The rejected crown (book 1)

The price of power

jane

"Wake up!"
"WAKE UP!"
"JANE, WAKE UP!"

Jane jolted from her sleep, her heart racing. "What is it?" she gasped, eyes wide with fear. Her mother stood in the doorway, pale as a ghost. "Someone has betrayed us!"

"Mother, what are you saying? What's happened?" Jane's mind spun. Her mother, a simple woman devoted to her family, always doing her best, had been cursed with a daughter like Jane—a witch, a burden to her kin.

"I heard word that the royal guards are coming. Someone has accused us of witchcraft!"

Jane's stomach turned. "How? I only did one small job for a bit of gold!"

"What were you thinking, Jane? We were surviving well enough."

"We needed the coin, Mother!" Jane protested, a surge of shame mingling with her defiance. She could see her mother's hands trembling, a mirror of her own fear.

"We must flee. We cannot stay here."

Jane took her mother's shaking hands. "You and Father do not need to come with me. I'll go alone and hide myself."

Her mother's eyes widened in horror. "No, you are still our daughter."

It was true; Jane was only seventeen, but she felt like a stone tied to her family. In her mother's eyes, she saw herself—soft features, deep brown eyes, dark hair flowing loosely over her shoulders. But within her frail form lay magic she never wished to wield.

"Mother, please. I know you fear for me, but I am strong enough."

"You must come back to us," her mother replied, voice barely a whisper.

"I swear it," Jane said, wrapping her arms around her mother. Just as she began to whisper words of comfort, a harsh knock shattered the moment.

Fear gripped them both. "Who stands at my door?" her mother called, voice unsteady.

"By order of King Alaric Lancaster, open this door!" a rough voice commanded.

Her mother gestured for Jane to hide. "Very well, I am coming!"

Jane slid under her bed, her heart pounding as her mother opened the door. A soldier and a priestess entered. Jane's blood chilled. A priestess—a glorified witch who betrayed her kind, a witch that bound herself to the throne.

"What can I do for you?" her mother asked, voice tight with dread.

The soldier turned to the priestess. "Do you feel anything?"

The priestess closed her eyes, chanting softly. When she opened them, she glanced at Jane's hiding place. Jane held her breath, pleading in silence for mercy.

"No, there is nothing here," the priestess declared, stepping back.

Jane exhaled, relief flooding her. But the soldier caught the faint sound of her breath.

"Witch! I know you are here! Show yourself!"

Panic coursed through Jane as he drew closer. "Please, listen! I mean no harm!"

The soldier hesitated, his gaze wavering, but then he steeled himself. "You think I am a fool? You will be brought before the council!"

He lunged at her, grabbing her wrist in a grip as tight as iron. "No! You must listen to me! I am no threat to you!"

But he ignored her, dragging her toward the door with his sword pressing into her side. In that moment of desperation, Jane's power surged within her, raw and uncontrolled. She felt the air crackle around her, a force like lightning rushing outward.