The Guardian Prince, page 1
Praise for The Guardian Prince
With The Guardian Prince, Lauricia Matuska delivers another stunningly beautiful adventure, wrought with high-stakes conflict and tender insights into the human condition. Her carefully crafted characters undergo another harrowing journey, and it all plays out believably on the page. The reader at once ceases to be a reader and
becomes a participant in this saga.
Aaron D. Gansky
Author of The Hand of Adonai Series, The Bargain, Who is Harrison Sawyer, Heart’s Song, and Firsts in Fiction
The Guardian Prince is a long-awaited sequel that beautifully continues the saga started in The Healer's Rune. The stakes are higher, the characters more intriguing, & the quests more dangerous--all the things that make a fantastic series! Matuska weaves epic fantasy with theology, building a complex world that you will want to escape to
and characters you will love and root for.
Avily Jerome
Author of The Breeding and The Amulet Saga Series and former editor of Havok magazine
The second installment in the Ceryn Roh Saga is every bit as captivating as the first. A new world to explore, stakes that start high and climb higher, relationships that grow and change, and characters with increasing depth and complexity, all conveyed in Matuska's lush, elegant prose. The Guardian Prince will leave readers highly satisfied with the direction Sabine's journey has taken, while simultaneously impatient for the next book!
Laurie Lucking
Author of Common
The Guardian Prince enchanted me! Matuska’s beautiful prose and vivid world building are curl-up-with-coffee delicious. I found Sabine’s character refreshingly relatable. The tension between her strength and vulnerability is much more satisfying than the female ninjas who populate most fantasies. I’m ready for Book Three!
Heather L.L. FitzGerald
Author of The Tethered World Chronicles
The powerful Christian allegory, captivating heroine, high action, and the promise of romance make this sequel another excellent read.
Glenn Haggerty
Author of the Intense Series
ALSO BY LAURICIA MATUSKA
THE CERYN ROH SAGA
The Healer's Rune
The Guardian Prince
The Razing of Khapor (forthcoming)
The Blind Queen (forthcoming)
The Guardian Prince
Book Two of the Ceryn Roh Saga
Lauricia Matuska
Epiphany's Quill Publishing
THE GUARDIAN PRINCE BY LAURICIA MATUSKA
Published by Epiphany's Quill Publishing
ISBN: 979-8-9857299-1-7
Copyright © 2022 by Lauricia Matuska
Cover design by 17 Studio Book Design [website: 17studiobookdesign.com]
Interior designed with Atticus [website: Atticus.io]
For more information on this book and the author visit: www.LauriciaMatuska.com
All rights reserved.
Non-commercial interests: Portions of this book may be reproduced without the express written permission of the author or publisher provided the text does not exceed 500 words.
Commercial interests: No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means (electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the author or publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.
To Hannah Taake, Michelle Foster, Pam Schuknecht,
and my mom, Bridget Graham,
for
your encouragement and support
and your love for Sabine.
Chapter One
Sabine startled awake, her chest tight and her pulse thudding at her temples. She had overslept.
Gaielle will be here any minute.
Bolting upright, Sabine surveyed her surroundings, unable to make sense of the bed where she sat and the furniture tucked into the small space around her.
This isn't my room.
Frantic to remember what had happened and how she had gotten here, Sabine searched her sleep-fogged thoughts. She inhaled deeply to clear the sense of disorientation and registered the dark, mild scent of cold oaks. A memory of last night’s escape thundered over her, along with the realization that she was no longer a slave. After many sennites of serving the Rüddan soldier Dargan and his wife Gaielle, she was finally free.
Sabine dropped her shoulders as that insight sank in. She rubbed the crustiness from her eyes and blinked a few times, then truly examined her room: a small chamber made of rough, ridged tree trunks grown close together, their branches interweaving overhead to form a leafy ceiling. Approximately the size of her bedroom in Khapor, it was furnished with only a narrow bed, a washstand, and a chair. Sabine recalled being escorted here late last night, but she couldn’t recollect how the room had been lit. Searching for a possible source of light, Sabine remembered that she was in one of the curiously constructed buildings on the other side of the portal, in some sort of Dryht encampment that lay beyond the magical gateway she had discovered behind her house.
My sister's house now, she reminded herself as she rose from the bed she had borrowed for the night. She pulled the blankets tight, smoothing the wrinkles out of a downy soft, silvery-green fabric unlike any she had ever known, and fluffed the pillow. That is, if the Rüddan let her keep it.
Sabine knew they would not. After all, Elise had not prevented Sabine's escape. Even though she had done the best she could, the fey Rüddan would still punish her. Sabine would be very surprised if, someday, she found out that her sister had survived the experience.
It's not my fault! Sabine reminded herself. Sitting on the now-made bed, Sabine hugged the pillow to her stomach. I begged her to come with me.
