Red (The True Reign Series) Read online

  (The True Reign Series, Book 2)

  BY

  JENNIFER ANNE DAVIS

  Clean Teen Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Яed

  Copyright © 2013 by: Jennifer Anne Davis

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address:

  Clean Teen Publishing

  PO Box 561326

  The Colony, TX 75056

  www.cleanteenpublishing.com

  First Edition: February 2014

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-940534-52-7

  ISBN paperback: 978-1-940534-50-3

  Cover design by Marya Heiman

  Interior layout by Courtney Nuckels

  For more information about our content disclosure,

  please utilize the QR code above with your smart phone or visit us at

  www.CleanTeenPublishing.com.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  More CTP Books

  Mako

  Revenge was so close that Mako could almost taste it. He would make Barjon pay for murdering his family and destroying Greenwood Island. However, Princess Amer was the key to everything and, right now, she stood on the gallows with a noose cinched around her neck.

  Mako shifted in the tall, thick tree, his green and black tunic camouflaging his entire body. He remained perched among the leaves and branches fifty yards away from the gallows. There were only a few trees on the grounds, and he felt exposed. He would have preferred to be on the wall surrounding the castle, but had been unable to infiltrate the guards. He needed to be elevated to make the shot, and the trees were the next best thing. His legs ached from standing in the tree all night, but he didn’t dare stretch for fear of catching someone’s attention.

  A soldier began tapping a single beat on a drum, the haunting sound echoing throughout the courtyard. Hundreds of people were crammed together in front of the gallows to watch Amer’s execution. On the castle’s balcony, Barjon was sitting on a royal-blue, high-backed chair. The curtain behind Barjon shifted, and Lennek strolled out and leaned against the railing. He smiled down at Amer with a smug expression on his face.

  Mako’s hands itched to squeeze Lennek’s throat until the life drained out of him. He forced his temper in check. It was only a matter of time before Barjon and his sons would get what they deserved.

  The clouds were growing thick and heavy as a storm moved in. Mako glanced back down at Amer. Her body shook from fear. He couldn’t believe how much she looked like her mother—the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and bone structure. Seventeen years ago, Mako swore to Queen Kayln that he would protect the princess, and he intended to keep that promise. Rage built inside of him. He had to stifle the memories of everything that transpired on that horrific day. He would not allow Amer to meet the same fate as her mother or his wife and baby daughter.

  Scanning the courtyard, Mako searched for Darmik and immediately found him sitting atop a black horse surrounded by soldiers. Darmik had been tracking some of Mako’s men—had even fought and killed a few, so he had to assume Darmik was prepared for a rescue attempt. Yet, there weren’t as many soldiers positioned in the courtyard as he expected. Mako had a few of his own men down among the crowd, ready to move the people when necessary.

  The drum beat wavered and ceased. An eerie silence descended over the courtyard. Mako steadied the longbow, sweat dripping down his forehead. Pulling back the stiff string, he nocked an arrow and waited for Lennek to give the command, signaling the execution. Timing was crucial.

  The longbow had a heavy draw weight. Mako couldn’t hold the position much longer. He focused on Lennek, watching his body. Two of Mako’s men were hidden in other trees, each armed with a longbow. Jantek was twenty-five feet to the right, Donok thirty feet to the left. The plan was for Mako to take the first shot, Jantek to take the next immediately after, followed by Donok a second later. Mako would take a fourth shot if necessary.

  Lennek raised his right arm and shouted, “Now!”

  Mako forced himself to wait a fraction of a second before releasing the arrow. The rope around Amer couldn’t be too slack. The rope’s width, the time it would take for the arrow to travel to the target, and the wind speed were minute details that meant the difference between life and death.

  He released the arrow. It was a beautiful shot, but he had no time to admire its delicate arch through the air.

  Amer began to fall. Mako nocked another arrow.

  His first arrow struck the rope, slicing it, but not all the way through. Jantek’s arrow sailed through the air and pierced it again; Donok’s arrow hit the rope right behind Jantek’s. Amer’s weight pulled the rope—it was about to go taunt, breaking her neck. Mako had already released a second arrow.

  The rope severed.

  Instead of Amer’s body dangling, she fell through the narrow opening, smacking her head against the wooden platform with a loud thump. She landed on the ground beneath the gallows, not moving. People in the courtyard screamed, thinking they were under attack. In the midst of the confusion, two of Mako’s men, dressed in stolen army uniforms, ran under the gallows and grabbed Amer.

  Rema

  Rema wanted the last thing she saw to be of something beautiful. Scanning the crowd of unfamiliar faces, she spotted Darmik dressed in his commander’s uniform off to the side of the courtyard atop Nightsky. He must not have ever loved her—their entire relationship had to have been some sort of game. Hurt and betrayal raged inside of her. Not wanting to die like this, Rema focused on his horse—the only connection to her home in this dreadful place. As if sensing her, Nightsky’s head turned toward Rema. She stared into his dark, knowledgeable eyes. Tears blurred her vision, but she couldn’t look away. Images of Uncle Kar and Aunt Maya filled her with a sense of peace.

