Blurb
An impossible choice that can only end in ashes...
I know I'm about to be fired. After the civil war, when Sven Mishal accepted the mantle of Phoenix King from Mia Hill, it's the obvious outcome. I was appointed by the late, psychotic King Emberich so he won't see my loyalty to the now devastated flocks.
Sven has no choice but to get rid of me.
It really doesn't help that he's golden, gorgeous and when I'm near him, my heart literally flutters. Stupid heart.
Unrest bubbles beneath the surface of the Phoenix community. Most are still angry about how the conspiracy and coup went down, how badly it destroyed lives, and they blame Sven. Enough to want to kill him.
How do I stop an assassination with my own life intact?
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From the Ashes
The Phoenix Wars Book One
Miranda Martin
Nadia Hunter
Copyright © 2018 by Miranda Martin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Red Hot Sneak Peek: Dragon’s Baby
Chapter One
I tossed my fire-red hair and raised my chin in defiant pride at each dismissive stare I caught from the late King Emberich’s people. I might be fired in the next hour, but Adara Ilma was never one to slink away from confrontation.
Ugh, I just referred to myself in the third person. I think the stress was getting to me.
My world—my flock—had been turned upside down. Hell, it had been given a good shake and thrown against the wall to shatter into a million jagged pieces. So many dead. And here I was, trying to put that mess back together again to form some kind of functioning whole. I hoped.
I watched the new guard’s left eyelid flicker as he refused to stop staring me down. Even just a few weeks ago, I might have said he was being paranoid. But now? Now, I didn't know if I'd ever look at the people around me and not see possible ulterior motives.
Thinking of the reason I was here started to make my palms sweat, and I wanted to fidget with my tunic, but I forced my hands to be still at my sides. I was waiting in the hallway in front of the audience chamber annex, just off the much larger main audience chamber, to speak with the new king and probably lose my job as the Internal Liaison to the Crown. I highly doubted he wanted anything to do with Emberich’s people. With me.
I was surprised the new king wasn't using the larger chamber to speak with King Emberich's appointees. Or the Throne Room—that was where Emberich had liked to meet with people. Undeniably vast and ornate, the Throne Room drove home the power of the Phoenix King, set an intimidating tone for whoever was unlucky enough to enter. Perhaps this was an intentional, strategic move, one designed to separate the new power from the old.
I'd only been in this smaller audience chamber a few times before when I was meeting with others—not the king. While it was ornate and impressive as well, it was also undeniably more intimate due to its smaller size. It also did not immediately make one feel insignificant like the Throne Room did. Not that any of that mattered anymore. Both rooms were simply window-dressing for what happened in them.
And this was just a formality. I was certain Sven—now King Sven—was simply “cleaning out the palace” after his coronation.
A coronation that I was certain would be spoken of for generations to come. It was...a surreal experience.
Directly on the heels of a civil war that killed so many of us, we were still in shock at the death of our monarch. Even after having days to digest the fact that King Emberich was dead, killed by his own guards, the coronation of the new king felt like another act in a play nobody had bought tickets to.
Especially since we were all expecting a queen.
The roar of approval when Mia Hill from Dragon Lord Ashur's skein called Sven up to the stage to abdicate the throne and hand the crown over to him had been deafening. I had not clapped along in approval with the others. It felt premature, at best. In truth, we had no good options.
Yes, Emberich had been a terrible king and had been flirting with the edges of insanity towards the end, judging by his actions. His decisions to go after not just the treasonous group, but their flocks as well, did not strike me as a wise or sane decision. And that was after years of rule that showed him to be selfish and power mad. I was certainly not upset that he was gone.
But Mia was a confusing mix that I had no idea how to react to. How could someone who carried the blood of both dragons and humans along with her phoenix blood be loyal to one alone? Perhaps if she had been raised among us, I might have had hope she would feel the connection to us was strongest. But she had spent her childhood among the humans in a city dome.
Emberich would not have allowed her to grow into the person she was had she been within his reach, but it did mean she'd been cut off from that part of her heritage. Then she spent a significant amount of time in a dragon's territory, her lover's territory, to be exact. The Dragon Lord Ashur, who was a formidable leader who felt no great love for us, just as we felt none for the dragons.
Of the three races, it was clear to see that Mia had the least ties to the phoenixes. Without her phoenix blood she’d have none, so I was in full support of her relinquishing the crown. I didn’t know how long she would have been able to hold on to it anyway and that would have destabilized us even more, something we couldn’t afford. Perhaps she knew her hold on the position would have been shaky at best.
