When I finished Hollow Judgment and Widow’s Conviction, I turned my attention to the month’s final story, a political satire. While I try to steer clear of politics, when my patrons or random chance make the choice, I will oblige. So I thumbed through the headlines and found a story that would work, provided I injected the satire into a proper story. As a result, I blended this tale with my Storm Warden.
The kingdoms have spent generations fearing the dwindling Storm Wardens. Legends describe people who command the skies, summon relentless storms, and wield nature with terrifying precision. Most rulers would rather believe those tales belong to the past than accept the possibility that one still walks among them.
Amelia has never asked to become a symbol of fear. Wherever she travels, rumors arrive before she does, and suspicion often follows close behind. While some see her as a drifter, others see her as a threat they would rather erase before it has the chance to grow.
When repeated attempts on her life reveal that someone has moved beyond whispers and into action, Amelia decides wandering is no longer enough. Instead of waiting for the next ambush, she takes the storm directly to the source.
Excerpt of Royal Claim
Wind whipped past Amelia’s face as rain washed over her body. She peered over the edge and tightened her fist. She stepped off the roof and drifted down, stopping before a window. Amelia glared through it and growled, thrusting a hand toward it. A tendril of water rushed from the stormy clouds and shattered the glass.
It snatched a trim man, yanking him out by his waist. Once he cleared the tower, they sailed back into the sky. Amelia landed on the tiles and turned to face the screaming figure dangling over nothing. She groaned and waved her hand. More rain plummeted, wrapping around his mouth.
She leaned forward and thumped the man’s chest. “I’ll release you if you promise to stop shrieking.”
The man nodded, his eyes whipping about before glancing back down at the void under his feet.
With a flourish of Amelia’s fingers, the water gripping the man’s face fell, soaking his clothes. “Now let’s talk.”
The man reached with his legs, trying to find the roof. “Could we have this conversation inside the tower?”
“No,” Amelia said, folding her arms. Her gaze dropped to his probing limbs, and more water rushed down, binding his body. She stepped forward, and the man drifted further away from potential safety. “We need to have a discussion, and I need to ensure you’re paying attention.”
The man’s eyes whipped about as the water wrapped around him, cocooning him up to his chin. “Trust me, you have it.”
“That’s wonderful.” Amelia stepped off the roof and circled the man. “You’ve made several mistakes. Do you know what they are, Your Highness?”
He swallowed as his gaze followed Amelia’s path.
She inched closer to the dangling king and pressed a finger against his forehead. “If you don’t want to make another mistake, answer me.”
“I’m not sure—”
“You tried to kill me.” Amelia shoved a hand toward her face as she lifted three fingers. “You dispatched those bandits. Each was a grave mistake. I didn’t give the warrants or the poisoned blades much consideration. But the last bunch used a crossbow large enough to pin a horse to the ground.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The tendril from the clouds slackened, dropping him several feet. The king’s scream vanished beneath a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.
“Perhaps I’m mistaken,” Amelia said, staring at the man dangling from her rope of water. “Maybe someone else paid them.”
“No!” The answer burst from his lips as he craned to glance up at Amelia. The king dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I mean… yes, I hired them.”
Amelia lowered herself until she faced the king.
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