The Hidden King

by E G Radcliff

  THE

  HIDDEN KING

  E.G. Radcliff

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  A mad king. A powerful, inhuman heir.

  A young man endures the unimaginable to save his only family and unite a kingdom.

  Áed dreams of escaping the misery of the Maze, the dismal city of his birth, but his love for his makeshift family—his partner, Ninian, and an orphaned boy named Ronan—compels him to stay.

  When a crushing tragedy forces a new beginning, Áed determines to break out of the Maze once and for all—but not before deeply buried secrets flare up with formidable consequences.

  Setting out for the legendary White City fueled by hopes of a better life, Áed discovers a beautiful world hiding unexpected danger. Navigating a treacherous path of friendship and deception, Áed must embrace a legacy he had never imagined in order to protect the only family he has left.

  The Hidden King

  Copyright © 2019 E.G. Radcliff

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  E.G. Radcliff asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  First Edition

  ISBN 978-1-7336733-5-8 (ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-7336733-2-7 (pbk)

  Library of Congress Control Number for print editions 2019901131

  BISAC: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fantasy / General | YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy | YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Legends, Myths, Fables / General

  Edited by Kelsy Thompson

  Cover Design by Micaela Alcaino

  Illustration by Elena Martinez

  Published by Mythic Prairie Books

  154 W Park Avenue #141

  Elmhurst, IL 60126

  info@egradcliff.com

  www.egradcliff.com

  GLOSSARY

  Ceann beag:A thiarcais:Amadán:In ainm dé!:Cad é?:Little oneMy goodnessFoolDamn!What?

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  ÁedBoudiccaBríghCadeyrnCaoimheCynwrigÉamonÉtaínGráinneMáel MáedócÓengusSeisyllAidBow-di-cahBreeCa-dairnKee-vaKeyn-rikAy-munAy-teenGrah-nyaMy-ell My-eh-docEn-gusSay-sill

  MAP

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Ninian

  Moonlight clung like moisture to the abalone walls of the cave, and the sound of lapping seawater echoed over itself in so many whispers. Ninian’s feet disturbed puddles as he walked carefully, one hand outstretched to touch the age-polished wall.

  He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Evening, people.”

  In the back of the hollow, three shadows moved. Two stayed behind while the other stepped forward into the vague light that penetrated the cave from the rising moon. “Ninian. You’re late.”

  No matter how many times they met, no matter where, no matter when, Ninian was always startled by her voice. Something heavy about it made it intoxicating and warm, and that violently mismatched its owner. Ninian tucked his hair behind his ear. “So?”

  Brígh stepped nearer, and Ninian resisted the urge to move back. He kept his chin high while Brígh scowled with distaste. “Doran.” Brígh snapped her fingers, and one of the shadows behind her placed a pouch into her hand. After weighing it in her calloused palm, she tossed it carelessly to Ninian. “There’s your cut.” She turned away and settled back into the shadows. “Dawn tomorrow, wait at the southern dock. Someone will give you your assignment.”

  Ninian traced his teeth with his tongue, letting out a disappointed breath. The southern dock lay on the opposite side of the city, through the Inner Maze, near the farms. Beyond the farms rose the enormous cliffs that barricaded the Maze’s peninsula from the higher mainland, and from Brígh’s meeting spot, Ninian would actually be able to see them: there’d be no buildings to block the view at that remote edge of the Maze. The docks were irritatingly far away—he’d have to leave in the middle of that night, a night which had already begun to slip away. “The rock between your ears is in a good mood today, Brígh,” he sighed. “Meeting in such a pretty part of nowhere, granting me a whole three hours’ rest.” His lip twitched. “It’s generous, really,” he added, and watched Brígh’s scarred face twist at his sarcasm. “For someone who won’t even grant herself a bath.”

