The Five Petal Knot Read online

  Copyright 2017 Lucía Ashta.

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  All rights reserved.

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  Published by Awaken to Peace Press.

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  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer or with written permission of the publisher.

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  Cover design by Lou Harper.

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  Edited by Elsa Crites.

  To be notified of future stories and exclusive giveaways, sign up for Lucía’s mailing list HERE.

  For Sonia,

  whose heart is magical

  True magic lies within the heart.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  The Merqueen - Book 3

  Acknowledgments

  Read more by Lucía Ashta

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  After Albacus left me alone in the cavernous entry hall, I stood there for a long time, until the sun gave way to darkness. The menacing shadows of the unknown grew longer and crept closer. The enchanted burning candles did nothing to dispel them.

  The castle, already cold, grew colder. A shiver ran down my spine, caused as much by dread as the plummeting temperature. The only person I knew—and not well enough—was off limits to me. Marcelo was somewhere in the castle with Mordecai. I didn’t see either of them since they walked through the front door ahead of me, and according to Albacus, I should plan on not seeing Marcelo for some time. Albacus, whom I just met, vacillated between aggression and inscrutability in the limited time I shared with him.

  So my relief was palpable when a servant emerged from the shadows. It didn’t matter that the man, who possessed an overall air of fastidiousness, didn’t look particularly happy with his task. I assumed that, like all servants I’d encountered, he’d be obligated to answer my questions, and I had more of those after talking with Albacus than before.

  With a stiff gait, the man approached. He held his back perfectly straight. Mother made my sisters and me practice walking with books on our heads. “A lady must walk tall and with confidence so that a potential husband might notice her,” she’d say. We weren’t particularly good at the exercise, and books were abused in the process. This man could carry a whole pile of books on his head and never drop a single one.

  I didn’t care about his potential for book carrying, however. I felt sorely out of place in this castle, perched in a forgotten part of the world like a gargoyle. Not a single one of its features made me feel welcome.

  The servant wasn’t friendly at all. “Take a seat for dinner, Miss.”

  I swirled around, taking in the dismal ambiance of the entry hall. “Where? Here?” My eyes accidentally skimmed the tapestry of the demonic satyr that startled me earlier. I flicked them away.

  The servant huffed, as if I should know the ways of the castle even though I just arrived. He pointed toward a room off the entry hall. “Over there, Miss.”

  While I took in the room and its bizarre, dreary decorations, he left, to get dinner, I hoped. The dining room was better lit than the entry hall. A whole row of enchanted candles adorned the center of the long table, although they did little to brighten the mood. There was only a place set for one, despite seating for more than two-dozen guests.

  The paintings that hung on the walls were ghastly and, I assumed, part of the brothers’ ancestral dark art collection. I shuddered. I wasn’t certain I could stay at the castle for any extended period of time. How long would my training in magic last? The castle was inhospitable. It made me long for Norland Manor, even if my parents and their oppressive nonsense were there as well.

  A different servant brought me dinner. She offered me a friendly look, and my heart jumped in disproportion to the slight slant of her lips. She was middle-aged and slightly plump, and the sight of her made me think I might cry. The time—and the experiences that filled it—since I departed Norland Manor left my nerves frayed and my emotions delicate, even though it had been less than three months.

  I smiled back at the servant with a quivering chin that betrayed all that was going on within. I hoped she wouldn’t notice, but she probably did. I took my seat in the middle of the table, facing a particularly gruesome image of a magician bent over an animal—a lamb, I thought—apparently cutting its heart out. I barely arrived and already the castle fully overwhelmed me. I couldn’t bear to think of what I might find if I ventured farther into the castle than the entryway.

  “Here’s yar dinner for ya, Miss.” She set a dinner plate and a bowl of soup in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking up at her, truly grateful. But once I looked down, my gratitude vanished. “What is it?”

  “Ya have bone marrow broth Cook made just this mornin. An ya have a piece a cow tongue, a bit a goose liver, and carrots.”

  I didn’t even recognize the carrots. Everything looked distorted and scary. I didn’t know what to say. The servant turned to walk away.

  “Will you please show me to my room?”

  The woman returned to my side. “Aw, it’s not so bad now, is it?”

  That was relative. If I were facing starvation, yes, this might be a delightful meal. But as it was, I couldn’t bring myself to eat it.

