Royal Revolution: Tales of Turin, #1

By A.L. Davroe

Blithe owes everything to Castia. Her health, her power, her position. These gifts come at a price. As Castia's magic apprentice, Blithe must fulfill the duties of Right Hand to her Hexen mentor. Castia's aspirations are high. High enough to overthrow the other eight women who rule over the Pillars of Hexen and become the one true queen of Turin. The results leave Blithe questioning her own humanity and the person she has become, but she has a clear goal in mind -- one that will change her world forever. She just needs a little more time. And a little more power... 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Night Hunter Press
• Release date: Jan 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201501761

A.L. Davroe

A.L. Davroe writes adult and young adult speculative fiction in various popular genres such as science fiction, fantasy, horror, and paranormal romance.

Book preview

Royal Revolution

A Tales of Turin Novelette #1

A.L. Davroe

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Night Hunter Press

Copyright © 2020 by A.L. Davroe

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

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

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Night Hunter Press

New Britain, CT 06053

Edited by Ink it Out Editing Services

Interior design by A.L. Davroe

Cover design by Stella Price, Covers by Stella

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

Chapter one

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The bodies in the pit writhed like fish fresh from the net. Blithe glanced at the man standing beside her. Covered in dust and in need of a shave, he smelled as bad as he looked. His watery brown eyes rolled up to meet hers and he grinned, showing a missing tooth to one side. Well, girlie?

She looked away, back toward the people below. There were far too many and they were far too covered in mud and offal to make any sort of decision. She bit her lip and fingered the two silvers in her pocket.

I don’t have all day, the man pressed.

Eyes narrowing, she said, If you’re going to be rude, I’ll take my business elsewhere.

He straightened, but kept his mouth shut. She went back to examining. She wanted to buy all of them. Bathe them, feed them, clothe them, and set them free. But she didn’t have the power to do that. She was lucky she wasn’t one of them herself.

Did it matter which one she picked?

She had to have a reason, otherwise where was the fairness in choosing? Suddenly, she noticed someone was watching her. From down below. Dark, piercing eyes. Clear, intelligent, intent. Eyes that knew things. Eyes that wanted out.

That one.

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Blithe walked beside the new slave girl. To the other side was Grem, who held the young woman’s chains between his meaty fists. The slave seemed entirely fascinated by him. Most people were intrigued by Grem since he was tall, built like a blacksmith, and had enough copious red hair about his face to make up for the lack of it on the top of his pale head. He stuck out.

Blithe cleared her throat. What are you called?

The girl started and drew her eyes to the front. Her hand went nervously to her neck, clutching at the neckline of her frock. Iren, M’lady.

I’m not your lady. I serve, just as you will. However, our stations are not to be confused. Do you speak the common tongue?

Yes, ma’am.

Blithe nodded to herself. Having servants who understood was always more helpful. Are you learned? What was your station prior to being sold?

I know numbers and my letters, ma’am. I was a nursemaid.

We have no use for nursemaids where we’re going. There are no children, likely there never will be.

The slave lowered her eyes. She seemed the motherly sort—the kind that took great joy in selfless care and nurturing. The kind that Blithe would never be.

You’re to be my mistress’ handmaid, Blithe continued. Doubtless you’ll find this an easy task as she’s much like a child in her own way.

Grem scoffed and the tawny whiskers about his mouth lifted, indicating he was smiling to himself.

The new slave eyed him warily before saying, If I may, ma’am, who is our lady?

Blithe lifted her fingers and examined them. She had blood under her fingernails from her last task. She’d have to correct that. You’re to be staffed at Iron Mount.

The girl stopped short.

Blithe did as well, knowing full well that this was common for everyone following the horrific news of their new post. Though Iron Mount was no longer the seat of the goblin king—the Hexen had procured all the high fae Pillars long ago when they took control of Turin—the fear of the legendary place remained among the common folk. A Hexen’s formidable presence on the throne did nothing to ease such fears. Perhaps if Castia cared a bit more about winning the love of her people. But the aspirations of Blithe’s mistress ran much higher.

She waited, bored as the girl began to struggle against Grem. A few of the townsfolk glanced toward them, but no one came to the girl’s aid as she began screaming and crying for help. No one in The Dell dared. Hell, they