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    Obsidian Heart (The Sisters with the Glass Hearts & Jet Black heart (5SOS)): Treasures Retold, #12
    Obsidian Heart (The Sisters with the Glass Hearts & Jet Black heart (5SOS)): Treasures Retold, #12
    Obsidian Heart (The Sisters with the Glass Hearts & Jet Black heart (5SOS)): Treasures Retold, #12
    Ebook157 pages2 hours

    Obsidian Heart (The Sisters with the Glass Hearts & Jet Black heart (5SOS)): Treasures Retold, #12

    By Katharina Gerlach

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    About this ebook

    Once upon a time in a world where magic and technology collide with unexpected consequences…

    Despite the disabilities a curse has caused, tsarevna Rivka fights for her independence. Why can't her father, the tsar, understand that burning witches isn't the answer to her and her sisters' heart problems? She only learns how badly the curse affects the three princesses when she meets glass blower Nikolaj who seems to be tied to her in some strange way. Can she get her father to see reason before her heart drags her to hell?

    What if Richard von Volkmann-Leander hadn't known that "The Sisters with the Glass Hearts" were far more capable than you'd expect?

    The book includes a bonus story and the original fairy tale. And since it's the last book in the series, it is longer than the others.

    About the Series

    This fantasy novella series combines sorcery and science. It features retellings of your favorite fairy tales and of tales you've never heard. The fairy tales are suitable for teens and older readers alike, mixing steampunk fiction with magical elements in a fantasy world on threshold of technological advance. If the traditional "once upon a time" opening still captures your imagination, you will love these tales.

    DRM-free DRM is a form of coding that makes it impossible to legally use an eBook on other eReaders. Since I don't want to patronize my readers, I am not using DRM. This way, everyone who buys one of my eBooks can convert it into the format supported by his/her eReader.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIndependent Bookworm
    Release dateFeb 11, 2019
    ISBN9783956811234
    Obsidian Heart (The Sisters with the Glass Hearts & Jet Black heart (5SOS)): Treasures Retold, #12
    Author

    Katharina Gerlach

    Katharina Gerlach was born in Germany in 1968. She and her three younger brothers grew up in the middle of a forest in the heart of the Luneburgian Heather. After romping through the forest with imagination as her guide, the tomboy learned to read and disappeared into magical adventures, past times, or eerie fairytale woods. She didn’t stop at reading. During her training as a landscape gardener, she wrote her first novel, a manuscript full of a beginner’s mistakes. Fortunately, she found books on Creative Writing and soon her stories improved. For a while, reality interfered with her writing but after finishing a degree in forestry and a PhD in Science she returned to her vocation. She likes to write Fantasy, Science Fiction and Historical Novels for all age groups. At present, she is writing at her next project in a small house near Hildesheim, Germany, where she lives with her husband, her children and her dog.

    Read more from Katharina Gerlach

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      Book preview

      Obsidian Heart (The Sisters with the Glass Hearts & Jet Black heart (5SOS)) - Katharina Gerlach

      Obsidian Heart

      Are you sure that'll be enough? Tsar Boris Rostakow asked the nurse. If anything happens to them, I'll hold you responsible.

      It sufficed when Katinka was born last year, Majesty. The nurse curtsied and dug through the wardrobe for another pillow.

      Tsar Boris knew that, but he still worried. Glass broke easily. His daughters’ hearts were too fragile to be careless. His fingers tugged at the colorful brocade curtains that covered the windows. It was the same thick fabric as his morning gown, if not the same pattern. But was it thick enough to save his precious babies? He turned to the nurse, who was putting another feather bed over the small body in the gilded cradle. His youngest daughter slept and didn't complain.

      His eldest in the rosewood crib pushed at the three down covers that pinned her to her mattress. Dada, I don't want to sleep. I'm not tired, the three-year-old said.

      I'll tell you a story. Tsar Boris hurried to her side. You can get up as soon as the soldiers are done with their salute.

      Tell me one with horses, she demanded and snuggled into her covers, her brown curls spreading over the cover like a forest without leaves.

