ONE TRUE LOVE (Lovemark #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Urban

Rain hadn’t visited this region in quite some time, proof evident in the brown, wilted cacti and dead flowering plants we passed. Sandy travel dust coated us all, weighing us down with a weary kind of plod that made our journey feel even longer than the three weeks it had taken to reach this point. Even our horses had given up on twitching their tails in an effort to remove flies from their hides.

Our path was paved with dry, cracked earth, and what emaciated cattle we saw lay in the shaded nooks of exhausted boulders as they panted with their dehydrated tongues lolling. It made me miss home even more. Nothing could compare to the vast expanse of rolling, green-carpeted hills, turbulent blue seas, succulent fruit trees, and the white-washed cliffs I’d grown up exploring. This dry, barren wasteland did nothing whatsoever to change my mind, either.

I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to come to this place with my sister.

And stay.

Forever.

I must’ve lost my damn mind.

With a sigh, I capped the canteen I’d just taken a swig from and tucked it back into the pouch of my horse’s satchel. Under me, the thirsty beast snorted as if he could smell the fresh liquid, meaning I probably needed to halt the caravan soon so we could water the animals again, even though stopping would delay our trip even longer.

Which made my mood grow grimmer.

“Ready to turn back yet?” I asked, wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my wrist before I sent a telling glance to my right, where my sister rested her own heat-glistened face in the window of her carriage. “Go home and forget this desert?”

“And risk starting a war?” Her fatigued gaze slid drowsily my way. “I think not. The marriage alliance has already been signed, Brother. It’s a done deal.”

“Nah.” I sent her a wink and mischievous grin, even though the juices in my stomach boiled every time I was reminded how she’d been sold off into marriage like some kind of meaningless broodmare. “We’ll just send Cousin Agnes in your stead. She’d love the adventure, and they’d never know the difference.”

“Father would. He’d disinherit us both if we returned home now.”

I stopped arguing with a muttered grunt, because Father. Pfft. That old windbag put more importance on honor and respect than he did his own children, which had proven terribly unfortunate for me on more than one occasion. Like now. Because Father, the great and mighty ruler of High Cliff, had spent the entirety of our kingdom’s coffers on fighting a war, all for a little honor and respect.

The people of High Cliff—my home—had a custom, you see. Every child born in our land must be christened with our ceremonial mark within a week of birth. Once the mark was applied, that person would then be able to recognize his or her one true love at first sight.

I know, I know. Stop rolling your eyes already. Even I admit it was a trite, romanticized practice set forth by some young, dreamy-eyed teen queen centuries ago, but that truly didn’t matter. It had become an honored tradition among my people, so the kingdom of High Cliff treated it seriously. And when other lands ridiculed our sacred custom, well… We took it as an extreme affront.

Which caused wars. Many wars. Many expensive wars.

Call us pansy-assed weaklings concerned with nothing but finding true love? Fine, we’ll kill all your warriors and take your land. How about that?

Actually, no, that wasn’t quite true either. I wasn’t sure if many outside kingdoms even knew about our sacred marks, and the last war we’d gotten ourselves involved in was supposedly to stop a dark magic family’s reign, but in all honesty, Father hadn’t joined that fight until they’d mocked our marks. So… I stuck with my original theory: the marks caused wars.

And now the kingdom of High Cliff was broke from all this fighting. But never fear, we still had our honor and respect plus more battle-ravaged land than ever, by God. No one dared to blaspheme the mark these days.

Not to our faces, anyway.

We’d become so damned honorable and respectable that other kingdoms—richer, newer, younger kingdoms—were willing and even eager, to align themselves with us for a bit of that old, honorable, and respectable standing we had among the Outer Realms.

Thus my reason to leave home forever.

Father had agreed to pull High Cliff from its debt by marrying my sister, his only princess, off to the king of Donnelly’s younger brother, Prince Brentley.

Donnelly was the youngest, most prosperous kingdom in the Outer Realms, also known as the kingdom within the sand. To me, it was quickly becoming that kingdom within the pain in my ass. Because seriously, what insane people had ever looked around at all this nothingness and thought, hey, let’s make a home here?

Idiots.

I glanced toward Allera once more, still unable to quite believe she’d actually agreed to go along with this ridiculous bargain, though honestly, what alternative did she truly have? Father would’ve no doubt exiled her if she’d refused, and she would’ve had to flee to somewhere just like Donnelly for refuge. I guess she might as well marry a wealthy man with high standing who could help her homeland prosper, if she were going to come here anyway. Doing this was likely the most pleasant option she had left.

