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  Shattering Dreams

  The Being Of Dreams Book 1

  Catherine M Walker

  Copyright © 2018 by Catherine M Walker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 978-1-925776-01-0 (Ebook)

  Created with Vellum

  To Pam and John Walker (aka Mum & Dad) you always believed in me told me I could achieve anything. Thank you for teaching me that dreams are possible.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Rebellion

  2. The Killiam Order’s Recruit

  3. A Night at The Tankard

  4. The Sundered, Kin and Elder

  5. A Plot Continues

  6. The Strafford’s Dance

  7. A Separation

  8. Kidnap

  9. Kyle Defends Alex

  10. Kyle Falls Sick

  11. William Briefs the King

  12. Consequences

  13. The Shadow Hunts

  14. A Meeting of Lords

  15. The Order Reconsiders

  16. Relocation to the Summer Palace

  17. Acknowledging Amelia

  18. The Sundered Attack

  19. Protection and Recovery

  20. Alex and Amelia

  21. Hunting Parties

  22. The Watchers

  23. Compound of the Fourth

  24. The Ball

  25. An Annual Event

  26. Assassins Hunt

  27. The Consort Elect of the Fourth

  28. Encroaching Madness

  29. Companions’ Confessions

  30. Assassins Play

  31. Tracking the Skull

  32. Treason

  33. Decent

  34. Not as it Seems

  35. Alex

  36. Kyle

  37. Jess

  38. Amelia

  About the Author

  Prologue

  The small boy giggled gleefully as he ran scrambling over a fallen tree trunk, ducking around trees. Little legs pumping, he glanced back at the person pursuing him. She laughed too.

  Mother had abandoned her traditional formality to play with him. Those moments were rare, and he cherished them.

  He burst into the clearing, running toward a large boulder beside the stream. Hands grabbed him and hoisted him into the air as his mother caught up to him, holding him close, spinning him around.

  He wrapped his arms about Mother’s neck as she climbed the sloping rock at the edge of the river. They sat on a large boulder overlooking the stream, the dense forest continuing on the distant bank, comfortable with each other’s company. Near to where they sat, Mother’s people set up rugs and cushions, laying out food and drink in the centre with two places. As the servants stood back to admire their work from a discreet distance, Mother took his hand and they moved to the rug and pillows. The ever-present servants walked forward showing one dish at a time, pulling covers off once he and his mother had settled on the blanket.

  He smiled, seeing his favourites set before him: a mug of water, nutty bread with tangy cheese (which he had only enjoyed eating when he realised it was his mother’s favourite) and a mixture of berries he loved. Lessons on etiquette from his nanny running through his brain, he looked at his mother with contained impatience as she laughed and took a small bite out of her sandwich. His mother taking that first morsel signalled that he could start his meal. The boy grabbed his food using both hands, not wanting his cheese to fall off onto the ground as it had last time they’d gone on an excursion. Nanny warned him if he wanted to eat with his mother and father along with his brother and sister in the big main hall, Mother had to see him showing his best manners—proving he was a grownup.

  He took a mouthful, taking a moment to enjoy the taste he was familiar with, grinning at his mother after he’d swallowed. Mother liked it too, he could tell. Mirroring her moves, spilling nothing, he placed his bread on the plate; grabbing his mug, he gulped the water it held. With equal care, he settled the mug on the picnic blanket then smiled, thanking the servant who filled up his cup.

  His meal progressed in much the same fashion, sitting there in quiet companionship with his mother, mirroring everything she did. He caught her smile of approval as he managed his whole lunch, spilling none of it, although he missed the amused glances of the servants and guards.

  His mother rose, signalling the end of their meal, holding her hand out to him as he stood, helping him to his feet. She laughed again as they picked their course off the rock, careful not to lose their footing, across the clearing and toward the horses. He knew what that indicated. It meant their day out was ending. Still, he didn’t voice his disappointment. For Mother to trust him outside of the nursery more, his tutors had advised him he needed to show he could behave.

  A faint whistling noise followed by a pained grunt drew his attention and he looked over toward the sound. A guard fell to the ground, his half-drawn blade slipping from the sheath. He lay in a crumpled heap. Another guard, unmoving, slumped over as if he was sleeping; he had never, in the times he’d been out with his mother, seen any of the guards do that. Bewildered, the boy spun around, wide-eyed as more of the escort fell.

  His mother’s gasp caused him to look back up. He stumbled as she thrust him backwards.

  “Run, hide …”

  She stopped, frozen for a moment. The boy recognised fear on her face as a tall, dark figure loomed over her. Her head wrenched to one side, then he saw a large hunting blade slice across her throat. The man screamed and shoved his mother aside. She crumpled, reminding him of his sister’s rag dolls—dropped, left broken and forgotten by her attackers on the ground.

  The boy remembered his lessons; he’d overheard guards talking often enough, knew they watched out for them. He knew, even though this was the first time he’d seen one, that the dark, looming figure was one of the Sundered.

  He struggled as strong hands picked him up and he heard the cruel laughter of his captor. “Foolish child. Do you think you can escape me? You’ll join your mother before long.”