Despite her sister's refusal, Sabine battled the nagging doubt that she should have tried harder, should have done more. What kind of person was she to leave her sister to die moments after Elise had reached out to Sabine for the first time in their lives?
Someone who doesn't care a wit for duty or responsibility, the memory of Danelle, the dairywoman of Sabine’s village, accused. Sabine winced, unwilling to acknowledge the accusation while simultaneously convinced of its truth. In any case, there was nothing to be done about it now, so she silenced the thought by busying herself with her appearance.
Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about that, either. Her rescue from Dargan's house had occurred so suddenly that she had fled in full uniform. She had removed the apron before falling into bed last night but had possessed neither the means nor the desire to launder the rest. Consequently, her white gown and surcoat still bore the stains and grime of yesterday's labor and flight. Sabine smoothed the surcoat a few times, trying to press out the wrinkles then gave up and plaited her tangled hair into a braid that would harness most of the frizzy curls.
Her uniform might not be spotless or pressed, she reasoned as she put on her shoes, but it was whole and warm, which would protect her against the winter chill saturating the air. Trying to find comfort in that, she wrapped the thick cloak of her former mistress about her, hiding the white clothes that screamed sani-noth—one without honor—and set off in search of someone to talk to and something to eat.
She found Bree outside the door where she had left the dog the night before. Although she had longed to keep her pet nearby, she was not sure her hosts wanted an animal inside their building. Judging by Bree's lolling tongue and wagging tail, however, the dog had not minded the exclusion. The weather was warmer here than the snowstorms they had left in Khapor, the trees’ leaves just beginning to change colors. Since Bree’s winter coat had already come in, she was well equipped for sleeping outdoors.
Sabine sank her fingers into the dog's shaggy black pelt, scratching Bree's ribs vigorously. It amazed her to realize just how much she had missed the animal during her time as a slave in Dargan's house. To be reunited so unexpectedly gave Sabine a sudden sense that all was not lost as it had seemed the night before.
“Human,” a deep voice called from nearby.
Sabine glanced up to see Koen standing a few feet away, his bright, leaf-red hair contrasting sharply with the deep black feathers of the raven perched on his shoulder. She fixated on the sight of the raven's talons sinking into the shoulder of the Dryht’s leather jerkin. Recalling the weight of the bird when he had landed on her lap and the sharpness of his talons against her leg when he had sprung off, Sabine reasoned the Dryht must be stronger than his remarkably tall, lean frame suggested.
The raven turned his head to one side, regarding Sabine and her dog with a large, bright blue eye. Then, turning his head to the other side as if for a better look, he studied them with his bright green eye. A fraction of a moment later he shrieked a raucous call and fluffed his feathers. Instinctively, Sabine clutched a fist-full of Bree's fur to keep the dog from jumping at the bird, but Bree did not even tense. Amazed, Sabine watched the dog and the bird politely disregard each other as if they were used to spending great amounts of time together.
“The others are waiting for you,” Koen prompted politely but with a slight air of command. “The Rüddan could
Sabine nodded and did as the Dryht requested, but unease stirred within her. She had thought she would be safe after she fled from Khapor. “The portal is still under attack, then? Or are they coming at us from another direction?”
Koen stopped and turned back to her, his eyebrows arched. “We are half a world away from your village, Human. The portal is the only way they can reach us now.”
Sabine frowned. Half a world away from Khapor? She did not understand how that could be, but she did not want to appear foolish in front of this Dryht, either.
“Portals are not like normal doors,” Koen explained, as if reading her expression. “With any doorway, the distance from one side to the other is a mere step. For portals, however, the distance is much greater. When you passed through our gateway last night, you traveled from your tiny island village to Denu-Glean, the largest continental forest in Ceryn Roh.”
"But don't the Rüddan know where we are?”
Koen shook his head. “Before the War of New Dawn, all portals were originally created and maintained by the Dryht. Although the other races used them, only mine understood them. They were destroyed by the Rüddan in the War, but we have spent the past three centuries restoring them. Even if the Rüddan know how they work, they have no idea where any given portal leads. As far as they know, we could be anywhere in the world.”
Sabine nodded. “So the only way to get to us is to cross over from Khapor.”
“Exactly,” Koen said. Turning, he began once again to lead her to the others. “And while no portal has ever fallen when it was attacked, that doesn't mean it can't, so no more delays.”
Sabine fell into step beside the Dryht, following closely as he guided her through a forest that appeared equally maintained and unkempt. The trees seemed to grow in large clusters: a variety of cedar, pine, and oak gathered here, a knot of willow and elm over there. Creepers, ivies, and shrubs twined around and through each thicket. The spaces between them, while not completely empty of bushes or trees, had a sense of being designated walkways.
Koen led her to one of these stands a short distance away from where she had slept, a large copse of rowan, ash, birch, and willow. Pausing just outside the cluster, he pushed aside a thick curtain of vines to reveal a narrow entrance, which he gestured her to pass through.
