Alex and Azalea_Prequel to the Underground Series Read online

  Alex and Azalea

  Melody Robinette

  Melody Robinette

  Contents

  Alex and Azalea

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  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Continue the journey…with OAKEN—Book 1 of the Underground Series

  Read the rest of the series now

  Also by Melody Robinette

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  About the Author

  Alex and Azalea

  a Novella

  Prequel to the Underground Series

  Copyright 2016 by Melody Robinette

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover illustration and jacket design by Deranged Doctor Design

  Editing by Esther Doucet

  Available in ebook and paperback

  http://www.melodyrobinette.com

  For Morgan/Bethany.

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  Foreword

  Alex and Azalea IS set before the time of Oaken, but this is a separate story and can be read before, after, or even during the rest of the Underground Series. I’m so glad you chose to download this book, and I hope you fall in love with Ireland, the Underground, and of course…Alex and Azalea.

  1

  Royal Disaster

  Humans couldn’t handle the magical creatures anymore. There were too many of us. So, they burned us at stakes, calling us witches, calling us evil. But we had something they couldn’t touch. Magic. Something we could use to get away from them forever, to build a place safe from them. So we did. The magical community came together to create our own utopia. The Underground. A place of magic, beauty, and peace. A place where…

  “Nothing ever happens,” Alex muttered, crumpling up the speech he’d written twenty times at least.

  He shot it towards the wastebasket. It missed, sailing through the door that was now suddenly open. His father—King Olympus Orpheus Oaken—stood in the threshold, clutching the discarded paper ball in his left hand.

  “Ready, Son?” he asked in his booming, jolly voice. “Big night tonight. First speech before the Underground Council. Are you prepared?”

  Alex rose from his seat, straightening his lapel, and cracking his neck from nerves. This didn’t release the stiffness. It may have made it worse. “Of course I’m prepared. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been perfecting my speech all day.”

  Olympus’s eyes moved to the wastebasket filled with crumpled balls of paper. “I see that.”

  Alex and his father walked side by side, Olympus slightly in the lead, to the room reserved only for the annual Underground Council meeting. In the past, this was the place Alex had been told to stay away from no matter what. Before his mother died, she would take him out of the castle until the meeting was over. He didn’t know what they expected him to do. Set the castle on fire? Scream like a petalsie that had been stepped on? Either way, he was banished from the castle on the last day of May of every year.

  This was the first year Alex would be allowed to participate. And frankly, he was terrified. As a young boy, he’d pictured dangerous creatures milling about while Olympus tried to keep them under control. This would be the first time Alex would see any of the creatures. Other than in books, the magical creatures didn’t see much of each other. The Great Underground War had left a bitter taste in all of their mouths.

  “Remember, all of these creatures are much older and wiser than you,” Olympus muttered as they neared the Underground Council room. “Only speak when spoken to. Deliver your speech and then sit down and listen. Understood?”

  Alex loosened the fabric around his neck and cleared his throat. “Under—er—yeah. Got it.”

  Pausing at the threshold, Olympus took one final look Alex’s way before letting the door swing open. At first, Alex thought maybe they’d gotten the wrong room. No one was fighting or mawing like animals. They were all sitting around a donut-shaped table. Except for the horse-woman. Centaur, Alex thought, not horse-woman. She was standing.

  The room was tall and wide, perhaps to accommodate the leader of the giants—a massive woman who took up the width of five elves and the height of just as many. She was proportionate for her size. And beautiful. Just…really big. She sat cross-legged on the ground before the raised table, which still only reached her waist.

  Olympus beckoned Alex inside, who quickly shut the door behind him, moving to stand beside his beaming father.

  “Welcome, everyone.” Olympus spread his arms wide. “Before we begin, I’d like to introduce my son, Alexander Olympus Oaken. He will be training to take my place as king.”

  Alex felt the eyes of the other leaders scrape over him in judgment. This boy will be king? That’s what they were thinking, Alex assumed. He straightened his back, trying to look more intimidating than he really was.

  He’d just turned eighteen and was finally growing into himself. His ears didn’t stick out quite so much, and his daily physical training sessions were bulking him up a bit. But he was still helplessly awkward. To Olympus’ chagrin. Olympus was a force. A solid block of kingliness. The exact opposite of Alex.

  “He will be delivering the welcoming speech this evening,” Olympus continued, flashing Alex a proud smile. “Whenever you’re ready, Son.”

  Alex felt his shoulders rising to meet his ears and forced them back down, clearing his throat. Once. Twice. Then a third time. “Yes, uh, well. Thanks, Dad. Er—Olympus. King.”

  Getting off to a great start.

