Ashes of Revival (The Abdicate Series Book 1)

by Alex Shobe

  I grow tired of waiting for her and begin the task myself. From root to tip, I drag the brush through my strands. I’m not especially skilled at doing my own hair but I manage to braid two sections near my temples and wrap the plaits around to the back of my head, securing them in place. It’s not extravagant, not like how Gracen does it, but it’ll have to do for now. I reach for my crown and settle it on top of my head. In the mirror of the vanity, the diamonds embedded in the elaborate design of the headgear sparkle as they catch the light of the candles.

  I stand and walk over to my balcony doors. They’ve been closed all day, the result of the intermittent rainfall. Water pelts the balcony in a steady cadence, leaving puddles in the crevices of the stone flooring. The smell of rain is calming, so I crack one of the doors open to catch the scent.

  Once the barrier between me and the outside world is broken, I catch more than the rain’s smell. It sounds far away, but muffled shouting makes it way to me from beyond my grounds, out in the city streets. I pause and close my eyes, giving my ears a better advantage at tuning into the yelling.

  It’s the nobles—it must be. By the tone of the yelling, they aren’t happy, as I knew they wouldn’t be. But are they rioting? I hadn’t expected that from them. The success of my reign depends partially on the support I have from the nobles—and their success depends largely on the support they have from me.

  Are they willing to jeopardize their social standing just because I ended the gladiator fights? I shake my head, upset with their boldness and determined to get to the bottom of it.

  I turn to walk toward my bedchamber door. My footsteps are inadvertently strong as my shoes pound the floor with each step.

  “Guard,” I call out as I approach the door.

  There’s always a guard posted outside my bedchamber, and it shouldn’t take him long to rush to my aid whenever I call.

  “Gua—” I start to say again. I pause when I hear equal commotion in the corridor.

  My bedchamber door bursts open and it’s Gracen. Her face is long, her eyes streaked with fear. She has one hand on the doorknob, the other’s on the door frame. Her shoulders rise and fall rapidly as she struggles to find her breath. She opens her mouth to speak. “Run—”

  Her voice ceases, the air in her lungs no longer supporting her speech. A sword emerges from her chest, right between her breasts. Blood drips from the tip of the blade, then builds up against her clothing as the sword is retracted.

  The light in her eyes fade, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her body crumples to the floor like a discarded doll.

  My body goes numb and my eyes are concentrated on her as I force myself to inhale, to deliver air to my own lungs. Her last word rings in my ears.

  I stumble backward and grab onto a nearby table for support. Regineau enters my bedchamber, his leather boots stepping carelessly over Gracen’s body. His dark eyes barrel down at me, a hint of mischief in his irises. In his left hand, he clutches the blood-soaked sword that ended my handmaiden’s life.

  He isn’t alone—three more of my sworn guards follow him in. Each hosts the same thirsty grimace on his face, a hunger the can only be satisfied by my blood.

  I can’t stay here.

  I force my legs to move, to maneuver through the room filled with all the things that were meant to bring me comfort.

  Davrit enters and stands between the men, two by two posted on either side of him. He puts his hands behind his back and settles into his stance. “Silly girl, you should’ve left well enough alone.”

  My eyes flash from his to each of the guards. “Lay down your swords...or you will be executed for treason.” My mouth is dry, and each word feels like its grating along my throat.

  Davrit chuckles and uses his elbow to nudge the guard to his left. The other guards snicker, joining in Davrit’s amusement

  “You no longer hold any power here,” Davrit says. His voice is hearty, made louder by the high ceilings of the room.

  I shake my head in disbelief, an involuntary response as though the recent events weren’t proof enough.

  I can’t stay here.

  I take another step back, one after the other, away from the men who have betrayed me.

  “What are you waiting for? Kill her,” Davrit says in a cool voice.

  The men approach in unison with their swords drawn. I spin around, my turquoise dress nearly tripping me, and glance around the room frantically as I search for a way out of this. My gaze lands on the half-open balcony doors. I snatch the front of my dress up in my hands and run. When my palms smacks against the thick wooden doors, I ignore the pain coursing down my forearms and force the doors open as quick as I can.

