Mirth, Part 2: Chapter 1, Part 1

By reader request (😘) I’ve made Mirth, Part 2 available for preorder direct from me. Because I haven’t spent the time to figure out how to charge in multiple currencies (yet), the book is more expensive for my fellow Canadians (sorry!), as well as Austrailians and New Zealanders. For US and UK-based readers depending on the exchange rate, it might be slightly less expensive for you to preorder through me. Again, I see more of your hard-earned cash if you order through me, but I totally understand purchasing through a fav retailer (or if you already preordered)!!

MIRTH

Not even twenty-four hours after I walked away from my own matchmaking event, I’m sliding out of the converted classic Rolls-Royce Phantom that I absconded with from my father’s collection of cars. With a brief stop for some food and to stretch our legs, Roz and I have driven all the way from Waterfell Castle, my father’s seat of power, to Prague. 

And yes, this pampered princess can actually drive. Fleeing kidnapping or assassination attempts would be rather difficult if I couldn’t, according to the head of the royal guard. Though Anne, my father’s chosen mate, had seriously freaked out when Raoul got my brother Armin and me both learning to ride motorcycles even while we were technically too young to have our licenses. Raoul and Anne hadn’t been bonded then, as they are now with each other, my father, and Eleanor — the two of them exchanging bites in the shifter way. And Anne had pretty much lost her mind seeing us grapple with bikes far too big for us.

Speaking of disgruntled protectors, my royal guard, Roz, slams the passenger door shut and crosses around to the front of the car to join me. Even while doing more than her share of the driving, my combat mage has had her lips perpetually pressed together in disapproval the whole trip. Ignoring the fact that I could have wandered off without notifying her at all, as I had done countless times before, trailing in Armin’s wake. Granted, he and I didn’t usually drive partway across Europe without letting anyone know where we were.

It’s midmorning. We’ve arrived earlier than I planned. Though the former estate is set on the edge of the city, the sound of the bustling metropolis is muted by the tall walls and the even taller, ancient-looking trees sporadically growing all across the front of the property.

Roz sweeps a dark-eyed gaze around the mostly empty visitor car park, then scans the ostentatious brick building set back on the property.

The Prague Phrontistery. Well, the main building, at least.

“It’s still spring break,” I say, only slightly exasperated as I retrieve my black designer backpack from the back seat. “They have security.” We had to cross through the wards at the gates.

Roz only grunts in response. Her thumbs are already flying over her phone as she sends out updates, most likely to my other personal royal guard, Greg, as well as their supervisor. The cat shifter is still in London at my request. Getting a phone to the children, Tommy and Kitty, whom I’ve inadvertently — and possibly inappropriately — taken under my protection. I should know the name of Greg and Roz’s royal guard supervisor, but I don’t. Though I have a sense that Roz might report directly to Raoul. 

“The guard at the gate didn’t even ask you for ID,” Roz says sourly, not looking up from her phone. “And he’s new since we did our last security checks.”

“Well, that’s probably a good thing,” I say casually. “Since I don’t actually have any ID. In the traditional sense.”

Roz throws me a look. I just grin at her, then deliberately point to my thick-framed black designer sunglasses, indicating the purple-hued eyes hidden behind those vintage shades more than the glasses themselves.

She grimaces, her own dark-brown eyes only partially shaded behind sleek aviators. “Sorry. We’ve never traveled like this before.” She sweeps a hand down her body. She’s not in her royal guard uniform. Her casual outfit — dark jeans, leather jacket over a thin sweater, and kick-ass boots — was what she was wearing when I gave her exactly no notice before I stole the car.

In my defense, I was rather … distracted.

Right after I stole Armin’s ashes from my father’s study.

Right after I realized all the ramifications — or at least all the ones I hadn’t already spelled out for myself — of being my father’s only heir. All the reasons that I needed to accept and bond with a well-established bond group. I would need to help my father hold the intersection point. I would need to be grounded and steady enough to hold that point myself when the time comes. Because an imbalanced intersection point has worldwide ramifications. It’s a massive responsibility. One I was born and bred to undertake.

Honestly, giving Roz any notice at all was rather generous of me. Especially given that I took off from Lake Thun Castle without her, forcing her to race after me to Waterfell.

I sling my backpack over both shoulders. It’s comfortingly heavy. Anchoring. Still, it seems as though carrying a marble urn around in a backpack should be disconcerting. 

I’m wearing a black cashmere-and-wool duster that falls to my lower calves and comes with a glorious cowl hood, over perfectly stretchy, straight-legged dark-wash jeans. The duster is more of a coat than a sweater, and I’ve layered it over a cobweb-thin, long-sleeved, tight-fitting sweater, then paired the entire outfit with sleek, square-toe ankle boots with a generous heel. I had found the entire outfit in prettily wrapped boxes in my rooms at Waterfell and thrown it on before I left. Clearly, the clothing was another courting gift from Sully, either sent to the castle before or during the matchmaking event so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed by too many gifts from him all at once.

And yes, despite leaving Sully and all my other suitors behind without a more formal goodbye, I greedily accepted the absolutely perfect outfit.

My heirloom pearl necklace lies warm against my skin. Armin’s emerald ring weighs down my right hand. But I already know I’m no longer the princess to whom both were gifted years ago. I’m also not all shiny and new.

I’m floating in the becoming between my recent past and my near present.

And that is … okay. I can slow down — my mind, my heart. I can take the time to … grieve. Hopefully in a healthier way than I’ve been doing so far. If only for the few days I promised my father.

– Mirth, Part 2, Chapter 1, Part 1

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The Mirth duology is set in the Conduit World. While it’s not necessary to read all the interconnected series, the ideal reading order is as follows:

• Awry (Conduit 1)
• Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part 1
• Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part 2
• Snag (Conduit 2)(coming next!)

Adult 18+ While choice vs. duty is a strong theme in the Mirth duology, Mirth doesn’t have to choose between her suitors, and they’re more than happy to lend a helping hand to each other as well.