Page 1 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

One

THE LILAC-GRAYceiling was now a blank slate of nothingness. Ornate art once lined the chamber walls—each piece more repulsive than the last. The gaudy art had been designed by one of the former king’s craftsmen. Elijah’s dark brows drew together at the memory of a home he once had, a place reminding him of his father. When Elijah was crowned the King of Zemira two years ago, he set out to make the palace his own, erasing any trace of that man’s shadow.

Turning to the side of his pillow, he rolled off his mattress and sauntered over to the floor-length mirror by his wooden armoire and gazed at the image staring back at him.

Dark shadows were smeared under his deep blue eyes, and his disheveled, unruly black hair reminded him that he hadn’t slept in days. Magic stirred inside him, seeding a dark sense of foreboding—the unseen danger clutched at his chest. It was a heightened awareness that something was drawing closer.

The hollow sound of horses’ hooves echoed off the pavement through the palace courtyard.

It wasn’t morning yet; he had barely shut his eyes.

Something’s wrong, Elijah thought. Especially at this hour of the night.

He placed his thick black robe on, tightening the belt around his waist.

Before reaching the door, Liam stormed in without even a knock of warning. His iron-gray hair glinted against his brown skin within the darkness of the room, reflecting the faintest light from the wood torches outside Elijah’s window.

Liam Cadigan wasn’t an elderly man, but he had gone gray at the early age of twenty. If it weren’t for his smooth, unwrinkled dark skin, one would think he was too old to be King Elijah’s head of the royal guard.

“Stay in your room, Your Highness,” Liam said hastily, pressing his hand firmly against Elijah’s broad chest to move him further back into the room. He turned his head to look over his shoulder through the entrance of the doorway.

“Someone has breached the wall.” Liam unsheathed his sword and held it out in front of him, as if the intruder would come charging into the king’s chamber at any moment.

Elijah’s brows knitted tightly together. “Breached the wall?”

How the hell did that happen? the king thought.

At least a hundred men guarded the palace. It would be impossible for anyone to get close enough to the gates before being struck down. The drawbridge was the only other entrance aside from the underground tunnel that led to the dungeon.

“What about the guards at the front gates?” Elijah asked, looking at him pointedly.

“Four men down,” he replied sharply.

Elijah furrowed his brow. “Dead?” he asked, rushing past Liam despite the guard’s order. “Lock down the castle. If someone is inside, we can trap them before they can escape. I’ll get my hands on whoever thought they could break into my palace and walk out of here alive!”

Liam threw his hands up. “Before they kill you, you mean?”

A glint of irritation crossed Elijah’s features. “Liam, you underestimate me. I am not my father,” he reminded him. “You think this is the first time someone from my kingdom has tried to assassinate me? I’ll not run and hide as he did.”

Liam straightened his red tunic and bowed his head. “Of course, sir. What would you like to do?”

A devious smile crept up Elijah’s lips. He turned to face the corner of his room where his sword lay across the table. “See who’s still standing and have them block each entrance. Even the ones that don’t face the city.”

Liam gave him a curt nod. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said, leaving Elijah alone in the chamber.

He had meant what he said; Elijah was no stranger to the feeling of his own people trying to kill him. When he became King of Zemira, his focus had been on bringing peace to the people, and thus far, he had seen remarkable success. Magical creatures and humans now lived side by side once again. Most of the rebels had surrendered because they no longer believed the royal family was a threat to them. The beginning of Elijah’s rule represented a fundamental change in the fabric of the kingdom for most people. Law and order were the governing principles as he worked to keep his people safe.

However, Elijah wasn’t naïve enough to ignore the darkness that had always followed him. Not every Zemiran felt free, and he was an easy target for their ire. They would rather blame one man than tease apart the many threads of their society and history that kept them feeling uneasy. He could manage their misguided anger, though. It was only when that simmering resentment pushed his own people to try and take his life that he let himself feel unfairly judged.

Elijah never wanted to be the villain, and yet, he was seen as such.

Quietly, he crept through the doorway and into the hall.

He stopped, listening to the faint sound of someone coming up the main stairs. The king swallowed, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest. Several of the assassination attempts on King Elijah occurred in the city but were always stopped by his guards before any harm could befall him. A break-in inside the palace was brave.

Or stupid, he thought.

A dark shadow dashed from one room to the other, catching his eye. Elijah stilled, holding his sword out, and began to summon his power. The fine tingle of the mist left his fingers, trailing down the baseboards. The black smoke crept to the room that the intruder had snuck into, feeling for their presence.

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