Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy Book 1)

by Rachel Higginson

  “Put her back and hand over my purse,” I demanded. He grunted when Oliver’s blade nicked his cloak, tearing a whole at the seam of his hood.

  “There’s no need for brute force,” Arrick argued. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement if you’d just talk this—”

  I stepped forward, closing the safe distance between us. “Give me back what’s mine, Rebel, or I’ll see that you’re incapable of talking ever again.”

  “Such threats,” he murmured. The amusement in his deep voice made me want to scream at him.

  Something pointy pressed through the thick folds of my cloak. I made a sound in the back of my throat, but did not waver. When I lifted my eyes from Arrick’s cloaked face I saw that we were surrounded.

  Oliver too had a blade at his back and beyond that there were more than a dozen men surrounding us.

  I lifted my chin. “You’ll have to kill me then. I will not leave here without my satchel.”

  “Clearly this purse is of some value to you, m’lady,” He said evenly. I growled something foul at his sudden appearance of chivalry. His smile was unmistakable this time as his hood fell back to reveal the lower half of his face. He lifted the satchel over his shoulder with slow, even movements and held it out to me. “It’s yours,” he offered gallantly.

  “It is mine,” I agreed. I made no move to take it though, certain this was a trap.

  He dangled it from his fingers. “Take it then.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  His grin widened. “Only a moment ago, you were willing to die for it. Now you’re concerned about catches? Please, woman, make up your mind.”

  I lowered my sword and grabbed the satchel, holding it tightly against my chest and subtly feeling for the contents. It was impossible to tell if they had searched the bag, but the bottom remained sturdy, solid. I could only hope the crown was fine within the secret compartment. I used one arm to secure it across my body.

  When I looked back to Arrick, he held Shiksa out to me with one long arm. I took her slowly, more carefully than I had the pouch. My fingers brushed his in the exchange, noting the heat from his against the iciness of mine.

  My gaze met Oliver’s and I inclined my head. It was time to go. I had no idea why Arrick had given the satchel back, nor did I intend to stick around and find out. My only concern was to remove myself from this hellish forest and never return.

  But before I could take one step, Arrick’s cool voice called out, “Now for the catch.”

  “Dragon’s blood,” I hissed. My glare bored fire into his quite satisfied one.

  “Now, now, m’lady. I wish you no harm. At least for now.”

  My jaw locked and I spoke through clenched teeth. “Then what do you want?”

  “Dinner?” he suggested. “A conversation?” His smiled disappeared, replaced with a rather terrifying frown. “You will be my guest until I have decided otherwise.”

  “Your prisoner, you mean.”

  “Call it what you wish, but either is better than corpse.”

  He had a point. And now that I had the crown back, I was significantly less inclined to offer my life. I could handle imprisonment for now. It would only be a matter of time before Oliver and I figured out a way to escape.

  “Fine,” I growled.

  He stepped forward. “Are you allowing me to take you prisoner?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.”

  “How gracious of you.” He bowed his head, then swept his arm toward the fog. “Ladies first.”

  I wanted to pick up my sword and run him clean through. Instead, I tucked Shiksa into my satchel and followed after him.

  His men stayed in a close circle, forcing Oliver to follow. They didn’t bother to take our swords and I had to believe that was because they knew they had the upper hand. Oliver and I were good with our weapons, but not good enough to take them all.

  I stepped through the curtain of fog, shivering. We emerged on the other side of the veil and blinked.

  What stood before us was not towering giants or armed sentries, but houses perched in the bosoms of the massive cedars. The windows glowed with candlelight and the smell of fire and food drifted through the air. Sturdy rope bridges connected one habitat to the other, weaving through the tangled woods to create a sprawling village.

  I stared in awe at the layered ecosystem tucked away in this dark, haunted forest.

  “What is this place?” I heard myself ask, although I had not given my mouth permission to speak or my voice to lift with awe.

