Page 37 of Kingdom of Tomorrow (Book of Arden #1)

The bloodiest battlefield is your mind.

With my first step outside, a thick blanket of heat and darkness swallowed me whole.

Old fears stirred, shooting icy spikes onto my spine.

Nausea churned, growing more insistent. But I didn’t freak out and run.

No, I plowed ahead. This was life and death, in more ways than one.

A test of my mettle, a chance to prove I’d grown stronger, and an opportunity to see more of Theirland. I wouldn’t fail myself or my mission.

While my lens corrected the RVM, it made me feel as though I walked inside a dream.

A sensation I hadn’t encountered during practice sessions.

The light stands that dictated the direction we traveled didn’t help the illusion.

Nor did the sounds of gunfire in the distance, proving other battles were taking place.

From what I could see of our periphery, a wire fence created a domed tunnel, protecting a concrete path that led us into the practice arena. Thanks to the slight glow cast by his armor, I could see beyond Cyrus. No feeders waited within sight, but they were definitely nearby.

My ears twitched as varying noises registered.

Grunts, pounding footsteps, and the clang of metal.

Hot wind infused with a fetid stench ruined every breath.

How was I supposed to clock an enemy’s approach with the stink of rot clinging to my nostrils?

Sweat trickled over my brow and beaded above my upper lip.

“Once we pass the checkpoint, the procession of light ends,” Cyrus called. “Prepare for total darkness.”

Made sense. Glowers, I’d learned, often broke into restricted areas, and stole pritis stones.

We reached the end of the fenced walkway. The checkpoint. A buzz sounded, and the door opened, allowing passage. We continued without a hitch in our steps.

“If you spot a feeder,” Cyrus added, “don’t hesitate to take it down. Chances are good you’re the only one who can see it.”

We traversed a street with buildings on either side. I couldn’t tell their shape or size, but I sensed them, as if the walls themselves beckoned me closer. It was weird. Though I looked for the well-lit castle, I spotted no evidence of it.

Cyrus halted abruptly and shouted, “Incoming from all sides!”

Already? I stopped behind him and braced.

Suddenly, a shrieking feeder lurched from the gloom, breaching my five-foot perimeter.

I didn’t take time to think. As I’d been taught, I aimed and fired the netter, launching the expandable metal trap.

The impact drove the maddened to the ground.

Upon its crash landing, the seams of the filigree adhered to the concrete, locking him in place.

More and more worm-infested feeders arrived. Battle sounds crested. A blend of grunts and groans, curses and yelps mixed with the whiz of nets. I lost track of everyone as I ducked and dodged, working to immobilize my next target.

Sweat trickled over my skin. Maybe blood.

Aches and pains registered, only to get lost in spikes of adrenaline.

Another feeder joined the fray, making it two against one.

I aimed and squeezed. My netter clicked.

Empty. Before I remembered to reload with extra ammo, I dropped the weapon and palmed my backup.

Something sharp cut a vulnerable part of my arm, and I stumbled back, tripping over a slain feeder.

I dropped the weapon on impact. A heavy weight smacked into my chest, pinning me down.

The scent of rot filled my nose, and I knew.

A feeder had fallen on me. Since it wasn’t moving, I assumed it was dead.

Desperate for freedom, I scrambled out from under the bulk. As I leaped to my feet, lights flashed all around, granting glimpses of the other trainees. They remained in a constant flow of motion, continuing to shoot and reload, netting feeder after feeder, and, oh, their ferociousness wowed.

I patted the ground for my netter, resolute. Help or die trying. Big mistake. A feeder appeared in my line of sight, whipping through the air, aimed straight for me, his mouth open and teeth bared.

Boom! The maddened jerked to the side and crashed into the dirt, never making contact with me. Cyrus was at my side a second later, pressing a new netter into my hand before moving off to help others.

I fired. Again. And again. More adrenaline surged, becoming a fire in my veins. Intermittently I caught sight of Roman, who fought with his fists. He was smiling.

Between one blink and the next, ten spears of light split the dark sky. No. Wrong. Glowers split the darkness. They wore red robes and hurled closer as if they had wings.

“Glowers,” someone screeched.

The feeders released awful high-pitched noises. I raced for Juniper—who’d gone statue still—intending to stand guard.

A glower crashed into me, throwing me to the ground.

Instinct kicked in, overriding any fear.

I fought, not to defend myself but to hobble my foe, but I needn’t have bothered.

