Page 8 of Kingdom of Tomorrow (Book of Arden #1)

I braced for launch, planning to go anywhere else as fast as my feet could carry me. But a thick fog blanketed my mind, and strength abandoned me in a rush. I wobbled, fighting to remain aware, internally screaming. Sleep. Vulnerable. No!

The more I battled, the more my nerve endings sizzled.

Don’t fight the pain. Shiloh’s voice boomed through my head.

Don’t fight.

So badly I wanted to heed him. How easy it would be to let go and drift off. But experience had taught me better. Trust no one. Sleep alone. Always alone. I was currently in public. But the pain! The heat.

Sweat poured over me, and muscles jerked. My lungs flattened, the ability to breathe gone. At last I tumbled into an endless abyss ...

“—dead within a month, tops.”

“She might surprise us. I hear she fought the toxin longer than the beefed-up brute whose dad served with honors.”

“A by-product of fear, exactly what will get her killed. I’ve been here eight years and examined countless lords and ladies. Those with panic disorders never last long.”

The casualness of the conversation lured me from a deep sleep. I tried to make sense of the words, but my brain wasn’t fully online yet.

“She wakes,” the man muttered.

Finally I managed to hold my eyes open for several seconds. I groaned. The world was spinning. Inhale. Exhale. As the momentum slowed, memories invaded. The bus ride. Fort Bala Royal Academy. The competition and prize. Pain.

Stiffening, I took stock of my surroundings. I reclined on a medical gurney, inside a small sterile room cordoned off by a curtain. I still wore my running clothes. On the counter, my bag gaped open, the contents spilling out. Clearly someone had rooted through my stuff.

Tension snatched me in its jaws and held on with a vise grip.

An unfamiliar young man and a thirtysomething woman in medical scrubs stood beside the gurney, a wheeled tray between them.

The man plunged a needle into a vial, filled the belly of a syringe with gray liquid, and turned to stick me in the arm.

The sharp prick startled me from my malaise, and I yelped.

He didn’t react in the slightest.

“Who are you?” I demanded, gathering what remained of my strength. Yes! I collected enough to pull myself into an upright position. “What did you inject in me?”

“I’m Dr. Korey.” The woman extended her hand to the medic. He placed a second syringe in her palm. “You’re receiving vitamins, vaccinations, and anything else I think you need to survive interrealm travel and keep you and your teammates safe.”

Translation: Shut up and acquiesce.

A tide of frustration rushed through my veins.

All my life, others had dictated what I could and could not do.

From what building I lived in to where I worked to what I deserved to be paid.

I rarely had a say in even the smallest details.

If I’d dared to ask questions, I’d been rebuked without receiving a straight answer.

But always I’d rolled with the punches. All before one.

With so much new being tossed at me, I was tempted to do something foolish and protest. A mistake I couldn’t afford. Just like I’d done every time before, I gathered and dumped the frustration into an ever-growing cauldron, letting it simmer in the shadows of my mind.

My fate rested in the hands of Cured . Considering I now contended for the title of top lady, I should do nothing to jeopardize my chances of victory. I must win that prize.

Saying nothing else, the doctor jabbed me with the second needle. I cringed as icy cold spread through my arm. I, too, held my silence.

From outside the room, a knight gripped the curtain and shoved the material aside.

I looked beyond him, seeing a hallway loaded with other exam rooms, some open.

Mykal sprawled on a gurney across from me, appearing as traumatized as I felt.

Shiloh stood beside her. The sight of him served as an anchor to calm.

Our gazes met, and his beautiful features twisted with concern. I offered him a tentative smile, trying to tell him I was fine. Then High Prince Cyrus Dolion marched into my field of vision and hijacked my thoughts.

He stalked into my room, and my heart attempted to pound through my ribs.

Stopping near my gurney, he claimed a file from the table.

As he read, never speaking a word, he and his intensity dominated the space.

Controlled power formed an almost tangible shield around him.

But that was expected. What wasn’t? The incredible scent wafting from him, infiltrating every molecule of oxygen.

Mmm. What was that ? Fairy dust and ambrosia? The sweet cologne so did not fit the skull and crossbones bottle.

“Nice to see you, Cyrus,” Dr. Korey greeted, her voice suddenly higher than it had been a few minutes ago.

Oh la la. They were on a first-name basis.

“Leave us,” he said, his deep baritone inviting no arguments. He didn’t glance up from the file.

The doctor’s colleague strode out without hesitation. She lingered, seeming to gear up to spew facts about me. The high prince remained preoccupied, reading the screen.

“My apologies if I wasn’t clear,” he said, amicable. “Go. Get out. Be gone.”

She worked her jaw, cast me a glare as if I were at fault, and exited the room, the curtain swishing behind her. Suddenly, I was alone with royalty.

His nearness put me on edge. I missed Shiloh and his measure of peace. Though I longed to call for the medic, I made the best move for my situation, kicking my legs over the side of the bed and standing. A wave of dizziness struck. I teetered but didn’t collapse.

