animal familiar. However, when she fails to produce any creature at all, she loses everything in one crushing blow.

But then she gets a second chance.

Working with teenagers from the lowliest of places, Mella begins to learn that status isn't everything. With their help, she trains an impressive avian in the shadows and passes her off as her familiar.

She's constantly terrified someone might realize the creature isn't what she seems.

If they're caught, the avian's life will be forfeit and Mella will lose her new friends and the last hope of a future she has left.

If you like cutthroat competitions, medieval settings, and found family, you'll love Whisper of Weapons! 

Grab your copy of Whisper of Weapons today!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 16, 2024
ISBN9781964144023
Whisper of Weapons: The Castors of Wrynford Saga, #1
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    Book preview

    Whisper of Weapons - Savannah J Goins

    Whisper of Weapons

    The Castors of Wrynford Book 1

    Savannah J. Goins

    Mason Mill Publishing House

    Copyright © 2024 by Savannah J. Goins

    Published by Mason Mill Publishing House

    Indianapolis, Indiana

    ISBN: 978-1-964144-02-3

    All rights reserved.

    No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

    This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between characters and situations within to real persons or places are coincidental.

    For more information, bonus scenes, and character art, visit savannahjgoins.com/castorsbonuses

    Cover art by Miblart

    Contents

    1.Mella

    2.Dane

    3.Mella

    4.Selverine

    5.Mella

    6.Acres

    7.Mella

    8.Dane

    9.Acres

    10.Mella

    11.Selverine

    12.Dane

    13.Mella

    14.Acres

    15.Mella

    16.Dane

    17.Selverine

    18.Mella

    19.Acres

    20.Mella

    21.Dane

    22.Acres

    23.Selverine

    24.Mella

    25.Dane

    26.Acres

    27.Mella

    28.Dane

    29.Selverine

    30.Acres

    31.Mella

    32.Acres

    33.Selverine

    34.Dane

    35.Mella

    36.Acres

    37.Mella

    38.Dane

    39.Acres

    40.Selverine

    41.Acres

    42.Selverine

    43.Acres

    44.Dane

    45.Mella

    46.Selverine

    47.Mella

    48.Selverine

    49.Mella

    50.Selverine

    51.Acres

    52.Dane

    53.Mella

    54.Selverine

    55.Mella

    56.Selverine

    57.Dane

    58.Mella

    59.Acres

    60.Mella

    61.Selverine

    62.Acres

    63.Mella

    64.Acres

    65.Selverine

    66.Mella

    67.Dane

    68.Mella

    Epilogue

    Queen Narellen

    Chapter one

    Mella

    Today, I would cast my future. There would certainly be sharp fangs, broad claws, and a furry hug. At least, the potential for a furry hug. The fangs and claws were for sure, though.

    Muscles burned in my legs as I pelted for the coliseum.

    It was almost time.

    And I had to arrive with a few moments to spare or else I’d be walking into the ceremony in a sweaty tunic and trousers.

    I pumped my arms, a faded emerald gown bunched up in one hand and my scythe in the other, racing against time.

    My boots thunked against the cobblestones as the coliseum loomed before me and smaller ramshackle dwellings cast shadows from either side of the road.

    Almost there.

    Swerving to one side, I darted around one of the houses and skidded to a halt. I glanced around. No one.

    Because all of Terrenthyrs is already inside the coliseum! Princess Selverine and the others will be here any moment.

    I tore off the tunic and pulled the gown over my head. Stepping out of my boots, I yanked off the trousers, nearly falling on the ground. What the muck, you stupid pants! I hissed, grappling with the ties behind my back. I cinched and bound them quickly—thanks to the last several years without a ladies’ maid.

    Frowning at the boots, I wished I’d had enough hands to carry my finer pair of shoes. At least the gown would cover them.

    I slid the boots back on and peeked around the house.

    There were still a few moments left.

    A soft breeze cooled my face as I grinned up at the sun.

    I’d made it.

    The rest of my future was still a mystery. But as I kicked my sweaty street clothes behind a half-dead bush and straightened my gown, I smiled despite the missing pearls around the neckline.