  Lennek yelled, “Now,” his voice echoing in the courtyard.

  The floor beneath her feet moaned as it opened. There were several odd “whooshes” by Rema’s ear.

  And then she fell.

  Rema’s stomach dropped. She dove from cliffs enough to know the sensation of falling. This was much the same, only, instead of cool water, her body slammed into something hard. There was an immense amount of pain.

  So this is what death feels like.

  Her world went black.

  Darmik

  There were no signs or indications of a rescue attempt. Darmik scanned the courtyard again. Nothing was amiss. It didn’t make any sense. If Rema was the rightful heir to the throne, as the rebels claimed and her tattoo indicated, then surely the rebels would at least at
tempt to save her.

  Lennek gave the command. The soldier manning the gallows pulled the lever, opening the floor beneath her.

  Maybe Darmik was wrong. Maybe she was just a girl. Rema’s eyes found his for a brief second, and then she turned away. His heart sank. He couldn’t allow her to die. Darmik had never disobeyed an order before. But if Rema was just a merchant’s niece, she didn’t deserve to be executed for kissing him. He was responsible for her predicament, and wanted to save her. Reaching down, Darmik grabbed the knife strapped to his lower leg. When he righted himself, her body was already falling. Darmik’s hand tightened around the hilt. He was about to throw the dagger to slice the rope, but four arrows sailed through the air, severing it before he had a chance.

  Swiftly scanning the direction the arrows came from, Darmik saw a man shimmying down a tree. Was there a rescue attempt in place? Darmik frantically searched the courtyard, looking for anything amiss.

  Rema’s head smashed against the wooden platform, a horrible, wood-splintering sound, and she landed on the ground with a thud. Two soldiers ran under the gallows, grabbing her body. Darmik didn’t recognize either of the men. They weren’t his soldiers.

  There was a rescue attempt in place! He took this as confirmation—Rema was the heir. Nudging his horse forward, he headed straight for the gallows. People yelled and ran toward the exit. He had no idea where Rema was amidst the chaos.

  Darmik turned back to face his squad, about to order them to close the courtyard gates, when he saw two soldiers sprint to the entrance of the army’s secret tunnel carrying someone. It had to be Rema.

  “Stop them!” Darmik shouted, pointing his dagger at the tunnel. He couldn’t believe he’d almost rescued Rema himself. When it came to her, he lost his wits, and he needed to remain focused if he wanted to stop the rebels.

  The squad of soldiers took off after the rebels, Darmik not far behind them. He stormed inside the dark tunnel, unable to see anything.

  Horse hooves pounded on the dirt. Sparks from swords clashing shone in the blackness.

  A soldier screamed, “It’s an ambush!”

  From the sound of things, there were well over two dozen men fighting in the tunnel. Darmik lowered his body in the saddle and rode straight through the fray. If he and his men were under attack, then the rebels probably had Rema through the tunnel and were already well on their way to freedom. These rebels were meant to slow his pursuit of her. A hand grabbed his leg, and he jabbed his dagger hard and low, embedding it into a man. Pulling the weapon free, Darmik continued.

  When he reached the end of the tunnel that exited outside the city walls, thunder boomed. Scanning the horizon, there was a single horse and rider traveling straight through the field instead of for the cover of the forest. A limp body lay in front of the captain on the horse. The body looked like Rema. Darmik nudged Nightsky and the horse took off. Leaning low, he chased after the rebel, confident he could close the mile gap between them. Given the number of soldiers he had stationed in the nearby area, it surprised him when no one came to aid in the chase. Since the rebel wore a captain’s uniform, Darmik’s men were tricked into letting the rebel flee without question. He was on his own.

  The rebel finally entered the forest. There was no way Darmik would be able to overtake the rebel and Rema amid the dense trees and thick vegetation. Having limited options, he stopped his mount, pulled out his bow and arrow, and shot at the man’s horse. The arrow struck the animal’s thigh, causing the horse to rear up. The man reigned in his mare and dismounted, gently lowering Rema to the ground. She lay on the forest floor, unconscious.

  About ten feet away from the rebel, Darmik dismounted and unsheathed his sword. The rebel appeared to be in his late forties and was large and muscular, with a look of determination across his face. He, too, wielded a heavy sword capable of amputating a body part. Darmik slowly approached the man, and then made the first move, sliding his right foot forward. He kept his elbows inward, and sliced toward the rebel’s sword arm. The man twisted and blocked the strike. Moving his body to the left, Darmik raised his sword and struck at the rebel’s thigh. Again, the man blocked the blow and countered with one of his own.

  Rema screamed in agony. Blood covered the side of her face and the front of her dress. The cut rope was still wrapped around her neck, entangled with her key necklace.

  “Where are you taking her?” Darmik demanded. Rema’s betrayal still stung, yet he didn’t want her to die. It was infuriating the way she made him feel.