  “Well—er—welcome to Arbor Castle, everyone. It’s always an honor to host the leaders of the Underground here. Always an honor.” Throat clear. “I wanted to start out by remembering how we came to be here. In the Underground. Er, humans. They didn’t exactly like us, did they? Too much magic. Too much. Anyway. We came together to get away from them. Built the Underground. With magic.”

  The expression on the faces of the leaders around the table turned from mildly interested to pained. Alex’s speech was literally hurting them. Which, of course, just made it worse. His words began to run together and the longer he talked, the more tongue-tied he became. Finally, he gave up. “So. Yeah. Thanks again for coming today and I will turn it back over to my dad—the, er, king. Elf king.”

  Olympus’s face was a few shades pinker than usual, and he was smiling tightly, rearranging the papers in front of him. Alex hoped he woul
dn’t remark on the speech or bring any more attention to it than was absolutely necessary.

  “Well,” Olympus said. “Let’s just get started, shall we?”

  Alex sank lower in his seat, wishing his Power was the ability to melt into other objects.

  Music. Ha. Not the most kingly of Powers.

  2

  Green Everything

  “First time to Ireland, love?”

  Azalea peeled her forehead off the airplane window, looking around to the woman who’d been sleeping beside her for the majority of the flight.

  “Yep,” Azalea said with an anxious smile. “First time out of the country, ever.”

  “Backpacking?”

  “Studying.”

  The woman smiled broadly. She had kind blue eyes and a head full of crazy brown hair, which her curls made to appear about a thousand times thicker.

  “Ah. That’s lovely, dear," the woman said. "What will you be studying?”

  “Irish culture, I think,” Azalea said with uncertainty. The program hadn’t been all that clear on what they would be learning. Just that they would be in the classroom in the morning and off exploring in the afternoon. “Are you from Ireland?”

  A twinkle appeared in the woman’s eyes, and she looked past Azalea out the window, as though she were seeing something that wasn’t there. “Not originally, no.”

  Azalea waited for the woman to continue, but she didn’t. She decided not to push the matter. Her dad had warned her how different the culture would be from Texas and she didn’t know if it was considered rude to ask someone where they were from. So, she just smiled a tight-lipped grin and looked back out the window.

  “My son is about your age,” the woman said after a moment. “He’s a wild little rascal, that one.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Wesley. Wesley King.”

  Azalea smiled again, not sure if she should comment. Wasn’t it weird to say, ‘Oh, that’s a lovely name,’ when you were talking about an adult child?

  So, she asked another question to avoid the issue. “Does he live in Dublin?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes he lives with me in Blarney. Sometimes he travels…other places.”

  “Oh, Blarney,” Azalea said, recognizing the name. “Like the Blarney Stone?”

  “That castle’s not far from my home, in fact,” the woman said. “You must visit.”

  “Your home?”

  “No, dear.” She chuckled. “Blarney Castle. It truly is a beautiful view from the top. I wouldn’t recommend kissing the stone, I’m afraid. The locals think it’s funny to urinate on it.”

  Azalea made a face.

  The woman chuckled. “Though, you’d be welcome to visit my home if you so desired. Can’t say there’s much to see. But there is a quaint little pub next door my son likes to frequent. They’re having an open mic night tonight if you find yourself without something to do.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “Here.” The woman ripped out a page of the magazine she was holding and scribbled an address on it. “I’ll get you a round of free pints. I know the owner rather well. I think he fancies me. Strange man. Kind, but strange. You are eighteen, right?”

  “I am. I’m eighteen.”

  “And my name is Evangeline by the way. Evangeline King. But you can just call me Ms. King like all my son’s friends. I quite prefer it. My first name is such a mouthful. And don’t even think about calling my Eva.”

  Azalea chuckled, thanking Ms. King as she took the piece of paper.

  The pilot came on the speaker then, announcing that they were beginning their descent into Dublin. Pressing her forehead against the window again, Azalea peered down at the mass of emerald land beneath them. She’d never seen so much green at once.

  Excitement bubbled up in Azalea’s stomach. This was the first time she’d ever been away from home for more than a weekend. And now she would be far, far from home for a whole month.

  When the plane arrived at the gate, Azalea waved goodbye to Ms. King, tucking the piece of paper with her address in her bag. The students in the program were meant to meet at baggage claim. Squirming worms of nerves wriggled in her gut as she made her way through the airport, taking in all the unfamiliar signage, some of which was written in Irish Gaelic.

  Only getting lost twice, Azalea made it to baggage claim, standing beside the metal carousel designated for her flight. Scanning the faces of the others waiting, she tried to figure out who might be a fellow student. With a groan, the carousel began to move, soon spitting out suitcases and duffel bags. Azalea watched for hers—a neon green monster.

