by J. E. Klimov
Once her head stopped swimming, she re-opened them. Her sai lay by her feet, stained in blood. With shaking hands, she picked them up.
“Bence?” she whispered.
A gull cawed in response. As her head jerked up, the sweet scent of fruit intertwined with the sea hit her. Waves lapped gently. Palm trees towered over her. Her body started to sweat in her thick garments.
When she curled her fingers, grains of sand rubbed against her. Stone huts littered the area. Faint wood chimes clacked pleasantly. There was no sign of Raiden’s men. Her castle was gone, along with the wintry mix. As despair faded, confusion flickered within like an untamed flame.
“Where─”
“Miss! Are you alright?”
Angling her head toward the voice, Isabel spotted a young woman at the door of a large building of stone and clay. A red cloth flapped at the top of the doorway, as if teasing her of the woman’s identity.
She flew down the steps with a pitter-patter. Bending over Isabel, she said, “What happened to you? Here, let me help you up.”
Brown waves cascaded past her shoulders as she helped Isabel onto her feet. When the woman regarded her with a warm smile, she hid the sai behind her back. “Where am I? Who are you?” Isabel rested a hand against a tree to prevent her body from swaying.
“My name is Ami.” She tugged at the gaping hole in her earlobe, framed by a wood ring. “You’re in the Bleeding Heart district of Camilla.”
Isabel had been staring through Ami’s earring but snapped from her trance. “What? Camilla as in the country?”
Twisting her hands together, Ami nodded. “I’m not sure how you don’t know this.”
Grasping both sai in one hand, Isabel reached out with the other. Ami flinched at the blood. “I was transported here. Not sure how. I was in Deran, surrounded and about to die…”
Isabel grew lightheaded again. As she leaned forward, Ami hooked her arm against hers. “Let’s get you taken care of first.”
She couldn’t think straight. A moment ago, Bence was torn to shreds, and she was next in line. His disappearance made no sense. Her transportation over miles of sea was impossible.
“I think you dropped your ring.” Ami bent over and cradled it in her palm.
Heat burned her cheeks. A black pearl embedded in a silver band glistened. Memories rushed back as she recalled her trip to Pekas Bay with him a year ago. A sense of familiarity tickled her.
It was too big for her fingers, except her thumb. Even then, it swiveled dangerously. Closing her hand into a fist, Isabel hung onto the ring until she found a safer place to put it. Large hazel eyes studied her.
Isabel’s lips thinned. “Yes, thank you. It is.”
Ami helped her up the steps. “This is my inn. Well, my father’s. You can stay here until you get back on your feet.” She stopped and turned to face the ocean.
“What did I forget this time?” Isabel asked gruffly. Aches and pains seeped into every muscle.
Ami sighed. “Nothing. Just thinking about someone.” She pointed ahead. “It’s funny. Shadows can make us look so much taller than we really are.”
Tears welled in Isabel’s eyes. She nodded, shaking hair so it would cover her face. It dawned on her that she never got to say good bye. Or even thank you. The pain in her chest amplified exponentially over her other injuries. Staring at her shadow, she squeezed Ami closer.
Ami tucked a hair behind her ear. “Honey, don’t cry.”
Wrapping her other arm around Isabel, Ami pulled her in for a hug. Isabel broke into a sob, burying her head into Ami’s shoulder. “I’ve lost everything. My country. My people. My love. And… most of all, my best friend.”
Pushing away gently, Ami propped her forehead against Isabel’s. “Well, you’re safe here. It’s time to come inside, and you can tell me the entire story.”
EPILOGUE
Shielding his eyes, Dante shrunk back at the sun. He had lost count how long he was locked away. Isabel told him it was for his own good. He scoffed. When he stepped out of his so-called room, shivers slithered through his body.
Clutching his arms close to his body, he jerked his head to his liberator. Even though the man dressed in plain clothing; black tattoos covered his neck, arms, and even ankles. Dante wondered if it was widespread. “Who are you?”
“Raiden has called us into your service,” he said, bowing deeply. “I am Three.”
His facial muscles ached as his mouth stretched open in a yawn. “Fetch me a cloak, will you? I’ll be in the main foyer.”
“As you wish.”
