Winter Heart, page 1
Winter Heart
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by H.D. Foxe
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission by the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
First e-book edition April 2024
Cover illustration and chapter graphics by K.M. Waters, @spruceink
Divider graphics and fonts courtesy of Canva
Paperback ISBN: 9798769830129
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Winter Heart (Relics of Light, #1)
Pronunciation guide
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
Maire
22
23
24
25
26
27
Maire
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
Elise
55
56
57
Maire
58
Airem
59
Rohyr
60
61
62
63
Epilogue
How about a sneak peek at the next book?
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Dedicated to everyone who has seen this book to completion with me.
To Emily, who was my first writing buddy back when all we wrote was Naruto fanfiction.
And to Kristina, who has brainstormed with me for countless hours to make this story a reality, and who knows and loves my characters just as much as I do. (Heh beh) Thank you for saving you-know-who. It changed this story for the better.
Pronunciation guide
NIAMH (N-EEV)
Fane (Fay-n)
Rohyr (Roe-heer)
Airem (Air-em)
Maire (Mah-rey)
Maewyn (May-win)
Hael (Hale)
Kjellfrid (K-yell-frid)
Eithne (En-ya)
Nythaniel (Nai-than-iel)
Friedhelm (Freed-helm)
EIRA (EYE-RA)
Aridia (Ah-ri-dee-ah)
Ahealarth - The capital city of Eira (Ah-hale-arth)
Trajhem - The capital city of Aridia (Tray-hee-ay-m)
Iffrean - Eiran word for “Hell”, or the Underworld. (Iff-ray-n)
1
ALL MAGIC HAS A SMELL. For some, it smells like warm spring breezes or a cold mountain top just as the sun strikes its peak. For others, it may have a smell of home. Of warm bread and big down comforters.
Niamh inhaled the scent of her own magic, nutmeg and rosemary, as it thrummed inside of her, preparing itself to heal. The young boy in front of her looked at her with trepidation, as if he expected her magic to hurt him instead of mend. Niamh could feel these changes in temperaments.
Grabbing a handful of rosemary, just to ease the sting, Niamh laid a gentle hand on the boy's exposed forearm. She looked him in the eye. "This might hurt a little, Bjorn. Can you be brave for me?"
Bjorn nodded, determination setting his mouth, even if she caught it wiggling slightly.
Niamh let her magic unspool itself like a ribbon, softly letting it flow through her hand, through the thread stitched into her glove, and into his arm. Bjorn hissed and fussed around a bit, squirming in his chair. Niamh only smiled kindly and continued.
"Almost finished." She soothed, keeping her eyes on the boy's face as she felt her magic stitching together his bones as if he’d never broken them. The scent of her magic was stronger now, filling the whole room. Her gloved hands glowed a warm yellow against the boy's skin.
Just as the last of her magic mended the last bit of broken bone, she finished off her work with an extra burst of soothing energy. Just enough to quiet the other aches and pains she felt in his muscles, but not enough to put him to sleep.
Niamh had only just removed her hands before Bjorn was inspecting his arm with wide eyes. Niamh stifled a laugh. She’d seen that look so many times before, but it never failed to amuse her. Living in Eira, the country with the most connection to the ancient magics of the natural world, and still many of its people were still so enthralled by simple healings. It was endearing.
“There. All fixed.” She announced cheerily, rising from her seat at the kitchen table. His mother smiled gratefully from the sink.
“Thank you for your trouble. He won’t be out climbing trees again for a while.” The boy’s mother gave her son a look full to the brim with a warning. “Right, Bjorn? You’ll be thanking Miss Niamh.”
Bjorn nodded quickly. Niamh gathered her coat from the hanger by the door and smiled over her shoulder. “It’s no trouble at all. Just be sure to be more careful.”
She closed the front door of the humble cottage with a thud of heavy wood against the doorpost. A bit of snow fell from the low roof, adding to the tall pile nearing the windowsills.
Fresh, mountain air greeted her as Niamh made her way down the switch-backs of the path. Clear skies and a sharp wind from the North made for a colder day than usual. Niamh gathered her fur collar about her neck more snuggly and headed down the path toward home.
Well, home away from home, in this case. She lived at the castle, located in the heart of Ahealarth, the capital city, right in the center of Eira. She didn’t live in the castle, merely slept there. Her home away from home was her healer’s cottage, snugly in the back of the ice gardens within the castle walls. She curated every inch of that place, and every part of it was her own. Her heart thrilled with excitement for the comfort at the end of her walk. She walked faster.
This particular house call, one of many in her usual week, happened to be a mere twenty minute walk from the city. Between her growling stomach and the particularly frigid temperatures that day, she was quite ready to be indoors for the rest of the evening. Her thoughts drifted to the hot mug of tea that awaited her; to the blazing fire that she was eager to ignite in her fireplace.