She did, realizing too late that Bree had followed her in. She would have shooed the dog back outside, but Koen was right behind her, his tall frame filling the doorway. He did not seem to notice the dog, and the raven still sat on his shoulder, so Sabine let it go, hoping nothing would come of it.
Inside, the stand of trees looked like a large room. As with the other buildings she had been in since last night, the trees grew closely together, their varying shapes and sizes tiling among, against, and over each other and the surrounding foliage to form walls while their branches intertwined to weave a roof. Muted, dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, illuminating a long, narrow table that filled the center of the room where a group of men and women appeared to be conferencing over breakfast. Much to Sabine's surprise, she recognized most of them.
Aodhan, the Aethel prince she had rescued and nursed back to health, sat at the head of the table, flanked on his left by Gaelan and his right by an Aethel man she had never met before but who appeared vaguely familiar. Aodhan’s sister, the Lady Diera, sat across from him at the other end of the long table. Amala, her lady-in-waiting, sat to Diera’s right, attending her blind mistress. Aodhan’s cousin Taylion, whom Sabine knew as Tayte, sat near the center of the table on one side. The chairs across from him and to his right were empty.
Koen directed Sabine to the spot beside Tayte, for which she was grateful. Of everyone seated at the table, he was the person she had known the longest and the best. He was the reason she was no longer enslaved to the Rüddan.
The conversation stopped abruptly as she approached, giving her the impression that whatever they had been discussing somehow involved her. Their silent stares unnerved her, causing her stomach to clench. Squaring her shoulders, Sabine kept her head up and met each gaze and glimpse as levelly as she could. They wanted her here, she told herself. They had attempted to rescue her not once but twice. Still, the reminder did nothing to ease the sense of being weighed and judged.
Tayte nodded to her, catching and holding her attention. The shape-shifter wore his Aethel form rather than his Human appearance, his smile warm and gracious. The knot in her stomach eased a bit.
“Good morning, Sabine,” he said expansively. His voice filled the silent room, reminding her of the tone her mother used when indirectly commanding her and her sister to be polite in front of the company. As he spoke, he rose to pull her chair out for her. “Welcome to our table. Please, join us.”
Sabine gasped softly, concerned that her friend should put so much weight on the leg he had broken during last night's escape. She glanced at his shin then looked again, startled to see no cast. Tayte followed her gaze.
“It is healed, my friend,” he said gently as he motioned her to sit then inclined his head toward the Aethel seated beside him and to Aodhan's right. “Kyar saw to it last night.”
Stunned, Sabine nodded in greeting, finally recognizing Kyar as the mysterious stranger who had tended Tayte's unconscious form the night before.
Kyar regarded her silently, his dark eyes so cold and piercing that she could not look at them for very long. Unsure what else to do, she adjusted her cloak slightly to allow herself to sit and accepted the chair Tayte had offered.
Koen joined the table as well, his raven flying to a nearby tree limb. He took the seat across from Tayte and began filling his plate with food from the dishes laid out over the table. “Help yourself,” he said, gesturing in Sabine’s direction with his plate. “We do not have the time to tarry.”
Sabine longed to, for she was incredibly hungry, but the silent scrutiny of the gathered Aethel made her hesitate. She glanced around, uncertain how to proceed, until she noticed Amala smirking at her from across the table.
“Welcome, Healer,” the Aethel woman said when Sabine caught her staring. Her voice was mild, but her tone sounded overly-solicitous and sharp, exactly as it had the first time they met. “So nice of you to finally deign to join us. I trust your Rüddan mistress is well?”
The challenge in Amala's words shocked Sabine as sharply as a splash of cold water. Her first reaction was a feeling of betrayal: why would Tayte tell the Aethel the exact details about how she had declined his first rescue attempt? But she quickly rationalized that he would have had to explain his returning without her somehow, and he had always been truthful. It was one of the qualities she admired about him.
Sabine scanned the others, trying to determine if anyone else shared Amala's opinion, but their faces were unreadable. Her heart sank—after all she had done for them, she thought Aodhan or maybe even Diera would intervene on her behalf, but Aodhan merely reclined in his chair, his chin on a fist. The expression on Diera's face suggested that she listened attentively, but she did not interrupt.
“I accept your gracious welcome,” Sabine retorted, irked by the apparent indifference of the other Aethel and stung by the lack of recognition or appreciation from Aodhan. Resolved to hide her doubt and uncertainty behind a facade of boldness, she reached across the table exactly as Koen had done and served herself from the surrounding dishes. “My Rüddan patient is quite recovered, thank you, and fares just as well as the Aethel at this table whose life I also saved.”
“And glad we are that you did,” the Lady Diera said at last. “Even though your strong sense of compassion has delayed us considerably, the same sense of duty that caused you to rescue the life of an Aethel is the only reason my brother is still with us today. We will not forget your gift to us, Human.”
