Page 1 of A Kingdom of Magic and Rain

PROLOGUE

I lifted my gaze to the opulent ceiling, blinking to keep my tears at bay. Crying on my wedding day would serve no purpose beyond ruining my elaborate makeup. How had I ended up here? Not in my bedroom at the royal palace, but in this moment. My world had shattered two weeks ago, and I was still desperately clinging to the broken pieces, as if I could somehow fit them back together.

My life would never be the same. And though I knew exactly how I had reached this point, standing here, dressed in a wedding gown, felt surreal. And the one I was about to marry… A shuddering exhale slipped past my lips, and my chin trembled as I found my reflection in the vanity mirror. My golden eyes seemed too big for my face, the dark circles underneath making me appear gaunt. No amount of skillfully applied rouge could hide that I had barely slept over the past two weeks.

“What a mess,” I muttered under my breath, fighting the urge to bury my face in my hands and weep.

My gaze left my distraught reflection and landed on my diary atop the vanity. Bound in soft brown leather, the journal was a gift from my father and had my initials embossed on the front cover in gold letters—E.E.C. Emelin Elise Clairborne. Soon, my name would change to signify the beginning of a new life, a new me. Another ragged breath escaped. I wasn’t ready, but I wanted to get the ceremony over with. Standing here, waiting for what was coming next, was torture.

In an attempt to occupy my racing mind, I slowly lowered myself onto the cushioned stool in front of the vanity, careful not to crease the bountiful skirts of my gown. I folded my hands in my lap to still their trembling and glared at the diary as though it were to blame for my situation. Its inked pages held the story of my downfall. Hesitantly, I reached for the journal. I was tempted to purge the erratic thoughts from my head, but I was too afraid to get ink on my ivory dress. Even though writing was not an option, I could still read. Setting the diary on my lap, I leafed through the events of the past few months, agonizing over every little detail as I had done many times before, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong. Could I have prevented what had happened if I had paid closer attention? There had to have been signs.

I kept flipping the pages until I found the date I was looking for. My heart squeezed in my chest. The day was the pivotal moment that had set things into motion—when I had made the decision that would alter not only my fate but also the future of my kingdom.

BEFORE

Two and a half months ago

November 9th

“Concentrate. Do you feel it?” my father asked in a strained voice.

We stood side by side, facing the Enwyld Forest that separated our Kingdom of Emeraldia from the Fae Kingdom of Aubrielle. The woods before us looked like any other swath of trees but veiled powerful magical wards erected by my great-grandfather a century ago for protection from the Fae.

I took a breath and closed my eyes, willing my mind to quiet as I attempted to discern the magic of the wards. As I tilted my head to the side, my brows pinched in concentration. A tingling sensation washed over my face before traveling down to my limbs. The magic that flowed from the woods didn’t roar as one would expect; it hummed, low and steady.

“I feel only an undercurrent of power.” I opened my eyes and met my father’s worried gaze.

We stared at each other in silence as I took a moment to study his drawn features. His cheekbones were sharper than before, gray threaded through his blond hair and beard, and deep shadows pooled beneath his emerald-green eyes. When had this air of desperation begun clinging to him? And how had I missed it until now? Had I been too caught up in my own misery?

Unease flared in my chest as I quickly looked around to make sure that none of the guards were within earshot to overhear our conversation. The royal guards in emerald and gold waited several feet away by the carriage, and the border guards clad in leather and iron patrolled the tree line, giving us privacy.

“What is it, Father?” I asked in a hushed tone when I returned my gaze to him.

He hesitated, quickly surveying our surroundings as I had done.

“The protective wards are growing weaker,” he finally said, so low I almost didn’t hear him. “I fear soon we will be defenseless against the Fae.”

My eyes widened in shock as a growing unease swelled in my chest.

“Do you think the wards will fall?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

The look he gave me sent my heart into a frantic pace before it stuttered and stopped, dropping to the pit of my stomach.

“I think it’s not a question of if but of when,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

His face began to swim in my vision as tears gathered in my eyes. The worst-case scenario played out in my head—if the wards failed, the Fae would come for our land as they had one hundred years ago during the War of Two Worlds.

“How much time do you think we have left?” I whispered and held my breath, waiting for an answer.

Instead of replying, my father only shook his head, and I didn’t know if this was his way of saying ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Not here’. I hoped it was the latter and that we would discuss the issue when it was only the two of us in the carriage.

“I need a few minutes to transfer my magic into the wards, and then we can depart,” he said, turning back to the forest.

He closed his eyes, and his fair brows knitted in concentration.

As the King of Emeraldia, my father was responsible for harnessing the magic in his blood to fuel the protective wards on the border with the Fae. He had never shied away from his duty, but his efforts alone were no longer enough.

A lump rose in my throat as I watched him, my gaze fastened on his stocky frame. He outstretched his arms, turning his open hands toward the woods before him. The forest grew quiet and still as if holding its breath. I also held my breath since I had never witnessed him reinforce the wards.