Page 31 of Kingdom of Tomorrow (Book of Arden #1)

“Never mind. If you aren’t brave enough to admit it, I don’t want to hear it.” Cyrus strode off, leaving me baffled. And frustrated. My cauldron threatened to boil over.

The rest of class passed in a blur, my head filling up with a thousand different possibilities about what he’d meant. When the bell rang, he announced, “Tutoring won’t begin until tomorrow.” Then he left. Which was fine. Whatever.

I directed my attention elsewhere, rolling thoughts about Theirland through my mind as I ate lunch, completed Madness Basics, and took my first driving class.

The realm was dangerous and shrouded in mystery.

Someone lived in a well-lit castle. There was no evidence of the Rock, yet the streets were overrun with feeders in far worse condition than anyone in Ourland.

Sometimes, berries grew on the ground, rather than the top of the Rock.

Maybe there was a piece of the Rock hidden in Theirland. I mean, the maddened loved the Rock. Surely the maddened in Theirland weren’t content to live without it.

I pondered the disparity while I pretended to read about vehicle safety features. Also while barons escorted us inside to run drills. My thoughts only switched gears when I realized Jericho was nowhere to be found. In fact, Mykal was MIA too.

Rather than hang out with my team during free time, I holed up in my cell to think. But honestly, after only a few minutes, I gave up. I’d used up the last of my daily allotment of intelligence, my brain tired.

Stretched out on my bed, I traced different phrases carved into the wall.

Let the Cured rule

The Kingdom is Ours

Born of Champions

Your Tomorrow Depends on Your Today

Welcome the Wisdom that Comes

We are the Cure and Cured

They Will Fall, We Will Rise

I should leave a mark of my own, but I didn’t even have the mental fortitude to come up with something. Although. Hmm. My gaze caught on the word The . Huh. The artist had placed a small bracket under the T , creating a downward-arrow effect.

Out of curiosity, I followed the arrow and found another bracket underneath a different word.

That one led to another and another. Each bracketed word was spaced out, seemingly unrelated to the others, but when considered together they formed a circle, the emblem for the Tome Society—and a complete sentence.

The Kingdom of Tomorrow Comes and Cured Will Fall

Excitement dimmed, turning into irritation. Obviously, a Soalian once bunked here.

Needing calm, I freed my vial of dirt from beneath my pillow, where I’d stored it, and popped the lid. Ah. The good stuff. The scent of life itself.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Mykal cried, sailing inside the room.

Relieved to see her, I corked the vial, returned it to its hiding spot, and launched to my feet to hug her tight. “We’ve got to talk.”

“I know! I want to hear all about your travels, Theirland, everything.”

The bell rang. A second later, our door closed and locked. I returned to the bed to strap myself in, saying, “Travel hurt, Theirland sucked, but I’m hangin’ in there.” With barely a pause, I asked, “Did the HP mention me today?”

“No.” Her brow wrinkled. “Why?”

“Don’t know. He asked me if there was anything I wished to confess.” If he’d alluded to my dealings with Ember and the Tome Society, I was in big trouble. But no. He wasn’t the type to hint about that kind of thing.

“He had a busy day. Attended meeting after meeting after meeting and had an explosive argument with his dad. The walls were soundproof, but they opened the door once and oh sweet heavens . The fury! The shouting! I’m surprised they weren’t swinging.

Then the HP stormed out, handed me a list of people to contact, and took off on the train, only to return a few hours later. ”

Cyrus had just captured the most wanted criminal on two worlds. His father should be praising him. Unless ... the berry. “I wonder why they argued.”

“From what little I overheard, I think the king pushed for the public execution of the new prisoner and the HP fought for time to gather more information.”

There’d been no announcement, so maybe he’d won the argument.

Fast, pounding footsteps sounded from the still-bright hallway, and we both froze. A visitor at this hour?

A large shadow reached our doorway before a man stopped and gripped the bars, peering in at us.

“Shiloh?” I jolted upright, but the chain kept me from standing. He looked terrible. Dirt streaked his wrinkled clothes. His hair stuck out in blood-crusted spikes. A raw gash bisected his brow. “What happened?”

“What’s wrong?” Mykal demanded. “Who did this to you?”

His attention whipped to her, and his eyes narrowed. A cold, cruel grin cracked his lips.

My stomach curdled. No, no, no. Please no.

Never looking anywhere but his friend, he pressed his hand against the ID pad outside our cell. The door slid open. “Listen to Soal. Love Soal.”

Mykal and I cried out in unison, scrambling to make ourselves smaller targets.

Shiloh had broken, just as Amelia had, all those years ago. This was my greatest nightmare on steroids.

“Help us!” Mykal screamed, pressing herself into the corner. “Help!”

Chains rattled beyond our cell, soldiers shouting questions and pleas.

“Love Soal.” Shiloh stomped over and swung. His fist connected with her jaw, and her entire body whipped to the mattress. Though dazed, she attempted to kick him off. Laughing, he swung again. Contact. Blood sprayed from her mouth, painting the walls. “Love Soal, love Soal.”

“No!” I screamed, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.

She hadn’t trained, was helpless. “Shiloh! Shiloh! Look at me. I’m right here.

” The chain stretched as I extended my leg to prod him.

The infection was so new; he must be in there somewhere.

“This isn’t you. You’re good and kind. We make lemonade together. Remember?”

He craned his neck, meeting my gaze with a crimson-stained fist raised in midair. The cruel smile reappeared.

“Please don’t do this,” I begged.

From there, everything happened so fast. “Listen. Love.” He zoomed over and swung, but I kicked him in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. Not that it bought any time.

Roaring, he lunged with renewed force. I launched a second kick, my bare heel slamming into his chin.