    Today I would finally meet the beginning of the rest of my life. The animal companion I’d spent the last six years preparing to cast. The castling who would train and fight and grow to adulthood with me—if we lived that long.

    Gliding gracefully back to the road, I scowled at the house—the type of old-fashioned structure Father, his new wife, and I might be exiled to if I failed to perform well today and over the next eight months.

    No skunking way I’m going to let that happen.

    The sight of their crumbling exteriors and broken beige shutters soured my stomach. But at the far end of the road, the great coliseum rose above it all in its grand, stony glory, covering this outdated side of Polfryth City in its shadow.

    In that arena I would meet my castling and join a strong cohort. Then eight months from now, I’d best the other cohorts with my comrades and claim the prize money and all the perks that accompanied becoming one of this year’s Grand Castors.

    My family’s last chance at salvaging our future thanks to Father’s rapidly declining fortune.

    The heat from my stealthy trek here dissipated, and I shivered in the coliseum’s shadow, my pale hands wrapping tighter around my scythe. My castling weapon’s blade curved just like a giant claw, and the furry-looking stripes I’d spent countless hours etching into the wooden handle felt familiar and comforting under my fingers.

    I’d carved a single word on the handle just under the blade: Magnificence. The name that would belong to the castling I was about to meet. The castling who would ensure my place among the better class.

    I was so close.

    Ahead, a group of Princess Selverine’s colorfully dressed friends—all daughters of the wealthiest families in Terrenthyrs—rounded the corner opposite the coliseum. The summer breeze tossed their various twists, braids, and ties about their shoulders.

    So they’d tied their hair back as well—good. I wouldn’t want my chestnut strands flapping around my face today. I smiled as primly as I could and waved. Hello, Selverine!

    Selverine’s amber eyes landed on me, and she smiled back, throwing a carefree wave my way.

    Yes!

    The invitation to walk with her to the Castling Ceremony was a good sign—the culmination of all my careful attempts to climb past my family’s not-quite-ideal social status. I strolled to meet Selverine and her entourage, hoping the other girls’ dresses didn’t outdo mine by too much.

    I tried to forget the missing pearls. Father had promised to buy me a gown worthy of a castor for the Grand Castors’ ball halfway through the castling year. Something elaborate and gorgeous. I’d look forward to that.

    The sun lingered on Selverine’s tan skin I so often envied as she tucked a loose brown lock behind her ear. Her emerald humming-avian earrings flashed in the sun. Are you ready for the ceremony, Mella?

    I beamed as I fell into step beside her, gripping my scythe in both hands. Very. I can’t wait to meet my castling.

    An exceptionally tall, pale girl with straw-colored hair strode from a ramshackle house up ahead, a crate of rubbish in her arms.

    Yulroe leaned in from behind Selverine and me. Her delicate onyx braids, tamed into a side twist today, tickled my shoulder as she glared across the road. "Look at her. Cleaning just before the ceremony. Must be desperate to supplement a lesser-class income. Probably from a musician family." Yulroe snickered.

    Embarrassing, Selverine agreed, glaring at the tall girl. Or maybe she won’t actually be able to cast at all, and she’ll be left with no profession. That’s more likely than anything, with that plain spear.

    I tried to be critical of her too, but I couldn’t find anything to comment on. I hoped they were wrong, though. I winced as an image of old Trello and Loryce—musicians by trade who’d sworn off playing music to become castors, and then failed at casting. Trello had finally gotten over the embarrassment and landed an apprenticeship at the mill, despite being in his twenties by then. But Loryce—her torn and dirty beggar’s rags flashed through my mind. She’d never gotten past it.

    Failing to cast was not an option.

    Frenna stepped up to my other side as we strode toward the coliseum doors. Her older brother was a member of the cohort who won the last casting competition four months ago. He was guaranteed a place in high society free of financial worries for the rest of his life. I wished that was me.

    No, it would be me.

    Frenna’s fingers swept over her bound auburn curls to disentangle one from the fletching of an arrow in her quiver. I don’t know why that girl even bothers trying. She should just stick to what she was born to and leave the casting to those meant for it.

    Swallowing, I searched for an appropriate topic change. Probably no one here knew my Momma, Father’s first wife, was from a musician family…but if anyone found out…best to keep it to myself as long as possible.

