The Wish Granter di C. J. Redwine

Get ready for an epic, romantic, and action-packed fantasy inspired by the tale of Rumpelstiltskin, about a bastard princess who must take on an evil fae to save her brother's soul.

It's The Wish Granter from from New York Times bestselling author C. J. Redwine and it's this week's FIRST5 pick!

TWO THE CORONATION SPED by in a blur of droning words from the head of the noblemen’s Assembly, the unfamiliar weight of the crown on Ari’s head, and the stomach-churning knowledge that the eyes of Súndraillian nobility and the invited representatives from seven other kingdoms were focused on her. It was a relief when the ceremony concluded and the dancing began. At least now she had to deal only with the scrutiny of one dance partner at a time. Also there were the delights of the buffet table to consider. Three hours later, Ari was busy wishing a pox upon the ballroom and everyone in it. She’d danced with every person who asked (oh joy). She’d made small talk until she was in danger of losing her mind (more joy). And she hadn’t put a single snack into the beaded bag that hung from her wrist (one giant stinking heap of joy). She’d been the most proper princess who ever set foot in a ballroom, if you didn’t count the times she’d accidentally stepped on the hem of her gown and been forced to clutch her dance partner to keep from tripping. Three hours of behaving like royalty and all she had to show for it was a headache and a list of dance partners who’d wanted to talk only about Thad and the sudden death of the royal family as if she might spill a tidbit of gossip for them to devour. Lord Hamish from Ravenspire had speculated that someone from the Assembly had poisoned the king, queen, and baby prince in the hope that Thad would make a more malleable ruler. Sir Jabin of Balavata had talked for ages about the economic ramifications of having a seventeen-year-old king whom half of Súndraille seemed to distrust. Lord Kadar of Akram had winked and assured her that many a throne had been taken with bloodshed and there was no shame in it. But none of the foreign guests was as bad as her partners from Súndraille itself. Each wore a black cravat in honor of the mourning period that would continue for another three weeks. And each asked razor-sharp questions that both grieved and infuriated Ari. She had her answers memorized by now. Yes, their father had asked them to leave the palace after the baby prince’s birth, but he hadn’t done so out of anger, and he’d given them a generous stipend to help them build a new life somewhere else. No, she hadn’t realized the queen had placed a bounty on their heads and ordered their deaths so that there would be no competition for the throne. No, Thad hadn’t killed the royal family. They’d all died in their sleep from some sort of blood disease while Thad and Ari had been several cities to the west of Súndraille’s capital, Kosim Thalas. Yes, Thad was capable of ruling. He’d been raised to assume the crown, and she’d yet to meet anyone who took the responsibility of his position more seriously than her brother. Her current partner, Lord Pachis, hailed from the eastern coast of Súndraille and was old enough to be her father. Her cheeks ached from smiling up at him while he lectured her on the rigors of ruling a kingdom where crime was growing and the economy was shaky. When he launched into speculation that Thad might not be up to the task, Ari stopped listening. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of the beautiful queen of Ravenspire, who was dancing gracefully with her new husband, the king of Eldr, despite the length of her bloodred gown. Beautiful, graceful, and married to a dragon. Sometimes life was so unfair. Lord Pachis paused and looked at her expectantly. Ari cursed silently and ordered herself to remember what he’d just said. Asked. Whatever. She came up blank. She’d been too busy being jealous of Queen Lorelai to pay attention to anything else. He frowned. “I meant no offense, Your Highness, but it is a pressing question on the minds of many in the noble class.” “What question?” His frown deepened. “The issue of parentage and bloodlines. How do you and the king propose to deal with those who say a bastard shouldn’t be given the throne? Especially when the royal family died under mysterious circumstances and the new ruler is of such a tender age—” Ari barely managed to keep a pleasant expression on her face as she said, “I propose that those who have an issue with the coronation take it up with their representatives from the Assembly. Thad was declared the lawful king because he and I are the only remaining blood relatives of King Waldemar, and Thad is the elder twin. The royal family’s death was determined to be caused by a blood-borne disease. Unless you’re suggesting that the entire body of the Assembly is somehow involved in covering up murder with the intention of putting a seventeen-year-old on the throne, I would like to stop having this discussion.” He blinked and drew back. Her stomach dropped, and her cheeks heated. She’d been too blunt. Too outspoken for a princess who’d only been invited to the coronation because Thad had refused to cooperate with what was expected of him unless she was given equal consideration. She’d offended Lord Pachis, and she couldn’t afford to give anyone more reason to distrust Thad and speak ill of him behind his back. “Forgive me, my lord. I am not myself.” She tried a wide smile, though it felt like her lips were stretched too thin across her teeth. “I’m afraid that after three hours of dancing, I’ve become quite famished and am feeling a bit light-headed.” He glanced once at the generous curve of her hips and then stepped back and bowed. “I can see that you are not accustomed to going a few hours without food. Allow me to procure some refreshment, Your Highness. Perhaps a bit of fruit and some lemon water.” Ari caught herself midsnort and tried to swallow the noise. The terrible, half-choked gurgle that caught in the back of her throat sounded for all the world as if she