  The outdoors greet me with a steady rainfall. Raindrops land on my eyelashes and my vision goes blurry, but I carry myself forward anyway. I hurry to the edge of the balcony, just as the men come out the doors.

  My mind drifts away from sanity and hones in on survival mode. I climb and throw my legs over the tall railing, my feet dangling twenty feet above solid ground. The handrail feels like it’s made of lightning, hundreds of zaps firing against my palms as I clutch it.

  I glance back and gasp. Regineau is the closest to me. Charging toward me, he pulls his sword up over his head, two hands on the hilt as though he’s about to chop a log. My head snaps back in front of me and my crown flies off, landing with a heavy clang on the balcony floor. I take a deep breath, lean forward, and release my grip on the rail. A loud crash resonates as Regineau’s sword narrowly misses me and strikes the handrail instead.

  My hands claw out, reaching for something, anything, as I free fall to the lilac gardens below my balcony. My eyes close right before impact and I land on my arm. I wince in pain, unsure if my arm is broken or not.

  I don’t have time to check.

  I scramble to my feet, but the waterlogged ground and silky flower petals make it a difficult task.

  “After her!”

  Rain pools in my eyes but I look up toward the balcony to find Davrit and the guards glaring down at me.

  “I want her dead,” Davrit says.

  The men quickly leave his side and are out of my line of sight. I reach out and my fingers find the jagged surface of a stone sculpture, a wolf pup in memory of my stillborn brother. I use it to support my weight and get better footing on the slippery ground. A dull throb radiates along the arm I fell on, but it doesn’t hurt like it’s been broken. I force out a sigh of relief out, wasting seconds that I can’t spare. The men are coming, and they have all but one goal in mind.

  I move out of the lilac bushes, ignoring the limp in my gait and moving my feet as quick as I can manage. My hair sticks to my face as cohesively as my clothing sticks to my body. I used to enjoy the rain, but now I see it as a hindrance.

  I hurry through the courtyard, unsure of where I’m going or where I’d even want to go. The whole city of Demesne harbors hostility—I’ll be in danger as long as I’m within these city limits.

  Over my shoulder, the grunts and groans of the guards travel to my ears as they run to catch up with me. With the sun rapidly setting, I’m appreciative of the incoming cover of night. A hollowness fills my chest with the realization that I wouldn’t stand a chance, otherwise.

  I approach the castle walls, gaining speed toward the still open gate. Any other day, it would’ve been closed at dusk. In the dimness, I watch for the silhouette of any guards posted at the wall. There’s no one here. Part of me is relieved, but the other part is enraged that they’d leave the castle’s perimeter unprotected.

  I race toward the city. It’s been so long since I’ve traveled these city streets, but I remember the sharp turns of the roads as though an internal map is ingrained in my mind. It turns out those frequent outings with Mother proved to be helpful, after all. I navigate through the city without being detected by the numerous nobles who have gathered in the streets. Most of them, guards included, are gathered in the plaza, next to the monument that, ironically, display
s the honor and respect of my family line. Apparently that honor ends with me.

  Exhaustion settles in my body, and after a few moments to catch my breath, I reach the outskirts of the city. The cobblestone eventually tapers off into dirt roads, now flooded from the day’s storm. The lower part of my gown is completely soaked. Water has absorbed through the fabric up to the middle of my thighs. What was once a bright blue-green gown has now taken a more tattered look, dingy and muddy by comparison.

  The ground is flooded, and a pool of water separates the city from the forest ahead. I glance around, hoping to find a better way to get around it, but with the sun gone and the moon’s light hiding behind more storm clouds, my visibility is reduced to none.

  “Is that her?”

  “Yeah, that’s her!”

  My skin jumps off my body, my feet frozen in place. I don’t bother looking behind me to see who spoke, or even to see how many of them it is. My brain is still in survival mode, and there’s only one thing it wants to do—get away at all costs.