  Then the figure stopped and looked at him, before throwing his head back. A harsh bark of laughter erupted from him. The boy fell to the ground as the Sundered dropped him.

  “Live for now, boy. You’ll join our ranks soon enough, brother.”

  The Sundered faded from sight, causing the boy to wonder if the monster had even been there. The boy realised he was alone in the glade with the fallen. His lips trembled as he scrambled over to his mother. Grabbing her shoulder, he shook her, trying to get her to wake, not understanding why she didn’t. As darkness fell, he looked around. He sobbed, muffling the sound by pressing the fabric of his vest against his mouth in case the Sundered came back. Curled near his mother’s side, not knowing what else to do, he finally fell asleep.

  He woke to the noise of horses and bright, glaring light, in the strong arms of a man he recognised as one his father’s guards. He clung to the guard, not willing to let go.

  “It’s ok, Alex. We’ll take you home,” the guard choked.

  Guards slipped a blanket over his mother’s unmoving form and the boy saw, with shock, a tear trail from the eye of the normally impassive guard.

  1

  Rebellion

  Alex smiled. Outwardly, he appeared relaxed, accepting the compliments and praise, basking in the adoration of his peers. He swallowed the last of his wine, not even noticing as a hovering servant refilled his glass. Alex let his eyes roam over the ballroom, settling for a moment on the dais where the
King sat on his throne, presiding over the proceedings attended by William, playing the dutiful Crown Prince.

  Prince William looked in his direction and frowned, as he did whenever he looked away from his conversation with the King long enough to peer at him. Alex raised his glass to the perfect one in the court, the noble Prince—the King’s favourite child—and drank the contents of his glass, laughing as William sighed and turned away.

  Alex let his eyes rake over his contemporaries, the younger sons and daughters of the court’s high lords and ladies as they fought for a position near him. He smiled bitterly and wondered if the sycophants would still try to gain his favour if they knew one of his father’s closest guarded secrets. That if he’d been born to a typical family instead of a ruling family, it would have seen him killed at birth or as soon as the healers confirmed he bore the Taint. Alex laughed, his presence a ticking time bomb in the court, surrounded by the Elite in the Realm, waiting for the moment his father’s guards deemed it prudent to end his life. Still, that possibility was a future concern.

  Alex wished not for the first time that he lived in that long ago era where, so legend had it, being able to wield the power of the veil wasn’t a bad thing. Those with the power where highly regarded and valued. Thinking of the folklore regarding the use of the veil in those days nearly made him laugh. Vaunted fighters, augmenting their strength and normal abilities, able to travel great distances, being able to control the very elements … immortals. Until his Great, Uncle Edward’s day. Something had started going wrong. Those with access to the veil had started turning, going mad and killing people. Ordinary people who couldn’t defend themselves, events that begun the Sundered War.

  Alex caught himself before he slipped and rolled his eyes, drawn out of his introspection. He noticed Lord Minor Rathan Cartwright trying to insinuate himself into the group surrounding Lady Jessalan. Rathan was an irritating little Lordling who kept trying to gain not only his attention, but that of his friends. The only one who didn’t realise he didn’t have a chance was Rathan himself.

  Alex caught Jess’s eye. You’ve got incoming.

  It was times like this being Tainted was handy. He may not be immortal or be able to control the elements but he could communicate with others who bore the Taint—Lady Jessalan Elena Barraclough was one of them. She was one of his closest friends, even though she was the daughter of a low-ranking lord who attained his rank due to the King’s favour rather than through hereditary lines. She came to the Royal Court as a small girl, placed in the care of her Aunt and Uncle. Her Aunt had been a beauty in her time; she even overcame the challenge of her low birth to marry the second most powerful lord in the Realm.

  They had been firm friends since childhood. Jess had grown up, and was now regarded as one of the most desired and beautiful ladies of the court. Her blonde hair was held in an intricate design by combs and pins, with a trail of hair running down one side as if it had wilfully escaped its bindings. With pale skin, startling green eyes and a slim waist, Jess appeared to be, on the surface, almost delicate.

  Appearances can deceive. Alex knew she was athletic and an incredible swordsman. Well-known as one of the best hunters in the court and comfortable not only in wielding blades, but knives, bows—any weapon that came to hand. Jess rode with the royal party in the Royal Hunt, and when Elizabeth, William’s twin, ventured from the palace, Jess was always in her entourage. Unknown to anyone else, Jess was one of the last forms of defence should anyone try to harm the Princess. The only reason most lords of their set let her be—other than light courting—was her association with Alex and Kyle. That is, other than Rathan, who had been trying to gain her attention of late, it seemed.

  He chuckled as Jess rolled her eyes, her voice replying in kind in his mind. Oh, save me. Is anyone in this court more irritating?

  Oh, I don’t know. His sister, Janice, is right up there. Kyle’s exasperated mind-voice filtered across to them both.