  Arrick leaned toward me and I felt his smile without needing to witness it. “This is the rebel fortress.”

  The cocky tone to his words replaced some of my ire. “Not much of a fortress is it?”

  “Ah, but the fog, you see. It’s more of a barrier than any castle wall or rampart.”

  I looked to him. I couldn’t help it. I had to know. “It truly keeps people out?” He nodded once. “It’s pagan. Dark magic.”

  He shook his head, seemingly disappointed with my conclusion. “It’s the magic of the forest. I would hardly call trees and bushes, leaves and branches pagan.”

  My mother’s voice drifted through the haze of my memory. “Or maybe,” I countered. “They are the very definition of pagan.”

  “Arrick!” Someone called from across what could only be described as a courtyard. “You’re needed in the gunnery.”

  “There’s a gunnery amid your treehouses? That doesn’t seem wise.”

  “It’s safe,” he insisted.

  “Of course it is.”

  His gaze cut to me twice and I enjoyed the frown my words put on his face. “It is safe.”

  “I believe you.”

  He snorted. “I don’t need you to believe me. I can take care of my own people.”

  “So you are the leader of the rebels? The great Arrick whom no one has heard of?”

  “That’s not saying much from a female who knows nothing of Tenovian customs yet hopes to somehow cross the country by walking backwards through its impossible forest.”

  “How did you…” I narrowed my eyes at him again and reassessed the cloak wrapped around his shoulders and covering his face. My finger lifted. “You! You’re the reason we got lost in the first place! We thought you were a constable!”

  “Me?”

  “If you hadn’t chased us out of that inn, we would have stayed on the main road and never wandered into the Blood Woods to begin with!”

  His hand lifted in helplessness. “I didn’t chase you out of that inn! I asked you a question and you ran away! How was I supposed to know you would head straight for the forest and never come out?”

  “Ack!”

  His voice dropped when he realized most of his men stood around us, listening intently to our bickering. I expected him to push the argument, but when he spoke it wasn’t to me. “Take our guests to the commons. Give them food. Let them get warm. Find them clean clothes.”

  I looked down at my mud-soaked, leaf-strewn dress. What a mess I must look like! Still, I said, “We do not need your charity, Rebel. We are quite capable of taking care of our own needs.”

  He ignored me, turning fully to the man he was speaking to. “And do not let them out of your sight. Not even for a second.”

  His man nodded and lifted his sword in the direction he intended for us to go. I bit back a hundred ugly retorts, deciding that this was not the battle I should pick. Besides, for all my bravado, my stomach ached with hunger and my cold feet longed for a fire.

  I decided I would allow him to treat me kindly for a while. But we would figure out a way to escape, just as soon as we’d eaten our fill and changed clothes.

  Also, possibly taken a bath.

  8

  “Who knew?”

  I lifted my heavy eyelids to meet Oliver’s sleepy gaze from across the fire. Shiksa slept in my lap, curled into a tiny ball. Her lungs heaved with blissful sleep after a dinner of fresh milk and half a biscuit. “Who knew what?”

&
nbsp; He rested his elbows on his boney knees. “That the life of a rebel wasn’t so bad.”

  I rolled my eyes. “They’re clearly vagrants. They take what they want when they want it. They have no respect for other people. They live in this hellish place surrounded by pagan magic. Oliver, they stand against every single thing that we’re working for. How can you even say those words?”

  He leaned back in his comfortable chair and smiled lazily into the warm fire that finally heated my frigid toes. “They don’t seem that bad.”

  “You’ve been bewitched.”

  He tucked his hands behind his head and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “By a hearty meal and warm shelter.”

  “You’re supposed to be a man of principle!”

  His smile grew, stretching across his narrow face.

  I threw the pillow tucked behind my back at him. Then, disgusted with myself, I set Shiksa on the comfortable chaise I’d been curled up on and jumped to my feet. If Oliver was going to turn traitor, I was going to need to pace.