  I take a step into the water, my foot submerged at ankle level. My face contorts as my toes flex inside of my shoes, water filling up the entire cavity. The men are still behind me, and I’m sure they can hear the sloshing my feet produces as I wade through the water.

  Keep going. Don’t stop.

  My shoes feel heavy each time I lift them to propel myself forward. I make it to the other side of the flooded area, still unable to see where I’m going and unable to hear the men’s voices. I don’t hear the inevitable splashing of the water as though the men were following me, but I don’t dare take a chance. I need to put as much distance between me and here as possible.

  My arms outstretched in front of me, I maintain a quick pace through the woods while avoiding running directly into trees and other obstacles. I continue like this for what seems like a few more minutes until the moonlight gradually breaks through the clouds.

  I can see—not clearly, but it’s better than nothing.

  I pick up my pace now, the rain tapering off from this territory. With the back of my hand, I wipe the excess water from my eyes. I’m exhausted. My legs are on the verge of giving out, my thighs and calves on fire from running. Maybe I could take a few more moments to rest? I shake my head and dissolve such suggestion from my mind. Keep going.

  My feet sprint me forward despite my craving for rest. At the last moment, my eyes catch a downed tree, probably from the storm. I jump over it, land clumsily on the other side, and run into something. No, not something—someone. A man.

  We both tumble down a steep slope, our bodies rolling over branches and rocks, until solid ground disappears from under us. Air whooshes around me as I fall, my hair lifting from my scalp. We land against the sodden earth of a crevice, and in a daze, I reach out to defend myself. He shifts and uses the weight of his body to pin mine against the ground. I wriggle my arms free and claw out, pushing with depleted strength to get him off me. I try kicking too, but my legs still feel like fresh noodles from the kitchen. A scream wells in my diaphragm but constricted lungs prevent me from letting it out.

  “Get— off—” I say through panted breaths.

  He grabs my wrists and straddles my stomach, though no longer bearing his complete weight on me. My body won’t let me stop thrashing, but my mind quickly comes to terms with closure.

  This is it. This is where I die.

  Colton

  A distinct burn stings my forearms from where her fingernails broke the skin and drew blood. My hands wrap around her wrists, pushing them into the ground to keep her from clawing my face off next. I can’t tell who she is, only that she’s not one of the men who was chasing me earlier.

  “Relax...” I say, her body bucking underneath mine.

  The rain picks up again. Heavy drops pound against my back and fall in sheets from my clothes. The girl squirms, sinking herself further into the bed of soggy leaves, and bears her teeth. Dark hair streaks across her face in wet ribbons.

  “Let—me—go.”

  “Then, relax,” I say again. “If you stop thrashing about like a trapped fox, I’ll let go.”

  She releases another burst of energy despite my compromise. When her actions get her nowhere and her movements subside, I ease my hold on her wrists.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, though she should be asking me that. I rub my palm over the minor gouges on my arm.

  “Yes,” she snaps. “Now, get off of me.”

  My jaw drops and eyebrows squeeze together, but I comply. My hand smacks against a puddle as I center my balance and rise to my feet. “You’re the one who ran into me.” I wipe my muddy palms on the back of my pants and offer her a hand up. The moonlight overhead cuts through the trees and bounces off her eyes. Her face is contorted into disgust, so I withdraw my hand.

  “Suit yourself.” I step away from her and turn in place within the hole. Both ends of the narrow crevice we fell into taper to a point. I run my hand against the stone wall, searching for any sort of foothold, but there’s nothing except ridged rock. I let out a heavy sigh and turn to face her. “Look at what you did.”

  She shuffles to her feet. “Me? It’s not like I put us here on purpose.” She flicks wet leaves off her shoulder then reaches up to wring the water from her hair.

  “You should’ve watched where you were going.”

  Even in the dimness of the crevice, her glare doesn’t go unnoticed. “Well, you shouldn’t have been in my way.”

