Page 1 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

There are few things I hate more than the rain.

Being hunted by my enemies is at the top of my list.

And being hunted by my enemies in the rain? Intolerable.

Wet drops splatter against my face, and I tilt my head to the side, narrowing my eyes in an attempt to peer through the deluge.

There.

The approaching ship looms in the distance, massive and dark as it rides the wave like it’s part of the storm itself.

The creak of wood and the snap of wet sails as our ship rolls across the waves almost cover the sound of our crew’s panicked cries.

Almost.

Daharak makes her way toward me, her steps sure, even as the ship bends and twists across the waves. “You know better than this. You need to get below deck.”

And leave everyone else to fight for all of our lives? I level her with a hard stare. “You know me better than that.”

It’s not bravery. It’s a very particular kind of cowardice. It’s the refusal to be abandoned, even through death.

My insistence on my own space, on seeing the world on my own terms, is tainted with hypocrisy.

Leave me alone, but be available when I need you.

Daharak’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t bother arguing as she turns and stalks away. Her stride is long for someone of her height. She’s small and slight, but anyone who glanced at her would have no doubt about exactly what she is.

In charge.

Just months ago, she lost both ships and people as we fought for our lives and the freedom of a continent. The loss of her ships was infuriating. The loss of her people was a devastation so great, she’s still recovering.

Their ship continues its approach, until it’s close enough for me to see my enemies’ faces. On our ship, pirates sprint for weapons, calling out to each other as they prepare for battle.

My jaw aches and I force myself to unclench my teeth. They don’t shout or announce themselves. They fire no warning shots. They avoid any flashy display of cannon fire. After all, they can’t risk killing me.

This isn’t a raid. It’s a hunt.

Our ship lets loose with cannon fire of its own, the deck shuddering beneath me. The air around the enemy ship seems to glow, and when the smoke clears, it’s even closer, no damage to its hull.

Warded.

Just weeks ago, our ammunition could have burrowed through those wards. But over the past few weeks, this hunt has been relentless, giving us little opportunity to refill our stores—of both weapons and food.

A flash of lightning cuts through the dim light, revealing the pale faces of the crew. The pirates know me. Despite my best efforts, some of them even like me.

And if I don’t do something, they will die for me.

The rumble of thunder is so loud it seems to rattle my bones. Even Daharak wouldn’t have chosen to risk this storm. But we had no choice.

The ship draws closer. Queen Vicana’s men are brutal and well-trained. And none are more brutal than Kyldare—her right hand and Queen’s Justice—a nicely ironic title.

Justice is a foreign concept to Vicana.

Kyldare stands near the helm of the ship, and our eyes meet for one moment. The thrill of the hunt is written across his face as his ship pulls alongside us, the hull scraping against ours with a chilling groan.

Cold rage slithers through me. And something inside me—something I’ve managed to keep carefully hidden—opens one eye, purring in approval.

My heart kicks in my chest, and the sudden fear slams a barrier between me and that… thing .

My hands scramble for the railing, tightening on the smooth wood.

I don’t bother using my power. Not while they’re so heavily warded.

Grappling hooks fly through the air, and our crew immediately begin slicing through ropes with both blades and power.

The distant splashes tell me some of them succeeded. But Kyldare brought more than enough soldiers with him. They swing through the air, descending like spiders on a web, boots hitting the deck.

More splashing as bodies hit the water. But not enough. A hook latches onto the railing just footspans from me and I pull my sword, slicing through the rope attached to it.

No splash. They were testing me.

Three more hooks.

I slice two of them. One splash.

Boots on wood.

My flames roar toward my attacker and the wind steals his scream.

Burning is a terrible way to die. So I push the soldier overboard as my flames engulf him.

“You’re welcome.”

The rain thickens into a relentless downpour. Thunder cracks in the distance, while the wind tears at our sails, straining the rigging to its limit. Icy droplets sting my skin, drenching me to the bone. My breath comes in ragged bursts, the cold air mixing with the heat simmering deep inside me, begging to be unleashed.