  The smack to the side of his head didn’t come as a surprise, but it still sent him stumbling to catch his balance on the obsidian-smooth wall. Brígh twined a handful of his russet hair in her fist, taking advantage of its length to grip it well, and yanked his head down so that her face was level with his. “Remember your place,” she growled quietly.

  Ninian swore, but didn’t allow his expression to show pain. “Got it, got it. Southern dock, dawn tomorrow.”

  Brígh released him, waved a hand languidly, and Ninian understood that he was dismissed. Careful not to slip, he made his way out of the cave and back into the night.

  His feet carried him homeward without much direction from his mind. The danger of being out after dark, especially with money in his pocket, propelled him on.

  “Ninian!”

  Ninian almost jumped out of his skin, and he whirled around. It took him a moment to process the voice, and by the time he did, it was laughing.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Like hell you didn’t,” Ninian gasped. “In ainm dé.”

  Áed stepped out of the shadows where evidently he’d been waiting, and his eyes caught the moonlight. Those eyes, even after years, still ran tingles over Ninian’s skin, and Ninian felt goosebumps prickle on his arms as his love’s crimson irises glimmered in the dark. “Well?” Áed said, slipping an arm around Ninian’s waist. “Did she pay you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Áed seemed to sense Ninian’s mood. “Something wrong?”

  Ninian shook his head. His cheek still stung, and his scalp did, too. “Brígh got to me, that’s all.”

  “What happened?”

  Ninian sighed, and Áed released him in order to face him. “She’s just rude.”

  Áed laughed softly, and Ninian lost his train of thought for a moment. He didn’t think Áed fully recognized his heart-stopping effect on Ninian; frankly—and perhaps this was foolishly romantic, a concept borrowed from a book and never returned—Ninian thought he’d be happy enough if he could simply live and die with Áed beside him. “We can’t all have your manners, Nin,” Áed said. “Has she said who you’re up against next?”

  Ninian shook his head, re-focusing. “No, I’ll find out tomorrow morning. Then probably fight that night.”

  With a sigh, Áed settled back into Ninian, who put an arm around him again. “I wish there were another way.”

  “There’s not.” Ninian felt Áed stiffen slightly and knew he’d spoken more intensely than he’d meant. “I fight their fights; I get a bit of the spoils. It’s fair.”

  He could tell without looking that Áed was pursing his lips with disapproval.

  Ninian let out a breath. “It feeds us, love. What would I do instead?”

  Áed was quiet for a moment. “We could leave.”

  “We can’t leave.” Ninian knew where Áed wanted to go, and the beauty of the idea only made it more painful. Even if the journey were easy, and even if Ninian were willing to risk their meager lives for something uncertain, they couldn�
��t leave.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

  Ninian couldn’t leave. His gang was not particularly forgiving of deserters—he doubted he’d even make it past the border of the city—and Áed had made it clear that he and Ninian were in it together. Gods, Ninian loved him.

  “I know that,” Áed huffed. Then he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry, Nin. I’ll drop it.”

  Ninian gave his attention to the stars above them, to Áed’s warmth beside him, and to the rhythm of their feet on the ground. Tomorrow was a dangerous day, just like any other, but Ninian had learned long ago that dread changed nothing for the better. The fight would go well or badly, he would win or lose, and life would go on.

  Or it wouldn’t.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Áed

  It was a no-holds-barred sort of fight, which meant, quite simply, that Áed stayed out of it. This was frustrating, because Ninian was losing badly. Áed leaned back against the crumbling red brick of the tenement behind him and ran a crooked hand over his mouth as he took in the shouts of “Fight! Fight!”

  “Ay, that’s right,” someone in the crowd yelped. “Knock his nose in, Morry, go on!”

  “Shut up, you amadán,” his buddy screeched, and Áed sighed. Morcant would wear the idiot’s entrails as a scarf if he heard the poor fool call him ‘Morry.’ The amadán in question must have been completely drunk.

  “Come on, Ninny,” Áed called, contributing his voice to the melee for the first time. “If you don’t quit, he’ll kill you.”

