Rogue Legacy - Jeffrey L. Kohanek (dark academia books to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Jeffrey L. Kohanek
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“You’re awake,” the girl said with a smile.
“You’re quite observant,” Lyra replied. “Where am I, and who are you?”
“I’m Tirialle and you’re in my father’s castle, of course.”
“Your title is Princess Tirialle,” a woman’s voice noted, “and the Citadel belongs to Kalimar and its king, who happens to be your father.”
Lyra turned toward the voice and found a middle-aged woman seated near another door. With long brown hair pulled tight into a bun, the woman’s steely eyes shifted toward Lyra, her gaze bypassing the spectacles resting near the tip of her nose. The woman stood and smoothed the white apron that covered the front of her black dress.
“I know, Glynnis,” Tirialle rolled her eyes as she settled back into the tub. The girl turned toward Lyra. “You’re name is Lyra, right?”
Lyra nodded.
“Miss Lyra,” Glynnis crossed the room, toward the fireplace. “Let me add some hot water to your tub while you discard that filthy shift.”
The woman donned a pair of leather gloves and removed a steaming kettle from the coals. She turned and poured the hot water into the other copper tub, adding it to the water already within.
Lyra glanced down at her shift and bit her lip, her stomach twisting at the thought of being naked in front of the woman and the girl – especially the girl. Not seeing any way around it, she quickly disrobed and climbed into the tub. She then grabbed the soap cake resting on the table beside the tub, wet it, and began rubbing it on her body until it was covered in white lather.
“I’m happy you’re here, Lyra.” Tirialle smiled, appearing to mean it. “You might not know this, but growing up as the only child in a castle can be quite boring.”
“You’re not the only kid,” Glynnis noted as she settled back into her chair.
“Yes, there is Donte, but he’s four years younger and…he hasn’t been the same since the accident.”
“Donte?” Lyra asked.
“He’s my half-brother.”
“What’s a half-brother?”
“You don’t know? It means he has a different mother, but we both have the same father.”
“Your mother is…okay with that?”
The girl laughed, the sound as appealing as her looks.
“My mother died giving birth to me, so she doesn’t really care…at least, I don’t think she does.”
“I’m sorry she died, Princess.” Lyra’s voice softened. “My mother died the same way. Although I never met her, my father used to tell me stories about her, and how I reminded him of her.”
“I’m sorry for you, too, Lyra.” Tirialle replied in a somber tone before her smile reappeared. “Look at that. We already have something in common.”
Lyra smiled, finding herself unable to dislike the princess.
“By the way, you can call me Tiri. No need for that Princess stuff.” Tirialle rose to her feet. “I need to get ready. Father is leaving soon, and I must see him off.”
Glynnis stood and wrapped a towel around Tirialle. The girl stepped from the tub and walked toward a door, the only one besides the door Lyra had entered through. She turned toward Lyra.
“Don’t be long if you plan to say goodbye. Your friend and Captain Pularus leave with him.”
Lyra watched the girl exit, while Glynnis followed and pulled the door shut behind her. The room suddenly became far less cheery. Cal was leaving.
Released from her father’s embrace, Tirialle stepped back beside Glynnis. “Be well, Father.” The girl appeared radiant in the mid-day sun.
“Don’t worry, Tiri. Captain Pularus and his men will capture Sol Polis in short order.” Tallinor glanced toward Cal. “If the intelligence we’ve gathered is true, the Ministry will have few men to hold the city. Once captured, I’ll ensure the city’s new governance before I return. If all goes well, I’ll be back within a week.”
The girl nodded.
Tallinor turned to Lyra and gave a small smile. “Please remember, the palace is now your home. If you need anything while I’m away, Glynnis can help you.”
With that, Tallinor descended the stairs outside the Citadel walls, toward the ranks of men waiting below. A single carriage hooked to two workhorses waited at the foot of the stairs. Beyond the carriage, soldiers stood ready, arranged in rows six men wide, a hundred men deep. Sensing his gaze on her, Lyra turned toward Cal.
He gave her a sad smile. “I must go.”
She nodded. “I know.”
His gaze shifted down toward her feet. “I wish you the best, Lyra. I...”
Cal stopped mid-speech when Lyra’s arms wrapped about him, her lips pressed against his. After a moment, his stance softened, his arms returning her embrace as he gave himself to the moment. Her head swam with emotion, her heart pounding as she poured her soul into the kiss, praying that it might ignite something within and convince him to stay.
He pulled away and cupped her cheek, using his thumb to dry the tear tracking down. “Be well, Lyra.”
Cal turned and descended the stairs. Lyra wiped her eyes as she watched him climb into Tallinor’s wagon. Garrett walked to the fore of their ranks as the horses kicked into a trot and turned west, down the road leading to the west gate.
“Sun soldiers! Move out!” Garrett and two others led the army down the street, following the king’s carriage.
Lyra remained still, not moving until the last soldier passed beneath the city gate. She expected that the Sun Army would have little issue taking Sol Polis, given that the city was now bereft of men – men pilfered to build The Hand’s monstrous army. No, she wasn’t at all concerned about Garret or Tallinor. Her thoughts focused on Cal as she found herself longing to be with him.
I will see you again, Pascal Fallbrandt. When I do, you’ll not leave me so easily. That’s a promise.
Harman blinked as his Grandmother stood and gathered the empty cups.
“That’s enough for tonight, dear.” Jane announced. “It’s time for bed.”
“But…I…what happens next? Does Lyra find Cal? What’s life like at the palace? What became of Gar and the Tantarri?”
The woman smiled. “See. History can be interesting. However, it will have to wait. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow, but only if you focus on your studies so you’re ready for your entrance exam.”
Harman stood, torn between defeat and the lure of discovering what became of Lyra.
“You promise?”
“I promise, dear.” Jane pointed toward the stairs. “Your grandfather is due back tomorrow evening, and we can finish the story before he arrives. Now, go on and get yourself to bed.”
Harman climbed the stairs and entered his room at the end of the hall. He removed his tunic and breeches before slipping into bed. There he lay, his mind recalling the adventures from his grandmother’s tale. Eventually, sleep overcame him, and he slept peacefully, knowing that he would soon discover what became of Lyra.
Destiny
Harman finished recording the entry in his ledger. He closed the history book, setting it atop the stack piled on his desk before looking
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