Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  A far-off look occupied Rayad’s face. Apparently, Jace was not the only one letting his mind wander. He eyed him in amusement. Rayad blinked, and his frown resurfaced when he realized he’d been caught reminiscing, which did no favors for his argument about getting old.

  “Come on,” he said with a growl that drew another chuckle from Jace. “Let’s get this animal gutted and back to the farm. Kalli will be pleased. I bet she’ll make pickerin stew tomorrow night.”

  Jace’s stomach growled, prompting him forward.

  With the hefty pickerin boar hanging from a long branch between them, Jace and Rayad emerged from the forest into a small, cleared valley of lush farmland. Fields of rich, dark soil blanketed with the bright green of new crops stretched out before them. Even after three years, the sight hadn’t dulled for Jace. It was the first place he’d ever learned the definition of home—the one place in all the world he felt free and happy.

  When they neared the barn ahead, Aldor came from the garden. He grinned, his white teeth matching his snowy beard. “You found him. Excellent! I was getting worried we’d lose our spring crop.”

  “You shouldn’t have to worry now,” Rayad replied, “unless there’s another one in the area. But with this big guy around, I doubt it.”

  “He’s a big one all right. Haven’t seen one this size in years. We’ll be eating good this summer. I’ll get the smokehouse fired up first thing.” He eyed the animal’s wounds. “Two shots to bring him down, huh? Not bad, considering his size.”

  Jace shook his head and shifted the pole on his shoulder, hating to admit, “My first shot missed. I had to take him down with my knife.”

  Aldor glanced toward Rayad. “Can’t say I’ve seen that done before.”

  “He didn’t leave me much choice,” Jace responded. He’d only done what he needed to stay alive and kill the boar.

  They carried the pickerin into the barn and laid it down. A loud bark echoed from behind them. Jace turned as a black wolf bounded into the barn. She stopped at the pickerin and sniffed before emitting a deep growl. Jace knelt beside her and ruffled the thick fur around her neck.

  “Easy, Tyra. You don’t have to chase him out of the fields anymore.”

  The wolf nuzzled his face and wagged her tail.

  “Let’s see your leg.” Jace took her foreleg in his hand. The linen bandage remained in place, and only a little blood had seeped through from the tusk wound she’d acquired in her last confrontation with the pickerin.

  It took all three of the men to hoist the boar up from one of the rafters to butcher. Tying off the rope, Jace caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked to the door as Kalli entered the barn. While her husband was tall and fit, and surprisingly strong for his advance age, the matronly old woman was shorter and rounded. Laugh lines creased the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. Her very presence warmed the barn and filled Jace with peace.

  “My, what a fine catch!” she exclaimed. “Thank the King for giving us two fine hunters to bring back such a prize.”

  “Indeed,” Aldor agreed with his wife.

  “It was all Jace,” Rayad said, nodding. “I only showed up after the fact.”

  Kalli beamed at Jace, and heat rose into his face at the praise. “And for that, I shall make your favorite—pickerin stew.”

  He grinned, though he hadn’t done anything spectacular. Actually, he’d done a poor job of it by not taking the pickerin down with his first shot.

  Kalli’s demeanor changed to one of concern, and she clucked, “Jace, you’re bleeding.”

  He glanced at his leg. The bloodstain was barely the size of his hand. “I’m fine.”

  She placed her hands on her ample hips. “You’d say that on your deathbed. Now, come to the cabin and we’ll have a look at it.”

  If anyone was overly protective and fussy, it was Kalli. Jace gave her a winning smile—one she couldn’t refuse. “I’m sure it’ll be fine until we’re done.”

  Kalli’s eyes narrowed, though Jace didn’t think she was capable of truly being cross with him. “Well, all right, but you just make sure you let me tend to it when you come in. Pickerin wounds are a nasty business.”

  “I will,” Jace promised, rubbing Tyra’s head. Looked like they would both get medical attention tonight.

  He glanced at Rayad. The older man gave him an I told you look. Jace rolled his eyes, and this time Rayad chuckled.

