The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set

by Heidi Catherine

  “Don’t anybody move,” he said.

  “I don’t condone violence, but it’s the only way!” called the Princess. “Hurry!”

  Micah saw Jeremiah rise from his mat and snatch the Conductor’s sword from his hands so quickly that he didn’t have time to react.

  The Whisperer with the birthmark rose from her mat and began running to the front of the arena. But she didn’t get far, stopped by a sea of Whisperers clambering to get to the Conductor.

  Jeremiah was pushed back, not given the chance to use the sword he’d taken, as Whisperers piled on top of the Conductor.

  From where she was at the back of the arena, Micah could hear screaming, shouting, cries of victory and one final howl that she assumed came from the man who’d commanded them not to move.

  One by one, the Whisperers backed away, and soon Micah could see what was left of the Conductor. The Princess’s wish had been granted. The Conductor was dead. There was no doubt about that.

  The Whisperers returned to their mats, bowing their heads at the balcony and the girl they’d just pinned all their hopes on. Except for Jeremiah, who remained at the front of the arena, holding the Conductor’s sword in his shaking hands.

  The Princess had tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t let you down. Now, do you see the man who holds the sword?”

  She pointed at Jeremiah and a thousand heads turned in his direction. “He’s your new leader and you must put your faith in him. Trust him as you just trusted me. Soon this—” she swept her hand across the arena— “will be finished. We may not be warring with other kingdoms, however, my father has begun a war within his own. It’s not a war that he’ll win.”

  The Princess drew in a breath so deep that the air in the arena seemed to move toward her in response.

  “I need you to all continue to trust me. Even though you may not know me, you need to take a chance on me. You must pretend to fear Jeremiah. Do as he says. Appear to be giving him the respect the King expects of his Conductor. He may pretend he’s about to hurt you, but he won’t. He’s your salvation. Be patient. Hold on. Freedom is coming!”

  Micah felt something wet drip onto her lap and realized that she too was crying.

  They’d done it.

  Jeremiah was the Conductor. And now, not only would they soon be free, but all the other poor souls trapped in this arena would be free too.

  The Princess raised her hand and blew kisses down to them, before turning and leaving the balcony, the hope she’d given them still present in the room.

  “Freedom is coming!” cried one of the Whisperers. His chant was joined by others as the arena broke into the sounds of hope.

  Then there was the sound of a sword tapping on the floor.

  Silence spread across the room in a wave.

  “You heard what our future Queen said.” Jeremiah held the sword in the air. “Freedom is coming, but freedom is not yet here. Please let us have some order, so our plans don’t fail. We are close, however, we’re not there yet.”

  The Whisperers sat on their mats and bowed their heads, understanding.

  Micah smiled. They were trusting him, just like the Princess had asked them to. She really was brave as well as beautiful. Forte Cadence would soon be in safe hands.

  “There’s just one thing…” said Jeremiah.

  All eyes rose and were glued on him now.

  “This.” He pointed at the Conductor’s body with his sword. “I need one of you to take responsibility for this. The King will demand an explanation.”

  Nobody moved.

  “I’ll have you taken to the dungeon. I give you my word that I won’t kill you. You won’t be there for long. I’ll see to it that you’re released as soon as possible.”

  Still, nobody moved.

  “We can’t succeed without a volunteer,” said Jeremiah again, and Micah wondered if perhaps she should raise her hand. She wasn’t needed anymore. She’d done all she could do to get Jeremiah where he needed to be. But would Jeremiah be able to concentrate on his task ahead, if she were locked away in a cell?

  There was a movement in front of Micah and she realized there was no need for her to volunteer. Someone else had. The woman with the birthmark had risen to a stand and put her hand in the air.

  “I’ll do it. I deserve no better. We all killed the Conductor, but I alone, killed the woman who sat to Jeremiah’s left. It must be me. However…”

  Jeremiah nodded, encouraging her to continue to speak.

  “However, if I don’t make it out of here alive, you must promise to look for my son. He was unwell when I was taken from him and has nobody left to care for him. I’m so afraid.”

  Micah was still unsure how this woman had known that Jeremiah needed to be the one to stand before them, but her motives were now clear. She’d sacrificed the life of the Whisperer, believing her actions would be the only thing that would save her son. She was desperate to get back to him so she could nurse him to health. And now she was making another sacrifice. Herself.

  Some time in the dungeon in the hope she’d live to see her son again.

  A mother’s love was a powerful force. Micah wondered if her own mother had loved her like that.

  Remembering the last moments of her mother’s life, she knew for certain that she had. Her mother’s last words were of concern for her children, not herself. Once again, she hoped she’d heard her tell her that she loved her before it’d been too late.

  Micah stepped forward on her mat and took the hand of the brave Whisperer, squeezing it tightly. This mother needed to be with her child. This child needed his mother. Micah didn’t have a mother and she didn’t have a child. She couldn’t let this woman make the sacrifice.

  “I’ll do it instead,” she called to Jeremiah. “Leave this woman alone.”

  She watched her brother’s face threaten to break underneath his brave facade.

