by Rebecca Grey
RUINED
Ruined
Copyright 2020 Nikki Hunter
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by Rainy Day Artwork
Editing by EDC Editing
The content of this book is protected under Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.
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 my first born, Caroline. May you always have the spirit to fight for everything you believe in and achieve your grandest dreams.
I love you.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Table of Contents Continued
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
About Rebecca Grey
ONE
Ryker
It was the lack of air I needed to survive that left my lungs burning in need. The piercing pain in my neck that stretched me until I thought my head might be separated from my body, leaving my throat red and inflamed like the fiery pit of anger in my heart. Worst of all it was the power Ganglin felt as he held my life in his hands.
That was the moment that had me looking back on the day. My mind backpedaled through the day to find the moment when my collected demeanor had finally broken. How did I get to that point? How did I let the sorrow and fury seep from my being to be displayed before the king of the Heathern Court? Did I have a death wish?
Long ribbons curled eloquently as they hung from the ceiling along with a low hanging gold chandelier that glowed with six burning suns of fae firelight. The hall was nearly too bright for me to keep my eyes open as I entered the room. Golden rays of sun shone through the large oval windows casting its brilliant light over the yellow and orange flowers that decorated the lengthy tables. Death shone there too. Even though the arrangements gave the room a complementary aroma and the decorations were so well done, not one servant was fooled, this was a baneful dinner.
While I gritted my teeth and schooled my features as best I could to hide my anger, I still had to admit the setup was stunning. Truly this space was fit for a king. None of which are as least deserving as our king himself.
The scent of all the cooked meats, sweet fruits, and the vivid colors of the fresh salads created a rumble inside me as I casually set down the large platter of food that had been balanced on my shoulder. The dish I brought out clinked loudly against the other porcelain trays of food that waited to be devoured. My glance settled on the nearest Heathern Court keeper. His wicked eyes flared with displeasure but he didn’t move to punish me. Not yet at least.
His concern was unnecessary. Even if I glared at the chair of the Heathern Court ruler and contemplated loosening the nails in his seat just to watch him take a good tumble to the ground.
I’m revengeful, not suicidal.
I rotated on my heels, briskly walking to meet up with Daethian as he too attempted to exit the room. His dark eyes sparkled with something, that same something that made me unsure if I wanted to know what was going on inside his head. Some days his mischief and friendship were the only things that kept me going, our mutual hate giving us enough in common to keep us together. So I grinned back at the flash of his sparkling teeth from his lopsided smile.
Our steps stuttered. Standing before the door to the kitchen was the line of keepers, the first man waiting narrowed his eyes as we approached. Lazily, almost bored, with his drooping eyes and relaxed stature, he waved his hand in silent protest. One demanding finger pointed us toward the long wall where other nymphs began to gather.
Keepers. Poor excuses for guards when their only job was to babysit us. Apart from the physical abuse, I suspected none of the fae would be a real threat to us if we had our magic back. Once we had our powers back, and we would, I wouldn’t hesitate to crush them with even a smidgen of my gift.
No, these fae that attempted to become something by joining the keepers weren’t dangerous. It was Ganglin. He had no personality despite the deep festering wounds of his past that propelled him to become one of the darkest kings in all of Stylica.
“Ganglin wants everyone present for the feast,” the keeper mumbled with a frown.
“Absolutely grand,” Daethian turned to me as he whispered under his breath, his thick dark eyebrows wrinkling his forehead as they furrowed.
Exhaustion mixed with annoyance ate away at my patience. “Imagine that, the King of Death wants an audience.” I rolled my eyes, my words coming out too loud, too harsh.
A rough hand caught against the burnt skin on my shoulder causing me to take in a quick ragged breath. Together, we stopped, looking up at the snarling keeper.
“Show some respect, you filthy rodent.” His words were severe but his hand across my cheek was far worse.
The once amazing Ryker Avery known for being a woman of the wild has now been reduced to ‘filthy rodent.’ I had worse names I could call the fae, never aloud, not now anyway.
Fighting my impulse to strike back, I bowed my head slowly, looking toward the ground. They wanted submissive slaves not ones who talked back. From my peripheral I saw Daethian relaxing his hands from the balled up fists he had made. Ever the big brother, ever the idiot who would get a worse punishment than me if he did anything. But he never did, he wasn’t that stupid. Not like me.
“Get in line with the other worms,” the keeper sneered, spitting at our feet.
We turned and stiffly forced ourselves to join the others in a line, forcing the rage that swelled inside us down once more. There would be a day that I couldn’t hold it anymore. But I didn’t think that day would be today.
“You are stupid for even showing your emotion like that,” I whispered to Daethian as the distance between us and the keepers grew.