Maybe standing without permission in the company of a decorated officer was a crime, maybe not. Either way, instinct insisted I prepare to run. Only stubbornness held me in place. Eye on the prize!

He didn’t protest my actions. “Twenty years old. Overachiever. A dedicated rule follower.”

The invasion of privacy nettled me more than ever.

Teachers, doctors, advisers, and now military personnel had access to every physical, mental, and emotional test I’d ever taken, yet I did not.

But just as before, I dumped my frustration and contained my protests, allowing not a sound to escape. Must win!

Then he said, “Willing to turn in a beloved family member you suspected of being infected.”

Guilt and shame I’d never shed flared with renewed fervor. “I did what was necessary to save my mother and others.”

“Oh, I know your reasons for doing it. Assume I’ve perused every report ever written about you, memorized each detail, and now comprehend more about you than you do. But even I’m not sure what you’re doing here.”

“Paying a debt. Sir,” I tacked on as an afterthought.

“You may call me High Prince . I’ll even answer to HP .

” He scrolled to another page. “I’m aware of the reason listed in your file.

I was asking if your death will make Mama glad she stayed in her nice, cozy Lucrea apartment and let you ship out to certain death, or if she’ll regret it for the rest of her life. ”

A muscle jumped in my jaw. “I won’t die.” I couldn’t. The quality of my mother’s life rested on my shoulders. Because he was right. If I died, she would forever blame herself.

“Bubble Gum,” he said, finally glancing up from the screen. Our gazes locked. “I’m willing to bet you’re killed before our first excursion into Theirland.”

Lead dropped into my stomach. “Are you trying to scare me?” And did he really call me Bubble Gum ?

He shrugged his broad shoulders, not the least bit abashed.

“It’s too late for your withdrawal. I’m here to offer you a onetime opportunity.

Serve as my assistant, and you’ll choose your roommate, meet high-ranking officials able to aid your chosen career, and never see combat.

Instead, you’ll fetch and carry for me. When I have no more use for you, you’ll graduate to a safe office job to serve out the rest of your term. ”

Okay, that sounded amazingly wonderful and checked all my boxes. No fighting glowers and other maddened. Right contacts. Safe office job. Yes, please and thank you.

And yet, I hesitated. “Are you offering me a choice or explaining what you expect me to accept?”

“With me, you will always have a choice,” he said, scrolling again. “But you alone are responsible for the consequences.”

A surprising turn. He was the grandson of Cured ’s emperor, son of the military’s king, and a high prince on his own merit rather than lineage (supposedly). He could issue a command and compel me to obey or face imprisonment.

Whatever the reason for his show of mercy, I took advantage of my freedom and sought more information. “Will I remain a contender for top lady if I agree?”

A humorless laugh barked from him. He flipped up his gaze a second time, meeting mine.

I ignored the little blip of my heart. “Entertain aspirations of being the best, do you, Bubble Gum?” When I pursed my lips in distaste, he laughed again.

“You do. How novel. No, as my assistant, you are ineligible for the competition because you won’t be attending class, drills, or practice missions. So? What’s it to be?”

Good question. Did I stay safe or go for gold? Let fear paralyze me, preventing me from supplying my mother with the life she deserved, or keep my word and face my nightmares?

Plant seeds that could produce a long-term harvest for my well-being, or stick with the status quo?

Take the job, self-preservation shrieked.

But. A small voice in the back of my mind persisted. What about the prize? And not just the taxes, but the training. Learning how to protect myself.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I’ll do patrol,” I croaked. Maybe, if I put my all into this, I would experience true, lasting peace. The holy grail. A prize greater than the one Cured offered.

The barest hint of shock flickered over the HP’s expression. “You’re sure? The offer expires as soon as I leave.”

I wrinkled my nose, reminded of Ms. Butler’s offer to join Fort Bala. Hurry! Act now or lose out! “Is introducing an invisible ticking clock an intimidation tool I’ll be learning here?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Perhaps you didn’t understand my proposal. As a lady, you’ll be forced to train alongside the others. You’ll be injured. That’s a guarantee. There’s a good chance you’ll break bones, get shot, be stabbed.”

My small measure of confidence cracked. By some miracle, I maintained a firm clasp on a sliver of hope. What he offered sounded good on the surface, but it also struck me as a trap. I wouldn’t face the maddened, but I would face him on a daily basis.

“I’m sure I don’t want to be your assistant.” If the worst happened and I did, in fact, get killed, I’d rather have a quick end. A trap was just a slow way to die.

“Very well. A foolish choice, but a choice all the same.” He gave me another of those negligent shrugs, as if he hadn’t cared one way or the other, and returned the file to the cart.

“The night will chew you up and spit out your bones. I would’ve kept you around.

” With a cool smile, he headed for the exit, adding, “At least until you lost your flavor.”