The Princess of the Poison-Wastes, page 1
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Book club questions
Author Bio
The Princess of the Poison-Wastes
Copyright © 2023 M. E. Batt. All rights reserved.
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Cover by J. Kotick
Typeset by Niki Tantillo
Edited by Devora Gray
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All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All brands, quotes, and cited work respectfully belongs to the original rights holders and bear no affiliation to the authors or publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023934091
Print ISBN: 978-1-64450-891-6
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-64450-892-3
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64450-894-7
Audio ISBN: 978-1-64450-893-0
Dedication
For Arya, EJ, Isla, and the two angels in heaven who didn’t get the chance of having names.
Chapter 1
Blistering pain exploded through Aedra’s cheek, reverberating in waves through her skull. Stunned, she blinked away the gush of tears and reached up, her fingers grazing a wound. Warm, sticky blood colored her skin a deep crimson. She actually hit me, Aedra thought, eyeing her opponent with renewed appreciation. Though stars danced in her vision, she had no time to nurse her bloodied cheek. The air shifted behind her, and without waiting, she ducked. The following whoosh of air confirmed her instincts; she had barely escaped another strike as her opponent took advantage of her temporary distraction.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Aedra willed herself to focus. She whirled, crouching low, and kicked her foot out just as the attacker charged. The other woman was caught off guard, the strike to her shins throwing her off balance. She sprawled to the ground, wet sand kicking up as she landed. Her head hit a rock with a sickening thunk, and she didn’t rise again.
Rolling away from the woman’s semi-conscious body, Aedra sprang to her feet, smirking as she wiped the trickle of blood from her face. One down, two to go.
The ocean’s anger roared behind her, its icy winds whipping her clothes until they billowed around her figure like a trapped sail. The remaining warriors circled her with raised swords, sparing quick glances at their fallen friend. Both men were in their early twenties and heavily muscled, but Aedra wasn’t deterred. Their strength and height came with the loss of speed and agility, and she was nothing if not fast.
A cocky smirk twitched the lips of the smaller man as he slowly closed in, certain he had the advantage. He was wrong. Aedra waited as he quickened his pace and charged, his feet kicking up sand as a savage war cry tore from his throat and tangled with the screams of the wind. She kept the sea at her back, a natural defense. Not only would they be unable to sneak up on her again, but they would be forced to deal with the onslaught of the wind gusting directly in their faces.
She tensed as he approached, keeping his partner in her periphery. He was a dozen steps away, a half dozen. Now! She side-stepped, turning with the shifting sands. His strike breezed past her, the strength of his missed blow causing him to lose his balance. It was a moment, a mere breath, but it was more than enough.
Aedra’s small stature was as much a blessing as it was a curse, and she knew how to use it to her advantage. She was faster, slighter, harder to hit. She rushed at the man, and in a dizzying display of punches, she struck with her fists: his ribs, kidneys, stomach, and finally, a knee to his jewels. His legs buckled, and he hit the ground where the sea licked the sand. Clutching his groin, he let out a strangled groan.
“Sorry, Tiem,” she muttered as he dry-heaved on the sand, but a smile still worked its way to her lips, the surge of victory making another rush of adrenaline spike through her veins.
It was a short-lived celebration. An arm wrapped around her neck, and the realization of her folly spread through her like ice. The third and largest of her attackers had inched his way closer while she smirked over Tiem’s defeat. Her enemy tightened his grip, cutting off her airway. Instinctive panic flooded her mind, and she clawed at his beefy arm. Already, her mind swam with darkness, the edges of her vision growing hazy. She struggled for a useless moment before regaining control over her emotions, willing her hammering pulse to slow. Aiming a sloppy kick backwards, she missed his groin, hitting a leather-clad shin instead. He chuckled, squeezing her neck tighter.
“Yield, Princess,” he growled in her ear.
She squirmed in his grasp, frantic for breath but unwilling to lose. In one last desperate attempt to win, Aedra slackened her entire body until she hung as dead weight in the man’s arms. Her opponent’s reaction was visceral; he flinched, releasing her body instantly. She hit the sand hard but refused to show any indication of consciousness. Damp sand and sea-smoothed pebbles dug uncomfortably into her cheek, burning as the coarse grains found their way into the fresh cut on her face.
Her opponent’s shadow fell over her, darkening her closed lids as he blocked the overcast sky. “Gods’ burn, Aedra, are you—”
Her eyes snapped open, and she smiled at his startled expression. In a swift movement, she landed a punch square in his gut and wrestled him down to the sand. She pinned him to the ground, shifting so her legs locked around his neck in a move Master Erello would have been proud of. Her smile widened as his eyes bulged, and he clawed uselessly against her legs, desperation radiating from his body as he searched for leverage between his neck and her thighs. He found none. Anger flashed across his reddening face, soon replaced by the look of terror that accompanies suffocation. He rapped his knuckles three times on the sand as a thick vein in his neck throbbed, barely visible beneath the collar of his cloak.