  Alex glanced across at his friend, Lord Kyle Xavier Strafford who looked as if he was devoting his entire attention to Lady Minor Janice Cartwright. As the son of the most influential and the richest lord in the Realm, Kyle was a favourite amongst the ladies of the court. Just as their fathers had been friends from childhood, Alex and Kyle had been friends from the nursery, since they were often thrown together while their fathers talked matters of state. Kyle had a well-earned reputation as a ladies’ man. Rumour had it he had been working his way through the ladies of the court—young and old—since he’d reached his majority. Kyle was tall with an athletic build, with black hair, olive skin and deep brown eyes that almost seemed black depending on his mood.

  He was also one of the best swordsmen in the Realm, having been trained by the best since he’d been old enough to hold a sword. Most of the courtiers were unaware of that. Still, some were catching on. They had been giving him a clear path; if they thought he was ill-tempered.

  Shall we stage an exit from this party? I’m bored anyway.

  Alex smiled, receiving their replies, and excused himself from the group surrounding him. He made his way across the ballroom toward Jessalan with a trail of people following behind.

  Alex’s eyes scanned the ballroom as he walked, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Lady Amelia, Kyle’s sister, her smile fixed as she deflected the attentions of one of the lords in her circle of admirers. Alex diverted, making his way across the crowded room to join her circle. Amelia’s lips parted in a smile when she saw him and Alex took her hand and brushed his lips in a light kiss on her fingers.

  “Amelia, you look lovely tonight.”

  Alex kept his eyes firmly on hers but knew that others in the court had tracked his movement and were watching the byplay avidly. He also knew that the King had noticed and had halted his conversation with Lord Strafford, Amelia’s father. The minor lord that Amelia had discouraged paled, realising he had made a mistake.

  Amelia blushed, glancing down before looking back up into his eyes. “Thank you, Alex.”

  “I trust there won’t be any trouble tonight?” Alex let his eyes track across the men surrounding Amelia.

  The miscreant that Amelia had pushed aside paled and took a step back subconsciously, trying to put some distance between him and Alex. Alex smiled at the hasty denials from all the men, realising that his hand had strayed to his sword hilt. Then, pulling Amelia closer, he kissed her on her forehead in a brotherly fashion.

  “Have a good evening, Amelia. If you need anything, approach the guard; I’m sure they will be happy to help.” Alex’s eyes flicked up to the nearby guardsman on duty who nodded discreetly before transferring his attention to the Lordling, who by this stage looked like he was about to faint.

  “I’ll withdraw, with your permission My Lady?” Alex gave a half bow, grinning at Amelia impudently as he backed up; she laughed and flipped her hands at him.

  With one final glare toward the men surrounding Amelia, he turned and made his way across the crowded ballroom, which magically cleared in front of him as he walked toward Jessalan. He moved through the group surrounding Jess; they moved aside good-naturedly as soon as they realised it was him. Slipping in next to Jess, he slid his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek and in one practised motion he slipped his empty glass to a passing servant. Alex laughed outright as Jess placed her hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer to kiss him on the lips.

  Come on, let's get out of here. There must be a party more entertaining than this courtroom somewhere in this kingdom!

  Alex wrapped one arm around Lady Jessalan’s slender waist, throwing his other arm around the shoulders of Kyle, who had divested himself of his followers and arrived at Alex’s other side. Alex dragged them toward the doors, oblivious to the obvious consternation of the courtiers in the ballroom, since the King had not left the hall yet.

  Kyle exchanged glances with Jessalan, who sighed as Alex turned and hauled them both toward the doors. Kyle risked a glance over his shoulder
toward the dais, catching the discreet nod from the Crowned Prince just as they exited the ballroom.

  Alex knew that behind the scenes there was mad scrambling—runners heading off to alert guards they were on the move, looking likely to leave the palace. He threw back his head and laughed, knowing the mandatory entourage would swear and run to get ready. They hated it when he ran off and much preferred advance notice so they could get ready to go with him in a more orderly manner. Alex, however, much preferred to leave the guards behind. There were times when the press of people became stifling. He and his friends had much more fun relaxing away from the ever-prying eyes of the assorted lords, ladies, guards and servants, away from the stifling confines of the palace.

  Still, despite the suddenness of his decision to leave, the palace servants would scramble, their horses saddled, waiting in the courtyard with attentive grooms holding them. Palace servants were, by now, well used to his ways. He wouldn’t be surprised if they saddled his and his friends’ horses every night, just in case. He hadn’t been left standing impatiently on the stairs in the minor courtyard of the Royal Palace waiting for his horse for quite some time.

  The three of them sped up their pace. Jess, hiking up her skirts, kept pace until they reached the large double doors to the courtyard. Alex always marvelled at how Jess’ servants managed the transformation; somehow, they swarmed around her, taking her to a small room off the side of the hallway. He didn’t know the room’s original purpose, but now it was a small private dressing room. Alex and Kyle continued out the doors that swung open ahead of them and their own servants appeared with cloaks and blades. Both of them divested of their court weapons, their ceremonial vests peeled off them and replaced with vests that were, while still well-made and expensive, far more suitable for the night’s entertainment—it would take trained eyes to spot them.