The Knight

by Kayla Eshbaugh

  "Emma," I choked out. It was all I could say, it seemed.

  "Ryker, oh, Ryker. I’m so, so happy that you’re safe," she whispered, her eyes tearful yet holding a hopeful spark inside of them that made me feel warm inside.

  "Me, safe? Princess, of course? I was about to die when Keil pulled me away from the cave, but I passed out. My body is weak," I said as I pulled her to me even closer. “But not too weak for this.” The heat between us grew so powerful, so beautiful and perfect that I couldn't hold back anymore. I couldn't resist. I kissed her cheek. "I was so afraid, afraid that I had failed you yet again." I trailed kisses to her jaw, then neck and throat, and it felt right, perfect with possibilities—with an entire future before us. I could not believe what I was doing, what she was letting me do. She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned against my chest.

  “I love you so much, Ry,” she whispered as tears stained her cheeks. She kissed my cheeks and forehead. I knew it then; her feelings swarmed me. But, just as soon as they came, she was out of my arms so fast that I almost thought it was all in my head, having her in my arms—touching her skin with my lips—maybe, I had never woken up.

  "Emma, get away from him," I turned to look at who spoke, but I unfortunately knew the voice all too well. His arms were wrapped around her stomach. She didn't move away from him, only looked surprised.

  "This is none of your business, Prince Shadrict." I snarled as I watched him pull Emma into his arms tighter.

  "I think you need your rest, Ry. I’m so glad that you’re okay," she added with tears streaming down her cheeks, and fear—fear was all I saw in her eyes and soul, and it pained me.

  "Emma, you don't have to go," I pleaded, looking behind her to an altered Shadrict who I almost did not recognize. His eyes were black, and there was no melody around him. I heard Emma’s melody ache at the loss of him, the loss of Shadrict’s soul. How had I not noticed it before? Her pain was so powerful.

  "Mary wanted me to go back to our room a long time ago anyway. I will come see you tomorrow."

  "Keep your hands to yourself, Shadrict," I growled.

  "Sleep well." He smiled as he pulled Emma away and out the door, trailing his hand down her arm and watching me, as if mocking me.

  I ached everywhere, not just physically, but my very soul ached, too—the loss of her was too much. When giving away a heart, there is no guarantee that it won't break. No wonder I had kept my soul shielded. How had I forgotten that I shouldn't kiss her? Had I just ruined everything?

  The darkness in the hospital room was equal to my sorrow, as happy—perfect memories of Emma plagued me. Eventually, exhaustion overtook my body, but even as I slept, lightning grey eyes and vibrant green Terran eyes haunted me, I tried to close the box and lock it up again that night, adding Emma inside of it. I tried to catch every memory, every touch, and every word spoken between us. I tried to lock them up, to stop the pain, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fix the box. The lock was broken, the lid was cracked, and my feelings were there, raw and spilling out.

  Hours later, as darkness swarmed in, and I started to fall into the nothingness of sleep, one word fell from my lips—one word, one plea to the universe, one word to the ancients:

  “Emma—”

  Then, there was blackness again.

  The End

  Author Note

  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR taking the time to read my novella, The Knight. I love Ryker, or as I should refer to him: Rykerian Dallard. He is such a strong and interesting character to me. He had me cracking up a time or two—and also tearing up a bit as I wrote. His story is important for me to share for several reasons. The love Ryker has for his ancient heirs is so strong. I have never easily loved people other than my family. My husband, however, adds people to his family and loves them as if they were born into it, similar to Ryker. This trait of my husband has amazed me for as long as I have known him (since age 14). I was always so impressed with his ability to love like that and welcome anyone into the family. Ryker loves Lamont, Ara, Mary and Emma, and blood has nothing to do with it; to me, that is powerful.

