Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws

C
opyright
© 2014 by Jennifer Youngblood and Sandra Poole

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Cover design by Patrick Youngblood

A
sense
of loathing permeated Aalexander as he watched his brother dismantle his opponent’s sword, the metal making a sharp ping on the stone floor that echoed throughout the large, cavernous throne room. The squire fell to his knees, an act of submission that should’ve been enough to end the match, but for Ruben, simple defeat was never enough. The man who was fighting Ruben was a frequent champion of the tournament. This alone would’ve given Ruben cause to dislike him but there was more. The squire was also highly favored of the King—an achievement that was unpardonable in Ruben’s eyes. Aalexander had suspected from the start that the match was a carefully orchestrated demonstration that was being carried out for the King’s benefit. And now he knew that his suspicion was correct. If there were any lingering doubts in the old King’s mind about who should be his successor, Ruben was determined to put them to rest here and now by completely humiliating this squire in front of the nobility of the royal court.

In a flurry of motion, Ruben ripped off his visor and threw it to the floor. He glanced at the King, who was sitting on the throne, his expression carefully masked. Ruben’s black eyes glittered in triumph as he touched the tip of his sword to the squire’s throat, forcing him to his feet. Then in an exaggerated show, Ruben threw down his sword. The implication was clear. He’d bested the squire with the sword, and now he would conquer him with his strength. The two men squared off, but the match ended quickly when Ruben went in for the kill. He side-swept the squire’s leg, sending him spiraling. Before the squire even hit the floor, Ruben was on top of him. Viciously, he yanked the squire’s arm at an awkward angle. The squire yelped in pain as the sickening sound of a bone cracking rent the air. Ruben pushed the squire away from him where he lay moaning and holding his arm. Ruben jumped to his feet, faced the King, and gave him a mocking bow. “As I told thee, father, no one can defeat me.” Ruben scoped the room and thrust out his chest. “Which of you dares to fight me? Come forward!” He looked disdainfully at the fallen squire. “I bested thy champion, and I will best any man who dares to come against me. I am the only one who is fit to be the next king.” He eyed the squires, daring them to come forward. One by one, they lowered their heads and backed away.

“Is this true?” The King’s eyes roved the room, looking for one who would stand up to Ruben. “Is there no one else worthy of the throne?” His eyes fell on Aalexander, and he could sense the disappointment in his father’s eyes when his feet stayed planted where he was. Whereas Ruben was ruthless and strong, Aalexander was leaner and more intellectual. Although he was an accomplished swordsman in his own right, he was no match for Ruben.

Seeing the exchange, Ruben cocked his head and focused his attention on Aalexander. Amusement lit his black eyes, his voice taunting. “Brother, dost thou want to try a hand against me?”

Aalexander only glared at him, causing a jeering laugh to rumble from within Ruben’s barrel chest. “I thought not.”

“Is there no one?” the King repeated. There was a note of sadness in his voice.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. For some inexplicable reason, Aalexander looked across the room to where the minstrels were gathered, watching intently. His eyes met Wisteria’s, the young maiden who’d consumed his thoughts from the moment she stepped foot in the palace. She was a beauty with her slender figure and thick dark hair that cascaded down her back in soft curls, but it was her violet eyes that caught his attention. She seemed to be issuing a silent challenge for him to gather the courage to face his brother. Even though Ruben and Aalexander were twins, they were as different as the daylight and dark. Since Ruben was the firstborn, he assumed that he would one day be king and had reminded Aalexander of it nearly every day for as long as he could remember. Normally, Aalexander avoided direct confrontation with the sadistic monster, but he sensed that this was the moment of truth—the moment where he would either face him head-on or live in subjugation the rest of his life. Furthermore, Ruben’s thirst for power knew no bounds. He was cruel and selfish. If Ruben did become king, the kingdom would suffer greatly. Like it or not, it was up to him to stop Ruben once and for all. No one else was going to. Even from across the room, he could feel Wisteria’s will, bending his to hers. It was so powerful that it was nearly tangible. His feet seemed to have a will of their own as he stepped forward.

Fear lay thick in his throat. His eyes remained fixed on Wisteria as he spoke. “I will fight!” he said, struggling to keep the quiver out of his voice.