However, her chosen successor was not an ideal occupant for the throne either. Sven came with his own issues, even if one were to overlook the fact that he did not have a blooded claim to the throne. The most glaring of which was the fact that the conspiracy he led, his rebellion, had kicked off the civil war. Had been the turning point that caused the devastation of our people. Of my own flock.
I felt a pang at that thought, at the people we lost.
But I pushed it down. I didn’t have room for those emotions at the moment. I needed to be strong, to get through this meeting with a modicum of composure. If I'd learned anything working under Emberich, it was that only a king's emotional outburst would be tolerated.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, bringing my thoughts back to the present.
Even apart from Sven’s conspiracy against the crown, it also seemed like some had forgotten that Sven had worked closely with Emberich himself, had actually been appointed by the king. Had been his right-hand man, some would say. And that begged a question I thought was very relevant. How far in temperament and action from Emberich could he actually be? A troubling thought.
But not my only one.
Sven also seemed to have an unusually close relationship with the dra
gons. Why else would Mia have handed the throne over to him? What that meant for his loyalty to the phoenixes, I didn't know yet.
It was also difficult to believe that he hadn't known what Mia was going to do on that stage. That he didn't know he would be the one ultimately on that throne, despite his apparent surprise on Coronation Day. He'd shown himself to be a good enough actor to plot right under Emberich's nose for quite some time. For someone so practiced in hiding the truth, I was certain a feigned shock would be easy enough.
But I also had to admit something to myself. While I could consider all of the rest with a bit of detachment, my mind always circled back to my own flock. The thought of what had happened to it simply made me furious. I was not an unbiased observer.
Was anyone?
I let out a huff of breath that had the guard, Igna, shifting. Perhaps he thought I was trying to blow the door down. His eyes narrowed at my little smile. I let it fade, losing interest in him again.
No, I did not have high hopes for this new king. However, that did not mean he was not my king. For all his flaws and all my reservations, I could not simply ignore his ascension to power, as much as I might wish to. I had a lot of practice in serving a monarch that I did not respect or like. I could do it again. After Emberich, I knew I could handle Sven.
My loyalty was not to any one monarch, but to the phoenixes, to our people, as a whole.
I kept that thought at the forefront of my mind as the guard finally reached out to open the doors leading into the chamber at some unseen signal.
I nodded at Igna politely as I passed and stepped into the audience chamber. He probably felt as unsure as I in his new post. He was not one of Emberich's guards. The first replacement of many I was certain.
When I stepped inside, I did a visual sweep of the room. The ceiling was high, the marble floor under my feet cushioned by a plush gray carpet. Up ahead, the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows were framed with cream-colored curtains, acting as a backdrop for the sturdy, white rectangular table set in front of it.
The space between the doors and that table was sometimes filled with chairs to seat people, but today it was empty except for the table at the front and the people seated at it, all facing me.
Sven was not alone, not that I expected him to be. The core group of his co-conspirators—what was left of them—were all there, arranged around him. Only four now. A mere fraction of the original group.
It was difficult for me to spare them more than a drachm of compassion and sympathy when their actions led to so much collateral damage for our people. Perhaps I would feel differently in time. I was not there yet, but I also knew better than to let any of that show upon my face. I had not survived this long to slip up now.
I scanned their faces, looking for some kind of indication about how this meeting was going to go. Arie sat with a neutral expression, her rich, smooth skin gleaming against the white of her tunic. Joash looked the same as ever, his thinning blond hair perhaps slightly thinner, the grooves around his mouth deeper. Stress had left its mark on the oldest one of the group. Blaise was in his early thirties, his short, dark hair kept neat, his even-featured face giving nothing away. Mishal leaned back in his seat, his eyes not even on me, his warm brown skin looking even richer against the pale backdrop of the curtains, his curved nose giving him a sharper appearance than the rest.
I couldn't get a handle on what was coming from their faces. Seemed like everyone wanted to keep their emotions and opinions close to their chests.
My eyes finally settled on Sven, though they had wanted to go there as soon as I stepped into the room. My eye would naturally have gone to him even if he were not the king now. It always had.
It wasn't his looks alone, though those did draw the eye. He was tall, with golden blond hair that fell around his face, reaching his shoulders in an effortless wave. His narrow face was intelligent and attractive, his laser-focused dark eyes arresting against that lighter coloring. His skin was darker than his hair, having that characteristically copper sheen to it that we all had. His body was long and lean, build with a kind of tensile strength that I knew could be lethal.
He was as good with hand-to-hand as he was in his phoenix form during battle, darting fast and hard with a vicious practicality that was as efficient as it was brutal.