Daethian gave me an annoyed side eye, his shoulders rising with a shrug as he found a spot in the line with every other hungry servant. I swayed waiting for the fae that had begun to enter the hall to find their seats and begin their feast. Randsin, the head of the guard, walked in holding his head high as he trailed Ganglin to his seat at the head of the illustrious looking table with the other members of the Heathern Court.
Daethian and I have had plenty of interactions with Randsin. The oddly handsome fae with short cropped black curls and toned muscles could be more creative in his beatings than the other keepers. One too many jabs at defiance and Randsin would pull his whip and snap it without warning. He didn’t put up with anything. I suppose that’s how he got his job.
My legs continued to grow stiff and tired while we watched the fae eat and drink till their stomachs bloated and they slouched in their seats. Each disgusting fae sending us looks of joy over their meals as we waited on their every need.
Shifting slightly, I eyed Dae a few feet away, his eyes glazed over as if consumed with his thoughts. His arms hung at his side,
the muscles he managed to keep still evident, peeking out under his sleeve. Daethian could be my type, I mused. He was pretty rough and tumble. Well, at least I thought so from the friendship we had since being located in the Heathern Court. Who knew? He could have been a different person before the Day of Ruin.
Shrill ringing of metal on glass interrupted my thoughts. Randsin stood clanking a small utensil against his gold rimmed goblet. The fae slowly pulled their gazes from their own meaningless conversations to where he stood.
Red wine sloshed inside the cup as he placed it back against the table. His eyes glowed as he placed his hands against the wood, the color of his pupils draining until all that remained was the black outline of where they used to be.
His voice deep and raspy, echoed inside my mind, inside all of the guests' minds. “Thank you all for joining us on this very special day. The Day of Ruin was a day where we as fae were able to gain control of the growing threat of nymphs living amongst our lands. It’s a day where we can acknowledge our wit and our power. We have control!”
Fae slammed their fists against the table, china clanked in response to their agreement.
“We are honored that so many fae have been able to join us in support of our king and the day he single-handedly invented. What a wonderful king we have to inform us of the danger and keep us safe from the nymphs that were wandering our courts! Now we tame the threat that once could have destroyed us all. So per his grand request, we will be hosting a formal dinner tomorrow night. We will be receiving guests from all courts across the nation.”
He finished speaking, but the words still echoed in my head. As if the air had been sucked from our lungs, we stilled. I could sense the devastation across the crowd of servants. My people have never had much to entertain them in this blistering court, so rumors flew around the kitchen just like the flies that picked at the food.
We’ve heard stories of the other courts. Fae kings so evil that they would collect nymphs who showed even the smallest hint of not being blindly obedient. And then they broke them until they learned to be so. Noble fae played with us like ragdolls and they didn’t care if we frayed.
Randsin continued, a smile cutting across his rugged features. He used his power to talk, his physical voice long since gone mute. Rumor had it that Randsin lost his tongue for talking back. But I’ve seen his tongue, it’s certainly there. I caught a glimpse once when he yawned and as he noticed me looking he flashed his set of pearly whites too.
“And as a special thank you, Lord Ganglin will continue the tradition of taking a nymph servant of his choosing to bed tonight and tomorrow.”
I swore I could feel horror echo in his words, but perhaps that was just a mirror of my own unsettling feelings.
Appalled. Outraged. Repulsed. My hands shook and my mouth fell open as the waves of emotion that this one terrible sentence had evoked in me overcame me. Every year he made a mockery of us. He understood how serious we took being bedded. He ruined our women. He could ruin me. This must be his point, to destroy every ounce of honor we tried to possess to somehow magnify his own.
“As dinner has come to an end, we will let the king select the servant.”
The gritty noise of Ganglin’s chair scraping against the floor churned my stomach and made my heart stutter with fear. A chorus of softly inhaled breaths was an ominous chord from the crowd.
What a despicable man. I loathed him in every sense.
His green eyes narrowed as he brushed his shaggy black hair from his eyes and adjusted his shirt. Ganglin was dressed in simple black straight leg pants and a tan loose fitting shirt tucked under his belt adorned with jewels. The crown that sat upon his head a looming reminder of the power that lurked under his skin. He wore no weapons, but we knew that his magic was weapon enough. If he willed it, as he so often did, the air would be sucked from our bodies or he could crush our bones into bits with just a thought.
His face remained neutral as he scanned the long line of servants at the edge of the room, but only for a moment. Soon he appeared to find entertainment in the frightened exchanges amongst us and bruises adorning our frail bodies. The corners of his round lips twisted up under the sparkling gaze of his humor.
Each step resounded through the space, silence and anticipation suffocated us. He drew near, and as he passed by me, our eyes locked for a second, and I didn’t look away, even as I felt my blood boil beneath my skin. Why didn’t I look away?