  And then stab something.

  Nightfall had come like a candle being snuffed out. It had been daylight and warm sun, then all at once, with one mighty breath from the sky above, it was night.

  Young boys, pages of some kind, rushed in to fuel the fire and light lanterns all around the room. Unlike last night, we didn’t cower, huddling together against the elements. We were bathed in warmth. Rich with it.

  Our clothes were clean. Our shoes were dry. Our fingers free from the dirt and grime of both the forest and the road. Our bellies full. And our minds spinning.

  At least my mind spun.

  If the rebels planned to keep us prisoner and eventually figured out my real identity, Elysia would be in grave danger. The entire realm would be in grave danger.

  Under no circumstance could the Crown of Nine fall into rebel hands.

  Because of the aforementioned grave danger.

  Also, because anyone in possession of the Crown of Nine would have a claim to the throne. If the rebels were able to rally a few already unrestful kingdoms behind them, their claim could be made legitimate. They would only need a little charm and an army. A rebel army.

  Arrick appeared in the doorway as if my mind had conjured him. He hesitated only a moment before strolling into the small hut held aloft in the cradle of this massive tree. His focus flicked around the room, taking in our comfortable prison in seconds.

  “You have everything you need?” he asked with that gruff way of his.

  I nodded. Oliver mumbled something that sounded positive.

  “There are guards posted outside, should you attempt to leave.”

  Everything inside me hardened at his words. I felt my skin go taut, my muscles turn to stone. My hand itched for my sword, but I’d been divested of that once inside the veil of fog.

  “We’re prisoners? Truly?”

  He turned to face me. I had begun to loathe that hood. I couldn’t see his eyes and that made him more sinister than he was. He was merely a man. A man I could fight. A man I could kill. Curiosity burned through me. Was he disfigured? Was he a wanted criminal?

  “What else would you be?” His low chuckle chased me around the room. “My guests?”

  “We have nothing of value. There is no reason to hold us.”

  He didn’t seem at all bothered by my claims. He crossed his arms and assessed me from toes to forehead. “Ransom? Surely someone misses you. Misses you enough to pay at least something to see you returned. Unharmed if that something is worth our while.”

  While I didn’t believe this man was as bad as his threats, I didn’t trust him either. Or at least that was what I told myself. Meanwhile some misguided instinct whispered that he wouldn’t hurt me.

  Clearly, I had been locked up in the monastery for too long.

  “You’ll get no ransom for us,” Oliver sighed. “There is neither anyone missing us nor are we worth anything of value.”

  Arrick’s faceless visage held my gaze, “Surely that isn’t true.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” I challenged him. “Merely feel sorry that your treasury will see no boon from your immorality.”

  “You think because I’ve stopped you from trespassing that I am the immoral one? You put a blade to my throat and threatened my manhood. I could learn a few things from your depravity.”

  “You forced my hand when you stole my possessions.” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth. I hadn’t meant to bring up the satchel again, hoping he and all his men would forget about it.

  Of course, his attention instantly dropped to my pack, tucked behind my legs. “And what are those exactly? What made you risk your life so brazenly? Could that fulfill your ransom?”

  “It’s all I have left in this world,” I told him truthfully. “You’d have to kill me before I would let it go.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what brings you to Tenovia then? With a purse that you’re willing to die for?”

  Oliver sat up, holding my gaze. “We didn’t lie. We’re simply passing through.”

  “To where?” Arrick pressed.

  “Elysia.” I didn’t know what prompted me to keep giving information away. Likely more pagan magic. How clever to lock his prisoners within a truth fog.

  How stupid of me to forget all my training and blame this open-mouthed carelessness on a forest.

  His jaw flexed. “What could you possibly want in Elysia?”

  “It’s the seat of the realm.”

  “And?”

  “And we have business there.” I didn’t like that he kept pushing me. This man was maybe the most infuriating creature I had ever encountered.

