Shadow Crown
Page 1
Table of Contents
SHADOWCROWN
(Untitled)
SHADOWCROWN
(Untitled)
SHADOWCROWN
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
ARDEN ELIRI
DARIUS TYMOND
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
CERYLIA JARETH
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
ARDEN ELIRI
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
DARIUS TYMOND
BRAXTON HORNSBY
DARIUS TYMOND
ARDEN ELIRI
RYDAN HELSTROM
ARDEN ELIRI
CERYLIA JARETH
BRAXTON HORNSBY
ARDEN ELIRI
ARDEN ELIRI
SHADOW
CROWN
ALSO BY KRISTEN MARTIN
THE AMAZON BESTSELLING ALPHA DRIVE SERIES
The Alpha Drive
The Order of Omega
Restitution
SHADOW
CROWN
BOOK ONE
KRISTEN MARTIN
SHADOW CROWN
Copyright © 2017 by Kristen Martin
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact :
Black Falcon Press, LLC
http://www.blackfalconpress.com
Library of Congress Control Number : 2017907237
ISBN: 978-0-9979092-1-0 (ebook)
Cover Illustration by Damonza © 2017
Map by Deven Rue © 2017
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my Nana – I will always be your
sweet girl. Thank you for believing in me.
PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
CHARACTERS OTHER
Arden: Ar-den illusié: ill-oo-see-ayy
Rydan: Ry-den magick: magic
Darius: Dare-ee-us Caldari: Kal-darr-ee
Aldreda: Al-dray-duh Cruex: Crew
Cerylia: Sur-lee-uh
Braxton: Brax-ten
Xerin: Zer-in
PLACES
Trendalath: Tren-duh-loth
Sardoria: Sar-door-ee-uh
Vaekith: Vy-kith
Orihia: Or-eye-uh
Ipcea: Ip-see
Chialka: Key-all-kah
SHADOW
CROWN
ARDEN ELIRI
I WAS TWELVE years old when I took my first victim. A swift slash to the neck with a twenty-inch blade was my choice of attack, and boy, was it a good one. The man, no older than thirty-two, had dropped to his knees as crimson stained the collar of his tattered shirt, mouth parting as his final breath escaped his lips. I distinctly remember the look of fear on his face, mere moments before the light left his eyes. Fear faded into acceptance, and acceptance faded into nothing. And just like that, I had completed my first mission. It was over.
Looking back on it now, it wasn’t a fair fight. How could he have seen me coming? I’ve been trained for the best by the best. Mercenary missions are much like its victims, here one minute and gone the next. Once King Tymond issues the decree, a member of the Cruex is assigned to carry out the sentence without question.
No doubt. No fear. Just action.
Arden Eliri.
Every time my name is called, I expect to cringe, to flinch. Maybe even bat an eye. But I don’t. I know it should feel wrong to kill, to take lives, to watch life disintegrate so suddenly and know that I’m the cause of it. But it’s who I am. It’s all I know.
And so I continue.
I stand in front of King Tymond with the others. If my name is called, it will mark my thirteenth mission. The others in the Cruex have had a dozen more missions than me, seeing as they’re ten or so years my senior—that is, everyone except for Rydan Helstrom. At eighteen, just one year older than me, he has fifteen missions under his belt. With a sideways glance, I notice that his jaw is clenched and his hands are balled into fists at his sides.
He wants this just as much as I do.
I turn my attention back to the king. Guards surround him in a flurry of chaos. Finally, they grow still, and I try not to shuffle back and forth between my feet. Waiting is my least favorite part of the process.
Just call my name.
After five excruciatingly long minutes, the king finally rises, scroll in hand. He hands it to his apprentice, who hurriedly unfurls the document, the corners flipping upward at the edges. King Tymond wets his lips and looks each of the Cruex up and down with beady eyes before speaking. His glare is potent enough to shatter the very throne that sits behind him.
I take a deep breath. A shiver runs down my spine as his lips part to speak.
“Cruex Mission CLXXVI will occur in the Isle of Lonia.”
I loose the breath I’ve been holding. Lonia. In all twelve of my missions, I’ve never been assigned to Lonia. I’ve heard murmurings of the beauty of the village from some of the other assassins. From what I’ve gathered, it’s much more pleasant than Trendalath, where the Cruex resides and the king reigns. Cloudless skies, deep blue oceans, cobblestone streets with no rubble or debris in sight. Lonia sounds like a dream compared to the poverty and filth that lies just outside the kingdom’s walls—a kingdom headed for its own demise, thanks to Tymond.