Ruben whirled around in surprise. A flash of anger twisted his face. “Very well, brother,” he sneered, picking up his sword.

The King clasped his hands together. “Splendid!”

Aalexander unsheathed his sword and stepped forward as Ruben eyed him coldly. They both went into a crouched position. Ruben was the first to strike, and it was all that Aalexander could do to meet it and hit back. A shiver of panic raced down his spine. Ruben was even stronger than he imagined. He swallowed down the dread and willed himself to drain the emotions. The only chance he had was to focus solely on the task at hand. He concentrated on hitting back with swift smooth strokes.

Surprise flickered in Ruben’s eyes. “Thou art better than I thought, brother.”

Aalexander ignored the compliment. He’d seen Ruben use this tactic before—flattering the opponent long enough to catch him off guard. He used all of his strength to level a hard blow that sent Ruben stumbling backwards. Aalexander didn’t pause to celebrate the small victory but instead stepped forward and charged, his sword slashing through the air and clashing with Ruben’s.

“Very good!” Ruben roared.

Aalexander clanged swords with him again, but this time, Ruben made a swift turn that caused Aalexander to overshoot the target and lose his balance. Before he realized what was happening, Ruben had knocked the sword out of his hand and forced him to his knees.

“My dear brother.” The words came out cold and clipped, and there was not a trace of humanity in Ruben’s midnight eyes.

The fear returned with a vengeance, and along with it the sickening realization that he’d failed. Ruben traced the blade of the sword along Aalexander’s jaw. “The fair-haired, handsome one.” He studied him critically as if he were studying a statue. “I suppose I owe it to you to give you a small memento—in case you ever decide to cross me again.”

It was then that Aalexander knew what Ruben intended to do—scar his face. Dread shuddered through his body. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wisteria step closer. There was a look of raw fury on her face. It kindled the anger in Aalexander. If only he had his sword then he would wipe that cruel smirk off of Ruben’s square face and take what was rightfully his. No sooner had he thought the words than the sword seemed to lift off the ground and fly into his hand. He brought it up swiftly, knocking the sword out of Ruben’s hand. He leapt to his feet and used his sword to force Ruben to his knees.

The look of astonishment on Ruben’s thick face was almost comical. “Thou art forgetting thy place,” he muttered.

“Nay,” Aalexander countered loudly. “For the first time, I am remembering my place. I am a son of the King—and a rightful heir to the throne.”

Ruben’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he lifted an eyebrow. “Shall we have a rematch to see which of us is the best?”

Aalexander laughed lightly. He and Ruben both knew it was a miracle that he’d beaten him. They could fight a hundred more times, and Ruben would most likely win every time, but that was beside the point, for here and now—when it counted the most—Aalexander had won. The knowledge sent a thrill through him. Ruben was no longer invincible. He’d proven that to the entire room but most importantly, he’d proven it to himself, the King, and Ruben.

Ruben moved to stand, but Aalexander jabbed the point of the blade to his throat. “Not so fast!” He looked at the King. “Father, I hereby declare my interest in the throne.”

“That is ridiculous!” Ruben scoffed.

The King chuckled. “Spoken by the one who was beaten by his younger brother.”

Color blotched up Ruben’s meaty neck, and he had a murderous expression on his face.

“Thou hast proven thy point, Aalexander.” The King motioned. “Let thy brother stand.”

Reluctantly, Aalexander lowered his sword. Ruben leapt to his feet and shoved him.

“Enough!” the King’s voice boomed. “Approach the throne.”

The two brothers eyed one another warily before stepping up to the throne.

All eyes were on the King as he sat, thoughtfully stroking his chin. He addressed Ruben first. “Thou art the eldest.”

“Aye, Father,” Ruben answered quickly, giving Aalexander a vindicated look.

The King held up a hand. “But only by a few breaths.”

Ruben’s shoulders fell.

“Thou art strong and fearless—a famed hunter, skilled swordsman, and the mightiest of squires.”

“Aye,” Ruben said, standing up straighter.

“But a king must also show good judgment … compassion.”

“Compassion is for the weak, Father,” Ruben countered.