When the man vanished down the corridor, Dante walked in the opposite direction. He tilted his head away from the windows. The glare of the sun against snow burned his eyes. As he strolled around the bend, his mind churned sluggishly. Isabel hadn’t visited in a while. Neither had Raiden.
He gripped his sides harder. His thoughts took form as rage, running rampant like a fierce lion. Dante refused to accept any more betrayal.
As he took his fist step into the main foyer, his gaze landed on the thrones like a magnet. Dante’s breath quickened. One of the leather upholstery was ripped, and the chandelier lay broken on the floor. Pillars were missing chunks as if a monster had taken bites from them. Despite the signs of struggle, there were no bodies.
Scratching his head, Dante conjured various scenarios. Each one was worse than the last. What troubled him the most was the indifference that comforted him.
“Your cloak, Your Majesty.”
Plush fur slid over his shoulders. Dante adjusted it and murmured, “Majesty…” Snapping from his reverie, he added, “Thank you. Where are my royal guards?”
As Dante stepped gingerly toward the throne, footsteps padded behind. “Many were killed. The rest are in recovery,” said Three.
Swiveling on his feet, Dante faced the man, who collided into his chest. The man’s pale face flushed purple as he rubbed his nose. Patches of hair were missing on his head and the soles of his shoes were ripped open. “What do you mean?” Dante asked.
Blue veins plagued Three’s hands. Dante’s eyes were fixated on them as they shook. “An Aeonian had attacked.”
“I was right!” Dante punched a fist into the palm of his other hand. “Was his hair red? A scar on his neck?”
He shook his head. “Not sure. But Queen Isabel seemed to know who he was.”
Fire ignited in Dante’s chest. He grabbed the man’s shoulders and shook them violently. “Did he die?”
“He did. Along with Raiden. He battled honorably. Sir, I was one of the Healers guarding your cities. I’m the only one left.”
“And Isabel?”
“Your wife is presumed dead as well; however, we haven’t been able to recover her body. Actually, we couldn’t recover any of their bodies. I’m so sorry, my king.”
Dante flinched. Running his hand through his hair, he released a low whistle. “Oh my god.” He kept his hand at the base of his neck to hide his tremor.
As he stepped backward, Dante continued muttering. The man strained his ears. “Sir?”
He plopped onto the throne. Rubbing his hands against the velvet armrest, he closed his eyes and let his body sink into his seat. His nails clawed the handle. “Raiden has gone above and beyond. He nursed me back to health, solved the mysterious string of murders, and most of all, ensured Bence’s death.”
Opening his eyes, he tilted his head to the left. The king’s crown sat on a pillar. The threats have been neutralized, and no one stood in his way. Staring directly at Three, he said, “It is with a heavy heart that I rule Deran alone.”
He plucked the crown from its pillow and admired the glistening gold. Rubies, sapphires, and diamonds twisted in intricate angular designs. When his warped reflection appeared, Dante smirked and placed it on his head.
The adventure continues in…
Ultimate Seven
Queen Isabel lost it all. Stuck on a remote island, she learns her husband Dante usurped the Deranian thro
ne, and all her tribe leaders and allies are dead. Worst of all, her talismans that control the elements no longer work.
The once closed-off sovereign of Deran catches the attention from countries around the world: the Empress of Waaken wants to forge an allegiance while a clan leader in Irelle demands a relationship over a broken agreement.
Teaming up with Ami, a strong-willed innkeeper’s daughter, Isabel must find a way to restore her magic and return Deran to its former glory. However, the sands of time are shifting ─ the events set in motion are eerily similar to what lead to the establishment of the Aeonians two hundred years ago.
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About the Author
J.E. Klimov grew up in a small suburb in Massachusetts. After graduating from Massachusetts College of Pharmacy and Health Sciences, she obtained her PharmD and became a pharmacist; however, her true passion was writing and illustration.
Ever since J.E. Klimov was little, she dreamed of sharing her stories with the world. From scribbling plotlines instead of taking notes in school, to bringing her characters to life through sketches, Klimov’s ideas ranged from fantasy to thriller fiction. The Shadow Warriors is the sequel to her debut novel, The Aeonians, with Silver Leaf Books.
You can follow J.E. Klimov and her future projects on her blog: http://jelliotklimov.weebly.com/, Twitter: @klimov_author, and Facebook page: @klimovauthor.