Ganglin’s returned gaze was one of spoiled amusement, as he winked at me and continued on his search for a victim. I let go of the breath I was holding and kept my attention on him, unable to turn away. Where was he going to stop? Whose life would he ruin today?
A small voice inside of me whispered, ‘I’m glad it’s not mine.’
Ganglin was the youngest of the noble kings that ruled in the quarters of Stylica. Even though he was hundreds of years old, his stilling happened at the young age of seventeen. Jet black hair hung untidied in his sparkling evergreen eyes, because he didn’t need to be put together to be handsome. An uncanny resemblance to his father. When the former king passed, and Ganglin took the crown, he stepped into the shadow of the once graceful king and brought only war and scarring to his lands.
He paced only for a few more moments before causally his steps came to a stop in front of Eloise. Petite, sweet, quiet, Eloise.
“Her.” Ganglin’s voice boomed across the room. I speculated whether he already knew who he wanted to select, since it hadn’t taken very long, or if he just picked someone at random. Maybe his evil sense tingled when it got too close to someone or something too pure. And he just had to tarnish it.
Eloise shook her head, her eyes wide with horror. Two guards stepped forward, roughly grabbing at her thin arms. Recklessly, like a wild animal about to be unleashed, she threw her head around gasping and shaking in untamed panic.
Her petite frame looked so minuscule next to the broad shoulders of the fae. The echo of her efforts rang in my ears. They dragged her across the floor, her feet pushing in front of her to try and slow the process. To deny the inevitable.
“No!” The word slid from my throat before I could stop it, my body lurching forward. Anger fuelled me to move my hands into balled fists that collided with Ganglin’s broad chest. The whole room stilled at once. Silent except for the beating of my heart as it threatened to break from its cage.
I wanted to shrink away for my outburst as I stood under the scrutiny of the crowd and their king. Ganglin’s eyes bore into me, his face twisted into a scowl. He stepped closer until the leather of his polished boots met with the flimsy cloth of my slippers. Two green eyes, gorgeous, round, but lined with hate narrowed. So close. He was so very close.
His breath heavy from dinner, heaved in a large unseen cloud across my cheeks. I dared not move, or look away. Every muscle in my body tensed. Seconds ticked away into years.
I couldn’t help but take in the details of his face, to somehow engrave his undeserved beauty into my memory forever. Perfectly angled eyebrows over his glowing jeweled eyes. His round yet slender face giving him a boyish charm. Looks gifted to him by the Mother and a soul sponsored by Havala himself. His aura must be the color of charcoal.
It was then that I was ripped from this everlasting moment. His lips curled. Not into a snarl or to deepen the frown he wore before. Ganglin smiled. Then he laughed. Soft black strands fell away from his forehead as he leaned back, his cackle echoing through the crowd. Unanimously, the room breathed out, the tension lost in their answering chuckles.
“Look at her. Pathetic.” He spat the words at me holding his look of amusement as he exchanged a laugh with the gathered assembly. “She thinks...” He trailed off, stifling his laughter. “She actually thinks her tiny little nymph hands could do me harm.”
He laughed again. The room laughed louder with him.
Shame reddened my face. Fear cradled my heart.
Almost unseen, the king reached out. Pain spiked through my neck as his f
ingers wrapped around my throat. Instantly, I could feel my eyes water, but I did not let myself flinch as the air that I so desperately needed was denied. My feet dangled under me as he lifted me up, my hands instinctively clawing at his grip.
“You will not speak,” Ganglin hissed through clenched teeth, his voice empty of all humor. His emerald gaze trailed down my body and back to my crimson face.
I. Would. Not. Speak.
And I really wouldn’t if I knew what was good for me.
Ganglin slowly, finger by finger, dropped me. I gasped for air as he turned back to Eloise.
But nobody watched him. Every pair of eyes still rested on my face, remembering why we should stay in our place as I choked on fresh air.
Oh, but I was sick of doing just that.
TWO
Dace
The pub was crowded. Fools stumbled over fools at each turn as they sloshed their drinks around, carelessly spilling them. The floor was covered in the normal film of alcohol, sweat, and other fluids I didn’t want to know about. The heel of my scuffed boot stuck as I bounced my leg under the ledge of the bar.
Word would get back to my parents about my attendance at such a lowly place this evening. The bar flies would talk and eventually it would make its way up the chain of hierarchy until my mother’s ears would be ringing with the nonsense that we need to keep up appearances. That her only son would never be worthy of wearing the crown and ruling over our people. And don’t forget to remember how much better we are than the scum that lazily visits this place.
Some days I liked the scum that filled the bars best. Some days I thought I was just as they were; uncaring and on the brink of a sloshing good time.
I could already hear her melancholy voice. “You will not find a wife in those bars. You are tarnishing our good name.” The corners of my lips curved downward at the thought of her pointing those long demanding fingers in my face and the way her narrow features would pucker in displeasure.