      He obliged, always straining his ear to find out what was going on outside the room, but all he could hear was the gentle tinkling of his daughters' glass hearts. The wait was always the worst. If only he could be with his wife, but his duty was to make sure that absolutely nothing would happen to their two beloved daughters. As he told Anastasia a story about a farm boy who caught three magic horses and defied an evil tsar to marry a tsarevna, he wondered how much longer it would take. He remembered the first time his wife gave birth. He'd been pacing for hours and hours. It had been nerve-wracking, but at least he hadn't needed to worry about the health of someone so close to his heart as Anastasia and Katharina.

      He also remembered his devastation when his firstborn died a few days after his birth because the nurse had fallen asleep. The poor boy had cried himself to death. He remembered the stony face of their doctor when he had told him the reason.

      His heart is made of glass, he had said. I do not know how it pumped blood through the body for as long as it did, maybe it was by magic. Regardless, the strain of crying for too long broke it. The tsarevitch bled to death inwardly. I am very sorry for your loss, Majesty.

      He'd been running around in a cloud of sadness, and only his wife's soothing hands and words had helped him through the sorrow. And when Anastasia was born, he set up a system of nurses that supervised her twenty-four hours a day. So far, both Anastasia and Katharina had survived.

      He glanced at the sleeping baby as he finished his story. Anastasia sighed happily.

      Boom! The canon's detonation sounded muffled through the thick curtains, but the children's hearts still rang out with a light chime. Anastasia wept silently and Katharina woke, crying. Their pain tugged at Tsar Boris's heartstrings. No matter how soothingly he sang to his daughters, he felt every detonation as if a giant squeezed his heart.

      Boom, ching – it went – boom, ching – and he counted every strike – twenty-four for a boy, thirty for a girl.

      Let it be a boy, he whispered to no one in particular. Boom, ching – twenty-three … twenty-four … twenty-five … A girl. On one hand he was delighted, on the other he had hoped the detonations would end quickly. And an heir to the throne wouldn't have been bad either. Boom, ching – twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

      In the silence following the announcement of his third daughter's birth, Anastasia wiped away her tears and asked, Will she be like us?

      Her small, pale face with the big, brown eyes looked at him with great expectation. He smiled as best he could without showing his worry.

      I do not know.

      Because if she is, I'll teach her all she needs to know about delicate hearts like ours. Anastasia pushed away her covers. Can I see her now?

      Certainly, my dear. The tsar helped her out of her crib, took her hand, and together they walked through the massive oak door that connected the children's rooms with the royal bedchamber. Boris's heart beat faster when he saw his wife's sweaty but happy face and the bundle in her arms.

      Look how perfect she is, the tsarina whispered and held up the small bundle. The new tsarevna had a shock of black hair and startlingly dark eyes.

      Since the tsar had never seen a black-eyed baby, his eyebrows went up. Shouldn't they be blue?

      Dark eyes at birth are rare but they do happen, the midwife said.

      I want to see her too. Anastasia climbed onto her mother's bed and cuddled beside her, watching the newborn with wide eyes. She looks like the monkeys in our garden. Just with less hair. What's her name?

      Revanna. She's our little Tsarevna Rivka. Tsarina Victoria smiled at her eldest and explained about the baby's wrinkles, and Boris's heart grew wide. It was such a lovely picture. Please let her be healthy, he thought and bit his lip. He couldn't let Victoria see how worried he was.

      Someone knocked at the door and the midwife opened. The doctor hurried in, the stethoscope already in his hands. He greeted his sovereigns with the appropriate phrases and said, I am sorry for my delay. I misplaced my medical bag, and when I found it and set out to your chambers, I got lost in the corridors. This palace is incredibly big, Your Majesty, and I am getting old.

      Excuse accepted. Now, is my daughter healthy? Boris wasn't interested in the problems of his doctor. All he needed to know was the answer to his most pressing question.

      The doctor bent over the baby to examine her. He counted her fingers, listened to her lungs and her heart. When he straightened and turned to the tsar, his face was solemn. The child is as healthy as any newborn, but her heart sounds just like those of her sisters.

      Tsar Boris's elation at the birth vanished, and he pressed his lips together. Well, it couldn't be helped. At least he knew what to do now that his third daughter had been born with a glass heart too. We need more nurses, he said.