The beautiful Ember hovered over my fallen form, peering down with eyes as bright as stars and as deep as an ocean.

Shock immobilized me as a shimmering force field formed a bubble around us.

Her light filled it, pushing out all darkness.

The rest of the world faded from existence.

“So far you’ve been nothing but trouble,” she snapped, holding two feeders by their throats.

The worms hissed while the infected men screamed in pain.

Contact with her flesh seared them, tendrils of smoke curling from their skin.

Unbothered, she added, “Another victim is slated for the chopping block. If you wish to know more, come to Soal. But do it quickly. Time runs out.”

“Ha!” Hurry. Limited time. Almost too late. The same tactic Cured had used to lure me here. I intended to advance my investigation into Soal and his Soalians, yes, but this wasn’t the way. “Let me guess. That victim is me.”

“Come to Soal,” she repeated. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t.” With superhuman strength, she slammed the feeders together and tossed them aside. The bubble vanished, taking Ember and her light with it.

“Where’d the glowers go?” Roman shouted.

“Get in formation,” Cyrus commanded. “Now!”

“Someone netted me,” Juniper called, and it was clear she was near tears.

“You probably shouldn’t have moved into the line of fire then,” Lark snarled.

My ears twitched in time with rustling sounds as I climbed to my feet.

“Thank you,” Juniper cried, and I figured Cyrus had freed her.

I raced to position myself shoulder to shoulder with my fellow trainees.

Panting, I darted my gaze, on the lookout for a threat and wondering who had noticed my private moment with Ember.

Seconds blurred into an eternity, but I detected no new flashes of light.

No feeders either. Most surprising, no one launched accusations of fraternizing with the enemy my way. Maybe the bubble had hidden us.

“Everyone all right?” Cyrus called. “Sound off in order.”

“Arden, alive and well,” I rasped.

“Titus, scratched up but good.”

On and on we went—only a few soldiers with minor injuries. I didn’t expel a sigh of relief until everyone was accounted for.

“We’ll finish our trek,” Cyrus informed us. “Don’t drop your guard. We don’t know how many feeders are lingering in the shadows.” He started forward, a gun and bloodstained axe in hand, and I followed.

Our team made it to the base without incident, entering a well-lit room. We immediately relocated to a second area for group decontamination. Ragged, I ripped off my headpiece and scanned my teammates. They looked as shell shocked as I felt, with wild eyes and crimson-splattered armor.

Cyrus was just as battered, his features etched with anger I didn’t understand. His brand pulled taut as he scanned me from top to bottom. When he met my gaze, he arched a brow, silently asking Are you truly okay?

Physically? Yeah. Mentally and emotionally? I wobbled my hand back and forth. Probably not.

Turning on his heel, he escorted us to a row of private stalls. After sealing myself inside the one assigned to me, I stripped, showered, bandaged my wounds with the provided supplies, and dressed in the waiting T-shirt and fatigues.

I emerged from a second door into a sterile hallway, where Cyrus stood alone, freshly showered and changed. His fatigues molded to his strength.

Warmth danced over my skin, my nervous system awakening. Not because of the HP, his sizzling hotness or his insidious intentions, but because of the plan. Only the plan. My objective came with risks.

“Would you like to visit a medic?” he asked, his easy tone doing nothing to settle me.

“No, thanks. I have a few bumps, bruises, and gashes, but I’m in pretty good condition, all things considered.”

“Good.” All smolder, he asked, “Would you like to interrogate me over dinner, Arden? Just the two of us.”

Blood at the boiling point raced in my veins, and flutters tickled my belly. Careful. He might have taken things up a notch, but the man who claimed to hate lies was still only playing a part.

But so was I. “Yes, thank you.”

He extended his arm in my direction, as sturdy as steel. I hesitated only a beat before twining my fingers with his. Ignore his warmth. Ignore the sweetness of his hold. “This isn’t very professional of us.” Someone should say it.

“We bypassed professional on day one.” He shepherded me to an elevator, where he flattened his free palm on an ID pad. “Will I be forced to bargain with you so you’ll eat?”

“No, sir.” I wasn’t too nervous to ditch my meal bars. “I’ll consume my portion and probably half of yours.”

Chuckling, he traced his thumb over my knuckles, sending the most delicious tingles up my arm. “Then I’ll be sure to add dessert. And please call me Cyrus.”

Do not be charmed. “You are very good at flirting,” I told him, matter of fact. Well, kind of matter of fact.

“No, I’m good at bantering. There’s a difference.”