Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,27
same since. The queen’s brother rules with as much sense as a cooly-cooly bird and every other kingdom suffers at his careless hands. Tyrn is determined to bankrupt every single sovereign. And if someone doesn’t step in soon there will be war. Barstus and Vorestra have already threatened to align with Blackthorne. Meanwhile, Kasha fights an ugly civil war and no one has stepped in to offer aid. The Ring of Shadows moves through the realm like locusts, consuming and destroying everything in its path. But you should know all of this.” His gaze stayed focused on my face, but his words had upended my perception of the realm enough that I didn’t remember to hide my reaction.
My mind spun as I tried to process all of his flippant stream of information. Had my uncle truly let things become so bleak? Kasha at civil war? Blackthorne making a move for power? The Ring of Shadows? This couldn’t be.
“Where exactly are you from, lass?” Arrick asked.
I reached for Shiksa. Her silken coat soothed some of the frayed edges of my nerves. How could I have stayed away for so long? How could I have abandoned my people to my uncle’s incapable hand?
Now, more than ever, I needed to get home—to Elysia. I needed to use the crown to unite the kingdoms again, to bring peace and stability to the realm once more. The only problem was that I had no idea how to do that.
Even if I did manage to escape the rebels and return to Elysia, I had no formal training as a sovereign, no idea how to make peace between warring kingdoms, no insight into political affairs, no experience… no education in matters of state. I didn’t even know how to dance.
A raven cawed in the distance. Or maybe it was in my head.
“What is your name?” Arrick demanded, breaking me from my spinning thoughts.
“Wh-what?”
“Your name, if you please.” When I didn’t tell him, he moved toward me impatiently. “You know mine. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”
I lifted my chin, coming fully back to the conversation. “You’re free to leave. I’m not. Explain to me the definition of fair.”
“Fine,” he sighed, as if it pained him. “Then I demand to know your name.”
“And if I refuse?”
His lips twitched. “You’ve already refused.”
“If I continue to refuse?”
“I’ll take your fox.”
“You wouldn’t!” I cradled Shiksa against my chest. She nuzzled into me and my protective instincts flared.
“I wouldn’t. You’re right about that,” he conceded. Holding up a finger, he exclaimed, “She bit me.”
She squirmed in my hold, settling closer against me. “You must have been doing something she didn’t like. She’s usually very gentle.”
Arrick managed to look somewhat contrite. At least the corners of his frown seemed contrite. “She might have been opposed to me digging through your precious purse.”
I kissed the top of Shiksa’s soft head. “Good girl.”
“Your name, prisoner.”
When I lifted my gaze, I could see that he all but vibrated with impatience and frustration. His mouth, the only part of his face I could see, was set in a frown and his jaw ticked dangerously. I had already pushed my luck enough for one day.
“Tess,” I answered. “My name is Tess.”
“Tess.”
“Yes.”
Before Oliver and I had even left the monastery we had decided that Tess was a common enough name to go unnoticed. Tessana Allisand might have belonged to a lost princess. But Tess could be a name from any province, in any part of the realm.
“Oliver,” Oliver offered when Arrick turned to him.
“Tess and Oliver,” he repeated, as if testing the sounds on his tongue. He rested his hand over his chest, his tanned skin stood out against his sleek cloak. “I am Arrick, as you know.”
He reached up to pull his hood back. I found myself holding my breath as he revealed his features to us. I expected deformities or scars or something to warrant the hooded mystery, but when the shadow was gone, there was nothing but a man underneath. A shockingly handsome man with thick, dark hair and startling blue eyes.
I took a fast, surprised intake of air that wasn’t enough to fill my lungs. Arrick was not the man I expected him to be.
The short beard covering his jaw had falsely given the impression that he was older, a man well into his prime. But, in fact, he was as young as me. His face pulled at something inside me. A memory… or a feeling…an emotion that I wasn’t at all comfortable with.