Wasteland Treasure (The Deviant Future #2) - Eve Langlais
rologue
It took decades for the Earth to recover from a catastrophic event that not only reshaped the surface of the world but also took a chunk out of the moon—which turned out to be a really bad thing. The tides in the oceans kind of needed it whole. It was amazing the ripple effect something like that had. Add in meteor showers, a few nuke strikes, and BAM!
Once the worst of the destruction ceased, meaning the craters only smoldered and the shuddering waves from the impacts had subsided, the planet was never the same. The Ancients, as some called them—although could a few centuries really make them so old?—had done a number on the planet. It wasn’t the plastic pollution that did it in—as so many predicted. The Earth had a way of breaking things down when given a chance. There were other less natural things that did it. Toxic waste from nuclear bombs. Biological hazards that, when released, killed, not just humans but huge chunks of life, animal and insect alike. The meteor showers brought shit to an extinction level event.
But humans, like the rats and roaches of the world, knew how to survive and adapt.
New Earth needed them to change because, while some of the poisons in the ground eventually dissipated, others remained, requiring a stronger constitution. Evolution of the fittest ensured life on the planet didn’t die out.
Humanity lived, but they weren’t the same people as the Ancients. They were wilier. Stronger. And also very divided.
In that nothing changed.
There were a few disparate groups, the most prominent being the Enclave and its citizens. Ruled by the members of specific families—a strange process that involved breeding and testing to ensure a certain quality—the Enclave lived for the most part in the Cities. One major city per kingdom. Everything else was considered a satellite to it and existed to serve.
There were five kingdoms on the continent, with some being more divided from their neighbors than others because of natural barriers. The Emerald domain consisted, for the most part, of a barren wasteland with mountains running along part of it, an impenetrable forest on another, and a chasm to complete the lopsided triangle. The Sapphire City and its satellite towns were past the encroaching marshlands and bordering the Savage Sea.
There was Ruby—where debauchery ran rampant—Diamond, and Lazuli. Those five kingdoms—with a sixth emerging from the boggy lands vying for status—were ruled by the Enclave, two kings, three queens, and their various courts under them. The Enclave regulated every inch of their citizens’ lives from creation, to placement, to punishment if someone objected to their lot in life.
They provided a direct contrast to those who chose to ignore the Enclave’s rules, sworn enemies known as Wasteland Rats, Marauders, Deviants. They preferred the term survivors. They managed to live outside the domes in dangerous places like the barren Emerald and very wild Ruby. It wasn’t easy, but they were free. However, they did long for something a little safer, more permanent. A real home.
Rumors spoke of a fantasy place, a city with the highest walls, perfect for repelling monsters. Trees in tended gardens that didn’t try to capture and digest the unwary. Clean running water, food, justice. A city where everyone was treated equally. Every traveler passed on a story about Eden from someone who’d heard it from someone else.
It was ruled by a man who refused the title of king. Who forged a kingdom out of the Wasteland. Who ruled fairly. A true leader and savior who might be able to save them all.
Or so they said.
Now if only someone could find him.
One
Many years ago, in a city ruled by a queen…
“You there, behind the counter, pay attention. You have business to conduct if you can be bothered to do your job.”
The acerbic tone and words might as well have been a slap. Staring at the jars she dusted, Sofia bit her lip lest she speak out of turn.
The customer is always right.
Not always. Only once had she dared mutter that back to her teacher.
She still remembered that lesson, and the stinging on her knuckles from the spoon he’d used to smack them. Never tell them they’re pompous jerks.
With a fake smile pasted on her face, Sofia turned to greet Jezebelle, a regular customer—and pain to deal with. She was always quick to verbally abuse. Insulting those she considered inferior. Which included Sofia.
The older woman, her blonde hair pulled into an intricate series of knots, had a sneer on her lips. “About