Either that, or she was simply a true patriot to our kingdom.

Didn’t mean I needed to escort her, though. I wasn’t being forced to marry anyone. But honestly, who could let their only sister, their favorite sibling, the one person in the entire realm of realms who still seemed to like me, go off alone and tie herself for the rest of her life to a complete stranger?

Not me, I guess. So here I was, accompanying her.

Besides, after Father had kicked me out of my own army, there was nothing left for me at High Cliff. He already had his heir and a spare with my older brothers, Erick and Olivander, and then Allera, his princess, to marry off to other kingdoms. As the youngest of the four, I was quite unneeded and unnecessary. To the great and mighty King Ignatius Bjorn of Realm High Cliff, I would only ever be seen as that damn whelp who’d killed his queen during childbirth.

“Halt!” I called, needing to walk off some of my mood and stop thinking about this already. Nurturing such a pity party helped no one.

The parade of soldiers and servants slowed to a relieved stop, and half of them dashed off into the lump of twigs that passed as bushes for much-needed respite.

Allera lifted her face my way and arched her eyebrows. “Another break? I thought you said we were nearly there an hour ago?”

I nodded as I climbed off my steed. “According to the map, we are. But the horses are thirsty, and I thought you might wish to freshen up a bit before meeting your new husband. Wouldn’t want to give off a bad first impression, now, would we?”

The word husband made her cringe, but after a moment to think it through, she nodded and waved me toward her. “Good thinking. Help me out of this carriage then, would you? I can barely move in these cumbersome skirts.”

I sniffed. At home, she wore pants whenever possible, avoiding Father with me where we spent most of our days out in the villages, helping crofters with their daily chores. I wasn’t sure how she was going to handle constraining herself to a castle now and wearing a dress every day, because what were the odds her second husband would be as lenient on her as her first had been?

Flinging open the door to her carriage, I held up a hand to help her down. “This is stupid. You know that, right? You’ve never even met this guy. What if he’s some rude old asshole with no teeth and smells like decaying flesh?”

Allera narrowed her eyes and bit out, “You’re not helping.”

Batting aside my proffered hand, she tried to descend without my assistance and missed the step, falling against me. I muttered my impatience and caught her waist before swinging her the rest of the way to the ground.

“What if he never lets you wear pants again?” I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. She could be about to lose any freedom she’d ever had.

She gulped unsteadily and looked up at me from solemn green eyes. Tightening her jaw, she bit out, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“But—”

“Don’t force me to hit you, Urban. I’m already nervous enough as it is. You’re supposed to be making things easier for me, not harder.”

Damn.

Instantly contrite, I let go of her waist and took a step back. I really was adding to her anxieties instead of combating them, wasn’t I? When I bowed out my submission, Allera huffed through her annoyance, picked up her skirts and stomped past me, where her lady’s maids were gathered to assist her.

Cursing myself, I turned away and headed in the opposite direction to find a spot alone where I could clear my head and hopefully pull it from my ass.

When I found a large, sturdy rock a good distance from everyone else, I plunked myself down, rested my elbows on my knees, and I bowed my face shamefully. The sun lashed its scorching heat against the back of my neck in punishment. I let it do its worst, heating my skin unnaturally, as I tried to forget the fact I was probably never going to see my homeland again, that I was about to enter a foreign kingdom and somehow settle there for the rest of my life, that nothing was ever going to be the same as it had been. And I was supposed to be the leader of my merry little band of riders, which meant I had to act as if none of this was any kind of big deal.

Right. I was so going to fail.

But at least Allera was with me. Nothing could feel quite so hopeless with her near. I’d never confess to her how much she meant to me, but honestly, she was like my mother, sister, and best friend all rolled into one annoying but devoted woman. All this muck was worth it to remain near her.

When I blew out a breath and stood, a good twenty minutes had probably passed. But at least I felt calmer and ready to tackle the issues at hand, which was to get my people through this desert and reach Donnelly’s castle already.

I returned to the caravan, whistling under my breath, only to find the horses had drunk their fill, everyone was ready to move again, and Allera had decked herself in a new, dust-free emerald gown.

The rubies around her throat and encrusted into her tiara glittered in the full sunlight, and her face looked powdered and fresh, as if she’d actually had time to bathe.

I met her at the entrance of her carriage to help her back inside. As she glided closer, I straightened my spine, ready to apologize for my earlier behavior.

But she didn’t give me the chance. Smiling most graciously as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she offered me her ring-clad fingers so I could help her up. “Ride with me the rest of the way, would you, dear brother?”

