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

by Rachel Higginson

  Oliver turned around, feather in his hand. “Unless you kill them first.”

  Someone was trying to kill me.

  But it hadn’t worked when I was a child.

  And it hadn’t worked when Crenshaw attacked.

  This was my fate. I was meant to rule Elysia and the entire Realm. I was meant to be Queen. And they would not stop me. Whoever they were.

  Oliver was right. If I had to kill them first, I would. I would spend my life fighting and surviving and searching for them.

  Because at the end of the day it wasn’t about me.

  It was about the peace I would fight for.

  The evil I would destroy.

  It was about the Crown of a Hundred Kings that would soon belong to a Queen.

  Thank You!

  Thank you for reading Crown of One Hundred Kings! Be on the lookout for book #2 in The Nine Kingdoms Trilogy coming June 2021. Keep reading for an excerpt from Rachel’s young adult paranormal romance, The Rush!

  The Rush, Book #1 in The Siren Series

  A life not her own—A future already decided.

  Every facet of Ivy Pierce’s life is meticulously planned out and plotted. Cynical and jaded by sixteen, Ivy’s only hope is to escape the legacy she was born into.

  She has a plan—a carefully thought out, feasible plan. She just has to play by the rules until everything falls into place. Unfortunately, as predictable as her days can be, she never sees Ryder Sutton coming. He tumbles into her way unimpressed and untouched by her and the life she lives. He’s an enigma to her. A gorgeous, frustrating, sincere mystery and a complete phenomenon in the ugly world she exists in.

  What blooms between them is a fiercely intense attraction that cannot be ignored. Even though they would both be better off without each other—even if both their lives depend on staying apart.

  Acknowledgments

  I wrote Crown of One Hundred Kings years ago! I held off publishing it for all kinds of reasons, but mostly because of fear. Publishing is hard, but the toughest thing about it is the straight, honest, raw look in the mirror every time a book is released into the wild. This look in the mirror took me longer to face than I want to admit, but I am finally glad and relieved and all the emotions that Crown of One Hundred Kings is out in the world and in your hands. Writing books and releasing them is gritty, painful work. But it is also wonderful work. And even when fear gets in the way and trips me up, I am always grateful for the process, the journey and the heaps of humility I take away from it.

  I have to thank God first and foremost, for His sovereignty in preparing this book for just the right time. To my husband, Zach, for persistently encouraging me to release Tessana and her adventures to the world. His belief and confidence in me and my stories pushed me through a crisis of self-doubt and career. I also have to credit him with the gorgeous cover, sensational formatting and for all the relentless work he does behind the scenes, both with publishing and with our crazy kiddos. I want to thank them too, all five of them, for not exactly being helpful… but for understanding when I work long hours and get immersed in different worlds than the one they live in and forget all things all the time. I do this all for them. Thank you to Tamar, who spent so much time and energy going over and over this book with me. It is what it is today because of you. I cannot thank you enough for all you do. Thank you to Lenore, for reading the earliest version and the newest version and for always, always being sweet, gracious and honest. To my Reckless Rebels, who walked through the first part of this journey with me all those years ago and showed up again four years later. You all are the best of humans and I am so blessed to have you in my life. I also want to thank those bloggers and ARC readers who helped spread the word, especially my R&R group. I cannot do this without you. I wouldn’t even want to. Thank you for all your help in sharing these books of mine. And finally, I want to give a special thank you to my late Aunt Carolyn. This was the last book we worked on together. She was my first editor, a woman I sincerely admired and looked up to. Gosh, I miss her and her wisdom. But publishing this book feels like a belated, blessed gift from her and I could not be more grateful I get this one last thing to celebrate her with.

  About the Author

  Rachel Higginson was born and raised in Nebraska and spent her college years traveling the world. She fell in love with Eastern Europe, Paris, Indian Food and the beautiful beaches of Sri Lanka, but came back home to marry her high school sweetheart. Now she spends her days raising their five kids, wrangling their giant dogs and reading whenever she can. She is obsessed with reruns of Top Chef and all things coffee.

  Book #2 in The Nine Kingdoms Trilogy is coming Summer 2021!

  Other Books Out Now by Rachel Higginson:

  Love and Decay, Season One

  Volume One

  Volume Two

  Love and Decay, Season Two

  Volume Three

  Volume Four

  Volume Five

  Love and Decay, Season Three

  Volume Six

  Volume Seven

  Volume Eight

  Love and Decay: Revolution, Season One

  Volume One

  Volume Two

  The Star-Crossed Series

  Reckless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 1)

  Hopeless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 2)

  Fearless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 3)

  Endless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 4)

  The Reluctant King (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 5)

  The Relentless Warrior (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 6)

  Breathless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 6.5)

  Fateful Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 6.75)

  The Redeemable Prince (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 7)

  The Starbright Series

  Heir of Skies (The Starbright Series, Book 1)

  Heir of Darkness (The Starbright Series, Book 2)