  He bent and took the Conductor’s whistle from around his neck, blowing it until two guards came running into the arena.

  The guards looked at the body of the Conductor and then at Jeremiah holding both the sword and the whistle.

  “That woman killed the Conductor,” Jeremiah said, pointing in Micah’s direction. “I am your Conductor now. Please, take her to the dungeon and send some workers to clean up this mess.”

  Micah took in a deep breath, still holding the hand of the Whisperer beside her, who was clutching her like a vice. She steeled herself for what was to come.

  Jeremiah walked the guards toward Micah, but just as they were about to seize her, Jeremiah called them to a stop.

  “No, that one,” he said, lifting a finger to point to the woman beside her. “That one.”

  Micah barely had time to react, when the guards grabbed hold of the Whisperer—a mother who yearned for nothing more than her son—and took her away. She didn’t scream or drag her feet. Instead, she walked to her fate with her head held high.

  “My son’s name is Samson,” called the Whisperer, as she was taken through the door, her words echoing around the arena.

  “Her son needs her,” Micah said to Jeremiah, who was still standing by her side.

  “And I need you,” he said to Micah, keeping his voice low. “I can’t do this without you.”

  She held back her tears as she nodded, ashamed that she was feeling relieved. That woman had shown so much courage. It was now more important than ever that they succeed. Too many of them had done things they’d never normally do. Lives had been taken that should never have been lost. Regrets had been made and innocence had been stolen.

  If freedom was coming, it’d better hurry up and come fast. There was only so much more of this they could take.

  ROSE

  THE ONE

  Rose was shaking so violently that the water in her bath was lapping at the edges and threatening to spill over.

  She’d just killed a man. Not with her own hands, but certainly the responsibility for h
is death was hers alone.

  Jeremiah was the Conductor now. Their plan had somehow worked.

  She trailed her hands over her skin, trying to wash away her guilt. Was she a murderer?

  Lying back in the bath, she closed her eyes and let herself sink under the water, feeling her hair float out in all directions, like it had taken on a life of its own.

  A shadow moving across the washroom caught her eye and she sat up quickly, droplets of water pouring from her body as they struggled to meet up with the rest of their kind.

  A Whisperer was standing by her bath, staring at her.

  “Don’t you touch me!” said Rose, crossing her arms across her chest to preserve her dignity. Was her father still sending Whisperers to try to kill her? And after what she’d just witnessed in the arena, did she still need to be afraid?

  The Whisperer removed her hood, and Rose saw it was Micah. She let out a deep breath.

  “It’s only me.” Micah held up her hands.

  “Pass me my towel,” said Rose, pointing.

  Micah picked up the towel and held it open for Rose to step into, averting her gaze.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you in a … private moment,” Micah said. “I needed to be sure you were alone.”

  “Definitely alone,” said Rose, wrapping the towel around herself and feeling instantly better once covered. “I’m just jumpy at the moment. Every shadow is someone trying to kill me.”

  “That’s understandable. Looks like you’re taking precautions though.” Micah nodded toward the dagger she had beside the bath. The same one Rose had taken when she went to save Tash that night. She’d been carrying it with her ever since, not that she’d needed to use it so far. She’d killed the Conductor with her command—her words—which was sort of ironic given his position.

  “Jeremiah’s in the Conductor’s study. His study. He wants to see you urgently. He sent me for you.”

  Rose nodded, still feeling shaken.

  “Princess,” Micah said, reaching to touch her on the arm. “Thank you. What you did today was … inspired.”

  Rose smiled. “And here I’ve been thinking it was evil. I killed a man.”

  A sadness crossed Micah’s eyes. “I did too,” she whispered.

  “This is a war. Lives will be lost.” Rose touched Micah on the arm, not wanting her to feel sad. They’d all done things they weren’t proud of. But they were all things that’d needed to be done for change to happen. Otherwise how many more lives were going to be taken in the process?

  “Is Jeremiah okay?” Rose asked, wondering what she could expect when she saw him. It’d been so long since they’d last spoken. Seeing him in the arena had been both uplifting and heartbreaking. There really was nobody else like him. It was like he’d been born to this world, just for her.

  “Yes and no.” Micah both shook and nodded her head, then decided on a shrug. “He’s dreading meeting with the King, your father. I don’t think he’s sure what he has to do. If you want him to kill him with his sword—”

  “Not his sword!” Rose interrupted. “His words. Jeremiah is going to kill my father with the very weapon he’s been using against all of us. Words. Come with me and I’ll explain to you at the same time as Jeremiah.”

  Micah bowed her head. “I must go to the kitchen now and do my work. We can’t let the King become suspicious.”

  “Then I’ll go alone.”

  Micah nodded. “Thank you.” She did some kind of strange curtsy and scurried from the bathroom, leaving Rose to get dressed.

  Rose pulled her dress over her head and looked in the mirror briefly, trying to comb her hair with her fingers. Since her bedchamber burnt down, she’d looked a mess. It hadn’t bothered her. Until now. She was embarrassed to admit it, but she wanted to look her best for Jeremiah. Which was crazy, as she was certain he wouldn’t be looking at the styling of her hair (or lack of) when he saw her. He loved her for so much more than how she wore her hair. She could see it in his eyes.

