The blood kingdom, p.1
The Blood Kingdom, page 1
The Blood Kingdom. Copyright ©2023 by Kate Cunningham. All rights reserved.
Cover Art by MIBLart.
Map by Shepengul.
This book is the intellectual property of the author. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part may be copied, reproduced, or transmitted without the written permission of the author. You must not circulate this book in any format. Cover art was obtained legally through MIBLart. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
To my husband Thomas, because this book was always for you.
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
51. Chapter 51
52. Chapter 52
53. Chapter 53
54. Chapter 54
55. Chapter 55
56. Chapter 56
57. Chapter 57
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
Aurelia found herself walking down the familiar corridor leading to the library. The shadows cast by the flickering torch light along the wall felt like old friends greeting her as she made her way silently through the darkened halls. A path she’d wandered so many nights over the years that she knew every dark alcove, exactly what shadows to blend into to avoid the guards on their nightly patrols.
But something was different this time.
It was too quiet. Too easy.
Not a single blue cloak interrupted her journey this evening. Not even a whisper of footsteps sent her skittering into the shadows tonight. The silence became nearly deafening, everything muted to the point of making her ears ring in an effort to pick up any sound as she walked down the familiar corridor.
She spun on a slippered heel to peer into the darkness flooding the very end. She stared into the shadows for what felt like an eternity, until it began to look like they were bleeding down the corridor, pooling closer and closer to where she stood.
The flame on the very last torch at the end of the corridor guttered out.
Her heart began a slow pounding in her chest, the beat picking up when the shadows stretched further down the hall, impossibly black, as a second torch was snuffed out with a gasp.
She turned to run, but her slippers couldn’t find purchase on the gleaming white floors as the darkness behind her yawned wide.
Chapter 2
The images slipped through her fingers like grains of sand the instant she woke up in a cold sweat, no matter how hard she tried to grip onto them, just as they had for the last few months.
Opening her eyes, she convinced herself she was truly awake, silvery light filtering through her window and falling next to her. Clamping her eyelids shut again, she tried in vain to slow her racing heart. Blowing out a breath and shaking off the thick white down blanket atop her, she slid to the edge of the bed, the pads of her toes touching the cold marble floor. Clutching her hands to her knees to stop them from shaking.
Silently padding to the arched doorway that looked out onto her balcony, she opened the door and walked onto the cold polished stone, high above the sleeping Capitol sprawling to the West. Fingertips gripping the white marble balustrade, she filled her lungs with pine scented air. A balmy breeze tangled her dark waves, hinting at the warm summer day ahead.
The scent always came first, cool and whispering as the grey pines concealing the rugged mountains beneath, curling around her like a lover and making the pale skin on her arms pebble. In a few hours the city would open its eyes, and the palace perched at the very edge of the Crescent Valley would come to life. But for now, she still had the dark quiet.
Exhaling, she tried to rid herself of the lightning that crept through her veins. It was the only way to describe the strange sensation that had taken up residence inside her body lately. Always at its worst when she woke from the nightmare that taunted her most nights.
She walked the length of the balcony back through the glass doors that led into her chambers. A depthless black eye stared back from the very edge of the balustrade.
The creature didn’t startle her anymore—it had been months now since the bird had taken up a semi-permanent residence on her balcony. The ragged scar across its left eye marking it as the same one that returned day after day to watch her.
The superstitions of old claimed dark wings were a harbinger of dark days. If the legends were to be believed, the ravens had acted as emissaries for the Old Ones centuries ago, and one of them had been seen flying away from the Capitol as first blood was spilled in the war between humankind and the magickal folk. The nurse maids still warned the children that even though the beasts’ masters were long dead, they were capable of carrying sighs and whispers into cold graves. But Aurelia wasn’t one to believe in superstitions.
The raven’s watchful nature never unnerved her. The bird had become her companion of sorts, sharing the quiet of her balcony in the early morning hours, away from the endless chatter and movement of the bustling palace around her. It had a penchant for glittering things—of which she had too many to count, so she had gotten into the habit of leaving small trinkets for the creature. Taking a coin from her vanity, she laid it gently onto the stone threshold just beyond the glass doors, watching as the large bird ruffled its oil slick feathers in delight at the gleaming copper gift.
Throwing a cloak over her shoulders, she slipped out of her chambers and down the corridor. Turning a corner only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of two blue cloaks.
