The Reluctant King (The Star-Crossed Series) by Rachel Higginson Page A
Authors: Rachel Higginson
Ads: Link
walked over to give Sebastian a kiss and a hug goodbye, even if there was a weird, strange tension between the two of them.
I stood awkwardly in the middle while Angelica discussed travel routes with Silas and Gabriel. I stood alone. And for the first time in my life, standing alone felt lonely.
Chapter Nine
I woke with a start, fast and quick. My heart pounded, my ear drums rang and a thick sheen of sweat plastered my hair to my neck. I reached out into the thick folds of blankets on my massive king-size bed and felt around until I was sure I was alone. Until I was sure I was safe.
I didn’t scare easily. I wasn’t scared ever. No, I couldn’t remember a moment in my life when I had felt nothing but fear. Sure, there were those moments when fear was stronger than any other emotion, but always coupled with it was confidence, or determination or anger. This fear stood alone and consumed me.
And seriously, a nightmare?
But it was so real. It was so…. they were gone. The details, the events, the haunting dreamscape that tortured me with chills and boiling blood at the same time; the visions that had me hunting down a sword and a gun and setting out for vengeful retribution. They slipped away, back into the abyss of my subconscious.
And I wished they would stay there.
But mine was the kind of life where nightmares became reality, where I had to suffer against the brutal torture of a tyrant, where I watched and mourned as friends died, where my sister’s life was exchanged for mine and my parents and grandfather were murdered in front of me. My life was the stuff of nightmares. And three years of peace meant nothing when war was on the horizon.
I drew another stuttering breath and ran my hands through my damp and matted hair. I forced myself to breathe deep and even breaths and my heart to slow its rapid rhythm. Whatever was left behind when I opened my eyes would make itself known soon enough; there was no use worrying over it now.
The sun shone through my long windows and I glanced over at the clock, surprised by how late I slept. Usually I was up before the sun, and I enjoyed the quiet peacefulness of a castle not yet awake, before everyone started demanding my attention and required me to make menial decisions.
I stumbled to the shower, stepped out of my boxers and into the hot water I started magically from across the room. I needed a steamy bathroom before I even crossed the threshold in order to wake up.
After cleaning up, shaving and pulling my hair back and away from my face, I dressed for the day in old jeans and a t-shirt, slipping the crown on my head before I left the room. I remembered Lucan in tailored, designer suits and ties every day he was King. Even Amory adhered to a certain snobbish dress code that exemplified a well-kempt, wealthy and responsible man.
Jeans and a worn red t-shirt hardly screamed leader of the wealthiest nation on Earth, but it was also comfortable and practical, not to mention a reminder of my youth and inexperience for any Immortal that approached me. Not that I was trying to sway their next vote for a Democracy by proving I wasn’t up to task for the crown. But…. ok, maybe I was trying to do that a little bit.
Plus, I was King after all. I could wear whatever I wanted.
I found Eden and Kiran in the dining hall, surrounded by all of our friends, minus Silas, Gabriel and Sebastian who left very early this morning. My intention was to see them off and offer some last minute directions, but my subconscious decided to hold me hostage in my own personal version of Nightmare on Elm Street.
I stood awkwardly in the middle while Angelica discussed travel routes with Silas and Gabriel. I stood alone. And for the first time in my life, standing alone felt lonely.
Chapter Nine
I woke with a start, fast and quick. My heart pounded, my ear drums rang and a thick sheen of sweat plastered my hair to my neck. I reached out into the thick folds of blankets on my massive king-size bed and felt around until I was sure I was alone. Until I was sure I was safe.
I didn’t scare easily. I wasn’t scared ever. No, I couldn’t remember a moment in my life when I had felt nothing but fear. Sure, there were those moments when fear was stronger than any other emotion, but always coupled with it was confidence, or determination or anger. This fear stood alone and consumed me.
And seriously, a nightmare?
But it was so real. It was so…. they were gone. The details, the events, the haunting dreamscape that tortured me with chills and boiling blood at the same time; the visions that had me hunting down a sword and a gun and setting out for vengeful retribution. They slipped away, back into the abyss of my subconscious.
And I wished they would stay there.
But mine was the kind of life where nightmares became reality, where I had to suffer against the brutal torture of a tyrant, where I watched and mourned as friends died, where my sister’s life was exchanged for mine and my parents and grandfather were murdered in front of me. My life was the stuff of nightmares. And three years of peace meant nothing when war was on the horizon.
I drew another stuttering breath and ran my hands through my damp and matted hair. I forced myself to breathe deep and even breaths and my heart to slow its rapid rhythm. Whatever was left behind when I opened my eyes would make itself known soon enough; there was no use worrying over it now.
The sun shone through my long windows and I glanced over at the clock, surprised by how late I slept. Usually I was up before the sun, and I enjoyed the quiet peacefulness of a castle not yet awake, before everyone started demanding my attention and required me to make menial decisions.
I stumbled to the shower, stepped out of my boxers and into the hot water I started magically from across the room. I needed a steamy bathroom before I even crossed the threshold in order to wake up.
After cleaning up, shaving and pulling my hair back and away from my face, I dressed for the day in old jeans and a t-shirt, slipping the crown on my head before I left the room. I remembered Lucan in tailored, designer suits and ties every day he was King. Even Amory adhered to a certain snobbish dress code that exemplified a well-kempt, wealthy and responsible man.
Jeans and a worn red t-shirt hardly screamed leader of the wealthiest nation on Earth, but it was also comfortable and practical, not to mention a reminder of my youth and inexperience for any Immortal that approached me. Not that I was trying to sway their next vote for a Democracy by proving I wasn’t up to task for the crown. But…. ok, maybe I was trying to do that a little bit.
Plus, I was King after all. I could wear whatever I wanted.
I found Eden and Kiran in the dining hall, surrounded by all of our friends, minus Silas, Gabriel and Sebastian who left very early this morning. My intention was to see them off and offer some last minute directions, but my subconscious decided to hold me hostage in my own personal version of Nightmare on Elm Street.
Similar Books