  Ryker is a valiant knight. He takes his vows and his oaths very seriously, and even one poor choice haunts him deeply. One mistake scars him. We all have scars; we all have things we need to heal from. We all have things in our past, as does Ryker, which we have done, or haven't done; these things often haunt us as they do Ryker. Hiding those pains doesn't help, however. Those pains are all a part of our story, and they make us who we are. Ryker is who he is because of his love for Analeia, for Lamont, for Ara, and for Emma. Even though he has lost some of the people he loves along his journey in life, they leave a mark in his soul.

  Love is truly my most favorite thing to write about, and Ryker has an incredible capacity to love. He also has MANY secrets still, so I hope that you will look forward to those secrets being revealed in book two of The Heir Series: Shattered Heir, coming out this fall.

  I know that reading takes some of your precious time, and I can not tell you enough how grateful I am to you for taking the time to read this book. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review as these reviews help new authors like me so much!

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  Pre-order Shattered Heir, book 2 in The Heir Series today!

  EMMA’S LIFE WENT FROM tragedy to tragedy, like bees fly from flower to flower.

  Not only were her parents murdered before her eyes, her best friend was beaten, the boy she loved had his soul taken, but she also had to come to terms with her new identity as a princess from a planet where peoples’ souls actually sing. But Emma’s newest problem—how to save the boy she loved before there was nothing left to save—felt entirely impossible to overcome.

  Yes, it is a lot for any teenager to deal with. If she had her Shad, not the soulless boy who looked like him at her side, she knew nothing would be too much for her to handle. However, when Cadian shows up at her school, Emma adds him to her lengthy list of problems. She tries to keep away from him, but with Shad’s melody inside of Cadian, it makes everything more complicated. The hatred she harbors for him starts to change. Is he playing a game? Or is it possible that when he has a soul, he isn't as evil as she once believed him to be?

  Emma knows that time is running out for Shad. Forced to go against everything she holds dear, to get closer to the one person she hates more than anyone, she is determined to steal back Shad’s soul. Shad is worth any risk, any pain that she will have to endure.

  She will save him, no matter the cost.

  Sneak peek of Shattered Heir:

  Chapter 1

  THE TRAIL BACK TO OUR make-shift camp was my own personal death march. What else other than the death of everything I loved was I walking towards? I thought. Still, I kept moving because I knew that I couldn't stay there. The shadows of the trees on the forest floor danced before me as if displaying the dark pain swelling and smoldering inside of me. The blood from my fingertips and legs dripped onto the dirt as I walked. The brittle leaves soundlessly crunched under my shuffling feet. I left a trail of crimson sorrow and mutilated leaf corpses in my wake. I could hear my own breaths coming out labored, and there was a ringing in my ears as if bombs had just exploded, and everything was muffled. It hadn't been a bomb; it had been Shad’s horror-filled scream that caused the ringing in my ears. Had I gone deaf from it? Each step I made was measured in ragged breaths and blood splatters, and I paid my toll to the forest for each and every movement that I took. I thought each step would be my last. I didn't know if I had enough energy in me to keep moving, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I didn't have the energy, but the monster—the beast inside of me, she did have the strength. I let the beast overtake me as I walked, let the hatred and the anger rage inside me. Anyone looking at me would simply see a bloody and bruised girl, struggling to walk in the forest, but inside of me, all Hell was breaking loose, and it started to consume me. I let it burn.

&n
bsp; There was a small part of me that questioned those beastly shadows, flickering over my melody. There was a brief moment when I had the chance to push, to shove the shadows away, but I didn't do it; I was stronger with them. I didnt think about why I had to keep walking, only that I had to, and that was enough for the beast, and each step moved me closer and closer to my destination.

  After what felt like hours, with the smallest amount of light left in the day, I reached our campsite. I fell to my already bruised and bloodied knees as I saw the familiar image of our tents. I tamed the monster inside of me, telling it to rest, that it had done its job, and I breathed in and out slowly, trying to let my melody recover from the shadows.