  “Y’all need to eat, Miss. This is what Lord Albacus an Lord Mordecai have Cook make, so ya best get used to it.”

  “All right.” I forced myself to nod while tears welled in my eyes. Like a pimple, my dinner brought the recent events of my life to a head.

  “It’ll be all right, Miss.” The servant sounded worried. She’d probably never seen one of the brothers’ guests cry. That is, if they even had any other guests. “Cook made up some bread this mornin too. How bout I go an see if I can get you a nice chunk of it to have with yar broth?”

  I couldn’t speak anymore; irrationality and emotion were in control. I nodded, and a tear broke lose to slide down my cheek. The servant hurried away.

  When she returned with the bread, I must have been a pitiful sight because she took the plate with the tongue, liver, and carrots away and brought it back free of animal parts, but with an extra serving of carrots. She set it down in front of me again without mention of the improvement.

  “I’ll be back to get ya to take ya to yar room in a while,” the woman said while turning to leave. She hesitated at the archway that led away from the dining room. “Ya want ta eat yar food, Miss. Y’all need yar strength. Strange things happen here at the castle.”

  I turned to face the woman. It was a slow, melancholy movement, and it was all I had in me. She looked like she was going to say something more, but thought better of it. I couldn’t decide whether I wished she’d said what was on her mind or not. I had the sinking feeling that I’d discover what she was referring to soon enough.

  CHAPTER 2

  My room was on the second floor and, blessedly, less oppressive than the rest of the castle I saw thus far. This was mostly because of the lack of decoration. My room was simple. No paintings or tapestries covered the somewhat dilapidated plaster walls. I never thought I’d be so happy to have plain white walls, but I was, and I was able to find solace—or something akin to it—in my sparse room.

  There was a single bed with warm, woolen blankets; a bedside table with two candlesticks resting on it; an empty dresser, which reminded me that someone would need to order me new dresses; and a petite fireplace, just large enough to heat the room. And there was one window, my favorite part of the small chamber. The window was large, with multiple panes of glass, and let in a lot of light. Its view was of mountains, ravines, and waterfalls. I anticipated that I’d found my sanctuary, the place where I’d like to spend most of my time while indoors.

  I woke that morning to hints of daylight streaming through the window. I dragged myself from bed, wrapped the top blanket around me to ward against chill, and positioned myself to watch the sunrise. It was a beaut
iful way to start the day, and it all but made me forget the two grumpy magician brothers, Marcelo’s wounds and fever, and a castle filled with hideous images and intimidating shadows. The oranges and reds of sunrise outshone my fears for several minutes that I didn’t want to end, and made me nostalgic for those bits of Norland Manor that I loved most: the lush gardens and old trees, the comfort of familiarity, and most of all, my youngest sister, Gertrude.

  Gertrude had no idea where I was, and not even Margaret, my lady’s maid, would know what to tell her, even though she was with me last. I wondered when I’d see them again.

  I stared at the countryside below with longing. Lit as it was, the landscape resembled a painting—but a happy one, unlike what I observed so far in the castle’s formidable art collection. The scene spread out before me idyllically, birds skimming thin, rushing waterfalls.

  I sighed in a very unladylike fashion that would’ve horrified Mother, and gathered what resolve I had left. There was no delaying it any longer. I had to face the day ahead of me. Albacus didn’t tell me what time we were to begin training, and I didn’t want to start the day off with him angry at me for being late.

  I shed the blanket and, as quickly as I could to beat the chill, pulled my undergarments tight and snaked first into my corset and then my travel-worn dress. I fumbled to lace up my bodice. I’d have to ask Albacus to clean the dress as Marcelo had. The state of it was deplorable. The yellow of the fabric was unrecognizable as the bright color it once was, and the hem of the dress was torn and tattered. Besides, the dress wasn’t warm enough for the cold of the high mountains.

  From the bedside table, I picked up the comb Marcelo gifted me, admiring its mother of pearl inlay, and began the challenging task of making my waist-long hair presentable. I longed for a bath, but neither my hosts nor their servants offered me one.

  When I finally made my way down old, creaky stairs, I didn’t realize I was about to manifest my own bath experience and launch my initiation into the world of magic in a way that was wholly unanticipated.

  CHAPTER 3

  I walked down the same path the woman servant led me up the night before. But I didn’t arrive in the entry hall as I expected I would. I ended up someplace else entirely, somewhere I hadn’t been before. I stood on shiny, yellow tiles instead of dark stone flooring.

