Tira's Retribution

By Gabriella Bradley

Crown Princess Tiraza Azyriah Avalynn Rochmiere, firstborn to the king and queen, does not look forward to her twenty-first birthday. As always, bound to her wheelchair, it would be just another day in her dull existence.

Little does Tira know that she will receive the ultimate birthday present at the stroke of midnight, delivered by a sorcerer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Dec 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781487433758

Book preview

Chapter One

They have no idea that I understand every word they say.

Tira sat in her wheelchair near the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazed at the winter wonderland, the snow-laden mountains, and the grounds that were covered in a pristine white blanket. Oh, how she wished she could go out there to frolic in the snow with the two little dogs she loved so much. They were her best friends, which her nurse, Clari, often put on her lap. They would lick her face, snuggle, and sometimes fall asleep and stay with her a while. She listened to the conversation behind her between Clari and the housekeeper, Muragi.

Tomorrow is her twenty-first birthday. Shouldn’t we do something special? Clari said.

Why? She wouldn’t know the difference anyway, Muragi answered. For the life of me, I don’t understand how she’s made it this far. When she was born, the palace physician who delivered her said she wouldn’t live beyond ten years of age and doubted she would even make it to that. You knew that when you were hired. It was so strange to see a newborn infant open her mouth to cry, but no sound came out. She was like a lifeless doll.

No doctor has seen her since the day she was born, and the doctor who delivered her died the next day. I wonder if the royals will come.

Muragi snorted. They haven’t shown up for any of her other birthdays or even inquire about her. The servants would question a royal visit, so why would they come for this birthday and risk the gossip? In a way, I’m glad she’s still alive. When she dies, that’ll be the end for you and me, too. The king will never let us live since you and I have the knowledge of the biggest royal secret of the century.

I don’t know about her not knowing the difference. When I look into her eyes, it is as if she knows a lot more than you and I think.

Then you see a lot more than I do.

You barely spend any time with her. I’m with her all the time except for when she’s sleeping. I see pain in her eyes, sorrow, and sometimes amusement when she looks at the pups frolicking or watches a funny movie, and sometimes she cries, Clari pointed out. Real tears. That means something makes her sad.

Cries without making a sound. Why do you bother to continue with the therapy and massages? It hasn’t helped in all these years. She’s still a vegetable.

Don’t call her that! You know how I hate it, Clari snapped. I managed to toilet train her. She waits until I place her on the commode. So, there must be some activity in her brain for her to have that knowledge.

It’s the truth. She’s nothing more than a vegetable. The toilet training was and is at least a plus, but probably the result of your hard work and persistence. Like a puppy, you were able to train her. Imagine if you had to change and clean her all the time, like when she was little. Well, I’d best go and see how dinner is progressing.

If nothing else, can you ask cook to bake a special cake for her tomorrow? Clari asked.

I guess. We will at least enjoy it.

The door opened and clicked shut. Tira waited for Clari to wheel her away from the windows. Before dinner, she would have physical therapy, followed by a massage. Clari faithfully had her on the floor four times a day and manipulated her body through a range of motion exercises before breakfast, lunch, dinner, and before going to bed. After each session, a full body massage. Not that any of it had ever helped. Except, it avoided spasticity, according to Clari, who was a chatterbox and who talked all the time while she was applying the therapy.

Tira wished she had the automated wheelchair Clari sometimes talked about. One that she would be able to control using her tongue, with a device to operate a computer and TV. Even though the nurse said she had applied for them, nothing ever came. It wasn’t as if her royal parents couldn’t afford it.

Her parents. She didn’t know them... at all. She knew what they look like because she’d seen them on the news. Or when the king did his Christmas broadcast once a year with the queen by his side. Sometimes her brother, Juantan, younger than her by one year and the future king, appeared with them.

Juantan was vastly different from her. If they stood side by side, they wouldn’t have looked like a brother and sister at all. She had platinum blonde hair and violet eyes, and her brother had brown hair with green eyes. Neither did he resemble her father or mother. Then again, neither did she, really. Her father’s hair was black and his eyes blue, and her mother’s hair was honey-blonde, and her eyes were gray.

