Betrayed (Magi Rising Book 1) Read online

  Betrayed

  Magi Rising Book 1

  Raye Wagner

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Note to the Reader

  Preface

  1. Three Years Ago

  2. Today

  3. Three Years Ago

  4. Today

  5. Three Years Ago

  6. Today

  7. Three Years Ago

  8. Today

  9. Three Years Ago

  10. Today

  11. Two and one half years ago

  12. Two years ago

  13. Two Years Ago

  14. Two Years Ago

  15. Today

  16. Today

  17. Two Years Ago

  18. Today

  19. Today

  20. Today

  About the Author

  Also by Raye Wagner:

  Betrayed

  by Raye Wagner

  Copyright © 2019 All the Words

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, media, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  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 author.

  Edited by Blaze Editing

  Cover Design by Smoking Hot Covers

  All rights reserved.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  First I have to thank my family because even if I could get done more without them, life would be dull and bland without Anna’s energy, Jacob’s enthusiasm, and Seth’s strength of spirit. Jason is the Wagners’ emotional glue and my favorite sounding board. He’s also the best at getting me—because he’s chosen to stick around for SO long. Phew!

  Thanks to God for inspiration, insight, and nudges. There is truly joy in creation, and I hope I can live up to the measure of my being.

  To my parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins, and extended family… I’m glad that most of you don’t run away when you see me coming (except for you-know-who-you-are). I’m glad you don’t mind my crazy… much.

  To my bestie pals: Kate, Alli, Annie, Cassy, Kathy, and Melissa (the #6 who almost threw one of the other 5 out). Thanks for being bestie pals with me even though I miss 30%. But I’m 100% with what I get. 100% I’m tellin’ ya!

  Amanda at Smoking Hot Covers has outdone herself on the cover (seriously, I’m so excited about this pretty).

  And Kel, you’re a dear, dear friend who can see inside my head and explain the madness to another in a way that makes sense. I’m certain you greatly aided the final product with your mad communication skillz.

  Kelly, you’re still my Drae-bae, and you continue to be one of the bestest friends in the entire readerly universe.

  And my other bookish besties: Melissa, Meg, Leia, Kim, Lela, Dawn, Kristin, Alisha and more I’m probably forgetting because I’m tired and sleep-deprived and old (when did I get so old?)… Anyway, peeps I love you. And I’ve learned A LOT from each of you. Also, I think you’re amazing.

  Krystal, what can I say? You were right all along about the order. Thank you for your dedication to this series as well as your editorial eyes and hands. Betrayed is better for your efforts.

  To my Beta team: A million times thank you… and then a million more. Ashley Russell, Katie Shea, Kim Messer, Theresa Scerbo, Andrea Peel, Venus Dye, Jacqui Smith, Susan Gonzalez, Roeshell Arjin, Mersadies Smith, and Arceli Firage I really appreciate your willingness to be of service. When we meet face-to-face remind me I owe you a drink. ;)

  To my PA Joy, you help keep me sane and on task, both of which are a challenge. Thank you for keeping things together. I adore you!

  Note to the Reader

  Betrayed started as a novella for a cross-promotion but the beginning of Dîsa’s story grew quickly, and I discovered there was no way to contain all of the events leading up to the series in only twenty-five thousand words.

  I had a hard look at the story and made a compromise. Fallen was the prequel I used for the cross-promotion, a twenty-two thousand word excerpt of Betrayed—essentially all of the story from “Three Years Ago.”

  My intention was to release Betrayed after Illusions, but when my editor, and dear friend, Krystal read the story, she insisted this was book one. I had a marvelous Beta-team who’d already read Stolen, and I had them read both Betrayed and Illusions and weigh in on the reading order. Unanimously, they agreed that Betrayed should be read before Illusions’s release, and the recommended reading order should be Betrayed, Stolen, and then Illusions. The last month has been a whirlwind to be able to make that happen.

  The “Today” portions are the precipitating events to the totality of the series. It was because Dîsa came back to Yândarî when she did, that the rest of the series unfolds the way it does. And truthfully, the story of “Today” is my favorite part of Betrayed.

  I hope you enjoy the beginning of Dîsa’s story.

  As always, thank you for taking the time to read one of my books, and if you decide to review it—I offer you my most heartfelt appreciation.

  All the best and happy reading,

  Raye

  There is magîk inside you.

  I hope you find it.

  Preface

  The magî have a very distinctive language system which ties back to their magîk as well as the world they emigrated from, Kânkarä.

  All of the special characters (the hats and dots on the vowels) indicate a significant level or type of power. The distinction was granted to an individual by the kümdâr (king).

  The kümdâr was always meant to be the most powerful magî, but like many countries, Qralî eventually adopted the pattern that the right to rule passed from father to eldest son.

  The kirinî is a trial of magîk performed by a newly anointed kümdâr to select the most powerful magî to be his guards (Serîk). The Serîk have a hat over a vowel in their name to distinguish them.

