All The Crown's Shadows: The Wicked Flames Saga Book 1 Read online

  All The Crown's Shadows

  The Wicked Flames Saga Book 1

  Emily Rose

  Copyright © 2020 Emily Rose

  All rights reserved

  The 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.

  Cover design by: Graphic Designer Ana Ristovska

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  1 The Mission

  2 The Shadow Forest

  3 The Cages

  4 The Enemy

  5 The Boy From Home

  6 The Glimpse of Darkness

  7 The New Champion

  8 The Mark of Forever

  9 The New Life

  10 The Ghosts of the Past

  11 The Dance With Death

  12 The Prince’s Truth

  13 The Prophecy

  14 The King’s Dinner

  15 The Beginning of the End

  16 The Enemy Betrayal

  17 The Redemption

  18 The Journey

  PROLOGUE

  “Ruby, run!”

  I gaped at my mother as she called out her last words to me. Run. My father was already dead in the bed next to her with a sword pierced through his heart. The guards were standing in front of me, waiting for my next move as I prepared to watch my mother die. In that moment, I could see the black pits of their eyes. I could sense the shadows that lurked in their souls, controlling their hearts. Devils. Death bringers.

  Hatred swarmed my body, my thoughts, my being.

  “No mama, NO!” My mouth was dry as I screamed out for her, but it was no use. Within seconds, the guards had slit her throat, sending a thick coat of her own blood across her perfect, porcelain skin.

  Dead. Both dead.

  My eyes burned. White, feral anger built up inside me. I felt the flames before I saw them- pure emotion leaping from my hands. Pure abomination. I let the fire overtake me, let the flame become me as the hatred engulfed my body.

  I called out to the gods. I called out to anyone who would help me, anyone who would hear my despair. My anguish. What was happening?

  “Help me, PLEASE!” My voice was broken and unrecognizable. Weak. What I needed was help. I needed help. I screamed as I sent my final, desperate plea to the gods, the only hope I had left.

  My body instantly strengthened as one god in particular answered my call, dominating my very existence with one flash of light.

  Power. Heat. This was Ophine. Goddess of fire.

  The guards who killed my parents stared at me in fear. No, it wasn’t fear. It was horror. They did not see Ruby Castiel, the scared little girl from the village.

  They saw Ophine, one of the many gods who had abandoned Aslan, seeking her own vengeance. And I felt her own feelings of hatred within me, molding with mine. Our hatred. Our disgust. Our power.

  The outrage, our outrage, that built inside of me had a release. A purpose. I had a purpose. I felt complete mastery of the power, of the flame.

  The guards didn't scream. They didn’t even have time. The white fire jumped from my body and incinerated their entire beings. I wish I didn’t enjoy it, watching them die. Watching my power kill them. Watching our power kill them.

  I was Ruby, but in this moment, I was Ophine, goddess of fire. I was the light. I was the flame. I was not afraid. I did not feel sorrow for my dead parents, or for the girl I was just moments ago. That girl was weak. Dead.

  Instead, I felt fury. A fury so forceful, so vile that the deepest parts of my soul surrendered to it. I surrendered to it. I wondered, in that moment, with the bodies of my enemies still burning next to me, how the goddess of light had chosen me, had answered my call.

  I dropped to my knees, feeling nothing but emptiness inside of me. I was fire, and I was also death. Darkness.

  There was no light within me. That was clear. Only venom. Only despair, so much despair, and the desperate, insatiable need for revenge.

  1 The Mission

  Here’s the thing about pain: It doesn’t matter how much you try to forget about it, the memory itself changes you.

  Horror jolted my body awake. The sweat on my skin chilled my body as I peeled off my wool blanket, exposing myself to the morning air. My heart was racing as if I had just walked off a battlefield. Maybe I had.

  The same nightmare had been coming to me for the past 4 years, no matter how hard I tried to forget what happened. They seemed to be happening more often now, each time with more and more detail. My own personal hell. My own punishment.

  I shut my eyes and rubbed my face. Forget about it, I thought. It’s in the past.

  I threw on my tan trousers and quickly slicked my blonde hair into a ponytail before grabbing the knife from my dresser and tucking it into my belt. The weight of it felt reassuring against my body, like a doll to a child. My eyes instinctively squinted against the blazing desert sun as I opened the flap to my tent, stepping outside. Dozens of men and women were already awake, preparing for another sweaty day in Sundown.

  Sundown was what we called our little camp on the outskirts of Aslan, at least a three day’s ride from the City. Tents and small wooden cottages lined the perimeter, encircling what we called the Square. The Square was where most of us spent our days. It consisted of dozens of wooden tables and benches made from old trees, scattered lazily across the area. Sometimes, everyone in the town would gather for a big fire or meeting. It was the center of our small, simple lives. I cooked most evenings, skinning and preparing whatever animals the hunters had brought in that night. Some of the men worked on building cottages, and most of the women were either in charge of cooking, like me, or watching the children. I gratefully opted for the cooking. The people here were very relaxed, and we all did our parts to pitch in.