intended to vomit. Lord Pachis’s eyes widened. “Are you quite well?” “Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Ari turned on her heel and hurried away before the duke could insult her again or renew his offer. Who danced their feet off for three hours and then pretended to be refreshed by a bit of fruit? Not this girl. She needed meat and at least three pastries. Lord Pachis could think what he wanted. Ducking away from the dance floor, she limped to the massive tables set up along the northern wall, grabbed a plate, and filled it. Popping a stuffed date in her mouth, she turned and scanned the ballroom, skimming over the busy dance floor and the clusters of people conversing over full plates of food until she met Cleo’s gaze. Her friend was standing near a clump of ladies in bright, frothy gowns, her face expressionless as she held a tray half full of wineglasses. Just past Cleo, another middle-aged nobleman caught Ari’s gaze and began moving toward her. Panic tied her stomach in knots at the thought of having to endure one more round of diplomatically answering another set of questions while dancing on the packed ballroom floor. The room was too warm, too close, and the clash of voices and music surrounding her felt like it was closing in. Ari met Cleo’s eyes once more, glanced around the room, and then jerked her chin toward an open door that led out to the palace gardens. Cleo instantly began weaving her way through the guests as Ari hurried along the edges of the room and out the door. The moment she was outside, she drew in a shaky breath and willed herself to be calm. Lanterns with tiny bells hanging beneath them swayed from the branches of the trees closest to the ballroom. A path of crushed stone cut through lush flowering bushes, whose waxy blooms filled the night air with a honeysweet scent. The distant thunder of waves against the palace cliffs and the chirrup of crickets in the trees eased the panic that had driven her from the ballroom. A breeze drifted through the garden and cooled the heat from her skin. She slipped her shoes off to let her feet sink into the luxurious carpet of grass that edged the bushes. Taking a bite of a crepe stuffed with beef and sweet cheese, she tipped her head back to gaze at the stars that dusted the heavens like silver sugar. Maybe somewhere in the night sky, her mother was looking down on her. Maybe she already knew the kind of trouble Thad was facing with his subjects. The kind of trouble Ari was having adjusting to being a real princess. Ari closed her eyes and remembered her mother’s soft voice. Telling Ari not to scrub the floors because she’d chap her hands. Consoling Ari when the king refused to acknowledge her by weaving stories of poverty-stricken princesses who did heroic deeds and saved kingdoms. Urging her to take care of her brother, who lived beneath the weight of his father’s expectations without the benefit of his love. “I’m trying,” she whispered, hoping her words would somehow find their way to her mother’s ears. “What are we doing out here?” Cleo asked as she came to stand beside Ari, the tray of wineglasses still in her hands. “Escaping.” Ari opened her eyes. “If I escape for too long, Mama will hear of it,” Cleo warned, though she made no move to go back inside. “I’ll cover for you. I can’t go back inside yet. If I have to suffer through one more conversation about how Father and his family died or why Thad is too young to take the throne, I’m going to forget how to be diplomatic.” Ari took another bite of crepe. “I doubt Thad would like that very much,” Cleo said as she set her tray of wine down and stretched her back. “What wouldn’t I like?” Thad had left the ballroom and joined them. His black cravat was still perfectly tied, his dress coat impeccably smooth, but he looked haggard. As though a bone-deep weariness was consuming him. Maybe this was what being king did to a person. Or maybe, like Ari, his night had been filled with people speculating about his ability to rule Súndraille and the possibility that the royal family’s death had been a convenient way for Thad to come into power. “I was saying that you wouldn’t like Ari to forget how to be diplomatic, Your Highness.” Cleo lifted her hair from the back of her neck and turned toward the sea breeze. “You don’t have to start calling me Your Highness simply because I’m king now.” Thad pressed his fingers to his forehead as if he had a headache and then looked at his sister. “And we really do need you to keep being diplomatic, though I’d love a front-row seat to you putting a few people in their place.” “Point me in the right direction,” Ari said, and was rewarded with a weary smile. “Things will settle.” Thad sounded cautious. “Once people see that I can work with the Assembly and that I can take a strong stand against the violence and crime that seem to be spreading out of the slums and into the city proper.” “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” A short, immaculately dressed man with pale skin, auburn hair, and unnerving golden eyes stepped out of the garden and into the light of the lanterns. Thad sucked in a sharp breath. His voice shook as he asked, “What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.” The man smiled, slow and cruel, and Ari shivered. In a voice like polished marble, he said, “Come now, dear boy. Did you really think something as inconsequential as a guest list could keep me away?” Ari stared at the man, and then looked up at Thad’s face. Her brother’s lips were set in a thin line, and anger—for the first time since the night their mother had been killed by the queen’s hunter—lit his eyes. Without looking at her, he said quietly, “Ari, Cleo, go back to the ballroom.” “I don’t think I should.” Ari moved to stand by Thad while Cleo took a tiny step back toward the ballroom door, torn between obeying her king and staying with her best friend. The princess faced the man in front of them. He barely came up to her shoulder, and his clothing suggested nobility of some kind; but the cold, calculating look in his eyes