Hopeless Kingdom

by A. K. Koonce

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  About A.K. Koonce

  Hopeless Kingdom

  Hopeless Kingdom

  A.K. Koonce

  Hopeless Kingdom

  Copyright 2018 A.K. Koonce

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Desiree DeOrto

  Editing by Varankor Editing

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited.

  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 are entirely coincidence.

  To the Hopeless. May they bring us our salvation.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – Welcome to Juvar

  Chapter Two – A Prince and a Pawn

  Chapter Three – Help

  Chapter Four – The Traveler

  Chapter Five – Chemistry

  Chapter Six – Freedom and Vengeance

  Chapter Seven – The Eminence

  Chapter Eight – Just a Kiss

  Chapter Nine — The Other Brother

  Chapter Ten – Friends

  Chapter Eleven – Thieving Eminence

  Chapter Twelve –The Numbness

  Chapter Thirteen – Make a Choice

  Chapter Fourteen – Power is a Dangerous Thing

  Epilogue

  About A.K. Koonce

  Chapter One

  Welcome to Juvar

  The heavy shackles slam against my wrists the moment the anchor drops into the crashing waves. My hands fall in front of me with the weight of the chain and cuffs.

  The warmth of the flames clinging to the crumbling buildings overwhelms my senses. Hot air surrounds me, and sweat begins to trickle down my spine.

  Masses of people litter the muddy shore. Gray foam laps in from the dark sea, clinging to their legs as they wait for the occupants of this ship to descend. Big flakes of ash fall from the heavens, kissing my face as I hold my head high.

  Pain shoots through my jaw from how tightly I’m clenching it together. The soldiers look at me with nervousness flashing in their darting gazes. They watch me closely even as they start to cuff Ryder, Daxdyn, and Darrio’s wrists.

  The three large and intimidating fae men hold their hands out submissively as they wait their turn for the shackles to bind their hands.

  What the fuck is happening right now?

  None of them meet my glaring gaze.

  “What did you do?” I ask, my words clipping out through clenched teeth. My attention burns over Ryder and he still doesn’t have the balls to look at me.

  The soldiers look to Prince Ryder, waiting for his response.

  He demanded I come here. This exiled prince insisted I bring them to the city of Juvar. Maybe he isn’t in exile at all.

  Daxdyn manipulates emotions. Apparently, he’s much better at manipulation than I gave him credit for.

  It’s then that I look to Darrio. My throat tightens as I recall the way he opened up to me and I have to look away toward the billowing smoke of Juvar. The thick pollution chokes my airways even more with a mixture of uneven breaths and heavy betrayal.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  But I’m not fucking helpless.

  The light clinking of my chains is barely heard over the shouts from the residents on the coast.

  “The Hopeless have returned to us. They have returned to save us all.” It’s a chant; an ominous and demanding chant that doesn’t sound at all like admiration. It sounds like crying pleas. It sounds like screaming threats.

  My hands clasp around the hilt of my father’s sword, one finger after the other. I clutch it familiarly, comforted by the sense of belonging.

  The pull of my arms lifting the sword sends my whole body into a fluid movement of defense. My arms tense into position. The blade held with aim, my core tightens and my legs crouch just slightly. Everything in me is fueled by survival.

  These fae, who I almost trusted, just sold me out.

  Friendship isn’t comparable to revenge.

  They think I was a shitty friend? Just wait until they see what a fucking atrocious enemy I can be.

  The clanking of my chains signals my intent and the soldiers notice me a moment too late. My blade slashes through the ribs of one before the thundering of my boots carry me on to the next one. Three soldiers fall before I’m thrashing in Ryder’s stunned face. Wide blue eyes look down on me.

  “You did this. I trusted you, and you did this to me?” My voice is a shaking scream and the aim of my sword accompanies my words. The thick, iron chain binding his wrists comes up just in time to block the edge of my bloody blade.

  With a quick jerking of his arms, he coils his chains around my sword until it tears from my palms and clatters to the damp wooden floor of the ship.

  “Kara, stop,” Daxdyn says, his warm arms rise above me and slip around me. The black chain on his wrists encompasses my body with my back pressing into his chest. His corded strength clings to my small frame. Anger shakes through my nerves.

  I hope they burn here. I hope they all burn in the center circle of hell that is this destroyed city.

  Ash settles on my tongue with every heaving breath I take and I force myself to just breathe; to just stop my thrashing and take a rational breath.

  A bitter calm pushes into my chest, and the few soldiers who are left stand with apparent tension in their posture. Everyone watches me with close attention.

  When my eyes slowly open, I’m staring right at Darrio. The corners of his lips are turned down, and his steely gaze is filled with worry.

  Regret is held there in his beautiful eyes.

  Fuck him.

  With a jarring movement, my head slams back into Daxdyn’s perfect nose.

  Pain soars through my skull but I don’t pause to feel it.

  A groan is heard with the sound of a satisfying crack of his nose.

  I hope it heals with a slight angle.