  Heir of Secrets (The Starbright Series, Book 3)

  The Siren Series

  The Rush (The Siren Series, Book 1)

  The Fall (The Siren Series, Book 2)

  The Heart (The Siren Series, Book 3)

  Bet on Love Series

  Bet on Us (An NA Contemporary Romance)

  Bet on Me (An NA Contemporary Romance)

  Every Wrong Reason

  The Five Stages of Falling in Love

  Trailer Park Heart

  Never Fall in Love with a Rockstar

  The Opposite of You (Opposites Attract Series)

  The Difference between Us (Opposites Attract Series)

  The Problem with Him (Opposites Attract Series)

  The Something about Her (Opposites Attract Series)

  Constant (The Confidence Game Duet)

  Consequence (The Confidence Game Duet)

  Connect with Rachel on her website at:

  www.authorrachelhigginson.com

  Or on Twitter:

  @mywritesdntbite

  Or on her Facebook page:

  Rachel Higginson

  Keep reading for an excerpt from one of Rachel’s other young adult romances, The Rush.

  The Rush Preview

  Please enjoy this excerpt from The Rush, book #1 in the Siren Series by Rachel Higginson

  “Ah, Ms. Pierce, I wish I could say I was happy to see you,” Mrs. Tanner, the evil witch of a secretary, acknowledged me with a smug smirk that seemed to confirm the fact that yes, in case you were wondering, high school is the ninth ring of hell.

  “Oh, Mrs. Tanner, I wish I could say the same thing,” I replied as sweetly as I could. I met her halfway with a long counter in between us.

  She was not amused with me.

  “You can’t miss anymore school Ivy,” Mrs. Tanner warned and I realized it was practically painful for her to give me advice to heed. This must be coming from the principal, the male principal Mr. Costas. “At least not this semester, unless you have a written note from your doctor. Mr. Costas would like to re
mind you that you are going to have to work hard enough to catch up this late in the quarter and that skipping, ditching or taking unnecessary sick days will not benefit you toward your goal of graduation.”

  “Tell Mr. Costas, I appreciate that he’s looking out for me,” I answered in that same sickly sweet voice I used to annoy the hell out of her.

  She ignored me. “Here is your class schedule.”

  “Thank you.” I snatched it from her hand and turned on my heel before she offered any more unsolicited advice.

  “The faculty of this school would also like to ask that you not send any more of its students to the hospital,” she called out snidely to my back.

  I tensed immediately, my back ramrod straight and my nerves shot to sudden hell. “I’ll do my best,” I ground out and picked up pace.

  I just needed to get to the glass door, push it open and get to class.

  Fifteen more seconds.

  “If you have any extra cash on you, that canister by the door is for Sam’s recovery fund,” she finished on a high note.

  I couldn’t help myself. I should have bolted, and not just from the office, from school, from Omaha, from America…. I should have just gone.

  But instead of listening to the sound voice of reason my inner conscience was screaming at me, I let the rotting guilt spread its ugly, vicious wings and glanced down at the canister. There he was. Sam. Smiling and happy in his senior picture that was not at all indicative of what he looked like now…..

  The canister was covered with construction paper asking for donations to help with his physical therapy and explaining that he used to be a senior at this school, that he used to be a basketball star and that he used to be able to walk…. The same life he never got the chance to live before a car accident changed his world forever. The plastic cover had a slit cut out of the top so you could drop money into it, long enough for coins and wide enough for folded up dollar bills.

  I couldn’t do this.

  I didn’t want to do this.

  I felt my breakfast lurch in my very upset stomach. I lunged for the office door knowing even a second more spent trapped in the same room as that canister was going to send me into another breakdown.

  Only this time there would be serious consequences to pay.

  I threw the door open without seeing. I mean literally I couldn’t see anything. My mind had slipped into the horrific memories of the past and I was pretty sure I could make a solid plea for temporary insanity at this point.

  So when I shoved the door with as much force as I was capable of and met shouting resistance and then found myself tripping, toppling over something on the floor, I was completely taken off guard. The situation was made worse when in the middle of my fall I was drenched with severely hot liquid and landed painfully on my back, soaking wet.

  I lay there for several moments sprawled out awkwardly on the hard tile before the clearest, deepest gray eyes I had ever seen hovered over me. His thick brow line and hard edges to his tanned face prove he was male, definitely male. Our gazes locked together and I felt uncomfortably immobilized as the liquid I could now identify as coffee started to cool on my shirt and against my skin.

  And then those eyes narrowed on me. My eyes flickered to a face that was completely unreadable, in that I couldn’t identify his expression except that it wasn’t good. Like…. he was mad at me. Like, he was pissed at me.

  “Let me up,” I growled, confused by his less than stellar reaction.

  “Excuse me?” he asked politely, schooling his expression and realistically sounding polite, like he hadn’t heard me correctly.