What kind of people were they? Did the queen even know that her daughter was alive? The queen always moved like an automaton, her face expressionless, looking like an overpainted mannequin. King Gozanar came across as a stern, angry man. The times Tira had seen him on TV, she had never seen him smile. He was handsome, but there was something about him that was creepy. Each time she saw the royal couple on the screen, shivers ran down her spine. Her brother never smiled either. He did not look like a happy young man, was rather sullen, short in stature, and awkward.

Thinking about her parents and their abandonment of her brought tears to her eyes. She felt them slide down her cheeks.

Clari took the brakes off the wheelchair and straightened. Aw, are you sad? Taking a tissue out of her pocket, she wiped Tira’s cheeks. Time for your exercises, girl.

Inwardly, Tira sighed. They didn’t have a clue. She knew everything, could think, feel, learn, even read, thanks to the programs Clari often put on for her and had done so since she was small. She just couldn’t move at all or speak or even utter one sound. Frequently, when lying awake at night, she would try. She’d open her mouth and do her best to utter a sound. Anything... But nothing ever happened.

Clari lifted her from the wheelchair and laid her gently on the exercise mat. While the nurse went through the motions, Tira thought about her birthday. Twenty-one. How many more years would she live like this, caged within herself? Beyond expectations, she had made it this far, but why? Death would be a welcome relief. Why had the gods allowed it to go on for so long?

But if she died, would Clari and Muragi really be put to death? She loved Clari, who had become almost like a mother to her. Muragi, not so much. The elderly woman had a cold heart and often said nasty things about her. Nevertheless, she didn’t wish death on the housekeeper.

Other than Clari and Muragi, the other servants had no idea she was Crown Princess Tiraza Azyriah Avalynn Rochmiere, firstborn to the king and queen. It was a secret only known to the nurse and the housekeeper. But her true identity meant nothing, as she could never become the queen of Cheirus. Juantan would inherit the crown. To the other servants, she was just an unfortunate young woman, hidden away in the ice region so her rich parents wouldn’t have to deal with and witness her handicaps.

Clari had told her the tale of her birth so often... Twenty-one years ago, the queen had suffered a difficult labor. When she’d finally given birth to Tira, the doctor had given the king the sad news that the baby was defective and would be better off in an institute. Instead, the king had made other arrangements with Muragi, lady-in-waiting to the queen and present at the birthing. She had been promoted to head housekeeper of the estate in the mountains and immediately sent off with the infant. The king had also hired a nurse, Clari, new household staff, a groundskeeper, and two gardeners.

There had been no rejoicing the day of her birth. No trumpets, no bells to announce the arrival of the crown princess, like there probably had been when Juantan was born. The people of Cheirus were told that the baby had died at birth.

The mountain chalet had once been a private getaway for the royals of which no one knew. It became Tira’s prison.

Prison?

Her body was her jail.

Clari picking Tira up and placing her back in her chair, snapped her out of her thoughts. They would go to the dining room now for dinner, as always. Clari placed the chair at the head of the table, and after covering Tira’s chest with a serviette, she sat next to her.

A servant came in carrying a tray with some domed platters on it. The woman set them on the table, removed the domes, then left the room.

Muragi entered, picked up her plate, and began to load it with food. I’m going to eat in my room, she announced and left again.

It was the same routine, day in and day out. After dinner, Clari would give her a bath, dress her in a nightgown, then put her to bed. Tira often wished she could indicate that she didn’t feel like going to bed yet, that she wasn’t a little girl anymore to be put to bed so early. It was frustrating. She’d lie awake for hours with only her thoughts for company before sleep would finally come.

The large clock in the entrance foyer chimed. Tira counted the chimes. Twelve. Midnight... and she was now twenty-one. The last chime had just sounded when another sound resonated throughout the house. She knew it to be the doorbell, even if she had never heard it before. The doorbell? Who would visit at this time of the night? Maybe a mountain climber who is lost? No one ever came to the chalet.

A door opened and shut. Tira heard Muragi’s and a man’s voices but could not hear what they were saying. It sounded like they were arguing, though. Then Muragi was talking to Clari, and it also sounded like a heated conversation.

The nurse came into Tira’s room and turned on a nightlight. Ah, you’re awake. You have a visitor, Tira. I’ll raise the bed.

Footsteps in the hallway preceded Muragi’s