Kyldare couldn’t have chosen a better time to attack. My power churns in my chest like a caged beast, and I let it free as another soldier swings his body over the railing. But the water-logged air seems to smother every flicker of flame I bring to the surface.

My power is little more than a distraction to the next soldier, but he’s forced to dance in place as my fire slices toward his legs.

The distraction is enough.

I swing my sword, slicing through his neck. His head rolls free.

I gag.

More boots hit the deck. More soldiers fall to my sword. One of them manages to slice across my bicep, deep enough that I let out a hiss.

“Alive!” A voice roars, and the solider flinches.

I bury my blade deep in his gut.

Thank you for the distraction, Kyldare.

I take the opportunity to dart down the steps to the main deck. A soldier lunges for me, sword raised. He’s dead before he gets two steps, a blade through his back.

Lonn nods at me, pulls his sword free, and whirls, rejoining the fray. I catch a single glimpse of Daharak just a few footspans away. She fights like she’s possessed, blade a blur, footwork impeccable as she dashes across the slippery deck.

A hand clamps down on my shoulder. I turn into it, shoving my blade deep into the soldier’s thigh.

He curses, stumbling backward, and I clamp my hand tighter around the hilt of my sword. When I rip it free, blood spurts. I hit the artery.

He’s dead. Realization dawns on his face and I step away.

Blades clash. The howl of the wind melds with the screams of the dying, the clash of blades, the rumble of thunder. And still, the rain pounds us relentlessly.

The ship tilts beneath my feet and I slip, shifting to meet the next sword. Kyldare may have ordered his soldiers not to kill me, but this man is consumed by bloodlust, face twisted, teeth bared.

I’m off-balance, and I lash out desperately with my power. The warmth spreads, defying the rain, but it’s sluggish, like trying to ignite soaked tinder. I grind my teeth, pulling harder, and flames coil and dance toward my attacker. He curses. And then he lashes out with power of his own.

The invisible blow hits me in the side of the head.

I’m not sure what kind of power this is, but it’s effective. My legs fold beneath me, my knees slamming into the deck.

Grinding my teeth, I wrap my flames around me until I can stand once more.

Another hit, this time to the other side of my head.

I can’t fight what I can’t see.

Rage burns through me, and that’s all my power needs, despite the river of water soaking us. I blink several times, aiming at the soldier.

His screams are music to my ears.

My head throbs like an open wound as another solider lunges at me with a vicious snarl.

My arm aches under the weight of my sword, but I swing again and again, the rain blurring my vision. I use my power when I can, but it’s almost useless in the downpour.

When the ship tilts once more, the weight of bodies—living and dead—sliding to the right, I risk a single glance around me in an attempt to count who’s left. A flash of lightning illuminates the carnage for the barest moment.

We’re…losing.

No. After this many months staying one step ahead of Kyldare and his men…it’s not possible.

But it is.

I feel the truth like a weight in my gut.

Kyldare chose the perfect time to attack. In two days, we were due to reach land, where we would restock weapons. Where the crew would rest, and enjoy fresh food and catch up on sleep.

A scream pierces the air. To my left, Carix goes down, blood pooling beneath him. My breath stutters.

This isn’t just a battle. It’s the slow, inevitable slaughter of the people who took me in. The people who gently teased me when I woke screaming after the war. The people who insisted on training with me each morning so I wouldn’t get rusty.

Gods, I wish Prisca was here. Her power would make all the difference.

“Madinia Farrow,” a voice cuts through the cacophony and I whirl.

Kyldare stands behind me, looking amused and self-assured. For a moment, the sound of the battle retreats, as if we’re in our own cocoon.

“You can make this all stop.”

Daharak’s voice cuts through the sound of battle. “Don’t you dare!”

Cold blue eyes glance over my shoulder. Kyldare’s lips curve, and a heavy ball of dread takes up residence in my gut.