  Traditionally, the kümdâr had one Serîk closest to him who was his beta—noted by the changing of his name to begin with a B. Example: Bîcav was Cav before he became a beta and Bêrde was Erde. Zerôn made all his Serîk betas.

  Zetas are the most powerful magî, and their names are also changed to begin with a Z. The kümdâr and his bandmate would always be zetas. The changing of names was left to the kümdâr who would mark and bind them (with a magical bond) to him. Examples: Zîvrünê was Rünê before becoming a zeta, and his brother Zerôn was Erôn. The strongest magî, regardless of gender, have the double dots over a vowel in their name as is used in the word kümdâr (king) and Kânkarä (realm the magî originated from).

  I hope this clears up the confusion regarding the special characters.

  Clearly, I have hard time following the norm. Or maybe I just like to make up my own rules. I hope you enjoy the story! ;)

  1

  Three Years Ago

  “Tell me the first time you knew you were in love with Zîvrünê.” My sister twirled, making her orchid-pink skirt lift and flutter in the humid air and her hair swing in a wide, golden arc. She laughed and held her arms out, stumbling and breathless from the frenetic spinning on the uneven floor. Out in the jungle, a kookaburra echoed her laugh, the two of them mocking me.

  At almost-eighteen, Anâ—no, Zîy
anâ now that she’d received magî Zeta marks— was everything I wanted to be: beautiful, beloved, and so happy. Still smiling, she fixed me with her golden gaze and demanded, “Tell me.”

  My face tightened, and her smile widened, crinkling the dark paint around her eyes. I wished the grin would split her beautiful face in two. Fighting the glare that her teasing provoked, I merely shook my head at my older sister. “I hope he never finds out about you and Zerôn.”

  “Oh, stop being such a night parrot, Dîsa,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  Because me pointing out her infidelity was akin to stupidity.

  She stepped to the far corner of the single-room dwelling, pulled out the seat to the once-polished vanity, and then patted the chair. “Sit down. I’ll do your hair while you talk. Then I’ll help you get dressed. Zerôn bought me a dozen new bandeau tops with matching sarongs—oh-oh, I have a pretty green set that will fit you perfectly. We’ll paint your eyes, too.”

  The offer was tempting, but I refused. What I wore wouldn’t make me beautiful. “You shouldn’t let Zerôn buy you things like that. It isn’t right. You’ll be indebted.”

  “Why do you dislike him so much?” she asked with a huff.

  Besides the fact that he was sleeping with her? The list was long and dated back to my first memory of the prince.

  “He stabbed me in the leg with a knife.” And because that wasn’t enough, I inhaled and continued ticking reasons off with my fingers. “He kills animals, he’s greedy, he’s always insulting Zîvrünê—”

  “Please,” she said, rolling her eyes, but then her gaze stayed up on the leaking roof of our crumbling home on the outskirts of Yândarî. Frowning, her expression tightened.

  “He hasn’t hurt anything since we were kids. You’re always offended on behalf of Zîvrünê, even when he isn’t. Zerôn might not be as nice, but he’s far more intelligent.” She returned her attention to me. “And he makes things happen.”

  She waved at the thatched covering which hadn’t been repaired since before our parents left for a visit with the kümdâr four years ago. They’d never arrived and never returned.

  At twelve, I didn’t understand why we hadn’t fixed the roof when it started leaking. And while my mother and father often said everything has a cost, it wasn’t until after they’d died that I understood. After, we’d traded our possessions for magîk, labor, and occasionally, resources while Anâ honed her magîk. And the sacrifices paid off, just like she’d said they would, when she became Zîyanâ.

  Footsteps thudded on the roof, indicating a magî had arrived to fix the holes. But the repair wasn’t because of the younger prince, and we both knew it.

  “The sooner we can get out of here permanently, the better.” She pointed at the seat. “Now, come on, let’s see what we can do to make you pretty.”

  Irritated with the not too subtle reminder, I didn’t budge. My plan was to spend the day in the jungle, tracking panthera.

  When I was younger, maybe four or five, I’d spotted one of the great cats on the edge of the market, crouched in the dense foliage. The melanistic rarity observed the crowd as if he didn’t wish to make a meal but rather satiate his curiosity. He’d met my gaze and held it, watching me until my sister pulled me away. But I’d felt a connection to the solitary creature, and ever since, my interest in the apex animal led me to find solace in the jungle.

  But Zîyanâ had other plans. She crossed the dirt floor of our home in three strides, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me off the single cot we shared, dropping my arm as soon as I was upright. She skipped back to the vanity, trilling a tune as she went, oblivious as always.

  When she arrived and saw I hadn’t followed, she put her hands on her hips and her smile slipped. “We’re supposed to meet them in an hour, and you can’t go looking like that,” she grumbled. “The Zîv likes it better when your hair is up, and you won’t be a sub that much longer.”

