Chapter 1: The King's Coming

  "Firth! Come get your dinner, sweetheart!"

  I sighed and closed my sketchbook reluctantly. Had it been my mother's voice calling me out from my sanctuary, the term "sweetheart" would've been one of affection, maybe even endearment. But when it came from one of my older brothers, the word was soaked with sarcasm. I was mother's favorite, but I would've gladly traded that away in an instant to be left alone by my large, muscular, and mean brothers. In the meantime, I hid from them. But no matter how secluded my hiding spot of choice was, they always found it out eventually. For example, my most recent abode, the one where I had just been sketching out rude caricatures of my brothers. It was a run-down shack sitting on the edge of our prospering farm and tucked into a thick copse of oak trees. It was invisible to the eye, at least in theory. But if I had taken too long to respond to my brother's summons, a pack of them - maybe five or six of the eight total - would hunt me down until they discovered the only truly safe place in our entire farm.

  "Firth! Get over here!"

  Yes, obedience tends to be the key, especially if you happen to have eight brothers who can each beat you black-and-blue in under five minutes.

  I nestled my sketchbook in its sheltered corner of the shack, which I'd built out of scrap wood to protect it from the weather. My brothers had already destroyed several previous iterations of my treasured sketchbook, and I wasn't going to give them the chance to do it again.

  "Firth!"

  I knew I was cutting it close and hustled out of my shack as fast as I could. I stayed low as I left the copse, hoping to avoid detection, but my brothers had sharp eyesight. For once, there were only four of them. I figured that something more exciting than picking on their little brother must’ve been going on elsewhere.

  "Firth, there you are!" Torin, my eldest brother at twenty-four, sauntered over with an ease that only confidence of victory could give. He clapped me on the shoulder in a "brotherly" way, but I knew how much he and the others truly detested me. If they had their way, I would get shipped off the farm before next daybreak. "We've been looking all over for you! Is this where you've been hiding?"

  Caolan, second to Torin in age but far exceeding him in height, moved to inspect the copse I had just snuck out of. "Pretty ramshackle hideout you've got in there, if you ask me."

  I thought of saying, "Well, I wasn't asking you," but experience had taught me that snappy comebacks did nothing to help my case. Instead, I bit my tongue and waited for them to tire of their games so we could all go to dinner.

  Always on the lookout for an opportunity to steal something, Foley (fourth born) slipped through the trees and into my shack, followed closely by his twin, Fergus (fifth born). The two of them rarely went anywhere without each other. There were a few clangs and bangs as the twins rooted around my home-away-from-home, and then Foley emerged from the shadows of the copse, triumphantly grasping my sketchbook. "The apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?" Fergus said snidely. "Or at least I think that's how it goes."

  I closed my eyes, already berating myself for the moment of weakness that was to follow next. Normally, I didn't care much for the loss of my nature sketches, but there was one drawing in particular I wished to save from destruction. "Fergus," I said, applying my efforts to the more reasonable twin, "I've been working on a drawing for Cassidy's birthday. Would you be so gracious as to allow me to keep it instead of destroying it with the rest?"

  Foley flipped through my sketchbook and tore out a half-finished drawing of Cassidy, our younger sister. In her portrait, she was looking up into the distance with a melancholy look. Her light blonde hair framed her face like a glowing halo, making her look like the little angel she was. "You mean this one?" Foley asked with a grin.

  I nodded somberly, not sure whether to prepare myself for disappointment or relief. Knowing my brothers, I opted for the former.

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  Predictably, Foley crumpled up my sketch of Cassidy and threw it to the ground. He stomped on it several times, defiling the once-white paper with dirty boot prints, and then spit on it. I winced. It had taken hours for me to draw even part of her portrait, and it wouldn't be an easy task to finish it before her thirteenth birthday next week.

  "C'mon, Firth, let's go in for dinner." Torin wrapped one arm around my shoulder and led me toward the house. Caolan and the twins followed behind, Foley grasping my sketchbook as if it was made of gold.