  He deserves more than just a small flaw on his absurdly gorgeous face but it’s the best I can do at the moment.

  He releases his hold on me, his hands coming up to cover the crimson blood that’s gushing from his face. Then everyone on the ship is on me. My legs bend beneath their force. Their strong arms push me face down onto the damp floor. The smell of wood fills my senses as my cheek smashes into the deck.

  “Zakara stop struggling. Just stop.” Darrio’s voice pushes past the angry shouts of the soldiers and it only fuels my aggression even more.

  My teeth bite down sharply on an anonymous hand. My palm sneaks around the dagger strapped to my thigh and I manage to sink it into a shining black boot.

  A stream of curses is all I hear just before one of them threads their fingers tightly through my long blonde hair. Pain shoots through my scalp and it’s all I feel as he flings my head into the deck.

  Ryder’s quiet voice hums through my consciousness just as everything begins to blur.

  “Trust me, Kara. Just trust me and everything will be okay,” he says. The pleading sound of his voice sounds far off in the distance.

  Then my heavy lids close to the blackness.

  Chapter Two

  A Prince and a Pawn

  My eyes flutter open to more shadows, and I blink hard before I realize I’m actually awake. Throbbing pain stings through my skull, and I close my eyes once more. All around me is the beautiful sight of pure nothing
ness but I know where I am.

  It’s easy to identify a jail cell without really trying. The soft pads of my fingertips skim over the floor. My forearms pick up the grit of dirt, and my stomach sinks as I realize they’ve removed the cloth hiding the scars running up the inside of my wrist.

  Metal grinds across the uneven brick floor. My hands are unshackled but strange cuffs remain around my wrists. The metal bites into my flesh, weighing my hands. Damp grime crumbles beneath my touch and my palms push down my jeans to wipe the dirty feeling away.

  A consistent and shuddering sob echoes through the room. My heart pounds and I don’t want to move. I don’t want the others to know I’m awake. Taking a deep breath, moisture and mildew cloud my lungs. It forces me to clip my oxygen into small sips of air.

  I stand and, without making a sound, I trail my hand along the iron bars. The cold feel of it skims across my fingers as my hand weaves in and out of each and every bar.

  It’s small; the size of one of Lady Ivory’s walk-in closets.

  The important thing is I’m alone. The others are locked away in different cells. I listen closely to try to count the number of cries I hear. Only one. If there are others, they aren’t as weak as the loud man wailing into the night.

  My muscles ache with intensity, but I make steady work of going over every inch of this space. Slowly, my fingers skim across each particle of dirt on the ground. When nothing is found, I begin to feel blindly at the smooth bars again.

  A weapon.

  That’s what I’m searching for.

  A loose screw or a sharp rock. If I’m ridiculously lucky a whole bar might wiggle free with a cruelly sharp point designated for Prince Ryder’s little lying heart.

  I scoff at my dark thoughts and continue feeling up the bars one by one.

  “There are no secret swords hidden away; not in your cell at least.” A smooth, masculine voice that drips with self-satisfaction runs through the darkness.

  The tension in my spine halts my movements as my eyes search the dense shadows.

  “I was only admiring this beautiful room I’ve been given. Really know how to make a girl feel special,” I say in a sensual voice. I push every ounce of sexual confidence I own into my words.

  He isn’t lying. They aren’t handing out weapons to use. So, I’ll have to use the only weapons I possess;

  My alluring and delightful charisma, of course.

  His laughter hums through the room, pushing over the fine hairs on my arm and shoving a disgusted shiver down my spine.

  It’s a laugh filled with mortal power.

  The power to make someone fall to their knees and beg for their life.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay here, Miss Storm.” More anxiety pushes into my chest at his simple use of my name. “I’d very much like you to enjoy all the true comforts I could offer you. Consider my home your home.”

  Repulsion fumes up my throat at the insinuation that’s lacing his words. He isn’t the first man to offer me comforts within his home, but he might be the last.

  “You should answer the king when spoken to, Kara.”

  And there it is.

  That voice that I once found to be the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. I hate the way my breath catches. I hate the way my thighs clench at the memory of him between them. I hate the way my heart feels like it’s shattering into my lungs.

  Darrio’s here. With … the king. Are they all here? Are they all banding together to have one final laugh at the fucking human before she’s sentenced to her soon-to-come death?

  I thought they had a plan. Their destination was the Hopeless realm. Why did they go submissively into the heart of this city, right into the king’s clutches?

  Why?

  The maddening question burns through me. I move toward where I heard their voices. My knuckles turn white as I clutch the bars, my face pressing between them to look up into the darkness.

  “It’d be my pleasure,” I say in a breathy voice. The tone says I’m gentle and vulnerable while my thoughts scream a song of pure hellfire vengeance.

  I’ll burn this fucking kingdom to the ground before I ever enjoy the comforts this prick could offer.

  ***

  The white tile floor is stained with an abundance of dark, ashen footprints. The prints cross like a million soldiers have lost their way and stumbled blindly around this corridor. Dust clings to the extravagant silver light fixtures, dimming their shine. It’s as if the smoke from this city is a burden on the lavish details of this enormous castle.