  The wealthy, however, got to live inside the City walls. I wasn’t sure how anyone got lucky enough to live there without being born into wealth already, but I didn’t dwell on it too much. Something told me it wasn’t as glamorous as everyone believed it to be.

  We lived out here in the desert heat. Miles and miles of thick forest and a towering stone wall separated us from the wealthy, but at least we had our peace.

  “Hey Ruby!” Jax yelled, jogging toward me with a loaf of bread in his hands. Jax Silven had been my best friend since I was 13. I met him right after the accident happened. Other than a few of the women in the kitchen, Jax was the only real friend I made here in Sundown, and I was grateful for him. “You ready for the Ring of Angels today?”

  The Ring of Angels. I caught the warm loaf that he tossed at me and laughed. Like everyone who lived in Aslan, Jax had become obsessed with the Ring. The real Ring of Angels was the only source of entertainment for the people who lived within the walls. Dozens of men and women volunteered themselves to spar for the entertainment of the wealthy. They were dressed in fancy fighting uniforms that represented Aslan, and fights lasted anywhere from minutes to hours.

  In my opinion, it was like watching innocent animals slaughter each other. If you were lucky enough though, you became one of the King’s Champions, which made you one of Aslan’s favorite people.

  Of course, an outsider would never actually be invited to the event, let alone ever step foot in the City. Jax had created his own spin-off of the real Ring of Angels, just like every young guy and girl who grew up here. It was our littl
e Sundown fight club.

  “Am I ever ready?” I grumbled after swallowing a bite of the bread. “I can’t believe you watch this stuff every day.”

  “Oh, come on! What if we miss something good?” Jax replied. His dark, curly hair was still a mess from the night before. White teeth gleamed against his slightly sunburnt skin as he smiled at me. I loved that smile. Even in the heat of the morning, it was contagious.

  He threw a broad, muscular arm around my shoulders and started walking us toward the fight.

  “Okay,” I said, elbowing him in the rib. “But this better be worth it.”

  Neither of us mentioned anything about how this was going to be the last amateur fight we would see. I looked around, taking in everything I could about this last morning in our dirty little town. It was nothing fancy, but it was home. This was it. I felt my pulse quicken at the thought.

  Jax and I made our way over to the Sundown fighting ring. It was nothing special, just a chunk of sand with a square perimeter made from string and twigs. The City would have a giant fighting pit surrounded with thousands of stone seats. Part of me told myself they had diamond floors and expensive wine at every event, too. I could only imagine.

  I rolled my eyes. How could anyone actually enjoy watching this stuff? How could Jax actually enjoy watching this stuff? Even if it wasn't the real thing, it still bothered me. The sound of fists hitting flesh only made my stomach twist. I hated it.

  Jax was a fan of the Ring of Angels for as long as I had known him. Every time the City announced a live match between the competitors, Jax was tuned in. It’s what inspired him to start his own little league of fighting here at Sundown. At first, it was just an excuse to brawl with the other guys. Over time, however, as popularity for the Ring of Angels grew, so did Jax’s amateur ring.

  The square was surrounded by townspeople, mostly young guys and girls who were also fighters. I recognized a few of them from the kitchen but kept my head down. Making friends wasn’t exactly my thing. Besides small talk with a couple of other girls from the kitchen, I kept to myself. And to Jax. We found a spot in the back of the crowd, just in time for the sound of the referee's bell.

  The fight had begun.

  Jax knew everybody that signed up to fight, and he had to approve every match that was scheduled. Today’s fight was between scrawny little Riley, Jax’s younger brother, and Milo, who lived just a few tents down from me. They squared up on either corner of the ring, preparing for the match. The fights were always harmless here. Usually they ended by tap out or knockout. Nothing serious.

  At the City, however, Ring of Angel fights were ended by only one thing: death. I can’t imagine what entices people to sign up for such a thing. Yes, I’ll admit, the fame and the prestige of being one of the King’s Champions must be nice, but to risk your life every time you step in the ring? Seemed intense. And idiotic.

  The fight unfolding before me, however, was anything but intense. Riley was only fifteen, two years younger than Jax and I. Riley clearly did not inherit Jax’s muscular figure or strong build. Instead, Riley was tall, and he stood on his long, scrawny legs. He reminded me of a deer in the fields. Jax had been teaching him to fight almost every day for years now, but Riley clearly had no chance.

  “COME ON, RILEY!” Jax yelled from the crowd as Riley took his first hit to the face. Ouch. I know it killed him to see Riley struggle this way. Jax would do anything to help his brother win a fight, but even daily training with Jax himself, the best fighter in Sundown, clearly wasn’t enough.

  Riley took another hit to the stomach, staggering backward. He didn’t even have time to stand up before he was hit again from the side. A hiss of breath escaped me at the sight.

  Another ten seconds passed, and Riley had tapped out. That was quick. Jax mumbled something under his breath and slumped next to me in disappointment as the crowd began to clear out, whispering amongst themselves.