reminded Ari of the man she’d once seen the palace guards haul into her father’s throne room on charges of attempting to assassinate the queen. “Go.” Thad spoke through gritted teeth. Right. Because ordering his sister to do something she didn’t want to do had worked so well for him in the past. Besides, she was done with Thad’s subjects questioning his abilities and his right to the throne. She met the man’s gaze. “You aren’t on the guest list. Leave at once, or I will call the guards to deal with you.” The man cocked his head to stare at her, and Ari clenched her fists to control the tremble that shuddered through her. She felt like a helpless mouse pinned beneath the claws of a ravenous cat. “She’s of no interest to you,” Thad said sharply. “And you have no reason to be here.” “Ah, but I do like to check in on my debtors.” The man turned his gaze back to Thad. “Especially when he owes me so much.” Thad was the king of Súndraille. He didn’t owe anyone, and Ari had had enough of this man with his cold eyes and his creepy smile. “Guards!” she called sharply. Two uniformed guards who were standing just inside the ballroom door pivoted toward her voice. The man in front of her snapped his fingers, and the door separating the garden from the ballroom slammed shut. The guards pounded on the door, but it refused to open. “What have you done?” She meant her words to sound commanding, but there was a tremor in her voice. Cleo mumbled prayers to the stars and hugged her arms across her body as Thad stepped in front of the girls, his broad shoulders nearly eclipsing Ari’s view of the man. What kind of man could shut a door with the snap of his fingers? He couldn’t be from Morcant, because only the females of royal lineage had magic there. He couldn’t be from Vallé de Lumé, because it was a sorceress, not a wizard, who controlled the land. That meant he had to be fae. And that meant Thad was in way over his head. Thad took another step toward the man. “Open that door and leave us be. We’ve settled our terms. I owe you nothing for the next nine years and eleven months.” Ari stared at Thad, her mind racing to make sense of his words and coming up empty. The panic she’d felt in the ballroom earlier snaked through her veins again, sending her heart racing. What was going on? The man smiled. “Didn’t read the fine print, did you?” Thad froze. “Why do you think I wanted a king in my debt?” Thad glanced at Ari, his gaze haunted. The man closed the distance between them. “The fine print, my boy, says that you are to do nothing to impede my business in your kingdom. You cannot interfere with my activities. This is simply a courtesy visit to let you know that there will be a little trouble at the docks tomorrow morning, and that you are to order the city guard to stand down. In fact, stand them down in the merchant district as well. Not just tomorrow, but for the foreseeable future.” Ari glared at the man while her heart pounded. She didn’t know what kind of business he had in Súndraille, but if he didn’t want Thad’s interference, it was likely he was part of the growing wave of crime and violence Thad’s new subjects desperately wanted him to end. “And if I don’t?” Thad’s voice was full of the kind of bravado he used when he knew he’d been beaten but was refusing to admit it. The man’s smile winked out. “Then you will pay your debt in full. Immediately. And nobody survives that.” Thad’s shoulders bowed, and the man snapped his fingers again. The door flew open, and the guards tumbled out, but the man turned and disappeared into the darkness. “We should go back inside,” Thad said quietly. “People must be looking for us by now.” Ari dug in her heels and pulled him to a stop when he tried to move toward the ballroom. “That’s it? No explanation for the creepy little man with the debt he’s holding over your head?” “No.” “Oh, I don’t think so.” She glared at him. “Did you see what he did with the door? He has to be fae. Why are you mixed up with someone who can do magic? And what did he mean when he said that when you pay your debt in full, you won’t survive?” Thad met her gaze, his expression fierce. “I was backed into a corner, and I had to make a bargain with him. It’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it. But you are going to stay out of this, and whatever you do, you are going to stay far away from Alistair Teague. Promise me.” “Fine. I’ll stay away from Teague.” It was an easy promise to make. Teague made her feel like she was dangling by a thread over a deep, black hole. But if Thad thought she was going to stay out of this and ignore the threat to her brother, he was a fool. It was the two of them against the world; and the last thing Thad needed to deal with on top of questions about the legitimacy of his kingship and an economy shaken by a spike in crime was a fae threatening him over a bargain. She couldn’t stop the nobility from questioning Thad’s ability to rule. She couldn’t stop criminals from targeting Súndraille’s cities. But she could figure out what kind of fae creature Alistair Teague was, and maybe that would help Thad figure out how to get free of him. As a group of Draconi who appeared to be close friends of the Eldrian king spilled out into the garden, laughing and dancing, Thad straightened his shoulders, nodded to Cleo as she snatched up her tray of fizzy wine, and then took Ari’s arm and gently steered her toward the ballroom. Ari stayed by his side, smiling until her face felt like it would never resume a normal expression and gritting her teeth at the barbed questions and insinuations many Súndraillians tossed at her brother. Thad was going to have to make time in his busy schedule to have a heart-to-heart with her about whatever bargain he’d struck. In the meantime, she’d start asking questions about Teague. If a fae creature with magical power was in Súndraille, someone would’ve heard of it. If Teague thought he was going to use the bargain he’d made with Thad to take her brother’s life, he was going to have to go through Ari first. Copyright © 2017 by C. J. Redwine