Pressing her back against the wall, she made her way down the large staircase that led past the original wing of the palace, the only surviving relic from a time before the Republic. The worn grey stones gave way to slick white marble floors ahead, the palace doors thrown open to allow the night breeze in from the gardens.
Aurelia kept close to the walls, but she already knew the muted grey cloth of her cloak hid her well in the watery dawn. The winding path through the gardens was deserted. Aurelia let out a small sigh of relief at seeing she had the lush green to herself, not being as careful with her footsteps now that the soft rumble of the Kesh drowned them out, the waters of the nearby river slow and lazy this time of year.
She picked up the hem of her skirts, heavy from the morning dew collecting on the grass, past the ever-watchful eyes of the Unnamed, their lifeless marble faces cold and impassive. A tingle ran over her knuckles as she tapped her forehead with practiced fingertips—more habit than reverence. The memory of the Nameless Brother’s wooden cane still imprinted on her long-healed skin.
The acolytes that devoted their lives in service to the Unnamed Gods were varying degrees of zealous. But each of them had to give up their birth-names when they pledged their devotion, no longer the individuals that entered the temples, but just a nameless vessel of the Gods. That didn’t stop Aurelia and her brothers from coming up with names for them instead, after all, there needed to be some way to distinguish the Nameless Brothers.
At a certain age, her eldest brother Wellan had decided he was much too mature to continue referring to their tutor as Brother Bald, or the grumpy Brother that oversaw the archives in the library as Brother Jowls. Her brother Asher, on the other hand, could still make her laugh with the names he whispered as they passed in the hallways. The thought brought a faint smile to her face as she tugged her hood over her dark tresses.
Walking purposefully across the courtyard toward the gate, she noted the handful of blue cloaks posted at the top of the wall dozens of feet above. Every back was turned, looking into the distance for anyone trying to gain entry to the palace, not concerned with someone leaving.
She ducked into the shadow of the gate; only a few more steps and she’d be hidden beneath the pines.
She lived for this. The small escape from her claustrophobic life. The freedoms that had slowly dried up to nothing as she’d approached womanhood. Lowering her hems so that she couldn’t climb trees or run without tripping over her skirts. Then came the stiff cors
A few years after that she was pulled from her tutoring lessons with Brother Bald and forced into etiquette classes instead. When she’d asked her mother why she couldn’t keep learning numbers and history like her brothers, Lady Norrick had simply answered that her time was better spent preparing for her future, and that’s when she realized her future looked very different from her brothers’. So instead, she spent her days learning dances and social graces, reciting the names of the families that governed the cities in the Republic; the only knowledge of use for a girl who would be made a gift to one of them at the right time.
The restrictions had been so gradual, so innocuous, that it was like the spotted ivy that grew between the heavy bricks of the garden walls. An inconvenience. An annoyance, until the thick vines had all but covered the stone. Suffocating and inextricable, because to remove them would bring the entire wall tumbling down.
She began doing Asher’s math tables for him—not out of any pity for her brother, but for the sheer challenge of it. Just to prove she could. Just to prove that she was every bit as capable as her brothers … Her small rebellion against the box they’d shoved her into.
She still walked around with that chip on her shoulder; something she hated about herself, but she’d come to terms with her place in life. And she’d found the small glimpses of happiness where she could, learning quickly that if she didn’t pilfer them for herself, no one would offer up any pieces.
The rough stone of the palace gate gave way behind her back and the thick green canopy of trees blocked out the dawn as Aurelia made her way into the forest. The soft babble of the Kesh greeted her, the waters low in the late summer exposing the rocky floor of the riverbed. A shadow of the forceful rapids that began somewhere deep within the Shades and tapered off at the edge of the Valley. The wide river split the Capitol in two, the sprawling city on one side, and the palace on the other.
Picking carefully across the broad flat stones that broke the surface of the water, she made her way to the expanse of trees on the opposite bank, where the Grey Wood melted away into the blue mist of the Shades, so dark they were nearly black.
There had once been magick here, or so they’d been told. The tales of the Old Ones passed from generation to generation, in the nursery rhymes mothers sang to their babes, in the stories told around campfires in the rural villages.
The Nameless Brothers would have them believe that the demons of old still walked the rugged mountains, searching for lost souls to bring their king. The nurse maids liked to tell the children it was fairies and wood nymphs who would steal them away as a gift for their witch queen in her jeweled forest realm. The boys whispered that it was vampyres, luring virgins to their eternal death to convince the girls to slip away into dark corners with them.