  “He’s already killing me!” Ninian gasped, and Áed winced in sympathy and shook his head.

  One of the gigantic street torches overhead flickered and rained a shower of orange sparks over the grimy, chanting crowd. Áed looked up with a touch of worry—if that fire went out, the nighttime blackness would be nearly complete. It would probably break up the fight, which meant that Ninian’s nose might be spared the trip to the cobblestones, but it also meant they would probably have to feel their way back to a lit street.

  “A little help would be great!” Ninian’s muffled voice came from underneath Morcant’s bulk.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Áed called back. He’d seen plenty of Ninian’s fights; his love never needed help. Years of bitter practice had built Ninian a fearful enough reputation, but Morcant, unfortunately, occupied another realm altogether. The crowd roared as Morcant grasped Ninian by the back of his neck and held him out like a doll, and then the gigantic man tossed Ninian into the crowd, which parted and let him crumple to the ground.

  “Don’t kill him,” Morcant demanded in his quietly forceful way. The crowd had surged forward, but it obediently retreated at the gang-leader’s words. “I want him to feel it.”

  There were a few harsh cheers, but Morcant raised his hand, and the sound stopped. He was completely undamaged, save for a thin trickle of blood from his nose.

  “I’m not done,” Morcant boomed, and everyone, including Áed, jumped as he raised his voice. His eyes swept over the vagabond crowd. “Who the fuck called me Morry?”

  Once Morcant’s attention had moved on, Áed hurried to the valiantly fallen Ninian, who lay in a heap on the broken pavers. Ninian moaned and cracked open one blackening violet eye to glare at Áed witheringly as he approached. “Thanks for the help.”

  Áed rolled his eyes. “I told you to give up. It would have spared you some bruises, if you’d have listened.”

  “Then, when I didn’t listen, you should have thrown yourself into the fight and wreaked some hell on that oversized bastard.”

  Áed held up his hands, making Ninian frown at their crooked shape. “Me, throw a punch?”

  Ninian scowled. “You coulda bit him.”

  Áed chuckled and helped his partner to a seat. “Let’s get out of here, okay, Ninny? Can you stand?”

  “Yeah. Please help me.”

  Áed braced his feet in the pits of the road as the torch above them dimmed. “Grab my wrist.”

  Ninian locked his fingers around Áed’s left wrist and hauled himself up, cursing his bruises as Áed leaned back to compensate for his weight. “Damn Morcant,” Ninian swore. He staggered for a moment before finding a wall to slump against and shook his shoulder-length hair out of his face.

  “Ninian, I can’t believe they had you fight Morcant. I’m going to get them for that.”

  Ninian shook his head and dragged the backs of his fingers across his split lip. “I mouthed off at Brígh.”

  Áed stopped and glared at him, but Ninian was looking down, inspecting his bleeding knuckles. “Gods forbid she talk down to you,” Áed said, exasperated, “Can’t she tell she’s addressing nobility?”

  Ninian pointed to him, swaying a bit, and Áed held out a hand to steady him. “Ancient nobility,” Ninian corrected with a smirk. “And anyway, guess not.”

  “And so she—”

  “Had me fight Morcant.” Ninian shrugged gingerly. “His gang’s been a pain in our ass for years now, we’d have had to do something eventually. ‘Course, that probably wouldn’t have had much to do with me, but…” Ninian placed his palm sarcastically over his heart. “Consider me a reformed man. Hold my hand, love?”

  Áed rolled his eyes and batted Ninian’s hand away with his crumpled fingers. “Fuck off.” Then, offering a shoulder to lean on, he supported the limping Ninian out of the alley.