  “Emma!” a warm voice which I knew, called. I could hear again, and what I heard was a whimper of a cry, and then I was in someone's arms. I was being picked up and guided to the fire pit. I sank down onto a log, letting my head fall into my hands. My head felt like a ton of bricks had been forced inside. I set my elbows on my thighs. As I glanced down at my legs, hands, and shirt, it seemed every single inch of me was caked or covered in crimson blood. Was it mine? Was I bleeding everywhere? I couldn't remember. Hands were on my body, and my face. Blue eyes looked at me, worried, and words were spoken, words that I didn't register nor answer. My melody had gone silent, and so had the monster. It was as if they both knew that I needed tending to, or else, I would die.

  “Here, hold this,” I deciphered those words as something cold was wrapped around my fingertips. I looked down to see a wet towel in my hands. “Wipe that dirt away, or it will get infected,” the voice said. I didn't respond but followed the directions, I needed to survive, so I did what I had to do. I looked at my hands, bloodied and bruised and covered with dirt. I moved the towel over the dirt and scrubbed. I scrubbed and scrubbed, wiping away all of the dirt, all of the rocks, and all of the grime and the mud. I feverishly wiped and scratched, trying to clean myself, to rid myself of that horrid place from where I had just come; from the look in Cadian’s eyes,; from the cry of horror from Shad’s lips; from Ryker’s bruised and broken, half dead body on the floor—from black soulless eyes—

  Warm hands were placed on top of mine, and I stopped.

  “You are going to hurt yourself even more. It's already clean. Here, let me bandage it.” I didn't say anything as bandages were wrapped around each individual finger. I closed my eyes and tried to remember where I was. I was in the forest; it was Mary; she was helping me. I repeated that in my head over and over again, hoping that the beast, the monster that wanted blood, wouldn't make me attack her in my rage.

  “Let me get your legs now,” she said softly, and I placed my hands in my lap. I still couldn't feel them; I couldn't feel anything but the beating of my heart and the pounding in my head. I watched as she cut off my pant legs to expose the cuts on my knees. She poured some liquid in the wounds and patted them, then bandaged them. She stood up and reached for me, touching my shoulders. I pulled away, surprised by the contact—afraid that I would hurt her. She just fixed you, do not hurt her, I told myself, even though it was mostly for the benefit of the monster within me.

  “You are okay, Emma” she said, and I looked into her blue eyes, so familiar, so warm, and so kind. She wasn't touched by the horror; she was clean of it. I gasped as she pulled me into her arms, and I sobbed.

  “WE HAVE TO GO NOW, Emma. It isn't safe to stay here. Ryker and Keil are already gone. I was waiting for the two of you. Ryker was so badly injured that Keil had to hike down to get cell service in order to get a helicopter to fly him to the nearest hospital down the mountain.”

  I heard the words as she spoke, but it was like my brain was extra slow at computing the meaning, as if my brain wasn’t connected to the internet, or was connected, but at a super slow data speed. I sat there in silence for a few minutes after she had finished, and I nodded my head.

  “Shad?” I asked, the first time I spoke in what felt like a lifetime.

  “He went into the forest over there. Was his soul really taken?” she asked, her voice hopeful that Keil had told her wrong.

  “He is soulless now,” I said, trying to stop the tears from flooding my vision, but it was useless. Mary nodded, but I could feel the air of change in her. Sadness flowed to me from her in waves.

  “I am sorry, Emma,” she said, her eyes cast down.

  “I will save him,” I said, standing up.

  “Emma, there is nothing anyone can do for a soulless,” she said, tears dripping down her face.

  “I can save him, I will,” I repeated.

  Her eyes were sad, and she nodded, yet defeat echoed in her movement. “I will go get him; we need to leave right away.”

  “Even at night?” I asked, realizing that it was completely dark.