  “Let me up,” I slowed my speech down, thinking he just hadn’t heard me, probably because he was so disconcerted from staring into my eyes.

  I’m not being stuck up here. That’s just usually what happened. I was speaking from experience.

  “No problem.” He scooted back from me and I scrambled to my feet. He joined me seconds later with two empty coffee cups in his hand.

  We both side-stepped the spilled coffee puddled in the hallway and I thought for a second that I heard him huff an impatient sigh, but I knew that had to be wrong.

  The halls were empty now, and we were left to stare each other down in front of the office. I prayed Mrs. Tanner had gone back to hiding in her hole of a break room; otherwise I needed to be concerned with her swooping down at any moment to haul my ass to the principal’s office. If I was lucky she would demand a detention, but more than likely she would be petitioning for a suspension. She would use this or any other thing she could find against me.

  Like I assaulted gray eyes with his hot coffee in an attempt to end any promising future he might have. Like this would be related in some way to Sam.

  Realizing that could be the case, I looked down at my shirt hoping to have evidence that I was actually the one assaulted. And then hope turned to irritation when I noticed that it was completely ruined, and uncomfortably sticky and cold. Not that it was a designer shirt…. but the tight fitting, scoop neck black long-sleeved tee looked great with my gray bubble skirt and knee high charcoal boots. And the only extra piece of clothing I had with me was my favorite hoodie that I wasn’t supposed to wear.

  “What am I going to do now?” I bit out, while mystery man watched me from a few feet away.

  “Excuse me?” he asked politely again, only this time I heard the faint tones of aggression and confusion.

  Not possible.

  “You spilled coffee all over me; I don’t have a change of clothes, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?” I asked not at all politely.

  “I spilled coffee on you?” he asked slowly, his patience growing thin.

  I stopped then, in that moment and lifted my eyes to meet his again. He wasn’t looking at me though, his arms were crossed and he was looking around the hallway as if he couldn’t actually believe what was happening and he needed someone else to clue him in. I took his distracted second to look him over.

  He was all bad boy with thick layered dark brown hair that was clearly not styled and left messy and sexy from sleep. He had the thick kind of eyelashes that made most girls go crazy, with tanned skin completely in contrast to his silver gray eyes. His gray t-shirt that was just a little too tight, stretched over his biceps deliciously. His low slung jeans completed what might as well have been the uniform for all things wicked.

  “Are you seriously going to blame me?” he asked in disbelief, drawing my attention away from the hollow of his throat.

  “You spilled coffee on me,” I pointed out, pulling my shirt away from my skin mostly because it was so uncomfortable but also and a bit calculatingly because I knew it would expose my stomach and I was dying to see his reaction to a little skin.

  “You came flying out of the office like a bat out of hell and ran into me,” he laughed unbelievably. And not once did his eyes fall to my exposed skin.

  “Listen, I don’t have time for this, I’m already late for class,” I ignored his potentially valid point and waited for the part where he would shake off his disbelief and ask for my number.

  “You’re seriously unbelievable,” he continued to sound irritated with me and honestly it was a little disconcerting.

  “Me?” I gasped. “You’re unbelievable!”

  Only I really meant that. Something was wrong. Like maybe I was broken.

  Maybe I was broken….?

  I had to test this theory, which meant swallowing all of my pride. My entire life thus far had conditioned me to think that nothing was ever my fault and there was always someone else to blame. Usually a man. An apology would take some effort on my part.

  “You are one snide little-”

  “Wait a second, before you start calling names,” I interrupted him, holding my hand up before he could get any naughty words out of that beautiful mouth of his. “You caught me way off guard. I may have been a little defensive,” I relented, not feeling a single word I was saying, but knowing if I wanted to get to the b
ottom of this I would have to play his game.

  “You are apologizing for being defensive?” he clarified, not looking at all pacified.

  What the hell?

  “Yes, um, that and for running into you,” I mumbled in a rush.

  “What was that?” he stepped forward, tightening the arms that were folded across his chest. I knew he heard me…. cocky bastard.

  “I apologize for running into you, I was in a hurry,” I offered magnanimously.

  “Obviously,” he narrowed his eyes on me again and rocked back on his heels. “It’s fine, I mean, you took most of the hit anyway.” He nodded to my stained shirt and that’s when I realized he was completely dry except for the hem of his t-shirt.

  I hesitated for a long moment, feeling irrationally vulnerable under his scrutiny. Which wasn’t fair, because I was usually the one getting to do the scrutinizing. He looked me over for all of three more seconds before seeming to come to an indifferent conclusion.

  Which, let’s be honest, confused the hell out of me.

  “I can write you a pass,” he offered out of the blue. This was it! This was him showing his true colors! But his tone of voice was not anything like the doting, fawning boys I was used to.

  “You can?” I squeaked while still feeling exposed for some strange reason.

  “I’m the office aide this hour, which is why I had coffee in the first place,” he motioned to the still wet ground.