The Kingdom of Snow and Regret (The Kingdoms of Nedrand Book 1) Read online

  The Kingdom of Snow and Regret

  Madeline Brauneis

  Copyright © 2022 Madeline Brauneis

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  To sleepless nights, thunderstorms, and journeying through time and space in the pages of a book.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Realm of Nedrand

  Pronunciation Guide

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgement

  About The Author

  The Realm of Nedrand

  Pronunciation Guide

  Nedrand- Nuh-drand; name of the continent in this realm

  Graupel- Origin: germanic; diminutive of Graupe, meaning “Pearl Barley” Meaning: granular snow pellets, also called soft hail

  Aelador- pronounced Al-uh-door; name of the Elvish Kingdom in the Northwestern Region of Nedrand

  Yevia- pronounced Yeh-vee-uh name of a Kingdom located within the southern region of the realm; beyond the veil

  King Erix - pronounced Er-icks, Origin:Norse, Meaning: ever or eternal ruler; King of Graupel

  Queen Arabella -Arabella-Origin: Latin, Meaning: yielding to prayer, English-beautiful lion; late Queen of Graupel

  Princess Aneira -pronounced uh-nigh-ruh Origin: Welsh Meaning: much snow; daughter of King Erix and Queen Arabella

  Earl Gython -pronounced like python (incl. Lady Gython)

  Rhys Gython -pronounced Rees Origin: Welsh Meaning:Ardent; Fire; son of Lord and Lady Gython

  Marta- Origin: Latin Meaning: Lady, lady’s maid; Lady’s Maid to Princess Aneira, herbal healer and daughter of Celeste- healer and midwife

  Aina of Aelador- pronounced EYE-nuh Origin: Scandinavian Meaning: Forever; Heir to Aeladorian throne and Daughter of Rupert and Alys

  Alys of Aelador- pronounced Alice Origin: Welsh version of Alice Meaning: of a noble kind; Queen of Aelador

  Rupert of Aelador- Origin: Western Europe Meaning: fame, glory; King of Aelador

  Prologue

  Deep in the woods of an ancient forest glen, nestled on the cliff of a mountain, lies a stone castle. To know the castle is to know the anguish of the most regrettable series of decisions one man ever made. For he believed a promise broken cast this stronghold in perpetual winter and ice. Snowdrops and lenten roses grow year round. Never do the subjects see the dew of a spring morning, or the crisp air of an autumn night. To understand is to look back, not so long ago.

  A young prince is walking across the wooden bridge leading from the castle to the glen, tied precariously above a treacherous river gorge in the mountain with rushing water rapids and sharp boulders. Large jagged rocks pointing every direction stare up at him; the boards of the bridge creaking with each step. The mist from the water hangs in the air, the crisp early morning breeze leaving chill bumps along the skin of his arms. He doesn’t know today’s events will begin a path that leads to the most regret one man could hold.

  He walks down his favorite path, passing the evergreens and the shrubs. Walking in this forest for hours everyday, he is at peace. He watches chipmunks skitter across the path and hears the early morning song of the birds. He sits beneath a great oak tree, near a calmer part of the waters of the great Thunder River. He watches as the sun begins to peak over the mountains, the lull of the song of nature hits his ears. He feels the connection with the Earth and all that surrounds him. Before long he is sound asleep, weary from his trek, and possibly last night’s ale.

  He dreams of a magical land filled with wonders. Little, tiny beings with wings flitter about, though he cannot see very well, he suspects they are not as beautiful as they wish him to think. He feels like he is floating when he hears a sing-song voice calling him.

  “Your Royal Highness, Prince Erix, welcome! We knew you would come.”

  Confused at how he could hear this voice and yet feel it in his mind, he turns, and there he sees the most beautiful — ‘woman?’ he wondered. Yes, he must be foggy headed from sleep. Of course she is a woman, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes upon, and she is a queen! He takes a bow; when he looks up, he sees the magnanimous woman. She is tall and slender, with long blonde hair wrapped up in pieces of the forest, and wings of celestial sparkles like the night sky. Draped in mossy green velvet, she is dripping elegance, her feet bare, she is one with the Earth.

  “Your Majesty, I beg your pardon. I do not know how I came to be here, or I am afraid, what your name is, please excuse my impertinence. Thank you for your most gracious welcome.”

  The Queen smirks, “Pay it no mind dear, you may pay me for your disrespect with your firstborn daughter!”

  She tinkles a laughter that fills Prince Erix with wonder and terror at the same time. How can she think now is an appropriate time for jest?

  He gathers his courage and says, “You are most kind. Thank you. How, may I ask, did I happen upon your kingdom?”

  The Queen gave him a look that conveyed she was playing coy. “One will never know, dear,” she said mysteriously. Her laughter tinkled in the air between them. “Tell me, how do you think you happened to be here?” she asked, quizzically.

  Erix thought back over the morning, nothing noteworthy was of mention to him. “I assume this is an ale induced dream, Your Majesty,” he answered honestly.