Again he stumbled backward. Again he lunged at me immediately afterward.

Left with no other choice, I tried again.

Expecting my defense this time, he caught my ankle and yanked my lower body off the bed.

I yelped when the chain snapped tight, nearly wrenching my shoulder from its socket.

The sound of my anguish must have penetrated his killer instinct. He paused and shook his head. Banged his fists into his temples.

“Shiloh, please. We’re friends.” I hung from the edge of the mattress, as still as a statue, doing my best not to startle him. “We’re going on our second date in a matter of days.”

“Love Soal.” With a growl, he struck my stomach. Air exploded from my lungs. He struck again, his knuckles connecting with my cheek. My brain rattled against my skull, and blood flooded my tongue. Searing pain. Instant nausea.

When he drew back his elbow, intending to unleash another blow, I used my pillow to block, then maneuvered to my stomach, patting the bed, searching for the vial.

There! He punched the back of my head, and I flopped over the mattress.

But I didn’t drop my best weapon. Stunned but not out for the count, I knew. He wouldn’t stop unless I made him.

With tears in my eyes, I slammed the vial against the wall. Grains flew when the glass burst. A jagged shard remained in my grip.

He latched onto my ankle and gave another yank.

The chain pulled taut, my abused shoulder screaming in protest. Choking on grief but no less determined, I twisted and swung.

The tip of the shard sliced into his eye.

Blood poured over his face, and he howled, instinctively reaching for the injury.

I had a split second to attack or retreat.

Strike first and strike hard.

Snarling, Shiloh dove onto me. Instinct took over, and I did as I’d been trained, hammering the shard into his throat again and again.

Boom, boom, boom. My heart thundered in time to each stab of the glass.

The blows cut deep, leaving gaping wounds.

He tripped backward, smacking into the floor, where he gasped for a breath he couldn’t catch.

Horror infiltrated every inch of my being as his motions slowed. As he stilled. As his head lolled to the side, his chest barely rising. He was dying because I’d hurt him. Just as I’d hurt Amelia.

No! No! I fought the chain with all my might. If I could just get free, I could stanch the flow of blood. He could get treatment. I refused to let him die. Wouldn’t steal him from his family. “You—you’ll recover and get medical care,” I stammered. “We’ll make more lemonade. This isn’t the end.”

His gaze held mine as blood gurgled from the corners of his mouth.

“Help us,” I screamed. Bile burned my esophagus. I looked to Mykal. She was curled into a fetal ball, weeping. “Please!”

The sound of racing footsteps arose. A helper? Or another infected? I pinned my focus to the crimson-soaked glass clutched in my quaking hand. Shiloh’s flesh hung from the tip. Crying out, I dropped the shard, my only weapon, as if it were laced with poison. I just, I couldn’t harm anyone else.

Cyrus halted in our open doorway, a gun and dagger at the ready. Fury and fear dominated his features. He scanned the cell, seeming to take in everything at once.

His expression shuttered, erasing any emotion. He sheathed the weapons and reached for me, but I shook my head.

“Fix him,” I commanded. “Tell me you’ll fix him!”

Cyrus crouched beside Shiloh to administer aid.

He worked on the medic for minutes that lasted hours before hanging his head and inhaling deep.

He flipped his gaze to mine. No. No! A hoarse, broken whimper seeped from me.

Blood rushed from my head, igniting a high-pitched ring in my ears.

Numbness flowed from limb to limb, inside and out.

Time slowed to a crawl as medics rushed in. Cyrus directed them to Mykal, then unfastened my binds. Despite my newfound freedom, I couldn’t force my body to move.

He examined my face and checked my vitals. Though his mouth moved, I heard nothing but that ring. I watched the happenings around me, feeling as if I were trapped in a dream.

A medic carried Mykal from the cell. Cyrus gently collected me and clutched my limp body to his chest. Aches and pains registered, but they weren’t strong enough to shatter my haze of shock.

“—orry, sorry,” Cyrus was saying as the ringing faded. He rushed me into the hall. Trainees shouted from their cells, demanding answers and freedom. “I’ve got you, Arden. I won’t let go.” But he did let go when we reached our destination, easing me onto a gurney.

I said nothing as medics took over, busying themselves with my care, cutting off my tank and shorts. The blue set I’d worn on my first date with Shiloh. Who was now dead.

My chin quivered. I looked away from Cyrus, the medics, everyone and everything. I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be anywhere. I’d killed Shiloh. Me. I’d ended his life and erased his future. Because that’s what I did. I drove people to the edge, then pushed them over.

The night Amelia died, we fought. She was older than me.

She’d tried to sneak out of our bedroom, but I’d stopped her.

She begged me to relent, promised to return in a few hours, but I hadn’t wanted her outside the safety of our bedroom walls, vulnerable to attack.

She told me I was the worst sister ever born.

I proved her right only hours later when she broke. What if I’d let her leave? What would’ve happened? What if I’d shared with Cyrus everything about my interaction with Ember, hiding nothing? What if I’d aimed lower when I’d struck Shiloh? What if Cyrus had arrived sooner?

A soft caress against my cheek lured me from my haze of thoughts. I almost leaned into the contact, desperate for comfort, but I didn’t. I deserved to feel every emotion now plaguing me.

At my bedside, Cyrus tenderly traced his fingertips on the unbruised side of my face. “You tested negative. Arden, do you hear me?”

So I’d tested negative. So what? So had Shiloh. But I didn’t care anymore. I’d reached my limit. The cauldron of frustration had iced over, the fire beneath it snuffed out. I was too tired to bother.

“Go away,” I mumbled and closed my eyes. For once, I didn’t fight sleep. I let it whisk me into its deepest depths.