  I give her a sidelong look and I’m sure she returns the expression. After another moment, I release a sharp exhale and turn back toward the wall. My fingers find just enough of a ledge to grip. I dig the toe of my boot into the rocky wall and lift just barely to test my weight. I pull myself up and search for the next hold. As I’m reaching, the portion of the wall holding up my feet gives way. Chunks of rock and dirt plummet to the ground with me following. The girl throws her hands up in front of her to guard from the puddle splashing outward as my back smacks against it. My fist pounds against the water, and I remain there for a moment, letting the rain beat against my face.

  She moves to help me, pauses, then stays where she is. “Are… you all right?”

  I swipe my hand over my face to clear away the constant drizzle. “Uh huh,” I say through clenched teeth. I groan then pick up both myself and my dignity from the ground.

  “Are we going to die down here?” Her voice is quiet. She shifts her weight between her feet, drifting in and out of the stream of moonlight.

  The tightness in my face loosens and I shrug. “The walls are impossible to climb even if it wasn’t raining—so, probably.” A shudder passes through my body. I’ve survived the arena and an angry mob, yet a hole is going to be what claims my life?

  I lean against the wall and watch the girl as she paces the narrow pit. In the darkness, she bumps into me each time she passes, never once bothering to apologize or even acknowledge me. The growl of thunder fills the silence between us as the rain fades.

  “Can you lift me out?” she asks, stopping in front of me.

  My brow raises. “What?”

  She nods toward the top edge of the crevice. “It’s not that high. You can probably lift me out.”

  I push off the wall and look upward. “Maybe. But who’s to say that if I do, you won’t just run off and leave me here?”

  She scoffs, her arms crossing over her chest. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I don’t know you or what you will and won’t do.”

  “I won’t.” There’s a hardened edge to her voice.

  Another round of silence passes between us. Droplets of rain pat in a steady cadence against the puddles at our feet. I don’t want her help. I don’t want her to run back to the city and gossip with her highborn friends about how she helped a lowly village boy out of a hole. There’s enough that separates our two social classes without adding charity to the mix. But the fact remains, I can’t get out of this hole by myself.

  “Fine, but if you do
and I die down here, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

  A soft chuckle rolls from her mouth, one that sounds like she tries to conceal. I smirk as my fingers interlace and I hold them low so she can step into them. She places her hands on my shoulders. There’s a faint scent of jasmine on her skin. It’s a sharp contrast to the pungent odor I’d become accustomed to in the dungeon. Once she has a firm grip, I lift her. My forehead presses against the silk fabric covering her stomach as I support her feet. Pebbles drop from above while she works to find a part of the wall to hold. I push her higher, as far as my arms can extend, until the weight of her body eases from my hands.

  At the surface, she scrambles to her feet then peers down at me. Her lips shift and I could swear she grins before disappearing. She’s going to leave me down here. I knew it. It’s clear she’s from a noble family, and I’m a fool to believe her word was anything more than self-serving.

  Long minutes pass as the hole becomes more cramped from my growing solitude. The sound of shuffling above me pulls me from my renewing hatred of nobility, and I look up. She’s there, lowering a thick bough down to me.

  “Watch your head.” Her hands work, one over the other, and the branch inches closer. My eyes widen and a breath of relief deflates from my chest. I lift on my toes to guide the wood.

  “Got it.” I wedge it so it lies at a slant. As I step on it, the wood doesn’t bend under my weight. I take my time climbing but the incline is too steep at the top. There’s no way I’d be able to continue up the branch without the top-heavy imbalance sending me tumbling back to the floor. She must realize my predicament because she bends down and extends her hand to me.

  “Come on,” she says.

  I reach and close my hand around her wrist. As she pulls with what little strength a noble girl must have, I balance my feet on the branch and climb the rest of the way out of the hole. She lets go of me and leans back so she sits with her arms stretched out behind her. Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession. My heart is pumping as well, though, I’m not sure if it’s because I just escaped a slow and tortuous death.