  The queen looked bored, and said, “Very well, you are much too dim-witted for me.”

  With a loud crash he is once again lying against his great oak friend near the waters of the river, wiping sleep from his eyes.

  Baffled, he laughs at himself, “I really must show more restraint with the ale. I will drive myself mad like this.”

  Poor Prince Erix has no clue that this was not a dream, and this mysterious creature was all too real. One day, years later, he will come to realize his folly, and pay the price for his foolishness. Is it at the hands of the Fairy Queen, or his own ignorance? Only time will tell.

  Chapter 1

  Aneira looked out her chamber window at yet another snowy day. All she ever knew was snow, so she wasn’t surprised. She enjoyed the cold; it was her birthright. For it was said that when she was born, the kingdom was wrapped in a blanket of snow and there it stayed. She gazed at the blooms of snowdrops lit by the light of the full moon. The stark contrast of their green stems against the void of white set them apart. Wondering how it was possible to forever be covered in snow and ice, she gazed up at the clear night sky. The stars twinkled and shone just as bright as the moon.

  Aneira sat on the cushioned bench of the window, her knees pulled up to her chin. She had her obsidian night dress tucked tightly under her toes to ward off the chill of the open lattice frame. She let her hair fall around her like a cloak; a silent support. Aneira was a mysterious beauty with deep brown hair that fell past her waist, dark hazel eyes and light olive skin. She was often told she much resembled her mother. In truth, it wasn’t just how she looked that conveyed mystery; she was an enigma in a sea of tradition. People treated her as if she were the cause of this peculiar state of perpetual ice and snow. Yet, she no more asked to be born than the moon asked to light the night. Pondering all this and more, she didn’t notice the rap on her chamber door. Aneira spent much time at this window, lost in thought, in her own reveries of what could be.

  “Excuse me, Princess?” said a sweet, familiar voice.

  Her reverie completely shattered, Aneira gasped, “Marta, my stars! You gave me quite a shock; I didn’t hear you enter! I’ve told you, no one needs to know I’ve given you my true name, you are safe to use it here, when we are alone.”

  Not convinced in the slightest, Marta eyed Aneira, “Princess, you know it is forbidden for anyone to know your true name. I mustn’t get in the habit of using it or I may forget myself, and say it when it is not appropriate,” Marta said, implying what she could not say aloud; she could be punished.

  Aneira was filled with angry regret, not at Marta, she was an angel whom she adored. No, this kind of anger was for none other than her indifferent father, King Erix. Her mother had passed from this world shortly after delivering her, and in his grief, King Erix had released multiple proclamations regarding the Princess. All within the kingdom were expected to adhere to these odd declarations. More peculiar still, he only saw Aneira one day a year; the first day of the Yuletide celebrations.

  One of the many
proclamations ordered by the King that she must abide by, was that none knew her true name. The story was that it was chosen by her mother, and just hearing her name brought insurmountable grief to her father. Thus, he forbade anyone ever know it, lest they speak it in his presence. Everyone called her Princess, or simply “Your Highness” as was appropriate for her title. She had her lady’s maid, Marta, who was her closest companion. She helped with her hair and dressing, and of course spent time with her, and a few others whom she saw regularly.

  The King’s steward had hired a few lady’s maids over the years, each eventually leaving when they became of age to be married. Marta had been with her the longest, and she was her dearest; they were truly confidants. She loved Marta with all her heart, and couldn’t bear the thought of her ever leaving her.

  Aneira composed herself, “Of course, my friend,” She said. “I am disheartened to realize how careless I was in asking it of you. I would never intentionally do anything that could bring harm upon you. I care for you too much for that!” She smiled her truest smile. “So tell me, what brings you here this fine evening?” It was strange indeed that Marta was paying Aneira a visit this late into the evening. She never returned to her after retiring for the day. Marta swiftly went pale, evidently remembering this was not a social visit.

  A chill came over Aneira; this did not bode well.

  “Your father wants to see you. Right away,” choked Marta.

  “But it isn’t even Yule!” Exclaimed Aneira.

  “I know,” Marta said, “But he was very clear. You are to come now. No questions, and come alone.”

  Aneira felt the world spinning, “I need to sit down.”

  She slumped down on the cushion of the window bench. She never in her life saw her father more than one day a year, ever. For any reason, including illness. Something must be very wrong for him to summon her in the middle of the night on a regular day. She took a few steading breaths. How was she going to face this man alone, who seemed so cruel, aloof, and uncaring, for the first time in her life?

  She knew she was strong. Look at everything he had done to confine and suppress her; yet she thrived like a rose blooming in the ice. Still, the knowledge that she had to face him alone sent a chill deep within her that she couldn’t describe. Gathering her courage, she sat up straight, took another deep breath and looked at Marta.

  “He may be the King, and I will honor his wishes, but I will not be fearful. He has treated me as a pawn to be moved about the board my entire twenty one years in this castle, and I refuse to be afraid.”