  The building itself is familiar to me. This royal palace is held in my memories but I don’t dwell on those memories.

  That was a lifetime ago. So long ago I barely remember any of it at all.

  My hands hang at my sides and I make sure to keep them tucked close to my body, hiding the telling scars on my left arm the best I can. I keep an intentionally arrogant sway in my step. I’m free … but not. I feel my freedom locked away with every soldier that passes by. I note the sharp look they hold on my figure. I follow the stiff gait of Darrio, and the king of Juvar down the busy hall.

  The king, King Tristan, is a needy little thing from the stories I’ve heard about him. I met him once before when he was only a prince. He was quiet and calculating even then. When his father passed away five years ago, he was young. A young ruler is bound to have flaws and Tristan didn’t disappoint in that aspect. His pride and his ego are too large for the delicate golden crown that kisses his tidy dark hair. He made his self-importance abundantly clear when he retitled this city. Yes, he took the historical name that had graced this land for centuries and renamed it Juvar. Why? Because that was his dog’s name and, apparently, he wanted his kingdom to know that even his lap puppy, Juvar, holds more importance than their miserable little lives.

  I keep the disgust from touching my features and silently I follow behind the arrogant asshole. The smooth white and gold wallpaper skims against the fingers of my right hand as I run them across the wall. Black soot flakes away, coating my skin. Three semi-white slashes trail behind me as I leave my mark down the halls.

  Another soldier passes me, and a look of close scrutiny is all he gives me. A wicked smile curves my lips and I wink at him. His high cheeks flame red and his head tips low as he appraises my body with a heated gaze.

  There’s a pulsing knot on my temple from where the deck of the ship met my skull but from the look the man gives me, it must not be too horrendous.

  If I could get close enough to one of them, I could steal the sword they keep within their weapons belt at their hip, or maybe the small knife there. Once I’m out of here, I’d have to sneak onto a barge, sail home and figure out how to remove these binding cuffs.

  There’s no lock in place on them, only perfectly smooth metal circling my wrists.

  How odd.

  The sound of the young soldier’s boots drifts off down the hall and I don’t realize we’ve stopped walking until Darrio’s hard body meets my chest. Slowly his attention drifts down to me and his gaze shifts warmly across my features. The light gray color of his eyes isn’t as hard-glaring as it was when we first met. They’re filled with a look of concern.

  He should be fucking concerned.

  My arms fold across my chest and I step back from him, my jaw set so tightly it hurts. I hold his stare until he’s forced to look away.

  We stand before a wide, glossy door. King Tristan’s pale hand grips the gold handle and pushes it open. Walking inside, he holds it open for Darrio and me.

  Pure calculation is all that thrums through my body. My eyes skim over every detail of the room; the tarnished locks that are in place on the high arching windows, the stain of dark smoke hides the outside world from my view. Books of every shape and size line the walls. A black carpet sits askew at the center of the room. A long, glossy table fills the area with two dozen chairs lining the sides. Several men and women talk quietly but I don’t linger on their faces and murmuring voices.

&
nbsp; Because there, in the far corner, hidden among the shadows, is a suit of display armor. A knight’s armor stands proudly. It’s simply décor to these people. But to me, it’s what I’ve been searching for.

  A weapon.

  Held loosely and carelessly between the decorative knight’s metallic hands is a long, majestic sword.

  It could be nothing; a minor detail among the grand scheme of things. Or it could be the very thing that takes King Tristan’s life.

  “How nice of you to finally join us, Zakara.” A woman’s delicate voice pulls at my attention. My gaze shifts slowly from the promising sword and lands on the one who spoke my name.

  Full red lips smile coyly at me while deep brown eyes gleam with hidden cruelty. The length of her chestnut hair is curled softly at the ends as if she’s an angelic dream woman who can’t possibly be real. A thinly wired crown gleams at her temple. The diamond at the center of it shines with pride even in the minimal light of the room.

  My thoughts assess everything about her.

  She’s beautiful.

  She’s regal.

  She’s the queen.

  “My Queen,” Tristan says in a hushed tone as he places a quick kiss against her cheek. She leans into that small fraction of affection. She practically glows from it.

  Tristan takes a seat at the head of the table, his attention falling to me once more. A seriousness moves across his features. A soft ticking sound trails through the room and my gaze follows a small dog with coarse gray hair. Tiny legs carry its wide little body over to the king, and he sweeps the animal up into his arms.

  It’s the first time I’ve really looked at the king in the hazy light.

  It’s hard to believe Ryder and Tristan share blood. Nothing about them is remotely similar and yet, they have the same father.

  Inky black locks are pushed back from his face. A carefully groomed amount of facial hair lines his upper lip and chin and curves the sharp edges of his jaw. Wicked power shines in his emerald eyes.

  “I would have joined you sooner, but I was a little … detained.” Confidence stiffens my spine.