Cloak, Torn: Book 2 [ON HOLD]

Prologue

The carriage bumped to a halt and Jayla's jaw tightened.

"Why have we stopped?"

The question came from a woman sitting opposite Jayla, with wavy blonde hair that reached her waist. A silver necklace hung around her neck - a pendant in the shape of a crescent moon. The woman's hand shifted toward a pouch on her belt. The man next to her grunted.

"We can't possibly be there yet."

His navy suit was trimmed with gold braid and lapels, each button down his front shining like a miniature sun. A cloak of a maroon hue was draped across his shoulders.

Jayla toyed with the necklace around her neck, a gaudy blue stone her father had given her for a birthday present. Her grip on the hideous hunk of rock tightened until it made marks in her palm. She glanced out the window.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Father," she said with unnerving calm. "Just some trouble with the horses I expect."

"I don't want to keep the High Mage waiting," the Queen said. "He's not terribly understanding."

"Oh, hush, Isolde. It'll be fine. He's a subject, not a ruler. If we're late let it be."

The Queen didn't respond.

The necklace chain bit deeper into Jayla's skin.

"Jayla," the Queen asked, "are you alright?"

But Jayla didn't get the chance to respond before the attack came.

Shrieks and groans came from outside. Steel clashed on steel and a scream was quickly cut off. Silence fell over the carriage. The King drew his sword from his belt, but Jayla was already up. Her heart beat in her throat, the blood drained from her face.

"Put it down, Father," she said.

"Jayla-,"

Jayla pointed her palm at him, her hands crackling with energy.

"I said, put it down!"

The King glanced around the carriage and saw the view from the window. Once loyal guards surrounded the carriage, swords drawn. He gritted his teeth and set his sword on the floor.

"Jayla, please. Don't-,"

"Quiet, Mother," Jayla said. "I'm talking to the King."

Jayla's gunmetal blue eyes narrowed, her nose wrinkled in disgust. Her teeth were bared in a sneer.

"Arkoth, why don't you join us?" Jayla said, never taking her eyes off the King.

The carriage door swung open and a pair of black boots stepped inside, belonging to a lithe man with dusty brown hair who looked so average it was too easy to forget his face, except for the glint of cruel intelligence that shone in his hazel eyes.

"You understand what's happening, don't you, Father?" Jayla said, spitting the last word from her mouth like it was venom. Her heartbeat was back in her throat as the moment drew nearer.

"I would tell you it's nothing personal, just the line of succession moving faster, but I'd be lying."

Jayla's hands shook.

"I'm about to kill the most powerful man in Fabel," she said. "Doesn't that make you proud of me, Father? Aren't you happy?"

Jayla stepped forward until her nose was inches from the King's.

"Am I good enough for you now, Father? Am I good enough now?"

Jayla trembled. There was pure malice in her father's green eyes.