  Marta smiled.

  “That’s the Princess I know and love. You are so resilient. Would you like me to walk with you until we reach the Royal Hall, and then I will depart to my chamber?”

  Smiling with gratitude, Aneira grabbed Marta’s hand. “Thank you for being my ally. I know it is within your employ, but you do more than required of you. I am eternally grateful,” she said emotionally.

  Marta’s eyes welled with unshed tears, “My dear Princess, I do so because you are a friend to me as well; thank you, for your humility and grace. I cannot express how thankful I am for you. Are you ready?” She asked the Princess.

  “Best to not keep the ruler of the kingdom waiting,” replied Aneira.

  Once they arrived at the Royal Hall, they went their separate ways, with promises to convene in the morning. Aneira took a shaky breath. She had no indication as to what this audience could be about, but she fortified herself knowing that whatever was coming, she was capable of handling it. As she approached the grand doors, the guards acknowledged her presence with a barely perceptible nod. They announced her arrival with a single bang on the door.

  “Enter,” boomed the King.

  Once within the Royal Hall, she was surprised to see her father sitting.

  “Aneira, come and sit. It is time to tell you all you need to know to rule this kingdom; and of my greatest regrets.”

  Stunned, Aneira stood still, her feet unwilling to move. Her father had never used her given name; it was still forbidden. She looked at the man she knew as her father, but in truth, didn’t know at all. He was a perfect stranger to her in every way that mattered.

  She recalled a time when she was a small child, she had been playing in the castle gardens. Twirling a small piece of coriander between her small fingers, she danced, humming and ruminating in her own world. Her tutor suddenly ran to her, forced her to stand and “present” herself. The King was coming, and she recalled being completely terrified. Not remembering this man, but knowing he was her father. At least in blood, for a father must surely be kind and loving and gentle, not aloof and disinterested.

  “Tell me, what have I ever done to deserve your ire or lack thereof really; for you are completely disinterested in me,” she accused icily.

  Surprised at her tone, her father snapped his head up from gazing at the massive stone hearth at the heart of the Royal Hall.

  “Ire? What do you take me for? A villain from children’s stories? I am King and have no time for foolish behavior. Are you interested in what I have to say or not?” He said rather casually.

  Aneira studied him for what felt like just a moment too long, recognizing nothing about him. Nothing that felt familiar or like home, as she imagined a reunion with a true parent would.

  A deep melancholy came over her, “I suppose I will hear what you have to say, since it is the first time you have ever been interested in speaking to me.”

  She couldn’t imagine what this cold and distant man could say that would honestly be of any interest to her. In twenty one years, she could count how many times she remembered seeing him.

  Yet, something inside told her the knowledge he held was of value. Nevertheless, the abandoned child within her couldn’t help but act poorly. In many ways, she was still that little girl waiting for her father to scoop her up and embrace her. She sat across from him, distancing herself by angling her body towards the warmth of the hearth.

  “I am listening, Your Grace,” she said.

  The King cleared his throat, almost in trepidation. Noticing the shift in energy, Aneira sat a little taller, and locked her eyes upon the flames of the fire.

  “As you know, your mother isn’t with us, but the story you have heard isn’t what truly happened. First, I must caution you, this is of the utmost urgency and importance to keep secret. Our fate depends on your discretion, and the decision you ultimately come to in regards to what I have to say. Our kingdom is at great risk, and I am entrusting you alone with this knowledge. Hear me now, you have a decision to make. I have spent too many years hiding; taking no action. I now must entrust this burden to you. Alas, I am getting ahead of myself.”

  The king suddenly looked like a small child, terrified and confused. Aneira couldn’t possibly imagine what tale he had to regale that would be of such importance. She would listen because she knew this day, and this burden, was changing the wheel of her destiny.

  ∞∞∞

  After what felt like ages, Aneira lay in her chamber, unable to sleep; thinking over everything her father had told her. He believed her mother was taken hostage as ransom for her. She was unable to make sense of it. He told her a tale of a day in the woods when he was her age; dreaming of fairies and unknowingly making a deal to trade Aneira for a slight against the Fairy Queen. She felt as if her insides would try to come out; her father was mad! His tale of fairies and abduction of her mother sounded outlandish, and foolish.

  She sat up and wrapped her knit shawl around her shoulders, like a tight hug. Her thoughts were moving too fast; she needed fresh air. She went to the window and cracked the lattice frame a tiny bit. The chill that poured into her chamber sent a sobering wash of awareness over her body. She felt like she was having a nightmare; but she knew she was very much awake. She sat there on the window bench contemplating how her life had changed so dramatically, and yet, she was sworn to absolute secrecy.

  She stared up at the night sky, now a much lighter shade of dark cerulean. Of everything that was bothering her, what ate at her the most was that she was forbidden to confide in anyone. How would she ever make a decision without someone to talk to? She sighed and continued watching the night sky until she dozed off, dreaming of fairies and kidnappings.