The sun began to set behind the mountains, casting everything in a deep orange light. This was her favorite time of day, when everything felt cozy and warm, despite the deep snow on the ground and craggy mountain peaks above. Within minutes, the city appeared just over the hill. Warm browns and grays of the roofs flowed upward like lichen on the mountain side within the stone walls, all leading to the centerpiece of all of Eira. The castle sat regally against the mountain behind it, the snow mingling with the icy structure of the outside. Golden light twinkled through the prisms of the five icy spires rising from it, creating a beacon of light for the entire city to see.
It had been there for longer than anyone could remember. The first magicians of Eira had constructed it of ice, finely carved wood and stone, with the Grand Library in the center as a foundation of magic.
Once her boots hit the slick stones of the streets of the city, it was a brisk walk through the wide avenue through the center of town to reach her destination. On her way, she purposefully didn't stop by any of the shops whose open doors called to her, nor any of the brightly lit taverns promising warm food and drink. Niamh was certain she would never reach her cozy haven if she saw anyone that she knew, so she did her best to keep her head down and her feet moving.
PRINCE FANE LOOKED every bit the part he played. His dignified stature and handsome head of blond hair, his fine clothes. and steady gaze gave him an air of royalty. Fane’s days were filled with many of the activities anyone would expect of a prince, such as fencing, riding, archery, and reading on various topics. Reading was something he especially enjoyed, as it gave him a glimpse into the world outside the walls of his palace. A world he’d never seen for himself.
Today was different.
Fane stood in the royal stables, stroking his prize stallion’s nose. At the creak of leather boots behind him, he turned to see his friend and head guard standing in the open doorway. Rune’s auburn hair glowed red in the sunrise behind him, and his face was obscured by shadow.
“Are you ready to leave, your Highness?” Rune asked. He carried two large saddlebags with him, already filled with whatever supplies they would need for the day’s hunt.
Fane nodded, taking one of the bags from Rune. It was heavy, heavier than he would have expected.
“We’re only going out for the day.” Fane commented, weighing the bag in his hand with emphasis. “Don’t you think this is a bit much for a hunting trip?”
“You’ve never been hunting,” Rune said lightly, strapping his bag to his own horse. “So how would you know?”
“I suppose you’re right.” Fane laughed. Rune was the only person that dared to joke with him as if he was a friend. All the other guards kept him at an arm’s length- the price of being the prince.
“And that means you have, Rune? Been hunting?” Fane continued, trying to keep the conversation going to keep himself awake.
“Of course,” Rune replied, grinning. “One must sometimes hunt for their food living in Eira.”
Fane sometimes forgot that his friend wasn’t native to Aridia. Rune spoke with a slight accent, and he was considerably taller than the average Aridian as well.
“And you’re sure we’ll be back before sundown?” Fane added, trying to hide the tint of anxiety in his tone.
Rune raised an incredulous eyebrow. “It’s your birthday- that’s the last thing you should be worrying about.”
Though that hardly answered his question, Fane had nothing to say in protest. His elder brother, King Friedhelm, would give him a tongue lashing if he knew Fane was going out. Fane had hardly left the palace, save for special events and appearances, and he knew Friedhelm would have intended to keep it that way.
Rune had been the one to suggest this hunting trip. Fane hadn’t told anyone, save his closest guards, and the party was up early that morning to avoid being seen. Rune had assured him that the morning hours were when all the game would be out in the forest. Fane strapped his leather vambraces to his forearms, his leather guard to one shoulder, and mounted his horse.
His fine prince’s hunting leathers displayed the seal of Aridia, an identifying mark just in case he were ever lost. That thought comforted him as he and Rune led their horses out into the dim light of the morning.
The pair rode quickly toward the castle courtyard’s gate, joined by four other guards all dressed and supplied for the wilderness. One among them was a man named Daener, Fane’s other closest friend. He had dark hair, unusual for an Aridian, and a large, beautifully carved hunting knife on his belt.
“Your Highness.” Daener greeted, a cordial hand to his chest. Fane nodded back.
“What are we hunting for today?” Fane asked.
Daener was silent only a moment longer than what was comfortable.“You’ll know it when you see it.” He replied. Rune straightened in the saddle where he was on the other side of Fane.
Fane thought no more on the matter. He trusted that the other men would know what to do if it came to it.
The gates opened, and the party made their way down the silent streets of the capital city.
They reached the edge of town sooner than Fane thought, approaching the ever-open gates. The sunrise glowed a deep red behind the white mountains in the distance, filling the sky with swaths of rich color.
As the warm winds of Aridia hit his face and rustled his hair, Fane didn’t care what kind of punishment or verbal thrashing he would get when he got home.