  “Relax, Jax. He’ll get better eventually,” I suggested, nudging him toward the square where the breakfast line was forming.

  “Yeah, right,” he responded. “Who’s gonna be here to train him?”

  Jax didn’t meet my eyes, but a pang of guilt shot through my stomach. Jax and I hadn’t told anyone we were leaving town, not even Riley. Nobody would understand. They would only try to stop us. I knew Jax was hesitating, but neither of us would admit it.

  He didn’t take his eyes off of his brother as he trotted toward us, blood dripping from his mouth. “Did you see that, guys?” Riley shouted. His left eye was already beginning to swell from the fight. “I totally almost had him!”

  Jax huffed. “Did you forget everything I taught you, dumbass?”

  I ignored the brothers as they bickered over what could have gone better in the fight. The three of us slowly waddled over to the Square and sat down at our usual breakfast table. The heat of the wood nearly burned my skin through my trousers.

  “I just wanna fight in the Ring of Angels. The real Ring of Angels.” Jax leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Why would you want to do that, Riley?” I responded, feeling my temper spike. For some reason, I felt just as protective of Riley as Jax did. “You would risk your life to parade around like some stupid circus animal for the King?”

  “Uh… hell yes! I wonder what they get to eat for breakfast. Probably steaks every day and all the chocolate they can think of!” He licked his lips.

  Jax laughed beside me.

  “Like you would even make it to breakfast, idiot. Your first opponent would snap you like a twig,” Jax said, snapping his fingers for dramatic effect.

  We all laughed then, and I caught myself staring at the way Riley and Jax interacted with one another. It seemed safe. Happy. They were close to one another, even though Jax always pretended to be annoyed by Riley. There was no way Jax would ever let anything happen to his brother, even if he didn’t publicly denounce Riley’s support for the Ring of Angels.

  “Oh whatever, guys,” Riley said after he caught his breath. “Just don’t be jealous when I’m in King Xavier’s League of Champions and you guys are still living in this dirt pile.” He stood up and walked toward the kitchen. He was just a kid, barely fifteen. The only reason Jax and I understood how evil the King could be was because of the attack years ago. Riley would have been too young to remember, anyway. Thank the gods for that.

  Jax turned to me, and I was shocked at how serious he looked. “You know he just looks up to us, Ruby. Give it a year or two and he’ll grow out of this little fighting phase.”

  “If he just knew what the Kin--”

  “No,” he cut me off. “Riley has no business knowing if the King is a murderer or not. That’s between us and the crown, not Riley.”

  It didn’t matter how often Jax and I daydreamed about a life within the City walls or a life without the fear of an ambush. He didn’t talk about it when Riley was around, and neither did I. Maybe that was another way of protecting him.

  If Riley were anything like this brother, though, we would have a hard time ever keeping him from the City if the chance ever arose. Riley believed what most of Aslan believed, that the City was the protector for all of us. Following the King’s rule had been the only way the human race survived without the protection of the gods. What an idiotic idea.

  The thought of it made me sick to my stomach. People blindly followed the man who was to blame for the murder of my parents.

  “If he ever volunteered for the fights... he would be slaughtered,” I said.

  The realization was harsh, but true. Jax took interest in fighting, yes. But Jax and I shared a common hatred for King Xavier. A common goal that neither of us spoke about.

  Four years ago, when Jax took me in, he never asked any questions about the death of my parents or how the guards had been killed. I was thankful for it, because I wasn’t even ready to answer those questions myself.

  Anytime I spoke about revenge on King Xavier of Aslan, though, Jax understood. Vengea
nce was the only thing I needed. From that day forward, Jax helped me prepare for the day I would get what I desperately needed. He trained me in combat every day. For years, I had been getting stronger. Better. He taught me to hunt, to protect myself, and to channel my anger into my fighting.

  I never asked Jax how he became so talented at combat, but I suspected he had his own reasons to channel anger toward King Xavier. He never asked about my parents, and I never asked about his. Although I still remembered my parents, I never remembered Jax’s. Him and Riley were like Sundown’s kids. We all took care of each other. Part of me wondered what had happened to them though. When the rest of Sundown was cheering for the fights and bending their necks to get a look at the King’s Champions, Jax was studying their moves. Learning from their skills.

  We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence. I couldn’t help but wonder what Riley would think if he knew about our plan. That was the thing about revenge. No matter how logical it was in your own mind, nobody else could ever truly understand. A small part of me knew that even Jax was just playing along.

  Later that day, after we had both spent a few hours working, Jax and I went on a hunt to gather food for our journey. Jax was tense in the bushes next to me. He had hardly spoken since breakfast, but I could read everything he wanted to say on his face. He was nervous, and rightfully so.

  “You can talk to me, you know,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

  We had been sitting at our usual lookout spot for about an hour now, but neither of us attempted to lift our bow and arrows.

  Jax looked at me, a look of pure concentration on his face.