  Not true. I narrowed my eyes, further irritated by her blatant attempt at manipulation. I’d be a subadult for two and a half more years. She was the one getting ready to cross into full-fledged magî. And she’d only brought him up to get a reaction. “Zîvrünê doesn’t like to be called that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I already know,” she said with a smirk. She patted the back of the seat again, making the three remaining wooden dowels wobble, and then leaned forward just enough to haul me the last couple of feet to her. After pushing me into the seat, she sighed and rested her chin on my head, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

  “Come on,” she said. “Tell me the first time you fell in love with him.”

  “I don’t want to,” I muttered, embarrassed to tell her something so personal.

  Anâ grabbed her brushes and kohl, and I closed my eyes while she applied the makeup. When I felt her shift, I forced my attention to the mirror just to make sure she hadn’t made me ridiculous. But the lines were straight and sure, the design around my eyes intricate—beautiful. She grabbed a brush and rounded the chair, starting on my hair. After shaking out the locks, still damp from my bath, the weight fell almost to the small of my back. Humming to herself, Zîyanâ worked deftly, plaiting several small braids before nudging me again.

  “Tell me the first time you thought you and Zîvrünê were soul mates.” She stumbled over the last words, and her eyes lost the earnestness as she batted her lashes. “Tell me how you knew…”

  My reticence had nothing to do with the subject but, rather, my audience. “You’ll only laugh at me—just like your comment about soul mates.”

  “I wasn’t laughing.” Zîyanâ rested her hands on my shoulders and shook her head. Crouching, she whispered in my ear, “I promise. I won’t laugh at you. I just wish…” She frowned, her perfectly arched eyebrows pulling together. “Please? I really want to know.”

  “Really?” I breathed with disbelief. “You always laugh at me when I talk about him.”

  “No,” she retorted, straightening. “I don’t always laugh at you. We’re family, and if you needed something, I’d be there for you. Just like I’ve done the last four years.”

  I pursed my lips, stopping my retort and the subsequent arguement. Because instead of reassuring me of her loyalty, my sister’s words filled me with defensiveness. But there was no way to win that argument; she had sacrificed a lot for me. I shifted in my chair, shoving away my emotions, and closed my eyes, letting the memory of Rünê surface.

  “The first time I knew I loved Zîvrünê was when I was seven,” I said. “I was in the market and someone pushed me down.” Anâ and I both knew Zerôn, then still Erôn, was the culprit. The younger prince had made me his victim for as long as I could remember, with the exception of a couple years when the boys weren’t allowed to associate with us. “Rünê saw, and instead of pretending to not see what had happened, he came over and helped me up.”

  He’d wiped away my tears while telling me how bullies always got their just desserts, and then he bought me a snack. I smiled at the memory of his kindness—even if he was wrong about his brother getting justice. Zerôn skirted consequences like caiman stealing goats from the river’s edge. Neither ever got caught.

  Zîyanâ barked a short laugh without mirth. “And then the prince took you to get a pastry. I remember—”

  “You remember?” I asked, my eyes popping open with surprise. How did she recall the details of an event eight years ago? One she played almost no role in?

  “No,” she said, correcting me. Her expression flattened as she continued. “Not that day. Just the story. Mom used to go on and on. Like it was going to help me fall in love with him when he was helping you.” She patted my shoulder and then stepped back from the chair. “There. All done. Now, get dressed.”

  I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. Not that I didn’t look good. Zîyanâ was amazing with hair and fashion, although neither mattered much outside the capital. But my sister had so many talents; it wasn’t fair.

  “Here, put this dress on.”
She held out a silky-soft, green bandeau and matching sarong. “It will look good against your skin.”

  I accepted the garments with mixed feelings. The fabric was beautiful and definitely softer than anything I’d ever owned, but the thought that Zerôn had purchased it made my stomach sour. No, the gift was to Zîyanâ, not me. I simultaneously pulled the wrap tight with the hidden bindings while rationalizing that if I owed anyone, it would be my sister, not Zerôn. I turned and faced her. “What do you think?”

  “You’re almost pretty,” Zîyanâ said, scrutinizing me. Her frown deepened. “Hopefully, you’ll grow into your features.” She huffed and then snapped, “Let’s go.”

  Without another word, she stormed out of the hovel.

  I winced, feeling guilty again, only this time there was nothing I could do to fix her feelings. Of course she’d feel resentful for all she’d sacrificed for me. And with useless magîk, if I couldn’t be made to look pretty, I might be a burden to her forever.

  We hadn’t always been poor. As children, we’d attended the same private training as the two princes even, but after our parents died, we had little to rely on. Charity might happen in the outposts, but here in Yândarî, we all knew a handout led to laziness. There was no such thing as a gift—except within families. Otherwise, all transactions were to be mutually beneficial.

  Anâ and I did the best we could, eking out our survival by collecting from the jungle or trading illegally because subadults weren’t allowed to trade in magîk. Their control was considered unpredictable, which was true for most. But for as long as I could remember, I’d been able to see the souls of dead animals if they’d recently passed. After a period of time, seconds or minutes, the soul disappeared, likely into another body being born somewhere else in Qralî. There hadn’t been anything unpredictable about my magîk, just useless, until the last month.