  I looked back up the stairs, the way I came, and then again to the yellow tiles. It made no sense, and although I liked the brightness of what lay ahead much more than the gloom that characterized the rest of the castle, I didn’t want to risk getting lost. The castle seemed enormous, and I had an appointment to keep.

  I retraced my steps, knowing I could figure it out once I returned to my room. My memory was excellent. I was shocked that I took a wrong turn in the first place. I climbed the same stairs, the sounds of squeaking wooden treads echoing along with my footsteps. But when I reached the landing where my room should have been, I found two doors in place of one.

  The woman servant’s words from the previous night came back to me. “Mind that ya keep to tha same path, ya hear? Ya don wan ta stray in this place.” Well, I followed the same path.

  Regardless, I wouldn’t be discouraged. I’d figure this out. Could I have taken a wrong turn somewhere? It seemed unlikely, and the fact that I must have done it twice seemed even more improbable. But there was no other explanation.

  I turned and made my way back down the steps, making certain to remain attentive and retrace the servant’s steps precisely. I did, I was sure of it, yet I ended up at the threshold to an open door I dared not step through. The room beyond it emanated a foul odor, and it was too dark to see inside it.

  I didn’t linger in front of the foreboding room. I changed directions to return up the stairs I’d just descended. Again, my room eluded me. I was beginning to feel disoriented from all the ups and downs. I headed back downstairs once more and rediscovered the shiny, yellow-tiled floor. This time, I didn’t try to find the right path—mostly because I was working hard to dispel the fear that I might not find it.

  I stepped into the welcoming, bright room before it, too, could disappear. And I found myself falling, headfirst, into water.

  Like most things in the castle, the yellow-tiled floor wasn’t what it appeared to be. Hard, ceramic tiles were anything but. My mind couldn’t even begin to make sense of what was happening as I struggled, quite ungracefully, to keep myself from pitching forward. I flung my arms out to the sides, swinging them back and forth, trying in vain to regain balance.

  But, in the end, the water claimed me. And so, too, did magic.

  CHAPTER 4

  I braced myself for a shock, but I was pleasantly surprised. The temperature of the water was quite comfortable, as if I’d jumped into a bath. But unlike a bath, I couldn’t seem to get out of it.

  I immediately tried to swim upward, but discovered that I wasn’t able to. I didn’t know why not. I looked around but saw nothing but dingy yellowed skirts. I fumbled with the floating skirts of my dress and undergarments until I managed to clamp them against my body.

  I looked up. My eyeballs bulged. I couldn’t see the surface of the water. I couldn’t see the threshold I’d crossed to enter the disguised yellow-tiled room either. In fact, I couldn’t see anything anywhere around me except for crystal clear, perfect water.

  I steeled myself and then looked downward. Surely I’d see where the water was carrying me as it slowly, yet steadily, pulled me down into its depths.

  But I couldn’t.

  I didn’t understand. I should have at least been able to see the surface of the water where I just entered it. But then, with a sinking feeling, I thought that I also should have been able to navigate the simple path from my bedroom to the entry hall. Shoulds and shouldn’ts didn’t seem to play the same role here at the castle as they did everywhere else.

  I realized, too, that I wasn’t drowning. My lungs weren’t seizing, struggling for nourishing air. When I brought my attention to it, I noticed that I was breathing quite normally. At least, it felt normal, although there was obviously nothing normal about it.

  I attempted to swim upward again, but the same thing happened as last time. My arms moved with confident strokes that I knew, under ordinary circumstances, would take me up toward the surface. But I didn’t make progress. My strokes did nothing but appear to keep me in place for a moment, delaying the inevitable downward pull of the water.

  For a minute or two, I swam vigorously, detaining my sinking. But it was only temporary, and I knew it. I couldn’t sustain this hovering for very long before tiring.

  The water was pleasant and I could breathe, so I did the only thing I knew to do. I relaxed and let the water take me wherever it was determined to go.

  Once I stopped resisting it, the water cradled me in its embrace. With it, I descended rapidly to an altogether different sort of place.

  It seemed like the descent was very long, but perhaps it wasn’t. I can’t be sure. Those senses that I normally relied on to provide me with essential feedback of my surroundings gave me faulty readings.