Reckless Magic

The Star-CrossedSeries

By Rachel Higginson

Copyright@ RachelHigginson 2012

This publication isprotected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicableinternational, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved,including resale rights: you are not allowed to give, copy, scan, distribute orsell this book to anyone else.

Any trademarks,service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the propertyof their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is noimplied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

Any people or placesare strictly fictional and not based on anything else, fictional ornon-fictional.

Editing servicesprovided by Jennifer Nunez.

Printedin paperback May 2012 and available in Kindle and E-book format as of May 2012through Amazon, Create Space and Barnes & Noble.

To my Daddy, whoinstilled the confidence in me

To write long beforethis daydream took form

To Kylee, my firstreader and critic, who made

This possible fromstart to finish

To Zach, who was thefirst ever to believe

My dream could alsobe my work

Prologue

Headlights lit up the dark livingroom as a black, unmarked sedan pulled into the driveway. A man sittingsilently in the corner arm chair lifted his head from his fingertips andfocused sharply on the late night visitor.

The man was used to hosting manyguests, mostly dignitaries and officials sent on palace business. The guestswould come and go with lots of pomp and circumstance, reminding the man that hewas a servant. He was a servant, to the Monarchy, the palace, the King.

The guests would also come withlots of warning. The car parked out front came with no notice and it caused theman to focus. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t worried. He was just curious.

Standing up slowly, he felt thetingling of magic ignite in his blood. They couldn’t disguise themselves, thosethat were like him. He could feel their presence before they were too close. Their similar magic, like a warning flare, always reminding him ofwhom he was, of whom he belonged to.

He expected the worst, the end to atoo long life. The house he had made his home in recent years would be perfectfor this tragic finale. An empty tomb holding centuries of memories, most ofwhich he would have loved to forget. The expensive but empty house would beperfect to bid good-bye to this life. It felt like his over-lived existence:too large, too old and too empty.

He half wondered who they wouldsend. He wondered who would be strong enough to finish the job no onepreviously had been able to finish. This time he wouldn’t fight. He was tiredof fighting. He was tired of victory. There was nothing left for him to win.The people he had believed in had let him down. The King he had expected theworst from hadn’t. It was time to give up. Time to throw in the towel and letthem destroy him; along with the cause he alone was defending. He was ready.

Finally, he was ready.

But as the magic moved towards thedoor, he was surprised to find it not threatening, but familiar, like an oldmagic, from an old friend. A friend from a different time and one that he hadhoped to never meet again because he knew she must be desperate to brave thisvisit.

“Hello, Angelica,” the man answeredthe door before the old woman could knock. Her long white hair glistened in themoonlight, and she returned his scowl with a gentle smile and sad violet eyes.

“Hello, Amory,” Angelica’s armswere full of something covered with blankets. She pushed past him; his tall, muscularframe took up most of the door way. The cold night of a winter turning intospring blew quietly into the house, but encouraged the man to shut the doorquickly behind them.

Once the door was shut, Amoryturned the lights on in the darkened house, planning to invite the woman in forthe night. The house now lit, took on a different personality from before. Whatonce felt like a stark and empty room was now warm and inviting with the softglow of light. A simple burst of magic brought a roaring fire to life andwarmed the room, as quickly as it was lit.

Angelica sat down on a largeleather couch near the fire. Her arms were still full of blankets and herexpression still sad.

“Let me take those from you,” Amoryoffered, realizing Angelica looked frail and tired under her packages.

“I would love that,” her face litup just a little bit as Amory bent over to take the first bundle out of herright arm.

As his strong hands slippedunderneath a blue blanket to lift the package from her, they stopped suddenly,paralyzed by the soft and warm body underneath. Pulling his hands away, hestared at her with fear in his eyes.

“What is this?” he asked, nearlychoking on his words.

“Take a look for yourself,” shenodded her head and encouraged him with tender eyes.

“Who?What? It can’t be,” Amory fumbled through words afraid of what was in eitherarm.

Eventually he found enough courageto pull the blue blanket away from a sleeping infant, not more than a week old.The little boy was perfect, tiny and soft with chubby cheeks and a thick headof dark curly hair that seemed too much for his little head. He stared at thechild for several seconds recognizing his parents without ever needingconfirmation.

He looked back to the woman whosmiled even sweeter, a tear escaping from one of her violet eyes, making theirstrange color stand out starkly against her pale and wrinkly skin. She noddedto the other bundle, one wrapped in a pink blanket. Amory shook his head andstepped back.

The baby boy had not scared the man;it was the second bundle that had concerned him so. Several seconds passedbefore Amory found the courage to pull the blanket away from the secondsleeping child. Almost identical to her twin brother, with chubby cheeks, anddark, unruly hair, she was unmistakably a girl, but with almost an angelicquality and a sweet, small nose.

“It’s not possible,” Amory shookhis head again, noticing the tiny buzzing of infant magic swirling around himfor the first time.

“That’s what I said,” Angelica heldout the baby girl and, shaking slightly, Amory took her into his arms, feelinglike the smallest mistake would shatter the fragile child.

“How did they….? How did you….? Howdid they get here?” Amory stumbled through several half questions beforesettling on the most recent. Twins did not exist in their culture, or at leastthey hadn’t in thousands of years.

“Two days ago, Justice came to mein the middle of the night with these two. He stayed for only a couple minutes,just long enough to explain that these were their children, their first andonly, that they were twins, and that Delia and he were fine.” She cuddled thelittle boy in her arms, pressing her cheek against his head gently. “And,Amory, he asked me to bring them to you. It was Delia’s idea.” She stared downat the sleeping child, afraid to look up into her dear friend’s eyes.

Although Amory was infinitely olderthan her, no one would have been able to tell. His black hair showed no signsof gray, and his matching black eyes were as sharp as ever. She was nearing thebeginning of old age and looked it. Her face was wrinkled and hair perfectlywhite; her hands were gnarled and she showed a lifetime of hardship that shewas unwilling to admit to.

“To me?”His voice betrayed the fear he felt and took on the sweet cooing of a gentlesoul speaking to a baby. The little girl sighed heavily in his arms as ifperfectly content to be there.