Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1)

by Mallory McCartney

  “Who are you?” She shot the question right back at him.

  “Look, since you were being trailed by Adair’s soldiers, you are either dangerous or important. You came out of the Academy which I thought had been destroyed. Who exactly are you?” the man reiterated.

  Take a risk. Her gut urged her to tell the truth, while her heart wistfully leaned toward lying. She exhaled. “I’m Emory Fae, Heir to Kiero.”

  It was half whispered, but his face drained of color all the same. A knife she didn’t know he had on him was quickly held against her throat as he shoved her against the nearest tree. The steel bit into her skin, droplets of blood trickling down her neck.

  A slight breeze tousled her hair, and his eyes flicked back and forth as he took her in. Narrowing his eyes, he murmured, “So you are both dangerous and important.”

  She had nothing to say to that. He huffed, talking more to himself. “Today really couldn’t get any worse, could it?”

  Dropping the knife, he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m assuming you have mistaken me for Alby, since we’re twins. But the more important question is how he could be alive when I thought him to be dead years ago? When the Academy fell...”

  She cut him off, “It never fell.”

  He tilted his head in question.

  “Over the years, a resistance has been building, hiding from Adair until we were betrayed by one of our own. Alby was part of the Academy, but Adair...he has him now.” The words came out in a rush.

  “So, it was true. There were always theories, but it seemed too unrealistic that some of the most influential people of our country would stand by and do nothing while thousands died.”

  She cringed as if he had slapped her.

  “Especially you, Emory Fae. You alone could have gotten Adair’s attention and made a difference. Anyone who is anyone knows about Adair’s blood feud with your family. Exactly how is it that you of all people are alive?”

  Before she could answer, a husky voice called out, “Azarius!””

  He snapped to attention, the knife flashing back, holding her from running. His anger was stifling.

  “Hello, Lorne.” Azarius tipped his head toward his friend, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Emory took in the other man, his sunkissed skin and deep eyes, dressed in a worn jacket and ripped pants. His sword was sheathed at his hip; Emory watched his hands slowly move toward it.

  “What news?” Lorne asked.

  “It would seem Adair’s men have found what they were looking for. They left very few survivors.”

  Memphis. It felt as if someone had physically winded her. She shook her head wildly and asked, “A man with blonde hair...did you see him?”

  “You don’t get the privilege of knowing that!” Azarius snapped at her and shot Lorne a look that stopped him from saying anything further.

  Lorne slowly asked, “Should we bring her to Morgan?” He fidgeted with his hands, the notion setting him on edge.

  “No. This one I will dispose of myself. You tell Morgan there was nothing to report.”

  “Azarius.”

  “NO!” He whipped around and whispered something to Lorne in agitation.

  This is it.

  She had never thought about her death much. She thought she would live a full, quiet life. But here she was, thoughts frantically running through her mind as Lorne turned his back, walking away and leaving Azarius and her alone once more. She was frozen, her heart pounding—and wishing.

  Her core warmed as those golden eyes filled her mind. Brokk Foster. How she needed just one moment with him—to try to explain that her fear in him was misplaced. Was fabricated all thanks to Memphis. That she had been wrong not to give him a chance.

  Emory closed her eyes and, above all else, wished desperately she wasn’t alone.

  The wind tousled the leaves. Slowly opening her eyes, she took in Azarius. The knife glinted in the sun as he flicked it between his hands.

  “It would do us both good if you could scream as convincingly as you can,” he said.

  What? “Why would I?”

  His arm lashed out, and the knife soared through the air, landing with a thud in the nearest tree. “Just do it.”

  Sucking in breath, she exhaled and screamed as loud as she could until he nodded his head.

  “We have to move fast. Lorne is not one to be misled.” He set off jogging, talking as he went, “Look, you seem like you have gone through a time back there, and I can relate to that. But you and your family name don’t get to dictate the future of Kiero any longer,”

  “I’m trying to help bring down Adair.”

  “And then what would happen? Your people are indebted to you again? You become queen, follow your parents’ beliefs and path? History is only bound to repeat itself. A lot of things have already been set in motion, and you returning from the dead will set a lot of things in a tailspin. So, I propose you help me find and save my brother—or I will kill you.”

  What choice did she have?

  Emory whispered to his back, “Agreed.”

  Her only acknowledgement was Azarius speeding up, pushing further into the depths of the forest, and Emory followed desperately at his heels.

  ***

  Time had no meaning to her in this world. There was only the constant thud of her foot against the soil and her thoughts as she and Azarius pushed further into the night. They had not stopped. They had not rested. Blisters on her heel burned as her flats rubbed them with every footstep, her torn dress muddied and in tatters. She was starting to understand her body’s exhaustion. Her heart pumped violently with her every move, begging her to stop.

  She had gone from being a prisoner of her own world to a prisoner of her past to Adair, and now...

  Looking ahead, she stared at Azarius. Why was he so against what her parents stood for when all she had heard was stories of praise?