Sven was not the indecisive type. King Sven. It was going to be difficult trying to remember that.
At the moment, he was wearing a white silk tunic with black embroidery along the edges and a matching pair of silk pants. Neither of them hid the power in his body, or the readiness with which he sat. I always had the impression of coiled strength ready to strike when I saw him.
The thin gold circle of the crown sat upon his head easily, almost blending with the golden strands of his hair. It suited him. Despite all my reservations, I couldn’t deny it.
He stood as I came in, the others shifting in their seats. A couple murmured something under their breaths, but I didn't catch it.
"Adara Ilma," Sven acknowledged, his sharp eyes on me as Igna closed the doors. "Thank you for coming."
Since the request was basically an order, I simply inclined my head and no more. Why didn't he simply get on with it?
When I didn't say anything else, his eyes narrowed. He didn't look angry. He looked more . . . considering. He spoke again after a brief pause.
"In the course of your duties as the Internal Liaison to the Crown, we will be seeing a lot of each other," he continued, his tone even. "I know you must have your finger on the pulse of the various flocks' concerns. Tell me—what are the people's worries as of late?"
I...what?
I blinked. I was braced to be relieved of my duties so I found myself caught completely flat-footed at the question.
The others started muttering to each other, looking concerned. Blaise and Joash looked particularly concerned, both shooting Sven pointed looks.
"You are not going to keep her on as Liaison," Blaise broke in, incredulity clear in his voice. "She was appointed by Emberich," he reasoned, shooting me a derisive glance.
But there was something more lying just under those statements. A frustration that seemed more personal. I was guessing he was the one who most likely wanted my position, and was not happy at this possible turnaround, not that I expected it to stick.
I waited for Sven to acknowledge their concerns and acquiesce. It would only make sense for him to appoint someone from his inner circle, someone he trusted, but that wasn't what he did.
"So were we," Sven stated mildly, his attention still firmly on me.
Blaise did not look happy at the gentle reminder as he settled back in his seat to glare at me.
Wonderful. I had already made a new friend. Though I doubt he needed to worry. Sven couldn’t possibly be considering actually keeping me on.
This must be a way simply to flex his power as king, to show that he was in charge now. Right?
"Adara?" Sven prodded me again. "Concerns?"
I needed to focus. Whatever was going on here behind the scenes didn't change that.
If he wanted to hear what was wrong, what our people needed help with, it was my responsibility to do a good job relaying that, whether or not he ended up doing anything about it. So I nodded and met his attentive, dark eyes.
"Many of the flocks have been coming to me complaining of the devastation wrought by the...conflict," I started, trying not to antagonize him or anyone else if I didn’t need to. I didn’t know how they were going to try to spin what happened to benefit them. And while I took issue with white-washing anything, it didn't matter. My emotions had no role in this room. Working with Emberich had taught me how to walk on eggshells. In fact, I'd gotten to the point where I could do a full sprint on them if I needed to.
"The civil war left many in need," Sven agreed, not skirting around the issue as I had. No, he opted to face it head on.
Civil war.
That was exactly what it had been, the weight of the phrase settlin
g into the quiet of the room.
"Yes," I agreed, not letting my surprise at his directness show. Or distract me. "Obviously, Arie’s and Mishal's flocks are in dire need." I nodded at them, and they acknowledged me with nods of their own. "And yours as well," I added, turning back to Sven briefly. "Joash's flock...it might be better to dissolve it and have the survivors dispersed among the others." Joash looked down, his mouth tight. Blaise wouldn't look at me. His flock...it was completely gone. "But those aren't the only ones that need help," I continued. Those were the ones that they would have a stake in already, that they would want to help naturally. "Azar's flock, Edmund's flock, Shula's flock, Lilia's flock, and...and my own flock are hurting the most after the others." I took a breath to compose myself. "But I don’t think there are any that were untouched."
Nobody spoke against that statement or any of the others I'd made. Sven—King Sven—nodded, his eyes somber as he regarded me.
"I want you to go meet with them and gather details of what is needed. For our next meeting."
"Really Sven—" Blaise started again, looking up at him from a seated position, shaking his head as he scowled.
"Really," Sven interrupted in a hard voice, sitting down deliberately, his eyes still locked on mine. That voice got through even to Blaise. My eyes flicked over to see him looking away in disgust, his stance on the matter very clear. "Now," Sven continued. "If you will please excuse us, Adara, we have much on our plates today," he said politely, though there was an edge to it. One that didn't bode well for Blaise.
"Of course," I agreed smoothly, bowing slightly at the polite dismissal.
From the Ashes_A Dragons & Phoenixes Novel Page 1
