Page 1 of The Kingdom of Ruin

PROLOGUE

“Once upon a time, there was a princess.”

“A princess?”

“A princess,” he repeats, smiling softly as he nods.

“Oh my, I want to be a princess!” I squeal, excited as butterflies flutter in my tummy.

“You are, my love. Now, forever, and always,” he promises, tucking the sheets around my body before swiping a loose blonde curl behind my ear. “But tonight, you must sleep. For the nights will grow dark and the earth sodden beneath our boots.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I grumble through a yawn.

“I don’t either, but one day, a new dawn will pass, blessing all those who follow the light.”

My nose scrunches in confusion. “Do we follow the light, Daddy?” I ask, gripping the robe fastened around his waist. He places his hand over mine, and the warmth from his touch is soothing.

“We do, my love,” he confirms, kissing my forehead, and my eyelids slowly start to flicker closed. “Now sleep, for tomorrow awaits.”

ONE

ADDI

Itug at the edges of my oversized hood, making sure to shield myself from view as best as I can. It’s noisier today. More hectic. Which is understandable, but it doesn’t make weaving through the cobbled streets any easier.

I’m used to sweeping through the shadows, hiding from the sun’s glow; not because it can hurt me like it can others, but because my objective is to remain hidden. Always. Well, it was. Things are most definitely about to change.

My feet ache already and I mentally berate myself for not breaking in my new boots before today, but there’s been so much to prepare for and little time to consider something so minuscule.

Dragging my hand over the stone wall to my left, I keep myself pressed as close to it as possible as another hoard of people charge by me. The buzz in the air is electric, infecting everyone, and I can’t deny the thrill of excitement that burns up my spine with anticipation.

It’s been a long time coming, and although I may be twenty years old—twenty-one in two weeks’ time—it officially feels as though my life is finally beginning.

The City of Harrows.

It’s drawn me in, and with every step I take, I feel another dose of determination and righteousness consume me. I take a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves that threaten to rise along with it, just as someone barges into me, slamming my shoulder against the wall.

I bite back a grunt, fighting the urge to find out who knocked me into the wall as I straighten my hood and continue down the narrow pathway. When it widens into the open square, I slow, pausing by the fruit stall that always makes me smile. I don’t know what it is about the smell of oranges, but it offers me a sense of comfort that I can’t seem to get anywhere else.

Plastering my back against the wall behind the stall, I pause for a moment to take in the bustling square. The clock tower stands tall and proud at the other end of the space, the large golden bell shimmering in the mid-morning sun. The water in the fountain spouts up in the air, making the small children gasp and giggle as they watch with a sense of wonder you don’t get to retain as an adult.

I don’t let myself embrace their joy for too long, looking at the rest of the people scuttling through the square with purpose. Everyone has a purpose today; to take part or observe. Either way, there’s a level of exhilaration I’ve never felt in the air before.

“Do you think all of this will be worth it?”

I peer at the fruit stall owner as he speaks with the person beside him. They shrug in response, folding a variety of fabrics along their stand. “Is anything really worth it? We’re lost to whatever The Council decides at this point.”

“We’ll see many losses, I’m sure. But we’re already facing too many of them as it is, don’t you think?”

My fingers flex at my sides as I listen, enraptured.

Losses.

That’s all the Floodborn Kingdom has experienced for as long as I can remember. Longer, if history stands correct. I shake my head, pressing my eyelids closed as tightly as possible and working to get my breathing under control.

Anger and rage don’t solve any situation, my love. Be controlled, considerate, and level-headed.

My father’s words play in my mind as I count down from ten. He’s always the voice of reason, especially mine, but that doesn’t stop my emotions wanting to get the better of me.

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