  The thought pulled at her, ugly and loud. Had her parents balanced their duties, or had citizens suffered from their decisions for the greater good? Frustrated, she sighed, her palms tingling. She just wanted to piece it together, but nothing was clear. If Azarius was right, why wouldn’t Memphis entertain the idea that more people had survived, try to pour energy into only trying to bring Adair down, not into trying to build their numbers? Banded together, they had a better chance, but alone...

  Unless Adair had something Memphis wants?

  If he is still alive.

  Her life was a scattered puzzle, two halves of herself conflictingly coming into one. Would she continue to honor what her parents stood for even when she learned pieces of the truth that she didn’t agree with? How would she get outside citizens to trust her when everyone has been fighting her war while she was a world away?

  She was selfish. What she had asked Memphis and Brokk to do many years ago was so selfish. Asking them to change the course of their lives for her.

  She wasn’t the savior everyone wanted to believe she was. That she had believed she was. She would help free Alby. Then, she would move forward with her plan and do what she should have done when she first came back.

  It was time for a little reunion.

  ***

  She looked at the crumbling ruins in front of her. Miles and miles of destruction. The Ruined City had once been Kiero’s capital, Sarthaven. A place that supposedly cultivated not only the monarchy but a rich culture. Now, deserted, Emory couldn’t imagine such a city existed.

  “Here?” Emory asked.

  Dawn stretched across the sky, and Azarius shot a steady glare her way. “We’re getting close. We don’t need to be sitting ducks out in the open. This way.”

  He disappeared under a slab of concrete propped up sideways, and she followed, delirious from exhaustion. Squeezing through and entering what looked to be part of a house, Azarius was already positioning himself in a corner, facing her directly.

  He stifled a yawn and said, “It would do us good to get some rest. I will take first watch.”


  It was not a question.

  Sighing, she settled down. “How did you know this was here?”

  He scoffed. “When you live to survive, you explore any possible option of refuge. We have scouted as far as we can walk, run. Besides, if you watch closely enough, Adair is not impossible to find.”

  She couldn’t stifle her curiosity. “Who is we?” Instantly she regretted blurting out the question when she saw the stony expression cross his face.

  Lost in some memory, he shook his head once and silence followed.

  Emory lay down after that. She didn’t know how long she laid there staring up at the molding ceiling, but eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.

  Walking through the city, looking around at its empty streets, she called out to Brokk. It was abandoned.

  “Emory?”

  She dared not to hope. Anything could be possible in her dreams.

  “Why are you here? You have to leave!” Brokk urged.

  She turned around, and there he was, stalking toward her in agitation.

  “Brokk,” she breathed.

  He was here. She took him in like she would study a painting, etching every detail to memory and reached out hesitantly as if touching him would only prove this wasn’t real - his skin was warm against her touch.

  Nothing held her back from crying, and she flung her arms around him.“You’re alive! Brokk, I tried to find you... Where did you go?”

  He wrapped his arms protectively around her and, breaking the embrace for a moment, searched her face. “You shouldn’t be here. You have to leave.”

  “There is no one here.” Emory looked around.

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Adair is always watching.” The whisper was cold against her flushed cheek.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Emory!” Rough hands shook her shoulder, and she started awake.

  Azarius leaned over her, and she blinked in confusion. “We really have to go.”

  Dusk was speckling the clouds outside, and she got up. Had it already been so long? The more time she wasted, the more people suffered. A shiver ran down her spine, and she tried to shake the feeling of unease from her dream.

  Looking at Azarius’s dark circles under his eyes, she asked, “Haven’t you slept?”

  “No.” Brushing past her, he walked outside. Following him, she was instantly yanked down to a crouched position.

  “Look, you have to listen to me. Do exactly as I say.” His eyes burned into hers.

  He is afraid. Glancing around, seemingly, they were still alone in the ruins of the city.

  ‘He is always watching’, Brokk’s words echoed in her mind, and she nodded to Azarius. He held out his hand, and she took it.

  “Stay low. Move fast.” He dodged out, and she was wrenched into his world.

  They were lithe and lethal. Her heart was pounding, but adrenaline pushed her forward, closer to saving Alby. They continued moving in the shadows, and suddenly, Azarius stopped and squeezed her hand. She looked past him, and two soldiers dressed in black stood about two buildings away from them.

  “We have to do it quietly, no abilities.” Dropping her hand, he passed her his knife, pressing it in her palm. He unsheathed another from his boot and moved forward, motioning for her to sweep around the other side.

  They closed in on the guards and fast. Azarius moved first, and Emory followed. He grabbed the guard by his hair, exposing the soldier’s throat. Emory gulped down her scream as Azarius’s knife swiped across the stranger’s flesh in a crimson smile, the man dropping dead.

  Azarius moved on to the next soldier faster than she could register, killing him as well. “We have to take their clothes. You can’t continue in that, and it will be our cover to get in.”

  Kneeling and with shaking hands, she tried to unbutton the first guard’s shirt. Don’t look at his face. She didn’t realize Azarius had moved beside her until he cleared his throat.

  “Let me do this. It will be faster.”

  She looked up, and a wave of gratitude washed over her at his gesture. Stepping away from the bodies, she ducked behind a pile of rubble a few feet away. It wasn’t long before she emptied her stomach; she tried to suck in deep breathes through coughing.