My pleasant expression withered like all the cacti surrounding us.

Good God. She didn’t want me to apologize; she wanted me to suffer, because honestly, what could be worse than getting inside that deathtrap of a carriage? It had to be twenty degrees hotter in such a stale, cooped-up box than out here with rare gusts of wind to occasionally cool us.

But I couldn’t deny Allera anything, especially after how I’d just treated her, so I nodded mutely, called to an outrider to take care of my horse, and followed her up the steps.

Her skirt brushed my knees as soon as I sat, instantly making me claustrophobic. Grumbling, I opened the curtains wider on both sides to let a breeze through, but it didn’t help. I felt trapped and smothered by both the heat and our doomed situation. How Allera was handling it so regally I’d never understand. She’d always had an inner strength that awed the piss out of me.

“When we get there,” she murmured quietly after the wheels began to roll as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her chastising her younger brother.

I lifted a hand to quiet her. “Don’t worry. I got it. This is a big f*****g deal. I won’t do anything to embarrass you or High Cliff. And I’ll keep my smart-ass mouth shut.”

That’s what Father had ordered of me before we’d left home, anyway. This is a big f*****g deal, Urban, he’d said. Don’t do anything to embarrass your sister or High Cliff. In fact, just keep your damn, mother-killing smart-ass mouth shut.

Allera sighed and sent me a sad look. “I know you’ll behave. I was just going to say, I realize you don’t want to like this place or these people, but please, at least try to have an open mind when we arrive. It’s going to be our home from now on, and we will become one of them. Fighting the inevitable adjustment will only hurt you more. And I can’t have you miserable because I… Well, I need you too much right now. Your support might be the only thing holding me together to help me get through. So, please, just—”

“Allera.” I leaned forward and set my hand over hers. When she looked up, her eyes swirled with all the worry she was attempting to contain. I nodded gravely, moved by her words. “I won’t let you down. I swear it.”

Her shoulders eased with relief and her eyes glistened with tears as she smiled. “I’m so glad you’re the one who came with me,” she admitted, with an intensity that made the strings around my own heart tighten. “I don’t think I would be able to manage this with anyone else at my side.”

“It is my honor,” I vowed.

Feeling the stirring of my own emotions, I glanced away, attempting to subdue them, only to spot something out the window coming into view as we crested a slope. Eyebrows lifting with surprise, I sat forward and murmured, “God… Damn.”

“What?” Allera whirled to see what had caught my attention. Gasping, she pressed her hand to her heaving chest. “Oh my. Oh my goodness. Urban, it’s so…”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

The view was definitely something worth ogling. Frankly, it was almost too grand to be real. I blinked, making sure it wasn’t some kind of mirage. But it only seemed to grow larger and more opulent with every sweep of my lashes.

The first thing I noticed were the trees, a bounty of full, non-desert-like foliage bushed out with the greenest leaves… Right in the middle of the f*****g sand. They were so thick and numerous, they nearly hid the white stone walls surrounding the palace. How they were able to grow here, I didn’t know, but I almost wept with relief at the sight of them after seeing nothing but dead plants and brown sand for nearly a week.

Then there was the palace itself, because holy s**t, the palace... It was called the Iron Castle due to the fact they’d plated the outside stones with sheets of pure iron. Despite how dry the land was, Donnelly was definitely one rich kingdom to afford a castle like this. It was easily three times larger than ours at home, suffused with at least two dozen towers and a keep in the center that rose above everything else. The moat surrounding it was twice as wide as any I’d ever seen before. And the drawbridge that began to lower as we approached looked as if it could flatten our entire caravan with one swipe.

“Overcompensating much?” I said, nudging Allera with a snicker.

“Hush,” she chastised, smacking my knee lightly, even though a smile of agreement twinkled in her eyes. “I think it’s simply magnificent.”

I shrugged, refusing to rain any kind of verbal praise on the place.

Before I could find a flaw to critique, a deep resounding cadence pounded from the drum tower, swiftly followed by the chorus of trumpets, performing a familiar melody.

“Oh,” Allera said, brightening with pleasure. “Oh! They’re playing High Cliff’s anthem to greet us. What a lovely welcome.” She turned to me. “I’m liking Donnelly already.”

I rolled my eyes but, for her, refused to say what I was really thinking, like this was too pleasant to be trusted. We were probably only being led into a trap where they either killed us as soon as we entered the gate or threw us in their dungeon before demanding some kind of reward from Father for our return.

Tensing as the wheels under us rolled onto the drawbridge, filling the carriage with a different tone—a more ominous timbre—I glanced warily out the window, not liking how trapped I felt. This would be the perfect place for them to launch their attack.

