If Feelings Could Kill

If Feelings Could KillBriana Kuni Copyright © 2023 Briana KuniAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.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 publisher.ISBN: 979-8-9869068-1-2Cover design by: Dev Dia ArtPrinted in the United States of America Contents Title PageCopyrightDedicationPrologueChapter 1: BerniceChapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19AcknowledgmentAbout the Author Dedication For John and Kazuko,Who embarked on a journey that brought them to Hawaii.& for Hawaii,My home. Prologue “Find her and bring her back here immediately!”The man seethes, calloused hands gripping dark hair that falls in waves across his forehead and blanket his shoulders like a veil. Locks of dusky brown rise and fall as he paces, certain to gray sooner than expected from this newfound stressor.“My King,” Pale eyes track the guards that hustle away, noting the moment their footsteps soften. “Your wife and daughter have crossed through the Arch. There is no way to pinpoint their exact location now.” Her petite frame bends at the waist, eyes now stuck to the floor between them. Uncertainty thickens in the night air, coating their perfectly planned future in muck and impossibility.The King, broad shouldered and unhinged, conceals the shiver climbing up his spine with a groan that would be heard for miles. Heavy, barefoot steps leave imprints across the marble floor that shines so clearly, he can see his own reflection. Tired eyes and deep creases line a tanned forehead, marking the minutes that pass as he loses control over this situation. A King without his powerful weapon is barely a King at all.Grand and spacious palace walls lined with thick, blood red curtains stand like statues around him. Fire lit sconces cast shadows that glimmer against the fabric like blinking, judgment filled eyes. They prickle at the skin along his neck, bringing a single bead of sweat to roll down his temple and land atop the red and yellow feathered cape he cloaked upon himself but hours before. The walls grow hands only he can see, with fingers outstretched, desperate to grip his neck and choke his windpipe. A final reminder of the man who roamed these halls mere days before him.“My King, are you alright?” The woman’s voice snaps him back to reality. He has already sacrificed so much, he cannot stand the thought of losing this victory when the rewards are just ripe enough to reap.A King for only a single day, he had hoped to adjust to this palace slowly, over time. Filling the endless halls of cold, gray stone and ornate finery with the warm and joyous laughter from his wife and daughter. Without them, this place he had conquered with death, served only as a reminder of the man he’d become to take the crown and the man he was willing to become to keep it.“Of course I’m not alright, my daughter was stolen! She will be the most powerful woman our island has ever seen. She cannot waste her gifts hiding like a frightened child, no matter what her mother thinks is best.” A cold frost, like a thick fog coating a grassy field in an early winter morning, covers the ground at his feet.“Forgive me, my King.” The woman flinches. A plain pa’u cloth sits firm across her chest and ties in a knot at her waist. The bottom half hangs loose across her thighs, dyed with berries that stain indigo and match icy blue eyes that shine brightly despite the fear that lingers beneath them. Her eyes dart back and forth, unsettling the King with her candor.“Spit it out!” He commands.“The boy, Your Grace. What will you do with the boy?” She asks, already fearing his answer.“He has quite the temper…” The King’s pacing continues, twirling a ball of ice in his palm as if waiting for an order to strike. “Perhaps he is too much like his father and deserves the same fate.” The sphere transforms into a thick, deadly spike as the King’s eyes twinkle at the possibility.“What of your wife and daughter, my King? When they are found and brought back here…will they not learn of what’s become of him?”The King had not considered this. “The boy threatens my claim to the throne. I cannot allow him to walk freely through the village with the knowledge he holds.”The woman leaves barely a second of silence before providing an alternative to more bloodshed. “Is there no solution then? Our ancient gifts do not hold such an answer to that problem?”He studies her, mind connecting the dots like breadcrumbs she’d left on a trail for him to find. “You would have me order he forget? Who he is, what he has seen? You believe that a fate better than a quick death?”“If you were to order a Charmer to make him forget what he’s seen, I believe he could become a different man than his father.” She says, earnest expression warming the King’s cold sensibilities.The King does not take kindly to the suggestions of those he deems beneath him. But, he thought, perhaps a woman’s way is what I need to convince my wife the error of her ways.“And you believe this…kindness will show me as a merciful King?” She nods, knowing that at any moment, should he disagree, it could cost her life.His pacing ceases, a wicked thought curling a venomous smile across his face.“It shall be, then. My first royal decree to the people of Ayond is that the Prince shall never learn of his birthright. Anyone who informs him of such, shall pay with their life. But with their vow of silence, they earn my favor and protection. I will restore the village to its former glory and