  Just then a girl with puffy black curls moved quickly past her. “That one’s mine, that’s mine!” she squealed in a definite American accent. “Sir, could you—okay, or not. Excuse me. Sorry. So, sorry about that, ma’am. I just need to get to my—s’cuse me!”

  The girl was practically crawling across the people standing by, knocking a few down as she clawed the air towards a purple plastic suitcase covered in heart stickers.

  The bag made its way in front of Azalea. “Here,” she said, grabbing hold of the purple handle of the suitcase and pulling it over the lip of the carousel.

  “Cheese and rice. Thank you so much.” The girl brushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. “First day in a foreign country and I’m off to a magnificent start, pushing over locals and what not.”

  “It’s my first time too,” Azalea said with a reassuring smile.

  “Oh my gosh, are you studying abroad too? With CIEE?”

  Azalea felt a rush of relief course over her, suddenly feeling not so alone. “Yes! At DCU?”

  “Yes!”

  The two girls immediately formed a silent pact of friendship, waiting for Azalea’s monster of a bag to appear. The girl liked to talk. A lot. Which was fine with Azalea because she preferred to listen. She learned that the girl’s name was Zariah and that she was from Portland, Oregon. She was studying to be a veterinarian at Portland State University, and she'd just broken up with her boyfriend so she wouldn't feel tied down while she was abroad.

  “Look at that one,” Zariah said, pointing at a neon green suitcase falling heavily onto the metal carousel. “That’s hideous.”

  “That’s mine.” Azalea lunged forward, clutching onto the handle and tugging it over.

  “Well…your suitcase is hideous,” Zariah stated playfully.

  “My dad wanted me to get one that was unique in case I lost it. So I’d be able to tell them exactly what it looks like.”

  “It’s unique all right.” Zariah snorted. “Let’s go find the rest of our peeps.”

  Their peeps were easily spotted once the throng of people filling the baggage claim trickled out. An older gentleman wearing a flat cap and a knitted sweater vest held a bright yellow sign that said CIEE STUDENTS. Azalea thought he looked like an adorable grandpa.

  A girl with dyed red and black hair and sleeves of tattoos stood stonily beside the man, sandwiched between a dark haired boy-next-door and a tall, rocker-chic guy with frosted hair slicked back with gel.

  As the girls approached, the older man with the sign said, “You must be Zariah and Azalea, the last of our group.” The girls nodded and the man said, “Call me Peter. Welcome to Ireland! And we’re off to the bus.”

  The five students followed Peter like ducklings out of the airport and onto the bus. It smelled of rubber and stale tobacco, but no one complained. They were too excited to complain. The bus groaned to life and proceeded to pull out of the airport.

  The tattooed girl—Raina—wasn’t all that social, sticking in her earbuds and staring out the window as the others huddled in the back. Azalea wondered if someone forced her to come on this trip against her will.

  “I’m Joe,” said the boy-next-door, grinning broadly as he shook hands with everyone but Raina. “And I'm going to the University of Michigan to be an actor.”

  “An actor?” Zariah said. “You have to go to c
ollege for that? Aren’t you just supposed to move to California, go to auditions, and get discovered while you're waiting tables in Hollywood?”

  “Not if you want to be on Broadway,” Joe countered.

  “Wow, Joe, I’m impressed,” the flamboyant, frosted-haired boy named Shayn said. “I would’ve pegged you for pre-law or pre-med or pre-businessman or something.”

  Joe was from Philadelphia and had better eyebrows than Azalea. With his shaped brows, leather pants, and eyeliner, he looked like a mix between a rocker and a drag queen.

  When the others found out Azalea was from Texas they visibly recoiled. “You’re one of the good ones, right?” Shayn said. “Cause I’ve had a few unfortunate run-ins with Texans.”

  Azalea laughed nervously, clutching onto the back of the cloth seat in front of her. “I’m one of the good ones.”

  “It’s only nine here. We have a free evening before orientation tomorrow,” Zariah said, scanning the papers in the folder they’d each been given with their itineraries. “Want to go somewhere for the afternoon…and maybe some of the night?”

  “Where do you want to go?” Joe asked. “Everything’s so close together in this country. We could go anywhere really.”

  Azalea remembered the folded paper in her bag with Ms. King’s address written on it.

  “I think I know where we can go.”

  3

  Through the Waterfall

  “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Al.”

  Alex shot his friend, John, a side-eyed glare. “Yes, it was, actually. It was that bad.”

  A group of recently-graduated elves sat on the edge of Arbor Lake, a sprawling mass of still water in the center of a ring of tall trees. It was one of the few places young elves congregated. Not that there were many places in which to gather anyhow. Arbor Falls was a quiet little elf town. Full of quiet people going about their own business. Alex hated to think what the other elf cities in the Underground were like if this was considered the capital. Elves probably sleep-walked through the streets.