  Kyrin Altair’s pulse betrayed her, drumming in her ears and causing that too familiar ache to throb at the base of her skull. The buzz of a hundred different conversations droned around her and joined with the pounding of blood in her head. She gritted her teeth. She should have known this would happen. Why had they ever come near here, especially now?

  The sweeping central square in the heart of Arcacia’s capital city of Valcré always teemed with people, as colorful merchant stalls and carts offered a vast variety of exotic and unique wares, but today, the crowd size had more than doubled. Nearly half the city had gathered to witness the spectacle. People pressed in close and jostled each other for a good view.

  With quiet pleas of “excuse me,” Kyrin squeezed her way through the crowd, searching. Most people ignored her, almost suffocating her with their nearness, but a few moved aside when they noticed her gold and black government-issued uniform. The constant tug of small hands holding tightly to the back of her long jerkin assured her that Meredith hadn’t fallen behind. She shuddered to think how difficult it would be to find a little girl in this mass.

  Confronted with a solid wall of male backs, Kyrin stopped. The closeness of the people trapped the breath in her lungs, and her vision mottled. She pressed her palms to her eyes and focused on breathing. She wouldn’t lose it now. Sweat beaded on her body and plastered her hair and clothing to her skin. Just breathe. She fought to tune out the crowd for even a brief respite, but the pounding headache made it impossible to focus.

  “Do you see her?” the small voice came from behind.

  Kyrin’s head snapped up, and she outwardly composed herself. She looked over her shoulder at the petite little blue-eyed girl and forced a smile. “No, not yet.”

  She had to keep moving, keep searching. They stepped around the men and drew ever closer to the raised wooden platform that commanded everyone’s attention. Kyrin adamantly ignored it. She rose up on her toes to gain a better view through the crowd, and a flash of gold caught her eye.

  “Kaden!”

  Please, let him hear me. She called again through the bodies in front of her and released a loud breath when the dark-haired young man turned in her direction. Taller than many of the men around him, he spotted them and pushed his way through to meet her and Meredith. Just having him near soothed her quaking insides.

  “Did you find her?” he asked.

  Kyrin shook her head. Kaden’s dusty blue eyes, identical to her own, turned to ice, and his jaw muscles bunched.

  “I swear, when we—”

  “No, you don’t,” Kyrin cut in, giving him a warning look, though threats of her own flitted through her mind. She grimaced and pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. Why couldn’t she be normal? “Let’s just find her and get back.”

  Her brother’s eyes narrowed. “You all right?”

  “I will be when we get out of this crowd.”

  Kaden huffed and scanned the area again. At last, he announced, “There she is.”

  He moved to the left and pushed his way through far less politely than Kyrin had. She and Meredith stayed on his heels and kept to the cleared path he made, which quickly closed up behind them with grumbling onlookers. When they broke out of the sea of bodies next to another young woman in government uniform, Kyrin cut around in front of Kaden just before he could go off on the girl.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Elise. Where have you been? We’re going to be late.”

  The blonde girl spared the three of them little more than a glance and said pertly, “We have time.”


  So much for respecting the fact both Kyrin and Kaden had two more years on her fifteen.

  Meredith tugged the girl’s arm, her voice mournful. “Come on, Elise. I don’t wanna miss lunch. I’m hungry.”

  Elise shushed her before catching Kyrin’s hard look.

  “What? Don’t you want to see?”

  Kyrin’s gaze shifted to the platform. A wood block, about knee-high, sat in the center, though she averted her eyes from the dark stains bleeding down the front. Her focus rested on the huge man who towered beside it, but a leather mask hid his face. He gripped a massive broadsword, its sharp point resting on the platform as he waited.