    Frenna launched into a debate with another girl about musician families, and I became extremely interested in anything but that conversation.

    We were almost to it now. Another breeze rustled something in the rubbish box the tall girl had laid at the street. What was that? A fraying length of twine?

    I hung back a step to check, keeping an eye on the others. It wouldn’t do to be caught pilfering garbage, but I just might need those strands later. I plucked the fraying cord from the pile without breaking stride and stuffed it in my pocket. It felt like an old bowstring—it was the right length, too.

    Holy skunks.

    Yes, this would be useful for my illegal little hobby. I’d been worried yesterday when one of my strings had snapped, but now I smiled, giving my new piece of contraband a secret little pat as I looked forward to celebrating alone later today.

    Selverine wrenched open the wide doors into the coliseum and grinned back at us. Ladies, it’s time to meet our futures!

    Chapter two

    Dane

    N ame? a guard droned as I stepped onto the lower of the two elevated stages suspended over the arena.

    Dane Velowinzinger.

    That got a look. His brows drew together as he frowned at my white-blond hair, faded clothes, and too-long last name.

    Sweat slicked my grip on my castling weapon.

    With a nod and a shrug, he returned his gaze to his scroll and passed me.

    Whew. Relieved, I tried to look as haughty and belonging as the others around me who’d be casting today.

    Below my view from the elevated lower stage, layers of stone seating wrapped around the inside of the coliseum from one side of the stages to the other. Nobles in draping robes of rich pomegranate and shimmering silks looked on haughtily from the higher rows, their various castlings perched on their shoulders or seated beside them.

    Beneath them, paupers in patched breeches and threadbare tunics slouched, peering from the shadows of their lower seats, far fewer castlings among them. Everyone from the most successful merchant of Glenmyre to the poorest Wrynford musician had packed themselves into the coliseum today.

    I’d bet a solid month’s pay no one in this audience was from the same city I was.

    Would I be able to pull this off? If the royals found out I’d actually cast Sprinter over a year ago, my flimsy story would crumble like the weapons of criminals they’d shatter for the worst crimes. An enormous boulder hung suspended with rope well above one side of the arena for just that purpose.

    I’d never let them touch Sprinter.

    King Jorros and Queen Narellen sat on the upper stage with their castlings—a polar bear and a huge sea eagle—watching this year’s new castors chat excitedly on the balcony below.

    I winced, fretting again over the unfortunately memorable combination of my strange weapon with my pasty skin and blond hair, as white as the hot popped corn they didn’t seem to have on this continent. But the two-span-long tent peg had saved my life many times, so I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I slid the weapon into its makeshift leather sheath on my belt.

    It was almost time.

    The door opened on the ground floor far below, and a rainbow of well-dressed girls poured in. I glanced over their faces out of habit, knowing my search would be as fruitless now as ever. One of them did have her dark mahogany hair, though. And, wait…I focused on her face again, the brilliant sapphire of her eyes visible even from all the way up here.

    Blinking, I leaned over the railing to watch her advance. Her pale green dress swished with each step toward the stairs.

    It couldn’t be her. Once she reached this level, I would surely be disappointed again. Which was good. Because finding her again on the same day I needed to fake being calm and sixteen and a new castor might be more than I could handle.

    The faces and dresses of the other girls blurred as I peered through them, waiting for the one with striking eyes. And there she was, her hair pulled back from her smiling face, her ocean eyes sparkling.

    It was her.

    Her eyes met mine and everything else disappeared. It was her. She was here. Her gaze skipped over mine—she didn’t recognize me.

    But today, I would finally learn her name.

    Chapter three

    Mella

    We merged with the others on the lower stage. Everyone who had already turned sixteen or would later this year. A few musicians’ sons and daughters like that strikingly tall blonde girl mixed with us better-class citizens. Everyone milled about in little clusters, jabbering excitedly.

    Willova Calentine—a skinny, pale girl with brilliant scarlet hair parted cleanly down the middle and left to hang loose and cumbersome to her waist—stood right behind me. If my castling chose to manifest as the tiger I wanted, I hoped its fur would be close to her hair’s color.