  Poking her tongue out at her disheveled appearance, she left the washroom and set off to find him.

  With each turn of the corridor, each step she took, the knot in her stomach tightened.

  Jeremiah. Ever since that day he’d told her his name, she’d turned it over on her lips, letting the sound caress her. The boy who used to bring her breakfast had become her whole reason to exist.

  When she reached the Conductor’s study and put her hand to the door handle, she hesitated. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if his love for her was like a brother loved a sister—like he loved Micah—when her love stretched so much further than that. If she took every cell of her body and lined them up until they reached high into the sky and touched the sun, even that wouldn’t describe how far her feelings stretched. He was threaded through her being like he was a part of herself.

  She opened the door.

  Jeremiah wasn’t sitting behind the large oak desk, instead, he was pacing the room. His head snapped up and he turned to her, his eyes filling with surprise and anguish.

  “Rose!” He went quickly to her side and placed one hand on either side of her face, pressing his forehead to her own.

  She tilted her head and pressed her lips to his, desperately hoping for him to respond.

  His hands slid behind her head and he deepened the kiss in a way that chased away her fears. With that one kiss, her feelings for him flew even higher than they had before, touching not only the sun but now reaching out into the far corners of the universe. He’d been made for her, just as she’d been made for him. When she kissed him, they were no longer two lonely souls, they were one being, united by love.

  “I love you,” she said, pulling back just enough so she could trail small kisses from his lips down to his jawline.

  “Rose, you don’t know me.”

  “I know you,” she said, her kisses peppering his neck, until his head tilted back and he gasped.

  “I know you,” she said again. “And I want to know more of you.”

  “Rose, your father will be here soon,” he said, pulling himself from her. “We must talk.”

  He was right. Deciding that the only way to be able to resist touching him was to put a large object physically between them, she went behind his desk and sat down.

  “I have a plan,” she said.

  “I do too.” He picked up his Conductor’s sword. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “No, Jeremiah.” She leaped from her chair. “You’ve never used a sword. My father is a trained fighter. The risk is too great.”

  “Then…” He ran his fingers across his scalp. “I don’t understand.”

  “Then listen.” Yet before she could outline her thoughts, the door handle turned once more and the door swung open.

  Rose slid from the chair to the floor in one fluid movement, crouching under the desk, hoping she’d been swift enough that whoever had come to pay Jeremiah a visit hadn’t seen her.

  “Your Majesty,” said Jeremiah, confirming Rose’s worst fears.

  “Conductor,” her father said. “We are surprised to see you here so soon. You have moved up the ranks quickly.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m surprised too.”

  “Are you pleased with your new position?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s my honor to serve you.”

  “Excellent.” Rose didn’t need to be able to see her father to know he’d be rubbing his hands together right now. “We expect big things from you. We don’t want to see another change in position for a long time, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “You must regain control. I fear the Whisperers are getting restless. And THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.”

  Rose flinched as her father shouted these last words, longing to reach out to Jeremiah who was no doubt petrified at this very moment.

  “I’ll do my best, Your Majesty.” His voice was shaking, betraying his fear.

  “We need better than your best. We need better th
an everyone’s best. We’re not happy with recent events. There will be a Whisper today.”

  “Today?” asked Jeremiah.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not. I just didn’t expect a Whisper so soon, Your Majesty.”

  “Well?” The King was tapping his foot on the floor now.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” said Jeremiah.

  “Well, aren’t you going to ask us what the Whisper is to be?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. What will we be Whispering for today?”

  “Better. It’s a simple one today. One we have desired for a very long time, and we fear it can wait no longer. We’ve tried other means and success has not been granted.”

  “I’m listening, Your Majesty. What is the Whisper?”

  Rose heard her father clear this throat.

  “The King’s daughters are dead.”

  The knot that’d previously tied Rose’s gut in knots released, then tightened. It was one thing to know your father wanted you dead. It was another altogether to hear him say it.

  “Are you certain, Your Majesty?” asked Jeremiah.

  Rose had to use all her control to resist jumping out from her hiding place and hitting Jeremiah over the head. The King didn’t like to be questioned. And it didn’t matter what he’d asked for. She had a plan.

  “Because you are new,” said her father in a snarl, “we are going to pretend we didn’t hear that. Repeat the Whisper to me, so I know you understand.”

  “The King’s daughters are dead,” said Jeremiah, his voice level now. “I understand, Your Majesty. And I apologize.”

  “Impress us today,” said the King. “We demand that of you.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  There were footsteps and the sound of the door closing.

  “Rose,” said Jeremiah.

  “Wait!” she hissed, knowing her father well enough to know there was a good chance he might return.

  The door opened again.

  “Conductor,” her father said. “Gather your Whisperers. We are keen to get on with this business.”

  The door closed again and her father’s footsteps could be heard disappearing down the hallway. He didn’t feel the same need for silence when the sound was coming from his own feet.