Chapter 1
One wrong move and it was all over.
Ambrose positioned herself. Readying for the attack that was sure to come. The man before her held his sword with a skill unmatched by almost any other fighter in Eltoria. Tall and toned from a lifetime of training, his deep blue eyes shifted as they watched her every move. It was a wonder to her why the empire and gods would allow him to remain a no-star with the skill level he had.
Social order be damned.
Air caught painfully in her chest, but she held his gaze as she calculated her next step.
The moon cast cool silver rays of light through the swaying limbs of the trees above, and it seemed as though the entire forest was silent and watching their match. The only sound came from the wind that rustled through the trees like quiet applause as though the spirits themselves were encouraging them.
Her opponent stepped to the side with such quiet ease, he didn’t move a single speck of dirt. It was clear his agility matched his strength. His feet shifted, torso turning slightly, lifting his shoulder—and his blade—as he did so. His sword came slicing with a speed so fast she’d lose it if she blinked. But she’d been training with him long enough to know, never blink. Her body twirled just in time, missing his blade by less than an inch as she brought the edge of her own around to meet the back of his neck.
She’d won.
“You’re getting faster,” he noted, his tanned face cracking into a smile.
“Maybe you’re just getting slower,” she mused, smiling up at him. Loose strands of his golden hair fell around his face and he tied it back neatly again, the color a contrast to Ambrose’s own deep-red locks.
“That’s not possible,” he smirked.
How humble.
He gathered his double edged sword and sheathed it back into its home; a gilded crest gleaming from the hilt as the moonlight caught it. Decorated with a roaring lion and the sword of Warwick, the God of War. A symbol of strength and power. Everything their home kingdom stood for. It matched his chest plate that shone under the moon’s gaze.
“Oh I don’t know. It’s not like you’re an Immortal, you’ll slow down one day,” she teased, but he didn’t smile back.
He was always so serious. Nothing at all like Ambrose and she sometimes wouldn’t have believed he was her twin if the empire hadn’t permitted them to stay together.
“You shouldn’t joke about the gods.”
Yup.Alwaysso serious.
“Why not? I’m sure they joke about us.” It’s not like she would know. No one had seen one of the gods in over five hundred years. They disappeared the morning after The Inferno when a magickal fire erupted in the Forbidden Kingdom, destroying everything in sight. The gods were able to contain the fire and keep it from spreading to the rest of the kingdoms but the sixth kingdom was gone by dawn.
“Why would you even say something like that?” He shook his head, brows pressed together.
Ever the devoted citizen her brother.
“Because what gods would let the world become what it has, if they didn’t think we were all a joke?” She meant for it to come out as a snide comment but the pain in her chest told her she knew she meant it in her heart.
He stiffened and turned his back to her. “You shouldn’t say things like that about the gods. Someone could hear you one day. Someone from court.”
Ambrose knew her brother was only trying to look out for her, it’s whathe had done their entire lives. She wouldn’t be half the fighter she was without him, and the fact that she could defend herself at all she owed entirely to him. He’d protected her as much as he could until she had to learn to protect herself.
Grateful for his concern, she wasn’t a juvenile anymore, and she definitely wasn’t a stranger to the cruelty of the empire.
“Adym, you know they won’t kill a mage, even a common one. We’re too valuable.” She tilted her head back until her eyes locked onto the tops of the trees that towered over them, giving them the cover they needed to train. Though they were both servants, it was forbidden for Ambrose to hold a weapon, but her brother was in the Imperial Guard, and allowed a sword under sworn oath for the protection of the kingdoms. Though he would never be able to rank higher than their lowest rank, a no-star. No matter how skilled he became.
“No, but they’ll hurt you. I can’t help you when it comes to court. You have to learn when to keep your mouth quiet and your head down,” he replied softly but sternly.
His words stung but that didn’t make them less true. Neither of them could really protect each other. Born property of the empire, at any moment they were subject to the will of the crown or gods.
“True. But they always heal me, don’t they?” she joked as she twirled her arms around showing off the many scars that covered her body. She teased like they were trophies but she knew what they really were. Reminders. Reminders of her place. Of her disobedience. The healers were fully capable of fixing her without leaving a scar. They were there to mark her, so she wouldn’t be able to forget.
Just like the mark around her neck.
Her hand traced the place on her neck that was home to the intricate black swirls that wound their way around her throat leaving the magickal mark of a collar. She didn’t need to look to know her brother bore the same one. Every servant on the continent did. The mark of servitude.