  Kyrin swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away. “No.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s—”

  A murmur swept through the crowd and pulled Kyrin’s attention back to the platform where five men climbed the stairs. Her stomach tightened. Four of the men bore the uniforms of Arcacian military—black and gold, just like her and her companions. The man between them, however, wore a pair of stained linen pants and only a leather jerkin—the exact opposite of their clean, professional appearance. But his fearsome features commanded all the attention. He stood a good five inches taller than any of the guards who held the heavy chains attached to his shackles. Taller even than Kaden. Long, greasy strands of thick black hair fell around his hard face, which bore the bruises of recent beatings, and an unusual amount of black hair covered his muscular arms.

  Kyrin swallowed the thumping of her heart in her throat as the man peered at the crowd. His eyes unnerved her. They flashed a startling, almost luminescent blue as if an icy light glowed behind them. She could have found them beautiful if not for the man’s hideous sneer.

  Meredith shrank against her, and Kyrin put her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

  “Come on, let’s go,” she urged Elise, and Kaden added firmly, “Now.”

  They’d seen enough ryrik executions, and this was no sight for Meredith. It would give her nightmares for sure. She didn’t need one more thing to frighten her.

  But a wave of jeers and hisses from the crowd drowned them out.

  “Murderer!” a man shouted.

  From nearby, a woman cried, “Soulless monster!”

  The shouts rose up with growing intensity and loathing. Even Elise joined in. Kyrin shifted as a chill raised goose bumps under her sleeves. While she carried no sympathy for the ryriks considering how many people, particularly women and children, they brutally murdered, the crowd’s hostile reaction unsettled her. People shouldn’t be so eager to witness death. Perhaps they wouldn’t be if the details forever implanted themselves in their minds whether they wanted them or not—the way they did for her.

  The guards shoved the ryrik man forward and forced him to his knees with a sound kick to the back of the leg. Though the ryrik showed no reaction in his expression, Kyrin caught the subtle twitch of a muscle in his jaw. His gaze swept the thousands of faces gathered to watch his demise. An intense fire burned in his eyes. He wanted to kill every single one of them, and given half a chance, he would. Thank goodness for the chains and guards.

  The executioner stepped forward and lifted his sword into the air. The ryrik swallowed, and sweat glistened on his forehead. Kyrin’s eyes trailed one bead of moisture that rolled down the side of his face and seeped into his beard. The guards forced the ryrik’s neck down on the block. Kyrin bent down toward Meredith. She took care to keep her voice calm.

  “Just face me.”

  The child buried her head against Kyrin’s stomach. She covered the little girl’s ears and turned her own eyes away. She wouldn’t let such sights add themselves to the ever-growing collection of memories that would never leave her, ever. Yet, the scowling, jeering faces of the crowd were little improvement. Not much different from the ryrik, really. If only she could forget such unpleasant experiences, but they stuck as permanently as the ones she wished to keep. She caught Kaden’s stormy eyes, and held them.

  It all concluded in a disturbingly swift moment—a life brought to an end. The crowd erupted in whoops and cheers. Enough was enough. Kyrin snatched Elise’s arm.

  “It’s time to go.” She turned to Kaden. “Lead the way.”

  She took Meredith’s hand and held her close to shield her from the gruesome view of the platform as they worked their way through the people again. The crowd bumped and pushed them as most people turned to leave. Even with Kaden in the lead, they made slow progress. Kyrin once more found herself battling to breathe normally. With her free hand, she grabbed Kaden’s jerkin to make sure the crowd didn’t separate them.

  When they broke out into a less cramped intersection, Kyrin released a long breath, letting the tension drain. She let go of Kaden and brushed away the damp wisps of hair clinging to her face. From here, they had a perfect view of Auréa Palace. Settled on a hill overlooking all of Valcré and the Ardaluin Bay, it stood tall and majestic with its support columns and magnificent towers rising toward the sky, the golden-hued stones soaking in the sun. But such a familiar, everyday sight lost much of its majesty.

  However, the edge of a skeletal-like structure farther to the right did give Kyrin pause. The Draicon Arena. Under construction by Emperor Daican’s masons for over three years now, the monument to his father would dwarf most other structures in the city once it was completed—all for the purpose of gladiatorial games. Kyrin grimaced. She didn’t want to think any more about death today.