She released him, the tension of the battle flowing from her muscles as she stood. Brushing the sand from her clothes, she surveyed the beach. Kaylee cradled her head, sitting on a small boulder wedged deep into the earth.
“Oi, you alright?” Aedra called.
The woman glanced in her direction, wincing as she moved.
“Been better,” she admitted with a forced smile. “Sorry about that, by the way,” she added, gesturing to Aedra’s injured cheek.
“It’s just a scratch.” The bleeding had stopped, and though the throbbing ache was irritated by the lingering grains of sand, she knew any healer could mend it in mere seconds. She’d suffered worse hurts during past sparring matches.
Tiem—apparently recovered from his injuries—crouched next to Kaylee, placing a hand on her temple. His gloves hid the golden light, but Aedra knew he was healing her, and the two of them shared a private look that made Aedra blush. She turned away, giving them a moment of privacy.
“Wren, let’s go again. Just me and you.” Aedra shifted onto the balls of her feet, taking up a striking stance. She wiggled her fingers, trying to taunt her friend into the fight.
“No cheap shots to the goods,” he muttered, raising his hands. “I saw what you did to Tiem, and I’d like to father children one day.”
Aedra’s brows shot up, surprised from his admission, but she didn’t have time to discuss that questionable life choice. Wren shot forward, his bulky figure racing toward her like an avalanche. Laughing, she jumped out of the way. One of the practice swords was abandoned on the ground, and she rushed toward it, hoping to get the advantage in the fight. Wren had the same idea, and he unsheathed his weapon, swinging it tauntingly through the air.
“Come now, mighty warrior, let’s see what you’ve got.” He faked a yawn, adding to the indifference of his stance. No matter how many times she bested him, he always maintained a self-assured swagger.
“For someone that just yielded to a girl half your size, you certainly are confident.” She stepped slowly toward him, not fool enough to rush at a waiting opponent. Each step was carefully measured as she judged his body language, the twitch of his eye, the growing tension in his muscles. “Perhaps you’re compensating for so
An overexaggerated wink was all it took to break Wren’s patience. He charged at her again, a Gods’ honest flush pinkening his cheeks.
Their wooden blades struck hard, the vibration carrying all the way through her arm. It took all the strength in her body to hold off his attack. Being smaller was useful, but there were moments like now where her inadequacies were obvious. She pushed him back taking quick steps out of reach, but again he rushed her, using the full force of his strength.
Tiem and Kaylee were cheering, but who they were rooting for was lost on deaf ears. She knew nothing other than the duet of their blades, the dance of their feet, and the sweat stinging the scratch on her cheek. Wren came at her again and again, forcing her toward the waves, until her boots sank into wet sand, the tide licking her feet in a hungry caress.
It was easy to act exhausted. In truth, she was. But not as much as she let on. Wren swung again, charging with a war cry that would scare even the twisted creatures of the Poison-Wastes. She planned on jumping out of the way at the last second, forcing him to rush into the icy sea. Heart hammering wildly, she tensed, each second slowing as she waited.
“What is going on here?” A shrill voice cried over the wind. Aedra’s eyes darted past Wren’s shoulder, her stomach knotting with annoyance as she spotted the black-haired woman on the hill.
Wren somehow stopped short of knocking them both into the ocean. He groaned, sharing a look of dread with Aedra before offering her his hand and pulling her out of the ankle-deep water.
“Look alive,” Tiem muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. “We’ve company.”
“A little warning would have been nice,” Aedra replied under her breath. She brushed off her clothes, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance and utterly failing. “Mistress Vrenae,” she said, a grimace of a smile plastered to her face. “What brings you out on a day like today?”
Everyone knew how much the woman hated the ocean and the wind, and the storm blowing in should have been more than enough to keep her locked tight in the castle, nestled by a fire.
Small locks of hair blew free from the tight bun Vrenae constantly wore, and she shook her head disapprovingly as her judgmental stare darted amongst the group, finally landing hard on Aedra. She gasped, raising a hand to her bosom. “Your face! What have you done?”
Aedra rolled her eyes and turned her back to the woman. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Vee’s exaggerated indignation. “Let’s go, Wren, I’m not through with you.”
Wren raised his brows, shouldering his wooden practice sword as he shook his head. “Ah, lass, we’re already caught red-handed. I’m not fool enough to spar with Mistress Vrenae looking over our shoulders.” He nudged Tiem and nodded at Kaylee. “Round of morning drinks, anyone?”