    She wore a richly pleated dress with ornate beading and overly long sleeves. The skirt covered her legs all the way to her shoes. Unlike me, she dressed like this all the time, even though it would be completely useless in a fight. But the Calentines were especially prone to showing off. Hadn’t they been poor, and come into money somehow? They were higher than my family by a lot—even if they hadn’t always been that way.

    The thick belt resting over her hips made her even more intimidating. That and the sheathed cutlass tapping her leg with each nervous shift of her feet. Her green eyes betrayed no emotion.

    Acres Parrianther stood alone with his locs in an untidy bun and a quill pen tucked behind one ear, one throwing star in each hand. Wasn’t he of the better class, too? I couldn’t remember him ever mentioning what business his family was in when we’d been in the same blacksmithing class at the Future Castors’ Academy. I still couldn’t believe he thought he could cast from two weapons rather than one. Of course only one would work and the other would be useless. Unless he mucked it all up and rendered both of them unusable. I really hoped he didn’t fail to cast—he was a nice guy.

    And really, the double throwing stars were striking, their sharp curved points reflecting sunbeams between his dark fingers. I wonder what he could possibly hope to cast with a weapon so small? Between his wiry frame and the minuscule weapons, his castling wouldn’t likely manifest as anything of impressive size.

    Someone laughed warmly, and I stood on my tiptoes to see that it was Kaido.

    Tall, dark, gorgeous Kaido.

    Kaido threw a glance over his shoulder and winked. My heart soared. Please be winking at me! He was too far away to be sure, but maybe I would impress him with my castling.

    I rolled my eyes. Who was I kidding? Kaido, the devastatingly attractive son of one of the king’s advisors, who would inherit an enormous fortune as the only child of such wealthy better-class parents, would never notice me.

    I straightened my dress to keep my wits about me while I waited for my heart to calm the skunk down.

    Of course everyone knew what he would be casting. His whip was coiled on his hip, but we’d all seen the snake head he’d carved into the handle. Not to mention the multiple serpent tattoos winding around his neck and wrists. And maybe other places. I’d heard rumors, but I didn’t know for sure myself.

    Making eyes at Kaido Felzane, I see, Frenna whispered, eyeing me through thick lashes. The red fletching of her arrows stood out over her shoulder.

    Yulroe grinned from a few specks away. Ooh!

    I blushed, avoiding their gazes. I can dream, can’t I?

    Appearing at my other side, Selverine threw an arm around my shoulders. He’s just a bit too better-class for you, don’t you think?

    I scowled at her. At least I’m not pining after my grandmother’s castling just because he’s got wings.

    It was definitely the wrong thing to say. Judging by the cold look Selverine gave me as her arm slid off my shoulders, I wondered how much of a blunder I just made. It wasn’t hard to put together that Selverine wanted to be the second person ever, after Queen Narellen, to cast an avian instead of the usual woodland or plains animal. But it seemed she was more self-conscious about it than I thought.

    You’d do well to watch your mouth, Mella, Selverine hissed in my ear. After all, it’s perfectly within my power to reveal exactly what your birth mother was.

    Blanching, I struggled to control my expression and avoid her eyes. She knows.

    Thank you all for joining us today. King Jorros addressed the crowd with open arms. Beside his empty chair, the snow-white polar bear sat on her haunches, her onyx eyes and nose prominent as they followed his every movement.

    Queen Narellen’s massive sea eagle perched on a stand to her right, looking too big to be real. Selverine’s grandmother had the same beautiful tan skin as Selverine, looked younger than she was, and always wore a kind, wise smile. Just like today. It was too bad Selverine couldn’t be a bit more like her.

    Grimacing at the crowd, I latched on to the first change of topic I could. I’ll never find where my family is sitting in all that.

    Lucky you, Willova mumbled, tucking a rich burgundy strand behind her ear.

    I frowned at the back of her head, unsure whether I’d heard her right.

    The king raised his arms. Today is a day of celebration! Today we welcome to adulthood our sixteen-year-olds as they take their place among us and meet their castlings for the first time!

    The crowd cheered, the bright and shining colors of the richest nobles fading to the darker drab rags of the lesser-class peasants in the lower seats.

    Seats I will never sit in because I won’t muck this up.