I briefly wonder what this new target did to make it onto the Cruex hit list. Our skills are only reserved for the truly despicable: the murderers, the thieves, the schemers. Take my first victim, for example. This murderer was responsible for burning down an entire village—the village of Eroesa—killing all of the women and children that had settled there, ultimately leaving it to fend for itself as a wasteland with a smog-filled sky, covered in ashes and the remains of what once was. Not too long ago, Rydan was assigned a mission in Miraenia, a nearby bay village, to assassinate a thief who had pillaged half of the town
’s food, leaving more than twenty dead over the span of three days. Neither Rydan nor I have ever been to the Isle of Lonia.
Come to think of it, no one has.
I steal another glance at my competition. Rydan’s gold-flecked eyes gleam as he adjusts his posture. He straightens his back and lifts his chin ever so slightly. One could almost mistake him for royalty if it weren’t for the black Cruex uniform and unsightly scar woven along his right jawline.
His fourth mission. It’d happened before we’d grown close. The mission had gone awry in a most unpleasant way, and he’d been rushed back to Trendalath for medical attention. I shiver at the thought, not wanting to go any further down memory lane, and force my attention away from Rydan and toward one of the other assassins.
Percival Garrick. Hardly my competition, Percival’s in his late twenties and has carried out twenty-four successful missions—but even so, King Tymond doesn’t care to hide his dislike for the poor lad. A lifetime of ass kissing and the King would still assign him the most wretched missions without a hint of remorse. A shame, really.
And then there’s Ezra Denholm. A stocky, brute fellow, Ezra appears to be one of the king’s favorites. He’s been assigned to thirty missions, all of which he’s exceeded the king’s expectations, and he’s the same age as Percival! My empathy for Percival grows stronger every time Ezra’s name is called for an assignment. Yes, Ezra’s definitely one I need to watch out for.
Standing proudly next to Ezra are Elias Kent and Hugh Darby, the most annoying pair of cousins in the entire Kingdom of Trendalath. I’m still baffled as to how the two made it into the Cruex and what, if anything, the king sees in them. I’ve never been assigned to a mission with either of them but, rumor has it, they’re absolutely ruthless. They must be good for something; otherwise the king wouldn’t bother keeping them around.
And last but not least is Cyrus Alston, the most senior member of the Cruex. Undoubtedly the king’s right-hand man, Cyrus has completed upward of fifty missions. Determined not to let his age get the better of him, Cyrus spends the bulk of his time in the underground training room, keeping his weapons sharp and his mind sharper. I do hope that, one day, before the king forces him to retire, we’ll be jointly assigned to a mission. I’d finally get to see the real master at work.
I must admit, being the only female in the Cruex ranks was slightly intimidating at first, but I’ve grown fond of the situation. I get my own bedchambers, whereas the male Cruex are crammed into a space three times too small. No one fusses with me, mostly because I keep to myself, or maybe because I’ve frightened them. No one truly knew what I was capable of . . . until the results from my very first mission were made public.
Strike fear into the hearts of all. King Tymond’s favorite saying. I would say I succeeded.
Don’t get me wrong; being an outcast does come with its struggles. Rydan’s really the only one who pays me any attention. He’s the only one who will train with me. Eat with me. Talk to me. But I don’t mind. I’m here to do one thing and one thing only: kill the murderers, the thieves, the schemers. I’m here to do my job.
My eyes make their way back to King Tymond. He’s staring right at me with those light blue—almost translucent—eyes. My heart picks up pace, thumping so hard that the feeling resonates within my entire being.
“Arden Eliri.”
I feel elated as the words leave his lips. He chose me. I try not to smile. Mission number thirteen in Lonia is mine.
I step forward to accept the scroll of parchment. Seeing my name scrawled across the top never ceases to give me chills. I look the king in the eye and bow as the parchment shifts from his hands to mine.
“Report back here tomorrow at 0600 hours for further details.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod as I step back in line with my fellow assassins. The disappointment hanging in the air is palpable.
“Dismissed,” the king says with a wave of his hand.
I hurriedly roll the parchment back into its former condition and stuff it into my waistband. I turn on my heel, realizing that I’m the second to last in line to exit through the wooden double doors. Rydan stands behind me. The five other Cruex members are silent as they walk back to their chambers.
I don’t know what this mission will hold. I don’t know what crimes were committed or who I’m after. But these things are of no concern to me, because only one thing matters.
Lonia is mine—and I never miss my target.