Kaylee pushed herself to her feet, swaying a bit as she stood. “First, let’s go to Bane’s. Tiem did what he could, but my head still feels like slush.”
“You need to learn to fall better,” Aedra said. “Next time—”
“What is this ‘next time’ nonsense? Princess, how many times have I told you it is wholly inappropriate to go galivanting off with this lot?”
Aedra gritted her teeth, praying for an ounce of patience, before she slowly turned to face the woman. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
Vrenae had the gall to stomp her foot and shake her head. “Off with the three of you, and you best hope I don’t write to the king about this. Injuring one in the line of succession is a hanging offense.”
Wren couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face and covered it with a conspicuous coughing fit. “Right. Off we go.”
They waved over their shoulders, and half-carrying Kaylee, Aedra’s three friends began the trek up the dunes toward the expansive estate on the edge of town.
Aedra fought her annoyance as Vrenae continued her incessant fussing. “I’m truly fine. It’s nothing Bane can’t patch up.” She flinched as Vee’s fingers grazed the area, the ache sharpening at her touch.
“If this were an inch higher, it would’ve been your eye. Is that what you want? To be known as the blind princess?” She didn’t wait for Aedra to bite back a reply. “Come. There’s a missive from your father.”
Chapter 2
Feeling much like a whipped puppy, Aedra trailed behind Vrenae as they trekked through the sands, following the footprints of her friends. The winds calmed as they left the beach, the roaring waves softening in the distance as the scent of brine and salt drifted away. Sweat slicked her face and hair, chilling her in the bitter winter air. All her earlier warmth from sparring evaporated as her pulse slowed, the ecstasy of the fight dying just as easily.
She stared at Vrenae’s back as they walked. The woman clutched her heavy fur cloak tightly around her body, as if terrified the wind would weasel its way through her clothes. Three years had passed since they first arrived together in Trygul, each winter harsher than the last. Aedra wondered if the older woman begrudged her the isolation. Vrenae had lived in the capital since birth and, though she never married or bore children, she left behind an entire life when the king sent her to accompany Aedra. It had come as a shock when she learned she was staying indefinitely, though certainly the gifted estate was enough to ease the hurt of forced relocation. Vrenae would never admit such a thing, so Aedra didn’t waste her breath asking.
“Honestly, Vee,” Aedra said, her teeth beginning to chatter. “A scriber couldn’t wait another hour until I returned?” She tried to put a touch of warmth in her voice, knowing it must’ve taken a hell of a lot of willpower for Vrenae to come out in the cold hunting for her. But damn, it was difficult to find sympathy for her glorified nanny.
The older woman glanced over her shoulder, giving a small shake of her head. She stopped dead in the middle of the street, and Aedra nearly ran into her. “You’ll catch your death out here one day,” she said, unfastening the cloak from her shoulders and placing it around Aedra’s shaking body, despite her continued protests. “Enough.” Vrenae wrapped Aedra’s hands in her own, casting a current of heat through her body. The racking shivers slowed, then stopped, and for the briefest of moments, it was as if she was standing in front of a roaring fireplace.
“Thank you,” Aedra whispered, taking a quick step backward. “You shouldn’t have done that.” She glanced around to see if anyone witnessed the exchange. The outskirts of the city were blessedly slow in the grey dawn. A few sailors were hauling a net over to the docks, but they didn’t pay them any heed. If someone were to realize Vee had casted to warm her, there would be questions. She had hidden the truth for too long and was determined no one would uncover the ruse now.
“Next time I’ll let you freeze,” Vrenae said dryly, but she didn’t meet Aedra’s eye.
Aedra swallowed down her annoyance. They walked in tense silence the rest of the way.
The estate was surrounded by a shoulder high stone wall that Aedra always thought was useless in the way of protection. In the summer, ivy tendrils climbed up, covering the entire wall in a blanket of greenery. Currently, it was coated in a thin sheet of ice from the freezing wind, dozens of crystal-like flowers appearing mid-blossom on the top. A few of the estate workers were rather skilled casters, and during the last prayer day, they weaved the ice into different shapes, entertaining the local children as their parents made offerings to the God of Sea and Salt. The remnants of their handiwork remained, and Aedra fought the urge to snap off one of the flowers as they passed, her gloved hands skimming across the smooth surface. Vrenae muttered under her breath about catching cold and sneaking out and an array of other things Aedra tried to tune out.
A trickle of anxiousness crept its way past her defenses. “Did you happen to read the scriber my father sent?” she asked. She lost the battle of will and plucked one of the ice crystal flowers, cradling it in her palm for a few heartbeats before the magic of its spell broke, and it crumbled into a hundred tiny shards of ice.
“He didn’t send a scriber,” she replied cryptically.