The sudden screams cut deep into my ears. They’re young, terrified. The cook’s daughter Carosa. A child of only eight winters. One of Kyldare’s men has his beefy arm wrapped around her waist, his knife at her throat.

“You sick bastard.”

A muscle jumps in Kyldare’s jaw. But he waves his hand, and his solider drags Carosa toward us. In the distance, I hear her mother’s shrieks for mercy.

They were supposed to be safe below deck.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” Kyldare says. “Your life for hers.”

I drag my gaze from his face, meeting wide gray eyes. Carosa’s lower lip trembles, and she firms it in an attempt to be brave.

I meet Kyldare’s eyes once more. “Done.”

“Madinia!” Daharak roars.

“Tell your soldiers to leave,” I continue.

Kyldare’s eyes light with triumph before narrowing—likely at my easy compliance. “You try anything, and she’s dead. Her mother is dead. Everyone on this ship is dead.”

I narrow my eyes and scan him from his face to his gleaming boots. It’s a look I perfected while growing up at court. The kind of look that makes a man feel small. Irrelevant. Humiliated.

Kyldare is no exception. His cheeks flush.

“They leave now, or I’m not going anywhere.”

He sneers at me. “You don’t have a choice.”

When he glances at the soldier holding Carosa, I know what he’s planning.

Men are predictable. And when bad men are embarrassed, they have a tendency to lash out. It’s a compulsion they’re unable to ignore.

Carosa screams. She knows what’s coming.

I raise my blade, positioning it at my own throat. Kyldare goes still, holding up a hand.

No one moves.

“You wouldn’t,” he breathes.

“I wouldn’t decline your company?” I sneer at him. “Easiest choice of my life.”

He takes a single step forward, and I wedge the blade closer to the thick artery at the side of my neck.

There are worse deaths. And I would gladly die rather than allow his power-hungry queen to get her hands on—

“Fine.” Kyldare’s eyes burn with retribution, but this time he nods at the soldier. The brute frees Carosa, who darts across the deck, scampering up the nearest rope and climbing high above us, away from the soldiers.

Clever girl.

Slowly, one by one, Kyldare’s soldiers remove themselves from Daharak’s ship.

Her face is bloodless as she walks toward me. “If you go with him, this was all for nothing. Their deaths mean nothing.”

I barely suppress a flinch. Daharak knows me too well. She knows exactly where to strike.

Lightning pierces the sky, followed immediately by thunder.

“I need you to trust me,” I say.

She shakes her head, reaching out to grab my hand. When she squeezes tight, the lump in my throat becomes a throbbing ache. I should have known. The moments of happiness I had with these people were too intense for the joy to last.

“Look after them,” I whisper.

“Don’t let him break you,” she whispers back. “I’ll find you. Somehow, I’ll find you.”

The last soldier steps off the ship, and the true destruction becomes evident. They don’t bother taking their comrades’ bodies, and I watch as the pirates begin heaving them overboard.

The sharks will dine well tonight.

Kyldare holds out his hand. “Well?”

Ignoring his hand, I stride past him toward his ship. The sea has calmed enough that his soldiers have thrown a plank between our ships, and I take my first step onto the slippery wood.

I’m not sure I have it in me to throw myself at the non-existent mercy of the sharks.

Kyldare clamps his hand over my elbow, stepping up behind me.

“I wouldn’t want you to fall .”

I ignore him again, refusing to look back at the people I’m leaving behind. I know Daharak, and she’ll come for me. Not just because of our friendship, but because she knows what will happen if the wrong people get their hands on the grimoire.

A soldier grabs my arm at the other end, and I suppress a wince as his hand tightens close to the deep cut along my bicep.

“Now then,” Kyldare purrs as he drops to the deck behind me, grabbing my chin. He holds tight enough to bring traitorous tears to my eyes.

“Where. Is. It? I know it’s not on the ship. So where did you put it?”

I give him a hateful little smirk. “I suppose I must have misplaced it.”

His hand lashes out, and everything goes black.