Free A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) by Laura E. Reeve

foolish enough to raise a weapon against the Phrenii would become a gibbering maniac. The “phrenic madness” protected these creatures from adults—or vice versa.
    Staring at the creature’s translucent body, she saw whirling clouds that seemed to pull at her. Suddenly dizzy, she averted her gaze before the Phrenii’s attention could fall on her. The scent of a sea breeze wafted past. The sound of hooves stopped. She looked up to see faceted blue eyes directed toward Lornis while children circled and skipped about.
    “Welcome to the sister cities, Lornis, where you belong.” The words from the creature hung in the air accompanied by a tone. Draius caught her breath. This element of the Phrenii, named Jhari, represented air and prescience.
    Lornis coughed and bowed. Jhari appeared to take this as a response; it turned away and led the children right at the next intersection. The voices and ringing faded. Lornis avoided making eye contact with Draius as they continued up the slow incline of the main street.
    “This is the second time I’ve encountered Jhari.” His voice seemed bitter. His shoulders slumped, a tiny movement that only she might have noticed.
    “Sounds like you have a phrenic prophecy hanging over your head.”
    Lornis shrugged and opened his mouth.
    “No.” She stopped him. “Don’t tell me anything. I’d rather stay oblivious, if you don’t mind.”
    “That was my opinion, too. No one but my grandmother knows.”
    She said nothing more. Poor soul—a reading from the Phrenii placed some sort of destiny upon him. Most Tyrrans resisted asking the Phrenii for a reading, only resorting to phrenic prescience when absolutely necessary. Their readings rarely satisfied the questioner and caused a lifetime of fear. “Better to believe you’re at the helm and living free, than with the dagger of destiny at one’s back,” went the Tyrran saying.
    After several more intersections, they arrived at their destination near the northern edge of the plateau. Here the street ended, leaving them facing the Meran-Viisi reliquary, the oldest in all of Tyrra. To their left was a residence with the address of Number One Betarr Serin. It stretched to the cliff face on the west and the Dahn Serin Falls in the far northwest corner of the city. The gates were heavy and wooden, without decoration.
    Draius’s critical eye saw the flecks of rust on one of the hinges. The gates were shabby, even shameful, for the House of the Meran-Viisi. It was the King’s residence, and the place where her own mother grew up. The wide marble stairs to the grandiose building across the street overshadowed the entrance to Number One.
    She glanced up the stone staircase to her right, overwhelmed with memories, having a vivid sense of climbing the stairs beside her father. After the Fevers, she was ten and he had been too lost in his own pain to pay attention to the funeral of a king, the crowning of another, or his own grieving daughter. Eight years later, she had helped her ailing father up those steps so he could officiate as her younger cousin Perinon was quickly installed as King.
    The stairs led to the Palace of Stars, in which the Tyrran government functioned. It held reception halls, offices for the King’s Guard, and chambers for the King’s Council. One elected and one appointed member represented each borough on the council. Reggis had been an elected member.
    “Ser?” Lornis caught her attention. “Where are we to be received?”
    She shook her head to clear it. Stepping to the entrance to the grounds, she pulled on the bell and it jingled inside the courtyard. They heard someone approaching the gate.
    “At least this should be quick,” Lornis said.
    “Why?”
    “Well, you being Meran-Viisi, his cousin and all—” He stopped at her expression.
    Her mouth and tongue felt like they’d been deadened. “You’ve been looking into my background?”
    “Yes, ser.” Color flared and disappeared on his sharp cheekbones.