Fane stared into the deep forest beyond. The trees in Aridia grew strong and tall, and their forests were thick with greenery and all manners of wildlife. He'd always seen these woods from his window, but had never stepped foot past their boundary. The others plunged forward with confidence into the darkness.
The forest was just as exhilarating as Fane always dreamed. There was nothing here to keep him contained; no walls of stone, windows of glass or iron. He could see nothing but trees for miles ahead. He felt the damp richness of the air here, so different and full of life compared to the stuffy, hot air inside the castle’s walls. He was suddenly a new person.
The path in front of them was nothing more than dirt, with edges hidden by moss and roots of trees.
Fane rode at the head of the group. His guards chatted amongst themselves behind him as he busied himself with admiring the scenery.
After a short while, Rune appeared beside him. Fane swallowed his sigh of relief that he didn’t have to pretend to enjoy being excluded.
“The forest is much different than the palace gardens, don’t you think, your Highness?” Rune said pleasantly. Rune’s leather gloves creaked as he gripped his horse’s reins much more tightly than Fane thought necessary.
“Yes,” Fane answered. The sun was over the mountains now, casting a warm light through the golden-green leaves of the trees. Sunlight dappled the path in front of them, inviting Fane to continue forward. “I much prefer the wildness of this place.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so,” Rune said.
After a moment, Rune lowered his voice.
“Fane, listen to me. You must stay close to me, whatever happens. And don’t get off of your horse unless you have to.”
Rune had never used Fane’s shortened name before. Not in the entire time he’d been employed at the castle.
“You must do whatever I tell you, and you must only trust me. You can’t trust anyone else in Aridia, not even your brother.”
“But why?” Fane asked, lowering his own voice. Why would Rune be saying these things? And why now, of all times?
“Just trust me,” Rune said, a warning in his voice. “I can’t tell you now, but I will.”
Just as Fane was about to reply, he spotted a stag ahead on the path. Its coat was as white as the stars, its antlers ancient and twisting into each other. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light as gold and green as the trees above them.
“Is that-?” Fane began to ask. As he looked around him, it didn’t seem that any of his party saw what he did.
It ran.
Fane spurred his horse forward in pursuit, Rune’s warnings forgotten.
2
NIAMH CONTINUED TO the castle, into the courtyard, passing guards standing in shining silver armor, accented with blue. The colors of Eira.
The courtyard was a wide open area, flanked by walls of both stone and ice, intermingling naturally by design. The wind picked up on her walk, and now blew snow down from the many gabled roofs of the castle, creating a small snow storm in the courtyard. It whistled around the spires, bringing an ominous tone to a once-cheery winter day. This only served to motivate her to step into jog, closing the wide expanse quickly.
Above the tall wooden door, carved into the stone, was a snow leopard on the right and a wolf on the left. They were caught in a never-moving duel forever etched in the stone. Snow leopard for courage and tenacity. Wolf for strength and self-reliance. All four ideals that Eirans held dear to their hearts.
Above the both of them, its small feet only barely touching the heads of the two battling predators, was a white mink, carved from ice and integrated into the stone. The symbol for healers. Around the three animals were ice stars set into the wall. It was designed so that when the late evening light shone onto it, it would reflect light into the entire courtyard.
Niamh smiled as she walked under their banner, pushing one of the heavy double doors open and shutting it behind her.
An empty lobby stretched before her, the wind howling outside giving it an air of loneliness. Bathed in a cold, blue-white light from the outside sun filtering through the snowy-glass roof, the entrance was a stunning wintery display of artistry. High above Niamh's head, arched ceilings magically formed of ice were further decorated with the patterns that would be found on snowflakes, though enlarged and spread outward from the center of the room.
The oldest parts of the castle were constructed of heavy stones, some areas were carved from the mountain itself. As one climbed upward, to the public areas, to the areas for nobility and council meetings and gatherings, more and more ice was used in construction. It glittered and fractured the light coming through, creating beautiful patterns and illuminating just where it needed to be.
It was the duty of the Head Mage to maintain the ice walls and floors periodically, going back for generations. As far back as the castle had been first built, carved into the mountain like a sentinel of civilization in the wild country. The heritage of mages, stretching back hundreds of years. The ethereal elegance of gold and silver patterns under clear floors and soaring walls and ceilings of ice contrasted with the hardy stone and carved wood of the lived-in areas of the palace.
Great chandeliers of the clearest glass hung in the lobby, three in a row, their candles never going out, nor dripping down to nothing. As one walked forward toward the grand staircase at the end of the long room, more ice animals watched as they passed. Mounted on pedestals built into the white stone columns, a different animal looked on at their opposite, guarding the castle and its inhabitants with a silent gaze.