  “Keil said we needed to get off of this mountain as soon as you both came back.” She stood and walked to the tent, which Shad and Keil had shared the night before. How had everything happened so quickly? I heard the zipping of zippers and turned around to see Shad standing outside the tent, talking with Mary. I couldn't hear them—either because I was too far away, or I was still blocking things out. I didn't feel as if I was in full control of myself anymore. I looked over our campsite: a small ring for the fire pit, a few logs to sit on, one small tent, and three backpacks. Mary must have packed our tent away already. I watched as Mary took down the tent by herself. Shad stared into the forest. I tried to focus on Mary, not on Shad, but it was difficult. Did he even know me? Did he know or remember Mary? How had he changed? I wondered about him, and I wanted to run into his arms and have him comfort me. I wanted to kiss every inch of his face. But, when I reached for his hand, he swatted it away. He didn't want me—or need me—not anymore.

  Read from where the story began in:

  The Heir: Book One in The Heir Series—

  Emma’s story

  The Heir: Chapter 1

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT they are really gone,” I whispered, almost too quietly to be heard. Ryker held out his strong arms, and I collapsed into him, my body no longer able to support itself. His warmth pulled me in and anchored me to the hospital bed. I was sure that my sobs could be heard down the cool, long, and twisted hospital corridors. I could not rid myself of the pain.

  Misery twisted itself around and curled into my heart, taking away the warmth from within me. Misery and despair snaked its way tighter and tighter, making each sob and each breath I took more and more of a challenge. I didn’t know until that moment that misery was a snake; it was. Misery was a cold-blooded snake that seemed to be slowly draining the blood and warmth from me as its hold wound tighter and tighter around my crucial and most vital organ. I waited for the cold blooded reptile to strike, waited for the venom to come to pinch and sting. I waited for the numbness to drag me into the darkness, bringing me to the ones I lost, the ones I love. I welcomed it, even wanted it at one point, thinking that it would be easier to be in darkness than to live with the misery of my life.

  Yes, misery was indeed a snake, a wicked, black, slimy snake that had no pity on its prey. It was a snake that teased with its antidote of venom that could numb, with the coils that could cut off the breath that I had—entirely. Misery made itself a home there within me with no promise of freedom from the pain I endured. The snake would never bite; he never did anything except twist himself around my heart, draining all the warmth and life from me, ever so slowly. It was just constricting enough to restrict each breath but not freeing enough to give any peace at all—not even the peace of a numb, final end.

  “Oh, Emma, I know—I know.” His voice was deep. His arms held up my body. He held me in that hospital room for a long time. The news of death whispered around me and haunted my every thought. As much as I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t real, that it was not my life, a sickening feeling in the depths of my soul brought me to the reality that, yes, indeed, it was very much my life. Ryker’s hands stroked my hair, and I balled like a newborn baby in his arms. For a few mo
ments, there in the warmth of his embrace, I felt a small amount of peace, but that peace disappeared as soon as his arms moved away from me, my body fading from a warm summer’s day to a cold winter’s night.

  I awoke in my hospital bed, sometime after the sobs had exhausted me completely. Ryker was beside me, his arm wrapped around me. His body was very close to mine but our bodies did not touch. It wasn’t enough; I was cold from the inside out, and it seemed as if ice was making a home on the surface of my skin, and it reached into the very depths of me. I moved my body, making my back push against his chest. Warmth flowed through me, and I wiped my eyes, searching for the forgotten tears that I had shed hours before I passed out.

  “Em?” Ryker’s groggy, uneven voice whispered behind me. He squeezed my hand, and heat pulsed through me, sending the sun into my cloudy, frosted night. I turned and rested my head on his chest, not caring about anything else but the need to be warmed—to feel him near me. He rested his chin on my head.

  “Thank you, Ry. Thank you for not leaving me.” I tried to stop the tear that spilled from my eye, but I could not contain it.

  Ryker reached over and brushed my cheek, freeing me from that small burden. “Em, there is no other place for me to be right now—only with you.” His voice was tender, and I watched his warm blue eyes looked into mine. They reflected so many emotions back at me: sorrow, sadness, fear, shame, and longing.

  “I just—” I tried to express in words how unfair life was, how it all had to be a sick joke, that the previous night was just a nightmare and that it wasn’t—no, it couldn’t actually be real, I told myself.