  "So, how'd today go?" my mother asked me after dinner had been served. "Anything exciting happen?"

  I gave Foley a look, and he drew a finger across his throat. A warning. I knew what that warning meant. It said, "Tattle on me, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes tonight." Literally. The one time I tattled on them, my brothers took me outside while I was sleeping and dumped me in the river. They thought it was hilarious. As usual.

  "No, Mom, nothing exciting," I said, studying my food as if it was the most interesting thing on earth.

  "Well, I have some news for you," my father stated. "You'll never believe that..." I promptly tuned out the conversation, expecting him to bring up our neighbor's new calf or some other trivial piece of news that I was already aware of. But then the words "King's arrival" poked through, and I perked up.

  "What did you say about the King?" I asked.

  "Maybe if you listened, then you'd know," Brone (third born) said, elbowing me from the seat beside me. "You should stop getting lost in all those daydreams of yours."

  I ignored him and looked to my mother. She was the soft spot in my family and was sure to give me my every desire, hence the source of my brothers’ dislike.

  "King Justian will be visiting town tomorrow. According to rumor, he's coming to pick some sort of high official to serve in his court," Mother explained.

  "But doesn't he pick his workers from among royalty and nobles?" Rian (eighth born) questioned. "Why would he come all the way down here? His castle's way in the north, isn't it?"

  "Ailee said that the King's been traveling all over to find this official he's looking for, and no one's been good enough for him," Kieron (seventh born) said, blushing as he mentioned the girl he'd been crushing on for years. I had known about it for a while, but his heavy threats had prevented me from using the knowledge to my advantage. For now.

  "Well, I, for one, intend to stay here," I said. "Even if the King is willing to choose one of us lowly peasants to work for him - crazy as it sounds - I don't need to uproot my entire life on the chance there might be something better out there for me."

  "Besides," said Madden (sixth born), "He wouldn't pick you anyway. There's no room for scrawny fifteen-year-olds in the King's castle." My seven other brothers all cracked up at that joke, though it was far from the funniest. They just enjoyed leaping at any and every opportunity to make fun of me. Cassidy gave me an encouraging smile from the other side of the table. If it weren't for her, I would've run a long time ago. Or at least I would've thought about it. I didn't have the courage to actually run away, nor the ability to make it on my own. I would've come back crying within a day or two, if not sooner.

  I was stuck there, on our cozy little farm. But I didn't mind it much. My brothers bugged me, but I got used to it. Cassidy made everything better. She should've won an award for Best Sister. She always knew exactly what to say to make the hurts hurt less. But out there, out in the world, there were people worse than my brothers. Crazy, but true. There were thieves, criminals, and people who hurt others for the fun of it. But there was no one like Cassidy. She was one of a kind. I could barely take my brothers' teasing with her by my side, and so I dreaded to see what would happen if I ever lost her.

  Excusing myself from the chaos of a dinner table well-stocked with rowdy teenage boys, I crept upstairs to the attic. My actual home. It wasn't all bad - it had a soft cot, a few candles, and a rickety bookshelf stocked with a few of my favorite reads. In fact, it was pretty cozy. I slipped under my sheets - thin and hole-ridden - and contemplated the stars painted on my ceiling. Whenever I was feeling thoughtful or sad, I would stare up into their black abyss and lose myself in their beauty. Cassidy had done a great job with painting them. Her skills far exceeded mine.

  I rolled over. Something didn't feel right. I had thought that I wanted to stay home forever. And yet part of me longed for adventure. The longing was strange and unfamiliar, alien, even. I was used to adapting to whatever came my way, never truly forging my own path. But the rumors of the King's arrival had sparked something in me. It almost felt like a... a flame of excitement. No, not even that. It was simply an ember within me, glowing quietly and steadily. But if someone chose to pause, and take the time to blow on it, then who knew what it could become.