The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 1

 She gazed across the massive crowd and pulled her hat lower over her eyes, her lips curled in disgust. The crowd was happy and excited. Of course they were; they were handpicked by The Guard itself to be that way. Aestus forbid the king should see how his people really felt.

Her eyes scanned the heads of the people, searching for two persons in particular. There, just hidden behind a pillar, stood Merek. Though he wore a hat similar to hers—low enough to hide his face from prodding eyes—she'd been able to spot his large frame easily enough. She could just glimpse the smile beneath the brim and felt her own lips pull up similarly. He was ready.

Next, she found Carac standing among the crowd. He was a bit of a runt, and he knew it, which was why he wasn't hidden behind a beam. He was facing the stage, but his back had straightened when her eyes had landed on him, as if he could feel them. Carac fidgeted a bit, pulling at his collar.

Not everyone in The Source was easily accustomed to their ways as Thea. Of course it had taken Thea time to learn and train, just as it would anyone else, but she had welcomed it. The twenty-three-year-old Merek had grown up around this sort of thing so he was also quick to adapt, but Carac was a new recruit. This was only his third go around, and he was not as quick to loose the arrow as the rest of them. Which was precisely why he was there today. The only way to learn was to do.

Thea pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stared hard at the stage. He was ten minutes late now. Rather rude, Thea thought, to keep his people waiting. But no matter. The three of them could wait there all day and all night if they must. Where she was situated, on the balcony of some clueless person's home, was more comfortable than the bed she'd had at home.

Suddenly, trumpets blared and the crowd perked up eagerly. Ah, finally. Thea shifted to get a better view, training her eyes on the new arrivals.

The Guard marched in with flags raised high into the sky, their armor clanking loudly with each step. They visors were drawn so they looked like faceless clones following each other. Just behind them walked demure lords and ladies. Thea wondered if they had been instructed to stick their noses in the air, or if they were all simply entitled arseholes. Probably the latter.

Then behind the squadron of nobles, looking more regal and making Thea fume harder, was the king's brother, Prince Fendrel. His arms swung at his side like that of a majestic hawk, and his hair fluttered in the chilled wind as if manufactured by Aestus himself. It made Thea want to be sick. Close behind him was Queen Anastas, but please, good people of Creasan, call her Ana. Thea rolled her eyes just looking at her. Her long curly brown hair was piled high atop her head and her blue gown dragged along the filthy ground behind her. Even from such a distance, Thea could see the gooseflesh lining the Queen's arms. Had no one told Her Majesty that it was cold in Vuterra Village? Ha!

Then, of course, was the king's son, Prince Althalos. Thea wondered how Fendrel and Ana must feel to know that they were outranked by an eight-year-old. She bet it curdled their insides. That brought a smile to Thea's face.

Ah, and there he was. Walking several paces behind his wife and son, because Aestus forbid one thinks he was of equal status, was the king himself. King Favian glided toward the stage with his crown perched atop his bright red hair. The trumpets continued to screech into the air as his party of people spread out around him and he climbed the steps to the throne awaiting him. He snapped back the tails of his embroidered cloak and sat ceremoniously on the cushioned chair, his hands held up as if to say See what I have just done?

The crowd applauded loudly for him, complete with joyous shrieks and raucous claps. Thea clenched her jaw to keep from screaming in frustration.

The trumpets stopped abruptly and so did the applause. A haunting silence took up the air as everyone stared at the king and awaited his decree. But he simply gazed back, as if he were enjoying the suspense it brought. Thea wished she could slit his throat right then and there.