  This was her world. This was the violence that Azarius grew up in. It was their survival that was always at stake.

  This isn’t right. Anger, white and hot, coursed through her toward Adair, toward her family. No matter what it would cost her, she would set things right.

  Coming back, Azarius handed her the clothes. Looking awkward he faced the other way as Emory quickly changed in the baggy uniform.

  “Here, I found this. Put it on.” He held out a worn cap, and she quickly put in on, tucking her hair in the back.

  Azarius assessed her, and looking pleased, they set off again. They weaved through the rubble, every turn Emory preparing herself for the point of no return. They walked until the streets seemed to widen, and they came to a steep plateau.

  Azarius said quietly, “There it is.” He gestured to the valley at the base of what seemed to be a series of grottos, streams running along its base.

  She spotted three soldiers at different locations, watching out.

  “This is where we blend in. Let me do the talking.”

  She wanted to tell Azarius, obviously, but she held in the retort. Emory wiped her clammy hands on her pants and tried to steady them. This is it.

  Setting off at a brisk pace, she kept her head slightly ducked, allowing Azarius to take the lead. It wasn’t long before they approached the first cave and nearest guard.

  “Urgent news to report. Rebels spotted along the Western boarder. They are armed and look to be collecting numbers,” Azarius said.

  The guard gave Azarius a brief look then nodded his head. “Report directly to Dex. He will want to collect them with the others.”

  Azarius dipped his head in recognition, and they were in.

  The others? Numbness spread through her.

  At first, everything was dark, so she stayed close to Azarius to not lose her footing. An eerie glow was their only light to navigate the hanging stalactite that hung from the cavern walls. Further and further, they traveled until a gentle slope brought them to their first room. Emory gasped at the unexpected grandeur, resulting in Azarius shooting her a glare.

  Spiralling in front of them, weaving in and out of caves, was a city built in the ground. Hundreds of soldiers bustled, some shouting commands, groups greeting each other like old friends. Azarius didn’t miss a beat. They traveled in the throng, lanterns hanging off the walls, giving them better light. Even though it was night, the city seemed more alive with energy buzzing in the air.

  “Azarius.”

  “I know. We have to find where they are keeping them,” he whispered back to her flatly.

  “If we find this Dex guy, then we find them.”

  He nodded, and they wove through the crowds. She took in this world Adair had created, had hid away in while he destroyed what he thought wasn’t good enough.

  “Over there.”

  A younger man stood, fidgeting with his hands and looking uncomfortable as the soldiers hurried by. Azarius looked him over and then barked, “You there!”

  The soldier’s head snapped up, and he came over to them at once. “Yes, sir?”

  He couldn’t be older than fifteen, and Emory’s gut wrenched.

  “Where is Dex, my partner and I are to report to him immediately.”

  His face drained of color, and he stuttered quietly, “D-d-dex is with the prisoner’s, sir. We are all to report to the stadium at once.” With that, he slipped away in the crowd, not looking back at them.

  “We have to split up,” Emory whispered. “I’m too noticeable. Someone is bound to see that something is off. If I can find them, I can set them free.”

  “Absolutely not. We stick together.”

  “Azarius, think of Alby. Together, we don’t stand a chance to find him
before we are either caught or killed.” Emory felt the determination burning through her, her jaw set stubbornly.

  Azarius whispered, “How can I trust you?”

  “Give me a chance to gain your trust.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, and blowing air through his mouth, he resigned. “Fine. I will give you an hour. That’s it. We meet back here. If things go bad and you’re late, I’m not waiting up for you.” Turning his back, he walked away, disappearing into the mass of black bodies.

  She turned the opposite direction, her heart aching as if it was a shattering window, slowly and then all at once.

  Chapter Forty

  Brokk

  He wished for death. Death would be lying in a soft bed and drifting off to his final sleep. It would be easy. Above all, it would be welcomed.

  He closed his eyes and ached for relief. His body was sprawled across the wooden table they had built in the middle of the room. His face was beyond recognizable, open gashes covering almost every inch of his skin. They never let him fully heal—only enough to be kept alive. A giggle sounded from the corner of the room, and he visibly flinched.

  They whispered from the darkness, “Do you want to hear another story?”

  He didn’t have the will power anymore to say no. They always took his silence for a compliant yes.

  “Lovely. We start off where a collection of strangers are learning about each other. One is much more powerful than the others and would abuse his power if he knew. So, they send out another copy of himself to bring peace to their land. Sounding familiar so far?”

  He gritted his teeth, searing pain shooting across his face. He didn’t respond but watched as their hollow eye sockets stared at him.

  “And so, the sisters were relieved. Soon, what had been stolen from them would be returned. The wrongs in this world would disappear. Adair will no longer sit on his broken throne, and Emory Fae will die.”

  What?

  He snapped to attention. Usually their “stories” were cryptic and just repeating how they were doing him a favor—that this was for the best. Not that they were just as power hungry, twisted, and ruthless. Not at all. But there was no news about how far the doppelganger had gone—until now.