Jane, mm
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Golden Boots
A. Jane
G
OLDEN
B
OOTS
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2007 A. Jane
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously, and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
P
ROLOGUE
H
e felt his heart stop for several beats as he looked at his best friend, his words ricocheting
around in his head.
Stand with you I will not, Easal. You take your vows on the morrow
without me there.
He turned and looked at his stepsister. She too refused to stand with him at his
wedding the following day.
Anger boiled to life from the very depths of his soul and grew with every resumed beat of
his heart.
His friends had abandoned him.
“So be it.” Easal van Jyn, Yanu of Wynfyr, called up his magik and teleported to his
rooms within the palace.
All of the Titled of Artezan were in attendance at the palace. Their mandatory Forty Days
had begun a week earlier at the masquerade celebrating the king’s birthday. That Easal was a
Yanu, and heir to the high-ranking Dusal of Fyrwyn, afforded him the set of rooms in the west
wing of the palace instead of just a single room in the east wing.
Easal threw a vase across the room, venting his rage, but his endeavor to dilute it failed.
He threw himself down in front of the small writing desk and pulled out a roll of parchment
where he amended his will.
Most of the allowances he received from his vast and diverse fortune were now to be
given over to the Royal Valley Orphanage for food, clothing, healing and educating the children.
The remaining stayed the same, going to his mother and her parents until their deaths at which
point they would transfer over to the orphanage.
He thought to remove his stepsister as executor of the trusts, but there was no other better
than Betrys van Wyrn at managing and investing money; the van Wyrn women had an inborn
A. J
ANE
knack for such things. Though she might continue to manage the funds, she would not benefit
from the money except the small amount she already received for the care of it and now the care
of dispersing the funds to the orphanage; making sure that it was used properly.
Satisfied, he signed his name and pressed his seal into the wax puddle he dribbled. Easal
rolled the parchment up, tucked it under his arm, and went in search of the king, so that His
Majesty could place his signature and seal upon the document. He wanted to make it official so
there were none who could challenge it.
“Are you certain of this decision, Wynfyr?” King Usan nyn Dor asked upon completing
his read-through of the document. “Mayhap ‘twould be wise to let your temper cool.”
“Do you not approve of giving three quarters of my fortune to the Orphans? ‘Tis Her
Majesty’s favorite charity.”
“I am aware of that. You are angry that your friends refuse to attend your wedding,
mayhap in time…”
“Majesty…I believe I have not the time.” At least according to the visions he had been
experiencing these last few nights. “It matters not. They have made their choice not to stand with
me. They may not care for my promised-wife, but that means not they should abandon me.”
“’Tis as you wish then, Wynfyr.” Usan signed his name at the bottom of the document
and placed his seal below the signature. He then handed the document to Easal.
“You do not attend the ceremony, Majesty?”
“I am afraid I must meet with my ministers on the morrow.”
“Of course. I bid you good evening, sir.” He bowed and then exited the king’s chambers.
* * *
“’Tis glad I am that you came to your senses, Wynfyr.” Gall van Jyn, Dusal of Fyrwyn,
wore a smug smile of satisfaction. He stood next to Easal as they waited for his son’s promised-
wife to make her appearance at the end of the aisle. Everything was going according to plan.
“When have I ever given you the impression I would not marry the Marsal’s daughter?”
Easal asked through clenched teeth. It had always been thus. Gall blaming him for what was not
his doing. In the case of this wedding, he had blamed him for Mair postponing it these last two
years.
“Have you not mentioned returning the funds the Marsal put down in good faith when
you and Mair were but children?”
“Only because you mentioned the Marsal was making inferences about being repaid.”
“You kept putting the marriage off.”
“Yeryl and Zasara! That was his daughter’s doing, not mine.”
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G
OLDEN
B
OOTS
“Had you but insisted…”
Mair appeared at that moment and started making her way down the aisle within Zasara’s
Serenity Garden, wearing a gold gown and dynma stone tiara. She ignored the outraged gasps of
the attending guests, thinking them jealous of her beauty.
Easal felt a moment’s satisfaction at having thwarted his father. Originally he had put a
stop to her wearing such atrocious fashion, as it was an insult to outshine Zasara within her own
Serenity Garden. But upon Gall’s last
lecture
two nights past
—
his lectures always included a
thrashing—he had left word for her to wear what she liked. He had decided he was not going to
be her shepherd, trying to curb her social gracelessness.
If Gall wanted the marriage so much, then he would have to deal with the fact that Mair
would make the House of van Jyn the butt of all jokes.
Easal looked to his left and offered his mother a secret smile. Rejina was standing by the
harpist singing in a voice that was commonly described as being blessed by Zasara herself; her
beautiful light green eyes were filled with worry. He had been afraid she would not attend his
wedding, but she had assured him that she would be there, though she was wearing brown, the
color of mourning. He had been tempted to do the same, but opted for gray instead.
“What is this?” Gall snarled at his son.
“This is what you would have become a member of our House.”
“You said you put a stop to this.”
“I had a change of heart. I see not the need to be in constant battle with my wife. If she
wishes to make fool of herself, who am I to stop her.”
“When this is over with…”
“If you think to end my life, father, that is your prerogative, but know that my fortune
goes not to my wife nor to you. It never did.”
“‘Twill when I am through with you.” Gall grabbed his son’s arm in a grip that would, if
twisted just right, break it.
“‘Twould need to be signed by the king and the king is already aware of my wishes to
leave my fortune to the Royal Valley Orphanage.” Easal kept looking ahead, watching Mair’s
progress down the aisle.
A sudden swarm of men with swords drawn surrounded her. A man in a blue doublet
stepped forward, a roll of parchment in his hands.
“Mair tyn Kyn, you are hereby taken into custody under the charges of defrauding Marsal
Hyr, Resan Gor, Resan Nol, and your own father, Marsal Kynup of their fortunes by illegal
gaming and impersonating a high-ranking Titledman. This order has been signed and sealed by
His Majesty, the King of Artezan, Usan nyn Dor.”
Everyone watched with fascinated horror as Mair was dragged kicking and screaming out
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