HEART OF THE CHOSEN (CASTE BOOK 1)

Chapter 17

1276, Chateau d’Mortain, Brechin

My dearest friend, It is in haste that I send you this missive to explain the reasons for my escape. In fact, when you read this, I will already be far away. I’m sure you’re aware of your brother’s recent trip to London, and I must tell you that since his return Magnus has changed, and I don’t know where to turn. His expectations of the child I am carrying fill me with dread. I cannot conceive that my descendants will be irretrievably destined to this disastrous fate. The prophecy is clear on this, I can’t risk raising them both. This inevitable separation is an unbearable decision and my heart bleeds at the idea of knowing my daughter growing up away from me. She will stay close to Magnus. I’ll flee tonight, to a place I’ll keep secret, you’ll understand, I’m sure. I will give birth to my second child, far from my husband and his wild hopes. I cannot ask you too much to see to the good care of my daughter if it turns out that she is indeed the chosen one in question. Should Magnus inadvertently find me, watch over my children and ensure that they do not become instruments of their father’s dark designs. Farewell,

Eleanor Burton Race

“When did she give you this letter?” the man asked abruptly.

“Two days ago,” replied the horseman.

“She must be near Edinburgh. If my brother hasn’t found her yet, she’ll be fine.”

“Do you still need me, Mr Burton Race?”

“Tell Melior to come right away!”

The horseman nodded and rushed outside. A few minutes later, Melior, the henchman, suddenly appeared behind his master.

Melior had been in his master’s service since he was sixteen. His parents, very poor, had left him to this rich gentleman with great relief and a recompense that was worth the pain. Since then, Melior had wondered about his master’s motives. Why him rather than another? There were so many strong young people in his village, why didn’t he choose them? But later, he understood and thanked heaven every day for being at the service of the illustrious Blake Burton Race.

“Find Eleonore, she must not be far from Edinburgh, I want her to come here NOW!”

Melior left without waiting. He knew his master well enough to know that failure would probably cost him his life. The trip to Edinburgh would take an hour at most, and thanks to his powerful condition, which gave him superhuman speed, Melior was the master’s most faithful subject. He had never seen his lord in such a state. He was beginning to fear some misfortune and quickened his pace.

Blake Burton Race stood still for a moment before pulverising his huge oak desk. He screamed in rage and then tried to resume normal breathing. Anxiety gnawed at him.

Rarely so worried, he tried to contain himself to avoid smashing everything that came to hand. He cursed his brother and the day he met his daughter. Because yes, Eleonore was like his own daughter. He had taken her in after the death of her mother, who died at the stake of the Inquisition. Isabelle Castellane’s fate was sealed, anyway. Raising her alone, she attracted too much attention, her execution was only a matter of time. But he hadn’t made up his mind that Eleonore would suffer the same fate as her mother. He had, therefore, removed her from the yoke of the Church during the first sixteen years of her life.

This choice hadn’t been without consequence. He had dreaded each day, for he already knew the outcome of his act of mercy: he would one day see her die. Only he imagined it would be after a long and happy life, and not by the hand of his own brother, Magnus, the one who had snatched his most precious treasure from him.

He remembered the disastrous day when Magnus met her because it was the most painful of his life. Not that he didn’t love his brother, but because he had always known he was close to an impassable limit. He had hoped that Eleonore would calm the wolf that slumbered in him, but, from London, he already knew that his brother had failed.

He had no choice, he told himself. Eleonore was a determined person and nothing could have separated her from Magnus after they met. He knew too well that the attraction between caste could cause havoc. He had nevertheless refused to turn his back on his dear child, but he had since retained a deep resentment for his brother.

And what madness Eleanor had taken to have left Camelia, her granddaughter, with her father Magnus! It was out of the question, he told himself. Blake was praying that Eleonore would manage to escape. He already knew that, whatever it cost him, he would save Camelia from his brother’s grip. He also thought that, if Eleonore didn’t make it, Camelia would be the only person he would have left in this world. He had to intervene.

Blake Burton Race was silent for hours. He stood up abruptly when Melior burst into the room.

“WHERE IS SHE?” he yelled, mad with rage.

“Master…, she is dead.”