When my gaze caught on the barbican we were about to pass through, however, the guards inside it eyed us curiously from both sides, a few even waving with wide, cheerful, goofy grins.

I frowned and sat back in my seat. Not very daunting, were they? That was honestly no way to receive foreigners. It made the soldier in me mutter until I actually wanted a c***k at training these idiots, teach them the proper way to look strong and intimidating to newcomers from distant lands.

Once we cleared the gatehouse and entered a lower bailey, a bald man in brown friar robes rushed toward the side of the carriage, hollering, and immediately making me reach for my sword, until he added, “Welcome, my lady,” as he jogged a few steps along with us so he could get a look at my sister and wave.

I growled deep in my throat, ready to tell the fool to get back before I ripped his spine out through his asshole.

Seriously, what was wrong with these people? They should distrust us just as much as I distrusted them.

But Allera set a hand on my wrist, stopping me before I could skewer the friar through. Smiling graciously, she waved back to the robed moron. “Thank you, kind sir. Your greeting is most appreciated.”

Pfft. Her freaking kind bleeding heart was going to get us killed someday.

As our caravan left the friar behind, I shook my head, frowning. What a peculiar place. I couldn’t decide if the entire kingdom was just that naïve or if all this pleasantry was part of the grand trap they were about to spring on us.

Allera sent me a warning glance. “Open-minded, remember?”

Making a face, I clutched the sword at my side and nodded before cracking my neck from one side to the other. Open-minded. Sure. Until they tried to kill us, anyway.

We came to the gateway that led into the middle bailey, and there, we were instructed by the guards to leave the carriage because we were to separate ourselves from the servants we’d brought with us and walk the rest of the way on foot.

I opened the door and glanced around for danger. Unable to spot any, I reluctantly folded down the steps and hopped to the ground before managing to somehow angle my body so I could assist Allera on her descent and not turn my back to a single guard.

A dignitary whose bangs on his blond hair were clipped far too short stepped forward, bearing a scroll under one arm. My return scowl seemed to disconcert him, making him shy a step back. After fumbling to unroll the scroll with shaking hands, he read us the greeting, then let us know he would lead us to the Throne Room where King Caulder and his brother Prince Brentley were waiting to receive us.

Allera was all smiles and patient nods, thanking the man. I stood stonily at her elbow until we set off after Short Bangs. Wrapping both hands around the front buckle of my sword belt, I strode beside her, back rigid and gaze alert, as I took in the beauty of the palace.

Everything here seemed new and clean. Spotlessly perfect, in fact. I couldn’t find a flaw anywhere in all its excellence. Which made me itch.

Literally.

I shook my head at the insistent sensation that quite abruptly wouldn’t leave me, and I scratched my temple heartily.

Didn’t help.

When I kept scratching it, Allera shifted closer to me and hissed from the side of her mouth, “What the devil are you doing? Stop that. You’re going to make our entire clan look like deranged lunatics by the way you keep fondling your eye.”

“I can’t help it.” My fingernails raked relentlessly over the spot on the side of my left eye, unable to make the skin stop prickling. “My mark’s itching like a bastard.”

“Well, you know what that means, don’t you?” She sounded irritated. “And I said stop scratching it already. People are staring.”

In front of us, Short Bangs glanced back curiously. Offering him a tight smile, I dropped my hand back to my belt, and he faced forward again. My smile instantly morphed into a glare, which I shot Allera’s way.

How was it that she still talked down to me as if I were a child? I’d led battles, controlled my own fleet of ships, bedded some of the most beautiful, exotic women in three realms, and gotten the king of Lowden—an evil dictator infused with dark magic—to kneel before me because of my intimidating presence after my army had defeated his. Yet Allera wiped all that prestige away with a single, degrading glance.

Older sisters could suck the man right out of a fellow, I swear.

“What does it mean, oh wise one?” I mocked moodily, winking one eye so it would wrinkle that cheek in an effort to alleviate the sensation without actually touching it. That didn’t help either, dammit. “That I’m allergic to the kingdom of Donnelly? I could’ve told you that.”

I glanced around at the servants who’d stopped working to watch us pass. Even they looked clean and well-clothed. It was just plain weird. And suspicious. Could one kingdom really have this much wealth and good standing with their peasants and be so goddamn welcoming?

“No, you nimrod,” Allera sighed and shook her head. “It means your one true love is near.”

Forgetting about the peculiarity of my surroundings, I stopped walking and swung around to gape at my sister incredulously.

“The hell you say.”