  “She is none of your concern,” the rebel replied, moving in front of Rema.

  “You think you can just ride off with Rema and what? Restore her to the throne?” Darmik kept his face blank. He advanced toward the man, both hands holding his sword out in front of him.

  Rema pulled herself up against a greenwood tree, fresh blood oozing from the cut on her forehead. When she saw Darmik, her eyes widened and her shaking hands flew to her neck, touching the rope still clinging to her.

  “It’s okay,” the rebel gently said, his eyes steady on Darmik as he spoke to Rema. “I’m here to protect you. I will not let anyone hurt you, especially him.”

  Rema peered at the rebel with a confused look on her face.

  “Does Rema know who she really is?” Darmik demanded. But why would the rebels keep her in the dark? From a strategic standpoint, it didn’t make any sense.

  “What do you mean?” Rema asked.

  The rebel’s face hardened as he advanced toward Darmik, raising his sword, prepared to strike.

  “Wait,” Rema said, her voice weak. “If you’re really here to help me, then do not hurt Prince Darmik.”

  The rebel stumbled when he heard the request. Darmik couldn’t help being shocked as well, especially after the way he had treated her since her arrest.

  “Ahh,” she cried glancing down at the blood covering her hands and filthy dress. Darmik feared she would pass out.

  The rebel lowered his sword. “She’s losing too much blood. We can stay here and fight, or I can get her to a healer.”

  Darmik cringed as Rema’s head fell forward and her entire body slid to the side, unconscious. He raised his sword, preparing to strike the rebel.

  The man took a step away from him. “If she wants you unharmed, I can only assume you want the same for her?” His eyes locked on Darmik’s, like he was trying to read his thoughts.

  Darmik did not want this rebel to know he had feelings for Rema. That information could only be used against him, and he didn’t want to give the rebel any leverage. “No,” he said. “My interest lies in finding your base camp and destroying you. I don’t care what happens to her.”

  The rebel studied him for a moment. “I have a healer not far from here,” he finally said, lowering his sword. The rebel seemed intent on keeping Rema safe. If Darmik defeated him, then what would happen to her? If Lennek got his hands on Rema, he would destroy her.

  “Go then.” Darmik dropped the point of his sword to the ground, taking a step back.

  The rebel gave a curt nod before sliding his sword back in its scabbard. He picked up Rema, setting her atop Nightsky.

  “Since you’ve injured my horse, I will also need yours.” After tying her to the animal, he mounted his own. Darmik watched them ride away as heavy rain began to fall.

  Rema

  Rema’s eyes flew open. Was she dead? Her head throbbed. No, she thought, death wouldn’t hurt so much. She lay on a straw bed in a small, dark room. It had to be the dungeon, although it lacked the putrid smell of human waste mixed with decaying rats.

  She tried to remember how she got there. The last thing Rema remembered was standing on the gallows with the noose around her neck. She recalled focusing on Nightsky’s big, black eyes, then she fell, her body slamming into something hard and her world going black.

  Did the rope break? Tears slid down her cheeks. If so, would she be rehanged? Rema couldn’t go through that again. The faint sound of angry voices resonated outside the
small room as she strained to listen. Were soldiers coming for her now? Was it time for the king to remedy her botched execution?

  Rema tried to sit up, but an explosion of pain rippled through her skull. Her world went black again.

  ****

  When Rema came to, she heard Aunt Maya and Uncle Kar talking to a female voice she didn’t recognize. She wanted to shout out to them, but stopped herself just in case. Maybe, she shuddered in horror, her aunt and uncle had been arrested and imprisoned here in the dungeon with her.

  Rema knew that if she tried to sit up, she’d pass out again. Her body felt as if a horse had stepped on it. Reaching up, she stroked a bandage wrapped around her forehead. Where her fingers touched, a fire burned. If she were in the dungeon, then why would they bother to dress her wound? Maybe Lennek didn’t want her to bleed to death—that was the most likely cause. He’d want her conscious when she was hanged.

  Someone bumped against the wooden door. The holding cell she had previously been in had iron bars for one of the walls, not a normal wooden door like this one. Looking around, Rema realized a brown, wool blanket covered her. Next to the bed sat a table with a washbasin, the water red. A washcloth splotched with blood hung on the edge. Several small bowls similar to ones Aunt Maya used to mix medicine surrounded it. The faint smell of mint hung in the air.

  The door opened, and a woman entered. A dull, gray light illuminated the room. “You’re awake,” the woman said, smiling. She wore a long, plain black dress and her brown hair was pulled back into a bun.

  “Who are you?” Rema asked, her voice hoarse. She wanted to ask about her aunt and uncle, but was afraid to say anything about them until she knew what was going on.

  “My name is Nulea. I am a healer.” The woman pulled out a chair and sat next to the bed.

  Nulea had a friendly smile, and she didn’t seem threatening in any way. However, Rema still had no idea what was happening.