      Nikolaj sat in the circle his mother had drawn on the rocky ground and tried not to fidget. A big boy of four years could do that. But it wasn't easy. A couple of interesting shadows were dancing on the cave's wall, and he so longed to run over and play with them. If his friend was there too, he might show him the way out of the cave. It was much nicer outside in the forest than in this little circle.

      He wanted to ask how much longer he'd have to sit there, but didn't dare to disturb his mother. She could be harsh if he interfered with something important, and since they'd never been here before, he assumed it was important. If only he could understand the game she was playing, maybe she'd let him play along.

      He watched her with wide open eyes. She was busy walking withershins around a huge, black, heart-shaped pit in the middle of the cave, murmuring even stranger words. When they'd arrived earlier, he had caught a glimpse of a smooth, shiny black stone that closed the pit like a lid, but from his current position, he could no longer see it. The only movement came from his mother, circling the pit placing objects on the floor and drawing chalk marks around them.

      When nothing more interesting happened, he got bored. He waved his arms, and the shadows on the wall danced wildly. But even this pastime dulled after a while, since they didn't come nearer and he wasn't allowed to get up.

      Hmmm, if he couldn't romp through the forest just now, maybe he could play with what he had. Nikolaj looked around but there was nothing in the circle with him, not even a pebble. The ground was smooth with nothing in sight. How stupid. He looked at his stubby toes and sighed. They were all he had for playing. Vaguely he remembered that he used to enjoy sticking them into his mouth. Once he'd been lying in a feeding trough with both of his feet close to his face, and his mother bent over him with a smile. Was he still able to do that now? Maybe if he showed her that he could still do that, she'd come and smile and play with him again. He grabbed his left foot and pulled.

      Sit still, Kolja! His mother's voice cut through the cold air in the cave like a knife. Nikolaj let go of his foot immediately and held his breath. He knew that tone. It was always his last warning. Now he had to be very careful to avoid a slap.

      The small mechanical watch his mother had bought some time back chimed. She had put it at the far end of the cave close to the entrance for no apparent reason. He could have held it if it was too heavy for her. After all, he was a big boy now. Eleven chimes rang clear and loud through the caverns, echoing a little.

      When the sound faded, his mother bent down and lit a candle standing before Nikolaj's circle before she began to sing. Normally he liked her songs. This one sounded all wrong to him, but he didn't dare to ask her for another one. Something invisible pressed down on him from all sides. Breathing became difficult. Nikolaj gasped. His chest hurt as if someone had put a whole mountain on his heart. Tears ran over his face.

      When one of the shadows stepped from the wall, hope surged through his body. His friend had come. All would be well now. Breathing in small, painful gasps, he watched the shadow approach his mother.

      Natasha, the shadow called but Nikolaj's mother kept singing. Nastjenka. What are you doing? The shadow hovered beside her as if he wanted to grab her, but she didn't seem to be seeing him. You're hurting Kolja. Don't you care about our son?

      Gathering his strength, Nikolaj lifted one hand and reached for the shadow.

      This is the hour before midnight, his mother called in a clear voice that carried through the cave. The hour before doom. The pressure on Nikolaj increased even more. His legs seemed to be gone and his heart felt as if it had been smashed.

      Stop it, Natasha. You're killing him. The shadow fluttered around the woman, but she took no heed. Nikolaj closed his eyes. What was wrong with his mother that not even his shadowy friend could help him?

      Asphodel, show yourself! his mother called with her head tilted back and her arms reaching for the cave's ceiling.

      As her arms sank back to her side, the pressure on Nikolaj vanished as if it had never been. He blinked away his tears. Another shadow had appeared. This one was really ugly. It hovered over the black lid of the heart-shaped pit and had more arms than any shadow Nikolaj had ever seen. Also, it had eyes … many real ones … that burned red … and tusks.

      I told you I can't revive your husband. The shadow's voice sounded like the grating of stones. You will have to contact the other side about it.

      I did, and they refuse to let go of Piotr. Natasha stepped closer to the pit. And they want me to revoke my curse. But I will get my revenge, and you will help me.

      Only if it pleases me. The ugly shadow twisted slowly, and the cave grew chillier. Nikolaj's breath condensed in the air, but he didn't notice. His gaze clung to the shadow, and his little heart hammered in his chest, telling him to

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