  “What could you possibly need in Elysia? There is nothing there but corrupt kings and greed.”

  My heart pinched. “That cannot be true,” I insisted. “Elysia is the capital. And while things may not have been the same since… since the royal family was killed—”

  Arrick bit out a harsh laugh. “More like massacred. And you’re right. Nothing has been the same since. The queen’s brother rules with as much sense as a cooly-cooly bird and every other kingdom suffers at his careless hands. Tyrn is determined to bankrupt every single sovereign. And if someone doesn’t step in soon there will be war. Barstus and Vorestra have already threatened to align with Blackthorne. Meanwhile, Kasha fights an ugly civil war and no one has stepped in to offer aid. The Ring of Shadows moves through the realm like locusts, consuming and destroying everything in its path. But you should know all of this.” His gaze stayed focused on my face, but his words had upended my perception of the realm enough that I didn’t remember to hide my reaction.

  My mind spun as I tried to process all of his flippant stream of information. Had my uncle truly let things become so bleak? Kasha at civil war? Blackthorne making a move for power? The Ring of Shadows? This couldn’t be.

  “Where exactly are you from, lass?” Arrick asked.

  I reached for Shiksa. Her silken coat soothed some of the frayed edges of my nerves. How could I have stayed away for so long? How could I have abandoned my people to my uncle’s incapable hand?

  Now, more than ever, I needed to get home—to Elysia. I needed to use the crown to unite the kingdoms again, to bring peace and stability to the realm once more. The only problem was that I had no idea how to do that.

  Even if I did manage to escape the rebels and return to Elysia, I had no formal training as a sovereign, no idea how to make peace between warring kingdoms, no insight into political affairs, no experience… no education in matters of state. I didn’t even know how to dance.

  A raven cawed in the distance. Or maybe it was in my head.

  “What is your name?” Arrick demanded, breaking me from my spinning thoughts.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Your name, if you please.” When I didn’t tell him, he moved toward me impatiently. “You know mine. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

  I lifted my
chin, coming fully back to the conversation. “You’re free to leave. I’m not. Explain to me the definition of fair.”

  “Fine,” he sighed, as if it pained him. “Then I demand to know your name.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  His lips twitched. “You’ve already refused.”

  “If I continue to refuse?”

  “I’ll take your fox.”

  “You wouldn’t!” I cradled Shiksa against my chest. She nuzzled into me and my protective instincts flared.

  “I wouldn’t. You’re right about that,” he conceded. Holding up a finger, he exclaimed, “She bit me.”

  She squirmed in my hold, settling closer against me. “You must have been doing something she didn’t like. She’s usually very gentle.”

  Arrick managed to look somewhat contrite. At least the corners of his frown seemed contrite. “She might have been opposed to me digging through your precious purse.”

  I kissed the top of Shiksa’s soft head. “Good girl.”

  “Your name, prisoner.”

  When I lifted my gaze, I could see that he all but vibrated with impatience and frustration. His mouth, the only part of his face I could see, was set in a frown and his jaw ticked dangerously. I had already pushed my luck enough for one day.

  “Tess,” I answered. “My name is Tess.”

  “Tess.”

  “Yes.”

  Before Oliver and I had even left the monastery we had decided that Tess was a common enough name to go unnoticed. Tessana Allisand might have belonged to a lost princess. But Tess could be a name from any province, in any part of the realm.

  “Oliver,” Oliver offered when Arrick turned to him.

  “Tess and Oliver,” he repeated, as if testing the sounds on his tongue. He rested his hand over his chest, his tanned skin stood out against his sleek cloak. “I am Arrick, as you know.”

  He reached up to pull his hood back. I found myself holding my breath as he revealed his features to us. I expected deformities or scars or something to warrant the hooded mystery, but when the shadow was gone, there was nothing but a man underneath. A shockingly handsome man with thick, dark hair and startling blue eyes.