    The king looked down on us from the upper stage, gesturing to the wall behind him. Allow me to remind you all to remain in the room behind the stages after the ceremony for your training cohorts to be assigned and your castlings registered. Please do not leave without registering your castling, as harboring an unregistered castling is illegal.

    He eyed each of us as if we were under suspicion, then continued.

    From then on, leather protection over the sharp points on your weapons is required during the first month of training. On Wager Day six months from now, you will return and demonstrate how your fighting skills and those of your castlings have progressed, at which time citizens will be allowed to place bets on the winning cohort and best castor and castling pair. Eight months from today, the cohorts will face off in a Grand Castors’ Tournament, and the winning cohort will receive the prize money and permanent positions with the Terrenthyrs military, including a manor house and a fine monthly income!

    The crowd cheered again, louder and longer, right along with my heart. My cohort would win. Whoever was assigned with me, I would see to it that we trained harder and longer than anyone else. I would save my family’s fortune with my skill and discipline.

    And let’s not forget the Grand Castors’ Ball, held shortly before Wager Day to celebrate the members of the oldest cohort, who have reached retirement and will be replaced by this year’s winners! You’ll receive instructions closer to that time.

    The king laid a hand on his polar bear’s head. Lastly, please remember that a castling call is sacred. No doubt you’ll all know each other’s calls like the back of your hand before long, but except in an extreme emergency, it is never acceptable to take someone else’s weapon and attempt to cast their castling. His stern glare melted into a smile as he raised his arms. Now, shall we begin?

    His voice echoed through the now-silent coliseum. It was time. Beldon Berroman! Please bring your castling weapon to the stage!

    At the front of the line, a tall dark-haired guy who looked far too bulky to be sixteen gripped his mace, swallowed, and took the stairs to the upper stage. He was unfamiliar. Definitely lesser class. Maybe I’d seen him on the drums at a party? Or he could’ve easily been from a different town.

    Beldon! Welcome! King Jorros bellowed, clapping his shoulder. Let’s have a look at your weapon of choice, shall we?

    Silence dominated as the king’s eyes roved over the sinister mace, its span-long handle, and the chain connecting them.

    Then he shouted, "Beldon has forged a mace and chain! The body and spikes of the mace are of a black metal, as is the chain. A light hardwood handle bears the raised appearance of a large animal’s teeth, with prominent canines. Well-carved and smooth to the touch. Smart to use the teeth artfully and practically, as tread for a strong grip!"

    It would be interesting to see how focusing on teeth would suggest what animal his castling manifested as. I’d considered it, but dentition was too similar across species. I hoped the etched stripes would be a clearer suggestion to my castling. It would never be able to change after its first manifestation, so clear and concise indications were the most likely way to cast the tiger I wanted.

    King Jorros slapped Beldon’s back again and returned his mace. Beldon glanced excitedly at someone else on the lower stage—possibly Yulroe? No way she knew this guy—then faced the crowd. Taking a deep breath, he thrust the mace in front of himself, and spoke his casting cry:

    "March forth, my Brawler,

    An unstoppable force,

    Be the tallest, the strongest,

    And the greatest, of course!"

    A shimmering ebony mist whirlwinded from his mace toward the stage, and a moment later a bright pair of eyes peeked out at him from under a tuft of dark fuzz at his feet.

    A baby bear? No…a gorilla?

    Grinning like a fool, Beldon stooped to pick up the creature as it raised its arms, almost like a human baby.

    Brawler was an interesting name choice.

    Selverine smirked and whispered, Brawler? What a dumb name.

    Relieved that she was acting like we were friends again, I shot a knowing look at her and then watched what he’d do next.

    He held the gorilla in one arm and brandished his mace with the other, facing the crowd.

    They cheered and clapped—an excellent start to the ceremony. It must’ve been a long time since Terrenthyrs had seen a gorilla castling. I’d never seen a live one myself and couldn’t remember reading about them in my research.

    King Jorros placed a friendly hand on Beldon’s shoulder and bellowed, Congratulations on your successful casting, Mister Beldon Berroman! He released Beldon and pointed toward the door at the back of the stage. I think we can safely assume he got what he was hoping for!

