1618686836 (F)

Beach of Bones

Empath: Book One

Dawn Peers

A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

Published at Smashwords

ISBN: 978-1-61868-683-1

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-684-8

BEACH OF BONES

Empath Book 1

© 2015 by Dawn Peers

All Rights Reserved

Cover art by Christian Bentulan

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Permuted Press

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Franklin, TN 37067

http://permutedpress.com

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

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46

47

48

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51

52

53

About the Author

1

Sammah had warned her that the hustle of the Great Hall would prove too much. It wasn’t that Quinn hadn’t believed him; she hadn’t
wanted
to believe him. Quinn was tired of being swathed in cloth and kept in the background, when all along she suspected that her adoptive father was simply being over-protective. As one of the scullery boys scurried past with a platter, overburdened with meats, spilling gravy and hot fat to the floor, and forcing Quinn to push herself up against the wall once again to keep out of the way, she began to doubt her reasons for volunteering for the kitchens.

You’re more suited to working alone
were the words Sammah had used, and Quinn had thrown those words in his face, telling Sammah that he was always holding her back, that she wasn’t a child any more. Sammah had tried to reason with her she realised shamefully, the redness rising in her cheeks having nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. A woman near her shouted, waving a heavy iron skillet around in the air. Quinn flinched, wishing she were now anywhere but here. Her heart began to beat painfully against her chest, her breathing coming in rapid, shallow gasps.
Come on, Quinn, you wanted this, you can do it,
she muttered to herself as she approached the head cook. Sweat began to trickle down the back of her neck. She hadn’t even spoken to the woman that would be giving her orders for the evening, but Quinn was already a nervous wreck. She tried to shove that unwanted thought to the back of her mind as she wiped her clammy palms against the itchy smock uniform the chamberlain had told her to wear. The head cook, a visually unassuming woman in her later years, was up ahead bawling orders at anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot. This kitchen served the Great Hall in Everfell, and even without visiting dignitaries from other cities, they would be expected to feed the hundreds of workers, soldiers, and nobles that hung around the court. Quinn’s usual job was to tidy the rooms; to dust, prepare baths, ferry around linen, and generally keep out of sight.

It’s for your own good, Quinn
. Sammah’s words stung her ears. She kept control of herself, biting down the rising panic and focusing on what she needed to do, just as Sammah taught her. She could do this. All she needed to do was serve some plates of food; by the Great God himself, she should be able to cope with this.

“Madam Renner? Ross told me I should report to you.”

Quinn blanched as the slight woman, her skin red with the constant humidity of the kitchen and her eyes shrunken, pinched from years of squinting through clouds of steam, wheeled that pincer gaze around. Madam Renner, the unequivocal matriarch of the kitchens, regarded Quinn with a thinly veiled sneer. Quinn rallied slightly when the woman began to talk; Renner affected a thick accent from the southern states; she had been born and raised in Everfell, and Quinn thought it was silly the woman would make such a pretence for the sake of sounding exotic. “You’re Sammah’s girl, aren’t you?” Renner pronounced the word girl as if it had more vowels than strictly necessary. Quinn nodded anyway, still not trusting her voice. She kept her mind tight, concentrating only on what she had to say to Renner, and the tasks the kitchen master gave her. If she let her concentration slide any further than that….

Renner squinted, her eyes virtually disappearing under the corrugated folds of skin around her forehead and cheeks. “I thought you weren’t allowed in the kitchens, girl?”

“Ross thinks it would be a good experience for me.” Quinn lied smoothly.

“Hmm.” Renner appeared to weigh those words against the reputation Quinn knew already circulated about her among the staff of the Everfell court. She was unstable, the kind ones said. The rest of them said she was simple, a fool; clumsy and good for nothing. Quinn knew that wasn’t the truth; that she couldn’t help what happened to her, not all of the time. Still, she couldn’t explain that to anyone, even if Sammah did let her. Renner waved at her face. Quinn was startled, her legs turning leaden as she panicked about what she was meant to be doing, until the old woman tugged her out of the path of another young girl with a stack of plates so high, she shouldn’t by all rights be able to see where she was going.

“You’re going to have to be more alert if you’re going to work in here, girl.” Renner clucked, her mouth open slightly, as she tried to decide whether Quinn was going to be helpful, or whether Ross was up to another one of his tricks, sending him one of the dullards that worked the castle and the court in the dead of the night just to disrupt her kitchens. Still, a simpleton or not, this girl was Baron Sammah’s daughter, and Renner didn’t want to find herself before
that
man, explaining the reason she had turned his daughter away from Renner’s kitchens and an evening of honest work. “You can work out in the hall tonight. Get used to the way we do things.” Renner stuck out an arm, leaving it outstretched for a few seconds. Quinn frowned, wondering if the woman was pointing for her to go somewhere, until she caught the collar of a boy wandering past. His clothing wasn’t new, and wasn’t even showing signs of a beard, but he wore a dark green tunic with a mustard yellow lining, and that marked him as one of the king’s own pages. This boy was a noble son, though Quinn didn’t know from which house, so she’d have to at least treat him with deference. “Briar, here, is learning how the underside of a castle works, before his grandfather conscripts him to a life of duty in the courts. He will show you what you need to do.”

Quinn gulped and nodded, muttering her thanks, but Renner had already spun away, her thickly acerbic tongue already lashing out at another kitchen lackey. Briar curled his hand in a gesture that meant Quinn should follow him. She did that, mirroring his movements as Briar tucked and turned out of the chaos of the kitchen. They walked rapidly through a wide stone corridor, the ceilings high and the path well-lit by stones in regular sconces. The air was noticeably cooler already, and Quinn was relieved. She would never be able to cope for a full evening in that kitchen, not for one day; never mind a lifetime. The corridor was a back stair from the kitchens direct to the Great Hall, she knew, and they weren’t the only ones using it. Coming past them, back towards the kitchen, was a constant stream of girls and boys, the occasional elder thrown in for difference or pity. They all had their hands full, no one daring to show any signs of fatigue, not daring to go back near the gaze of Renner with anything less than arms bulging with dinnerware. Quinn wondered how they managed to move without tripping. A quick glance at the floor showed her how smooth the flagstones were here, compared to the ones that lined the walls. The feet that trod through these halls knew full well where they were going. It wasn’t worth your hide to make a mistake.