The King gave Ruben a sharp look. “Do not mistake compassion for weakness.” He looked at Aalexander. “Thou art studious and pensive with patrician features like thy mother. I have often feared that thou wouldst falter on the battlefield, but the courage that you displayed today … Very impressive. Well done.”

“Thank you, Father,” Aalexander said with a nod.

“It would seem that both of my sons are rightful heirs, but there can only be one.” He paused, tapping his fingers on the golden arm rests. “I will send you on a quest. A quest that will be fraught with many dangers. You will need to utilize your every virtue and skill to accomplish this task. Aye,” he mused, speaking mostly to himself. “I am old, and my eyesight is growing dim. I am in need of the Truth Sayer to help me better interpret The Grimm Laws.”

Aalexander knew the real reason his father could no longer read the book—he was losing his hold on the kingdom, and the book was losing faith in him. He doubted that the Truth Sayer would help, but he dared not say as much.

The King turned his attention to the crowd. “Ladies and Gents of the court, I have before me two worthy contenders for the throne. I, King Gregory de Moncier, do hereby declare that I will send my sons forth on a quest to retrieve the Truth Sayer. He who brings it back to me will be the next king.” He raised his scepter in the air for all to see. “It is hereby declared and shall henceforth become law.”

A murmur rustled through the crowd.

Ruben grabbed Aalexander’s arm and muttered in his ear. “Thou hast made an enemy this day, brother.”

A
alexander searched
the castle grounds until he found Wisteria in the gardens. He paused for a moment behind a tree, watching her. She was a vision with her exquisite features and tiny waist. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of her hips, and he wondered how something so dainty could possess such a strong will. Without warning, she turned sharply and stared in his direction. He jumped back behind the tree. Her amused laughter rang through the garden, reminding him of tinkling bells. Then she put a hand on her hip and cocked her head. She motioned with her finger. “Come.”

Hesitantly, he stepped out from behind the tree, embarrassed that she’d caught him watching her. He was almost to her side when she laughed again and took off running, her purple gown flowing out behind her. It only took him a moment to reach her. He caught her arm and whirled her around to face him. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief. His blood quickened as he caught a whiff of the intoxicating floral scent she was wearing. “Wisteria,” he said, his voice going husky. How many nights had he lain awake, dreaming of her? He longed to take her in his arms and smother her with kisses, but he needed answers. Something had happened to him today—something he didn’t understand. He’d felt her presence, almost as if she were lending him strength. It seemed absurd, but it had felt so real. And the sword had leapt into his hand. He’d thought the words, and it had obeyed.

He looked down and realized that she was watching him, an amused smile tugging at her lips. She cut her eyes at the nearby bench. “Shall we?”

They sat down, and he scooted as close to her as propriety would allow. She chuckled and scooted closer to him. “Trying to protect my reputation, are you?”

He felt his face grow flush. He’d never met anyone like Wisteria. There had been plenty of maidens in his past, including Loreena his fiancée by arrangement, but none that consumed him the way Wisteria did. There was something wild and alive about her that had captivated his very soul. He knew instinctively that for him, there would never be anyone else. His eyes went to her full lips that were the color of ripe cherries. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her then and there. Judging by her amused expression, he guessed that she knew what he was thinking. The temptation to take her in his arms was so strong that he clasped his hands together tightly in his lap to keep from making a fool of himself. “About today …”

“You were brave and noble.”

“I was afraid,” he admitted.

“Even the brave feel fear, Aalexander. ‘Tis the true mark of nobility to act in spite of the fear.”

His eyes met hers, and he voiced the thought that had been churning in his mind. “You helped me.”

She looked like she might try and deny it, but then she nodded. “Aye.”

A feverish excitement quivered in his chest. “How?”

She flashed a mysterious smile. “I only kindled the spark, you did the rest. If the courage had not been in you, it would not have worked.”

“But the sword … I thought the words, and it rushed into my hand.”

An uneasy laugh escaped her lips. “Nay, you are only remembering it as such because your adrenaline was flowing.”

He caught her arm. “I know what I saw,” he said firmly, locking eyes with hers. “Magic.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she looked around as if she were afraid someone would hear. “Shh.”