Aeshira Unbound

First Chapter

Chapter 1

Ochre sunlight glints off my Lythari blade, drawing my gaze upward. Hues of flame and gold streak across the sky causing the rooftops to shimmer like—fuck.

Katyna’s blade slices into my bicep. I dance away, cursing when sweat and blood runs down into the half-healed cut below, my souvenir from the first contest. My mind’s infuriating tendency to wander has cost me. Again.

I twist, meeting Katyna’s next strike with brutal strength, the clang reverberating up my arm and into my teeth. 

The vibration lingers, unnerving, deeper than metal on metal. The sound slips under my skin, finding the fresh cut on my arm and thrums there like a heartbeat that isn’t mine. 

I shake my head and the hum fades, leaving silence sharp enough to bite. 

Fucking focus, Kara.

Gritting my teeth, I hone in on the opponent before me with narrowed eyes. Katyna cocks her head, smirking. 

Adjusting my stance, I strike out with both my mind and my blade. My mental magic slams against her shields like a battering ram. It rebounds, forceful enough to drive her a step back, right where I’d hoped. My blade scores her leathers and I spin away.

Distant cheers rise up beyond the palace walls. The same crowd that just watched me lose the first contest in the Sacred Crucible.

“Goddesses, your time with the Veiled Sisters is paying off,” Katyna grunts, rolling her shoulders. “You hit like a kyr now.” 

I nod, though the compliment rings hollow.

Rocking on the balls of her feet, Katyna scans me closely for any openings in my defense. As I track her movements, I spy Elira and Darya from the corner of my eye advancing toward us across the sand-colored tiles.

I hold up my free hand. “Halt, Katyna.”

She inclines her head, acknowledging the end to our sparring session, and turns to follow my gaze. 

The tension radiating from both Elira and Darya is unmistakable. 

It’s time.

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I lower my blade as Elira and Darya approach, the world narrowing to their faces. Their expressions cut into me sharper than Katyna’s blade just did.

Darya’s voice wavers only once as she reaches me, nodding in deference. “Our surrogate has entered the Imperial birthing chamber.”

I sheathe my Lythari blade, blood roaring in my ears. “Goddesses alive, let’s go then! My quarters I’m assuming?”

Elira nods and I catch the barest glint of excitement residing beneath her anxiety. 

“Yes,” Elira breathes. “We’ll be closest to the Sovinarium there. As long as you don’t mind the intrusion.”

I scoff. “Intrusion? You’re my truest friends. I wouldn’t leave you tonight even if the Empress herself commanded it.”

Darya laughs quietly. If the Empress denied me the right to be there tonight, I couldn’t disobey. The Empress’s word is absolute law. And applies doubly to her only daughter.

I hurry us forward, pushing away thoughts of my mother. Even still, her shadow stretches long across the grounds.

When we reach the end of the terrace, my gaze flicks to the Sovinarium glistening like polished bone. 

Below, the crowd has dispersed and the faint chant of the Veiled Sisters drifts up, a hymn to the Goddesses, devotion turned to discipline.

“Don’t lose focus, Velkara,” Katyna calls out to me, her voice almost lost to the wind.

But my mind already races ahead to the sealed doors of the Sovinarium and to the last two surrogates who never walked back out. 

My focus narrows to Elira and Darya’s hands tight in mine, the weight of their hope pressing against my chest like armor I can’t remove. 

I don’t look back.

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Hours later, dawn bleeds pale light across my marble floor, catching on the gold filigree railing of my balcony. 

In the silence, a faint hum rises, low and rhythmic. Just like the one at training this morning. 

I rub my temple, expecting it to stop. Instead, it gets louder, moving closer, thrumming along my skin like the bones of the world remembering a song I was never meant to hear.

Then, as quickly as it came, it fades into the hush of morning.

I turn from the balcony and flick a dagger at the target. It lands a hair’s breadth off-center and I frown. 

“Ha, losing your touch, Princess,” Elira taunts, smirking.

