The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (54 page)

"Big day," Mom greeted me as I tossed the backpack on the counter and opened the fridge, reaching for the orange juice. "Are you sure you know the way to your new school?"

I nodded. "I've got it set to my phone's GPS. It's not that far. I'll be fine."

She hesitated. I knew she didn't want me driving there alone, even though I'd worked my butt off saving up for a car. The rusty, gray-green pickup sitting next to Dad's truck in the driveway represented an entire summer of work—flipping burgers, washing dishes, mopping up spilled drinks and food and vomit. It represented weekends spent working late, watching other kids my age hanging out, kissing girlfriends, tossing away money like it fell from the sky. I'd
earned
that truck, and I certainly wasn't going to take the freaking bus to school.

But because Mom was watching me with that sad, almost fearful look on her face, I sighed and muttered, "Do you want me to call you when I get there?"

"No, honey." Mom straightened, waving it off. "It's all right, you don't have to do that. Just…please be careful."

I heard the unspoken words in her voice.
Be careful of
Them.
Don't attract their attention. Don't let Them get you into trouble. Try to stay in school this time.

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Prophecy

Ellen Oh

The greates warrior in all of the Seven Kingdoms…is a girl with yellow eyes.

Kira’s the only female in the king’s army, and she’s also the prince’s bodyguard. She’s a demon slayer and an outcast, hated by nearly everyone in her home city of Hansong. And, she’s their only hope…

Murdered kings and discovered traitors point to a demon invasion, sending Kira on the run with the young prince. He may be the savior predicted in the Dragon King’s prophecy, but the legendary lost ruby of treasure just might be the true key to victory. With only the guidance of the cryptic prophecy, Kira must battle demon soldiers, an evil shaman, and the Demon Lord himself to find out what was once lost and raise a prince into a king.

Writer, lawyer, college instructor, donut-slayer, chocolate lover. Addicted to diet coke. Likes to quote extensively from the Princess Bride, Monty Python and Godfather movies. Never leaves home without her iphone, chapstick, a book and her American express card.

Kira sprinted across the marketplace and jerked around a corner, stopping in surprise. She was among the
suchae
—the untouchables, to whom the servants and slaves of the wealthy brought animals for slaughter and butchering. Her lips tightened. Theirs was a difficult life. They were despised by all for the very work they did. How could she not feel for them? Kira had more in common with these untouchables than with any of the nobles of her own class.

At the end of the dark, filthy street, Kira could see the lingering ripple of magic in the air.

She ignored the bows of the suchae and rushed into an allyway, only to find it empty. Underneath the stench of garbage and sewage, she focused on the undercurrent, her nose targeting the rotten funk of dead things long forgotten. This was what she hunted.

Opening her eyes, she followed the scent to a hidden stairwell and down to a dimly lit cellar filled with barrels of roots and vegetables and the overpowering smell of fermenting bean pastes in ceramic pots. It led her to a dark corer where a large opening was hidden in the wall, behind several rows of barrels.

Kira crawled through and stepped into a narrow passageway.  She was within the fetid underground tunnels of the city. She knew the tunnel, but not this particular entrance. It worried her that her quarry knew of it, too.

Hansong was one of the largest walled cities on the entire peninsula. Heavily armed soldiers patrolled the perimeter of the city, while shamans protected its walls and gates with demon-repelling magic spells. Kira held a wary respect for shamans. They were keepers of the dead and practitioners of the dark arts. But sometimes the wards weakened, and demons would enter the city.

It was Kira’s job to find them and dispose of them.

The dark tunnels were lit sporadically by the sunlight streaming in from the drainage ditches above. But with her unusual yellow eyes, Kira could see just as well in the dark as in the light. Channeling her senses, she caught the odor trail again and sped off.

Before long, she heard raised voices.

Someone chuckled slyly. “When we reach the palace, the first thing I need is a little snack.”

“We don’t have time for that! Our mission is to kill the king as quickly as possible.” The other voice was deep and menacing.

Assassins heading for the palace—this was what her father had feared.

Kira pulled out the horn bow strapped to her back and notched the arrow. There was only one way to kill a human possessed by a demon: sever its head.

But she had to be absolutely sure first.

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Falling Kingdoms

Morgan Rhodes

In a land where magic has been forgotten but peace has reigned for centuries, a deadly unrest is simmering. Three kingdoms grapple for power—brutally transforming their subjects' lives in the process. Amidst betrayals, bargains, and battles, four young people find their fates forever intertwined:

Cleo:
 A princess raised in luxury must embark on a rough and treacherous journey into enemy territory in search of a magic long thought extinct.
 

Jonas:
 Enraged at injustice, a rebel lashes out against the forces of oppression that have kept his country impoverished—and finds himself the leader of a people's revolution centuries in the making.
 

Lucia:
 A girl adopted at birth into a royal family discovers the truth about her past—and the supernatural legacy she is destined to wield.
 

Magnus:
 Bred for aggression and trained to conquer, a firstborn son begins to realize that the heart can be more lethal than the sword. . . .
The only outcome that's certain is that kingdoms will fall. Who will emerge triumphant when all they know has collapsed?

Morgan Rhodes lives in Ontario, Canada. As a child, she always wanted to be a princess -- the kind that knows how to wield a sharp sword to help save both kingdoms and princes from fire-breathing dragons and dark wizards. Instead, she became a writer, which is just as good and much less dangerous. Along with writing, Morgan enjoys photography, travel, reality TV, and is an extremely picky, yet voracious reader of all kinds of books. Under another pen name, she’s a national bestselling author of many paranormal novels. Falling Kingdoms is her first high fantasy.

Watching the guard, Cleo saw him briefly roll his eyes. When he noticed that she had seen him, he didn’t immediately look away as any other guard might. He held her gaze with a defiance that intrigued her. She realized she hadn’t seen—or, at least, noticed—this guard before today.

“What’s your name?” she addressed him.

“Theon Ranus, your highness.”

“Well, Theon, do you have anything to add to our discussion about how far we’ve walked this afternoon?”

Aron chortled and swigged from his flash.

“No, princess.”

“I’m surprised, since you are the one who’ll be required to carry the cases of wine back to the ship.”

“It’s my duty and honor to serve you.”

Cleo considered him for a moment. His hair was the color of dark bronze, his skin tanned and unlined. He looked as if he could be one of her rich friends waiting on the ship rather than a uniformed guard her father had insisted accompany them on this journey.

Aron must have been thinking the exact same thing. “You look young for a palace guard.” His words slurred together drunkenly as he regarded Theon with a squint. “You can’t be much older than I am.”

“I’m eighteen, my lord.”

Aron snorted. “I stand corrected. You are much older than me. Vastly.”

“By one year,” Cleo reminded him.

“A year can be a blissful eternity.” Aron grinned. “I plan to cling to my youth and lack of responsibility for the year I have left.”

Cleo ignored Aron for the guard’s name now rang a bell in her mind. She’d overheard her father discuss the Ranus family. Theon’s father had died only a week ago—thrown from a horse. His neck had broken instantly.

“My sympathies for the loss of your father,” she said with true sincerity. “Simon Ranus was well respected as my father’s personal bodyguard.”

Theon nodded stiffly. “It was a job he did with great pride. And one I hope to have the honor to be considered for when King Corvin chooses his replacement.” Theon’s brows drew together as if he hadn’t expected her to know of his father’s death. An edge of grief slid behind his dark eyes. “Thank you for your kind words, your highness.”

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