RYDAN HELSTROM
WITH HIS HEART in his throat, Rydan follows closely behind Arden, trying to keep pace with her footsteps. Right foot, left foot, right, left. She seems to be running away from him, in the hopes that she’ll make it to her chambers before they arrive at a chance to speak. How unlike her, to be running off like this. Typically after an assignment is announced, Arden spends the walk back poking fun at the chosen Cruex member, or in this case, flaunting her success. Whether it’s bragging, pointing out flaws, or criticizing strengths, she’s never been one to keep quiet. Except for today.
Today, something is different.
Rydan picks up his stride until he’s walking right alongside her. With a sigh, he extends his arm in front of her, causing her to halt in her tracks.
She glares at him, then pushes his arm down with tremendous force given her petite stature. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Rydan smiles. “There you are. That’s the first thing you’ve said to me all day.” His grin fades as her eyes drop to the floor. When she doesn’t look up, he brings himself closer to her, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hey, what’s going on with you?”
Arden’s gaze slowly retreats from the floor, her piercing green eyes meeting his. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles before pushing her way past him.
He’s seen this before. The thrill before the king announces a mission keeps the assassins intrigued, but once a name is called, the excitement begins to fizzle and reality sets in. Focus and discipline take over, and the lighthearted attitudes from before shift into something much darker. Heavier.
“This mission can’t be any worse than our fourth assignment,” he jokes, hoping that she’ll turn around. When she doesn’t, Rydan keeps his distance behind her, his focus on the back and forth movement of her chestnut brown hair, like the sway of a horse’s tail. Cracking a joke to lighten the mood obviously wasn’t going to work. He’d pulled her out of her own head before, on multiple occasions, but this . . . this would be a hard nut to crack. Approach number two: visceral honesty. “The Isle of Lonia, huh? I wish the king had chosen me for this one,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
She grunts, but continues walking. Still no verbal response.
Approach number three: ask her a question. “How do you feel about training later? I’ll let you be on offense, especially with that injured shoulder of yours.”
At this, Arden turns around, a coy smile tugging at her lips. “You must really want me to talk. And my shoulder feels fine, thank you.”
Rydan shrugs. “Not really,” he says, knowing that his indifference will drive her crazy. “I just need someone to train with tonight.”
The smile falls from her face. “I’ll train with you.” A shadow passes over the hall, and he notices her eyes flicker to his jaw, to his scar. She averts her eyes the minute he catches her staring. “And I’ll take you up on your offer. Being on offense, that is. Are you sure you can handle it?”
Rydan nods as silent shouts of victory ring in his ears. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Arden, it’s that she can’t stand when people act indifferent. Feel one way or the other, there is no gray area. Her words echo in his head as if she’d just spoken them. He finds it somewhat hypocritical though, seeing as she’s the master of indifference.
“Rydan?”
He snaps back to the present. “I’ll let you get some dinner. Let’s meet in the training quarters at 1700 hours sharp.”
Arden
raises her eyebrows. “You sure that’s not too late for you, old man?”
Rydan laughs, the sound echoing throughout the halls. “No, it’s not too late for me. Just because I prefer to go to bed early doesn’t mean I do so every night.”
“Sure you don’t,” she teases. “Just seven days out of the week.”
He laughs again, happy to see the return of her witty self. “Okay, you win. But training is our lifeblood. Without it, we’re out of a job, living outside these walls with nothing to our name. Gotta stay sharp, right?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Unless you prefer a swift knife to the throat.”
He can’t help but smirk at her remark. “I’ll see you in a little while.” As he turns to enter his chambers, Arden clears her throat. “Thanks.”
He meets her gaze, feeling confused. “For what?”
Her eyes wander to the ceiling for a brief moment. “I would tell you, but you already know the answer to that question.”
He almost rolls his eyes, but she’s right. For as long as they’ve known each other, Rydan has always succeeded at distracting her from her own debilitating thoughts. Some would say it’s what makes them such a good pair. “1700 hours?”
Arden cocks her head as she reaches for the door that leads to her chambers. Her private chambers. “Roger that.”
Rydan watches as the door creaks shut behind her, leaving him alone in the vast hallway. Voices echo further down the hall. The others are probably entering the male-designated chambers at this very moment. It’s difficult not to envy Arden’s situation. He can count multiple times where all he desired was to be alone, but the company of others was inescapable. Correction: still is inescapable. Just one of the “perks” of being a male Cruex member.
Rydan pushes through the doors to the chambers and heads toward the staircase. Just as he begins to climb the steps, he stops and heads back to the ground floor. He may as well enjoy what little time he has alone. It always comes to an end far too soon.