    Beldon left the stage cradling his gorilla castling, and King Jorros gestured toward the lower stage again. Miss Willova Calentine, please come forward and present your weapon!

    Willova hesitated, breathing deeply, her face expressionless between the curtains of her red hair.

    Good luck, Willova, I whispered.

    She gulped and stepped toward the stairs. Sweat darkened the armpits of her fine dress. She stumbled but quickly righted herself. Someone scoffed in the crowd and…was I mistaken, or did her fingers roll into fists?

    Willova reached the stage and faced the crowd, her cheeks now as red as her hair. Her face remained impassive as she regarded the hundreds of people and their castlings, her fingers now a little too straight at her sides.

    King Jorros greeted her. Willova, welcome.

    She faced him, her eyes downcast, and laid her sheathed cutlass across his open hands.

    The king took up the handle and admired the blade, drawing it partially from its sheath. Beautifully etched fur stripes, I see. And a handle with a similar teeth-shaped grip to that of Mister Beldon’s mace. Well-smithed, Willova. You should be proud.

    Furry stripes? A pang of fear shot through me. Surely she couldn’t be trying for a tiger too. Multiple castlings of the same species were, of course, allowed. But it always looked bad for the person who cast the second in the same ceremony. Of course her last name is alphabetically before mine. Ugh!

    She held out her hand toward King Jorros. Why couldn’t he just hurry up and give it back so we could get this over with? I needed to know what she would cast.

    At last, the king surrendered the weapon. Very well, dear, let’s see your castling!

    Finally!

    Willova faced the crowd again—wind in her scarlet waves and sun throwing sharp shadows around her skinny features—and brandished her cutlass toward the sky.

    "Step forth, my Faultless,

    Perfect and pure,

    Make no mistakes,

    Be always elegant and demure."

    Her voice cracked, and I wrinkled my nose. Demure? What good would that ever be on the battlefield? Pure?

    Black and orange sparkles whirled from the cutlass.

    Oh, skunks.

    A perfect, beautiful tiger cub blinked up at Willova, and for the first time Willova’s face broke into an astonished smile. Her body shook—with joy and relief it seemed, rather than tension—as she knelt to pick up the cub. She held it up to the crowd, eyes darting toward where the grumble had come from earlier.

    Well, skunk it all. She went for the exact same thing as me. And with a cutlass! Surely mine will be bigger at least, since it’ll be coming from a scythe.

    I gripped my scythe tighter and waited for that copycatting caster to get the skunk off stage.

    Very well done, Willova! My congratulations to you, of course. King Jorros bowed as Willova left the stage, her beautiful tiger cub in her arms.

    I squeezed my scythe’s handle harder, my lips flat.

    Next, we have Reenalyn Demensey. Please ascend the stairs, Miss Reenalyn!

    The tall blonde girl from before emerged, blushing but grinning, and walked across the stage with her unornamented spear in hand. She towered over the king by at least half a span. Skunks, how tall was she?

    My…uh…welcome, Reenalyn! Let’s have a look at your spear.

    She surrendered the weapon, and he ran his fingers over it. Several more seconds elapsed than when he’d examined the first two weapons.

    Reenalyn presents an extremely long spear—about eight spans, would you say?

    Yes. Reenalyn nodded, still smiling brightly. Eight spans, seven specks.

    Indeed. The king’s concerned eyes flicked up to Reenalyn’s face and back to the inexcusably plain weapon. And the spear tip seems to be made of gray metal. An interesting choice. And the shaft itself is a dark wood…with no embellishments?

    So…a completely plain weapon? How could she possibly hope to cast her castling of choice if she didn’t mold the weapon with the right artistic embellishments to suggest what form it should take?

    Selverine stared down her nose at the girl. "I’d hate to be her. Frightfully tall. And with a plain, unembellished spear as her castling weapon? How unimaginative."

    A twitter of agreement rolled through the girls around me.

    I wanted to shush them—get them to quiet down before the tall girl heard and got her feelings hurt. She couldn’t help being tall, and more importantly, it would be a huge advantage for her in every fight. But I didn’t feel like being glowered at again. I was finally in Selverine’s inner circle. And I’d already messed up once today.

