A Fistful of Fire: Chronicles of Marsdenfel #1

Year 222 of the Bynding

Author's Note

This book is available here on Wattpad, in its entirety, for free. If you want it in another format, you can purchase the e-book or the print book at a variety of vendors—Amazon and Smashwords, to name two.

Say what? I'm encouraging you to read this story for free?

Well, yes. But I trust you'll like it and either buy it yourself or spread the word to others who will. I'm optimistic like that.

I hope you enjoy the story!

—Misti Wolanski 

 · · · • • • · · ·

Year 222 of the Bynding

Excerpt taken from the diary
of the late Princess Endellion Yunan,
Crown Heiress of Marsdenfel
and Illegitimate Daughter
of Queen Yuoleen of Marsdenfel
and King Barnett of Grehafen

[A s]light noise can be so loud. The royal amulet slipped from my mother's neck to the floor, today, and that faint sound echoed through the marble throne room. All present stared, aghast at that rejection by the Bynd, the avatar for the magic that grants command of the Crystal that binds the elves together as a race.

Eyes turned to me, heiress to the Bynd and the throne it binds the elves' Crystal to. I didn't take the Bynd and assume my place as Queen. My mother d[id]n't deserve that.

I could tell its magic wasn't seeking me as the heiress, either. It didn't seek anyone.

Murmurs started as my mother, barely score-and-seven years old herself, descended the royal dais and recovered the Bynd. She met my gaze. "That was not a passing," my mother declared, loudly enough to be heard by the assembly.

With the Bynd's chain entwined in her fingers, she held the charm up for all to view. It had glowed with a vibrant green light until the moment it had released itself from my mother's neck, evidence that Mother's magic would follow the felven way, if she ever dared work magic. "Where is the light?" she asked.

The older members of the assembly murmured amongst themselves, remembering how the Bynd had acted when it had chosen to proceed to my mother. It had glowed brighter, then, before resettling in the standard vivid green. Now, its dull metal looked like a cheap trinket against my mother's w[hite] palm.

"It's rejected the whelp," someone muttered. Herdalin, one of the older women. I flinched.

"Herdalin—"

"What else do you suggest, Your Majesty?" the woman snapped, defending her due critique of me. "For the Bynd to reject you and not choose another—"

Gaylen rushed in. His slight bow demonstrated that he respects the queen, even if few others do. Many find his regard for the woman he should have married more inexplicable than his willingness to marry me when I come of age. The room quieted out of deference to the prophet. "King Barnett approaches."

I flinched at the glances that then darted to my mother and me. Even if my mother had never told me of the circumstances surrounding my birth, I suspect I would've been able to guess who my father was from how everyone reacted to that announcement.

My mother curtsied slightly to Royal Prophet Gaylen in thanks, then patiently ascended the dais to return to her throne, Bynd still in hand. "Let the crown princess take her own seat," she ordered.

I obeyed and ascended to my chair to the side and a bit in front of hers, cautious with my impractical but requisite many-layered gown. The court started demanding it, and constant chaperoning of the crown heiress, after my mother's foolhardy decision and actions that produced me.