  Meredith squeezed her hand, and Kyrin shifted her focus to another large complex a little nearer. She cast a glance at the sun and winced. As the oldest of the group, she took responsibility for them and would no doubt have to explain things to Master Zocar if they arrived late. How did she always get stuck looking after Elise?

  “We have to hurry.”

  She looked down at Meredith. Her short legs would never be quick enough. Kaden followed the same line of thought, as usual. He scooped Meredith up, and the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Kyrin took the lead and hurried up the street between the multiple-story shops and merchants’ homes that populated this area of the city. Elise jogged to catch up, bouncing her perfect, golden blonde ringlets—the very opposite of Kyrin’s straight and plaited dull brown locks. Not that she was jealous.

  “Relax,” Elise said. “We have plenty of time.”

  Kyrin huffed. “You always say that.”

  Despite Elise’s protests, Kyrin maintained their fast pace. They would not be late if she could help it. By the time they reached their destination, Elise panted behind them, not sharing Kyrin and Kaden’s athleticism. Kyrin rushed them toward the large, arched gateway that passed through a twenty-foot wall. Huge black and gold banners hung on either side. One depicted a brawny, stern-faced man wielding a broadsword, and the other a shapely woman with attire far too revealing, in Kyrin’s opinion, and hair flowing down to her feet—Arcacia’s two moon gods, Aertus and Vilai. She glanced at Kaden, but he was certainly more concerned about missing his lunch.

  Beyond the wall lay the complex Kyrin had seen from the intersection. Tarvin Hall. Between the main building, outbuildings, and training fields, it occupied many acres and sat right in the palace’s shadow. This was home—at least the home Kyrin and Kaden had known since the age of seven, along with any other child deemed remarkable or particularly privileged.

  They jogged through the gate to find the front courtyard empty and ran up the wide stone steps to the front door of the main building—a massive, three-story structure. Inside, the silent, empty halls echoed their hasty entrance. Kaden set Meredith down, and they strode through the corridors, the little girl running to keep up.

  At the dining hall, they came to an abrupt halt, and Kyrin grimaced. Great. The tall doors stood shut, and a murmur of voices filtered through them. Lunch had started.

  Her eyes shifted from the closed doors to a lone figure beside them. Master Zocar stood tall and proud like one of
the grim-faced statues in the courtyard, and just as commanding. Though thin, almost spindly even, Kyrin didn’t doubt his strength. She’d seen him sparring on the training fields. A retired general, he’d headed this program for all the years she’d attended, and demanded utmost respect. The younger children were convinced one glance from his smoldering, dark eyes could shrivel them on the spot. He moved toward them now with slow, precise steps.

  “Uh-oh.” Meredith pressed up against Kyrin and grabbed her jerkin. Kyrin patted her shoulder.

  Master Zocar’s gaze landed first on the little girl and then pinned Kyrin. She suppressed a grimace. While she no longer feared the man, not a single person at Tarvin Hall liked to face him when in the wrong, and she and Kaden found themselves in that position more than most.

  “Late for noon meal, are we?” His voice filtered out, low and even, not giving away any emotion.

  Zocar stood firm on order and discipline and ran Tarvin Hall much like the military he’d once commanded. After all, wasn’t that what they all were? The emperor’s own personal army, groomed from early childhood to do his bidding? Of course, this was considered a high honor, and Master Zocar held them all to a standard of perfection. His own appearance attested to that—always impeccably dressed and groomed—his uniform pressed, and his shoulder-length silver hair neatly framing his face. He would look better with it cut short, but now was not the time for such thoughts.

  The silence lengthened, and Kyrin shifted.

  Master Zocar’s thin brows rose. “Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

  Kyrin bit the inside of her lip. She glanced at Kaden and willed him not to say anything. He returned her look with his own warning message in his eyes, but Kyrin chose to ignore it.

  She faced Master Zocar again and straightened. “It’s my fault. I should’ve made sure we were back sooner.”