“I think not,” I say, giving Elira a smirk of my own. “I just like to give you a chance to win every once in a while.”

I wink. We both know she beats me at least half the time, if not more. 

Elira laughs, bright and unguarded as if forgetting the news we’re so anxiously awaiting from the Sovinarium. 

Darya stalks past us yet again, her fists clenched and jaw tight and Elira’s smile fades.

For a moment, I contemplate soothing Darya’s emotions with a touch of mental magic. But I discard the thought. I’m just too exhausted. And she’d never forgive me.

Stepping forward into Darya’s path, I opt for a different tactic. “Darya, can I get you a different wine? We just got a new batch in from Ashkarra.” 

She has a penchant for the fiery reds from the city in the fire region. But Darya just eyes me, shakes her head, and then moves around me to keep moving.

Seeing right through me, Elira smiles softly and moves to sit on my settee. 

Catching Darya’s eye, she pats the cushion beside her. Mercifully, Darya sits.

I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief.

Goddesses, I understand their fears. Really, I do. This is their third surrogate to enter the Imperial birthing chamber and perform the rite of Sovineth. 

I set my dagger aside.

“Would you like to read one of my new novels?” I ask. “Three are from Ashkarra, so you know they’re sinfully spicy.” 

“Be serious, Kara,” Darya grumbles. “I’ll never understand what you see in those stories. Give me a military history or a strategy tome and maybe. But fiction? No way.”

She might be insulting my beloved stories, a diversion usually reserved for men, but at least she’s talking.

“You wound me, Darya,” I say, clutching my chest in mock injury. “You should feel honored I share my stories with you. A secret you better take to the grave.”

Elira scoffs. “With all the love stories you drone on about, you'd think you’d have taken Damir to bed by now.”

My face heats. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Well, I mean, come on,” Elira continues, undeterred. “You’re turning thirty, and your mother will enforce the consort binding at some point. Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

“You’ll be expected to produce an heir eventually,” Darya adds, ever the practical one.

“That would require her bedding someone,” Elira teases.

“Well, excuse me,” I snap. “But I have at least a hundred years to contemplate birthing an heir. And I’m not remotely ready to have my freedom or sanity infringed upon by a consort.” 

They both laugh, and my temper spikes. “What’s actually hard to believe is that I am fighting to hold on to my independence while you two are so desperate to give it up at such young ages!”

Their faces fall at my outburst, and guilt slams into me.

Fuck. I sound like my mother. 

“Let’s just play Blades & Banners,” Elira says softly, slipping her hand into Darya’s.

I open my mouth to apologize when a firm knock rattles the door. 

I race over to open it, heart in my throat. A Veiled Sister I’ve never seen before stands at the threshold. Her eyes, tattooed with black eyeliner, meet mine impassively, giving nothing away. 

Instinctively, I bow my head, the gesture automatic, carved into me from childhood. 

My knuckles whiten on the doorframe as the Veiled Sister steps inside. The scent of sanctified oil follows her in, sharp and clean.

Her pinkies bear so many tattooed rings they’re almost completely black.

A healer.

Elira and Darya rise to stand at my side, breaths held.

The Veiled Sister nods to me once. 

“Stillborn, Your Imperial Highness,” she says, voice muffled behind her black veil. “We regret to inform you that both mother and child died in Sovineth. There will be no adoption.”

Elira’s knees buckle and Darya catches her, whispering urgently, “Maintain strength, Elira. Weakness of mind is reserved only for men.”

Elira straightens, forcing herself to meet the Veiled Sister’s eyes.

The hum returns, low and aching. 

Darya turns back to the Veiled Sister, her face an unreadable mask. “Thank you, Sister, for bringing us the news. The will of the Goddesses burns bright and righteous. Goddesses’ Light to you this early morning.”

The Veiled Sister inclines her head to me once more, then steps away. No comfort given, none expected.

For a long, suspended beat the room holds its breath. 

Then Elira crumples, taking Darya to the floor with her. 

The wine glasses tremble, then spill, leaving stains in the wood grain that will never wash out. 

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