The Heart of a Wielder (Book One of The Wielders Trilogy) ✔️

Chapter One

It was the sneeze that killed her.

Well, technically, it was the perfume of the next girl in line that tickled her nose, which in turn caused her to sneeze, and let loose the Light from her fingertips. But it was much simpler to say she was dead because of the sneeze.

In the split second between knowing that she was going to sneeze and sneezing, Maren managed to draw her handkerchief out of her left pocket and bring it to her nose. (Her former governess would have been pleased that she managed to maintain at least some aspects of her ladylike visage.) But it was her right hand, mostly hidden in her skirts, that gave her away.

As she sneezed, her concentration slipped and the Light that had been so carefully contained within her surged. For just half a heartbeat, she felt the telltale warmth in her fingertips and though she could not see it, she knew they glowed.

In the next moment, she restored her concentration and hid the Light once more, but she knew it was too late; she was going to die.

She had imagined this moment many times before. They would arrest her immediately, of course. If she were very lucky, they would execute her quickly. More likely she would be tortured and then executed, probably slowly. The only thing she could still hope for was that they would not harm her parents.

The younger prince had been surveying one of the women at the other end of the line. Just after Maren sneezed, Prince Kieran froze and cocked his head like a wolf who had caught the scent of his prey in the air.

Maren's heart seemed to stop. The Prince knew; he had sensed her.

She closed her eyes as the younger prince turned and began to move towards her end of the line. She focused on not hyperventilating and hoping against hope that she was mistaken about the Prince's intentions.

"Her!" A voice boomed from the front of the hall.

Maren looked up to see the older prince, Prince Donovan, striding towards her end of the line. She was surprised; she had heard that Prince Donovan did not participate in the Selection. But perhaps it would distract his younger brother just enough to forget about her.

"I want her," Prince Donovan declared, pointing—Maren realized, bewildered—at herself.

Prince Kieran narrowed his eyes at his older brother, clearly annoyed at his choice. However, he remained silent.

"My lady," Prince Donovan said, bowing his head slightly to Maren. "Would you do me the honor of joining my household?"

Maren was frozen. For a fraction of a moment, she imagined what would happen if she said 'no,' but knew that the Prince's question was only rhetorical.

Her hands trembling, she curtsied, her eyes on the floor. Quietly, her voice hardly louder than a whisper, she said the words she had been instructed to say, "The honor would be mine, Your Highness."

The Prince nodded at her again and then motioned to a servant standing at the edge of the hall. She came forward to Maren.

"My lady, please come with me," she said quietly.

Trembling, Maren followed her out of the hall.

—

It was her first Selection, even though at twenty-five, it would have been her final year of eligibility. Every year prior, her parents had paid the tax instead. This year, however, the tax had increased and Maren convinced them not to pay. After all, it was the last year they would have to worry about it—and at her age, what was the chance of getting chosen?

She knew that some women would be dripping with jewels and wearing revealing gowns, hoping to be Selected. After all, it was a fantastic opportunity to build a relationship with the royal family.