The stories of the ancient war to save humanity were told and retold so often that most of the details were lost to time. And though they had won, extinguishing the evil that threatened them, there was something ancient that remained in the pines. Something with watchful eyes.
Despite the Nameless Brothers’ best efforts to assure the people that the Unnamed Gods kept their borders safe, the people of the Valley still clung to the old superstitions; delicate silver chains hanging around maidens’ necks and heavy iron coins clanking on the men’s belts. Wrought iron fences still guarded homes, and cut glass was strung up in every window to reflect the sunlight.
The Grey Wood had earned its dark reputation, seeming to keep those who were too bold or stupid to turn back before the mists swallowed them up. Whether they were unable to find their way home in the disorienting fog, or if something found them first, no one knew for certain.
The warnings had been spoken so often, in so many different ways, that no one ventured too far under the sprawling expanse of dense green. But that never stopped Aurelia and her brothers from making bets on who could stay underneath the trees the longest without losing their nerve.
The three of them would sit in a circle, taking turns telling the old tales they’d heard from their nursemaid Galina. Then they’d push each other just over the border of the Valley onto the carpet of pine needles that covered the Shades, shrieking and running back into the sunlight of the river bank.
Aurelia had gone dashing into the mists of the Grey Wood as a girl, after Asher had dared her. Her brothers never thought she’d do it, but they usually underestimated her. She outlasted them by an hour that day, until they reluctantly charged into the pines to drag her back out, making empty threats if she ever spoke a word of it to their mother. But she could never shake the feeling she had standing beneath those behemoth pines. Wondering what secrets they kept for the thousands of years they stood vigil. It was why she came back over and over. Sneaking out in the early hours of the morning long after she’d been forbidden to leave the palace grounds.
She hadn’t felt fear—no. It was recognition. It was a calling. Like the mountains beneath her feet could feel her, too. And while she stood awestruck, looking up at them, they were silently taking her measure as well.
Chapter 3
Exhaling the pine air from her lungs, Aurelia ducked back under the large archway of the gate just as an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into the quiet stables. Her gasp quickly dissolved into laughter as a familiar weight pressed her against the wall.
“A little early to be out, don’t you think, Lady Norrick?” Bastien said with raised eyebrows. “Did you really think you could slip back into the palace without anyone noticing?”
“Clearly not.” Aurelia rolled her eyes, her lips curving in invitation.
Bastien’s brows furrowed in exasperation. “The Shades aren’t safe—how many times have I told you? And I know if I double it, that’s probably how many times Asher has told you.” His words were chiding, but his tone was playful as he bent to kiss her.
“Good thing I have a blue cloak who haunts my steps,” she whispered against his lips.
“I’m serious, Aurelia,” he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder and forcing her to meet his blue eyes. “There have been strange reports from the villages at the Valley’s edge—” But before he could launch into a lecture, she’d raised herself up onto her toes to cover his mouth with hers. A shameless distraction as she felt his body melt against hers in response. He pulled away at last, running his thumb across her cheek. “You’re too wild.”
“And will the bold Captain Veron be the one to tame me?” she asked, tangling her fingers in the soft waves of his tawny hair, pulling him into her again.
“I’m not sure anyone is capable of that,” he answered, “Least of all me.”
These stolen minutes were the only thing they had, and Aurelia was ravenous for them. But Bastien, ever the voice of reason, reminded her of the dawn light that was beginning to spill into the Valley.
“Before I forget.” Bastien’s hand slipped inside the cerulean cloak that marked him as a member of the Blue Guard, a thin black book in his grasp when he removed it.
“You found it,” Aurelia exclaimed breathlessly.
“I did,” he answered with a tight expression as he handed the journal to her, still holding a firm grip on the edge as Aurelia tried to pry it from his fingers. “If Wellan notices this is gone—”
“He won’t,” she interrupted, tearing it from his grasp. “I doubt he even knows it exists,” she mumbled distractedly as she flipped through the first few pages. Her father’s familiar scrawl on the paper sending an ache through her chest.
“We did everything we could, Aurelia. I don’t know what else you could hope to find in there,” Bastien said gently.
With a huff of breath, she answered, “If nothing else … closure.”
Bastien looked like he’d been about to give her another lecture on staying inside the palace walls, but both of them turned their heads at the whinny of the horses. All of them rousing from their slumber and nervously stomping the ground. A dark blot had appeared over the open door. The proud outline of the large raven, motionless as it left everything around it unsettled.