    Selverine hefted her trident and eyed the sharp tips with a smile. "Three points are better than one, obviously. She must be dull in the head. She’s probably the first in her musician family to try to become a castor. All her time spent playing music for others to listen to and working odd jobs to make tattered ends meet. Not much time for useful things like learning how to fight or forging an actual castling weapon."

    That brought Trello and Loryce back to mind. I shared my meager allowance with them whenever I could. If a castling was the manifestation of the other half of your soul, and you couldn’t bring it out, then what had you done to forfeit such an important part of yourself? Only the most horrible crimes could come at the cost of a part of your soul, so failing to cast must mean you have terrible secrets.

    And no one wanted to be in the company of someone so questionable. Much less give them a job.

    If it was the same for this Reenalyn girl—well, I wished her the best of luck.

    The king paused, squinting up at Reenalyn. Is there anything I’m missing about this…eh…fine spear? His voice strained.

    No, sir. Reenalyn smiled, hands clasped behind her back. You got it all.

    I cocked my head. Was she making fun of the ceremony? Or was Selverine right about her? That being a lesser-class citizen, she’d spent so much time working that she hadn’t had time to improve her weapon?

    King Jorros cleared his throat. Okay then, Miss Reenalyn, please proceed. He gestured for her to step in front of him. She did, then held her spear in one hand and…covered her eyes with the other?

    This girl was weird.

    "Join me, my Cupid,

    Brave and true,

    Surefooted and witty,

    I already love you!"

    You already…what? You don’t just say stuff like that in a castling call! She wasted a whole line saying she already loves her castling?

    The crowd mumbled as a lime-green shimmer poured from Reenalyn’s spear. She squealed and dropped to the ground to retrieve it before I could make out what it was.

    Leaping back up, she held both arms out, palms up. A skinny green lizard rested on her open hands.

    She was excited about that tiny thing? That’s the kind of ridiculous excuse for a castling you get when you don’t embellish your weapon or spend enough time preparing. I’d be so much more successful than this loon, despite Willova’s castling.

    King Jorros congratulated Reenalyn and hurriedly dismissed her, then shouted, Kaido Felzane!

    I perked up. Kaido.

    My tiger must turn out better than Willova’s, or Kaido will surely never notice me.

    I glared at the exit door Willova had disappeared through. She’d really skunked everything up for me.

    Kaido has fashioned a whip! And what do we have here…a fanged serpent carving! And these red markings on the black handle—or is it forest-green? These markings are reminiscent of an anaconda! We’ve not had a snake castling in all the years I can remember. Kaido, my boy, that’s daring. What if the animal you cast isn’t a snake? How will you ever be a true pair of fighters if it forever knows it disappointed you?

    Kaido smiled that stomach-melting, face-heating, slightly uneven smile. I’m feeling pretty confident that nothing will be disappointing about my castling.

    The crowd laughed with him, likely as taken with his confidence as I was.

    The king slapped his shoulder and gestured him forward. Well then, let’s see it!

    Kaido held the whip loosely, as if readying to toss the coils while still holding on to the smooth carved handle, then flicked his wrist and snapped it at the sky.

    "Strike out, my Striker,

    Ferocious and strong,

    May your bite be venom,

    And your tail miles long!"

    An olive-green mist much darker than Reenalyn’s spiraled from the whip into the air and writhed as it took on the form of a snake. Kaido lifted the three- or four-foot-long hatchling serpent from the ground and held it up to the crowd, a cocky grin on his face.

    Well done, Mister Kaido! May I congratulate you on your confidence and daring. It seems to have paid off.

    King Jorros beamed at him and gestured him much more kindly to the exit than he had Reenalyn.

    And next, let’s welcome Princess Selverine Marrandil to the stage!

    Chapter four

    Selverine

    S elverine Merrandil, my dear granddaughter. The king gestured for me to approach the stage as I reduced my scoff to a slight eye roll. I wasn’t his granddaughter, and he’d made it clear that being his queen’s granddaughter didn’t qualify me for any special treatment.

    My fingers twitched, and I wrapped my other hand around them to hide the nervous tic. I would cast an avian, just like my grandmother, and everything would be fine. I would do so much better than

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