  Their path led them past the docks, whose black wooden fingers jutted out over the Red Sea. The torches here were more reliable, so it was possible to stop for a moment, but Ninian had to be feeling the fight. Experience said it’d be best to get him home where he could rest. Besides, the docks were not a pleasant place to stay. Torches, spitting sparks and ashes skyward, glowered over the greasy streets. The rotting docks absorbed the light into their filthy timbers, and even the thin, bottomless sea refused to reflect the torchlight with the barest sparkle. The air tasted metallic, as if the reddish water were bloody.

  A few girls leaned against the railings at the edge of the water. With mouths painted apple-red and legs and midriffs exposed to interested passers-by, they pouted and eyed the two young men who hobbled past. One of the girls whistled, but Ninian shook his head apologetically. Áed could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt for her, with her tangled straw-blond hair and dark orange eyes, as she waited for someone to want her.

  “Life’s a bitch, sister,” Ninian muttered as the girl turned away, and he spat blood onto the pavers. He had the high cheekbones and handsome face of long-defunct royalty, and Áed knew something ran in Ninian’s veins that rebelled against the Maze’s desperation.

  In Áed’s mind, hope still kept a toehold; ironically enough, it came from Ninian. Ninian, cynical Ninian, was full of stories. Ninian knew all of the histories, all of the legends, knew what was true and what was myth, and when those stories broke through the barrier of his painful realism, he shared them. It was in this way Áed knew that life was cruel, but it wasn’t merciless. There had been times, and perhaps there would come times again, when the Maze had equaled even the White City, which was now isolated atop the cliffs, in glory and health.

  If Áed hadn’t felt powerless to help, he would try to change things. Walking through the winding pathways along the water built sorrow in his chest; it wasn’t right.

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” Ninian groaned. “I want to be home.”

  Áed didn’t argue.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Ronan was waiting for them just inside the door, spinning a button between his fingers, and he hopped to his feet at their arrival. His bright green eyes took in the scene with the quickness of a child. “Who was it this time?” he demanded, shoving the button in his pocket with a grubby fist. “Ninian, you’re all beat up.”

  “Your powers of observation astound me,” Ninian mumbled. “Now get out of the way before you get beat up, too.”

  Ronan’s eyes widened, and Áed nodded at him sagely. “You should see the other guy.”
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  “Really?” Ronan followed them up the creaky stairs like an excited moth. Áed could feel the enthusiasm pouring off the boy almost tangibly, which made him smile—Ronan idolized Ninian, and Áed couldn’t blame him. “Well, who’s the other guy?” Ronan pressed. “Did you win, Ninian? What was it like?”

  “Morcant,” Ninian groaned as they reached their floor, and for a moment, Ronan looked even more awestruck. “And he’s fine.”

  The boy frowned as Ninian eased himself into a worn-out armchair. “That’s awful.” Ronan huffed disappointedly, his black eyebrows crunching down. “What a roach.”

  “Don’t let him catch you saying that. He won’t care if you only have seven years.”

  Ronan looked offended, but also unsure if Ninian was joking. “I’ve eight!”

  “How do you know?” Ninian grimaced. “Áed?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My chest is killing me.”

  Áed crossed over to the chair where Ninian lay slumped. “Where?”

  Ninian gestured at the spot wearily. “Here, mostly. And here. And get the little one out of here before I pass out and embarrass myself.”

  Ronan hmphed. “I’m not little.”

  “Come on, mate,” Áed said to him, putting his left hand on Ronan’s back and using it to steer him toward the door. “How was your day?”

  Ronan bit his lip. “I wanted to go to Máel Máedóc’s shop, but I haven’t got any money, and I’m afraid he’ll kill me.”

  “Ah, he wouldn’t. But I’ll go with you next time, how about that?”

  Ronan nodded, satisfied, and then turned and wrapped his skinny arms around Áed’s waist. “Goodnight, then.”

  “Goodnight, Ronan.” Ronan released him and looked up with big green eyes, and Áed gestured up the rickety staircase. “Now, shoo. I’ve got to go fix Ninny.”

  Ronan laughed at the nickname and darted up the stairs; soon, Áed could hear him banging around in the flat above.