Amber Mitchell - Roots of Ruin

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2021 by Amber Mitchell. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

10940 S Parker Rd

Suite 327

Parker, CO 80134

rights@entangledpublishing.com

Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Lydia Sharp

Cover design by LJ Anderson/Mayhem Cover Creations

Cover photography by CLFortin, FMNG, and brainmaster/Getty Images

ISBN 978-1-64937-002-0

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition August 2021

At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the books webpage for details.

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To my Grandma, whose love of books fostered my love of books.

Chapter One

No matter how many times I run as far and as fast as I can, until my blood burns through my veins and my lungs constrict in pain, I will never grow tired of being free.

Ironically, though, today my goal is to trap another being. While I was once the prey, now I am the hunter.

The thick forest treetops rush by in a blur as I follow the pounding echo of soldiers boots from high above them. Raindrops leak through the leaves, soaking my robes down to my skin and hindering my view of the chaos on the ground. I chart every soldier as they hurry along, each trying to guide the pack of boars we pursue.

A flash of grayish-brown peeks through the thin birches that surround Imperial City, pulling my attention. My gaze zones in on the flash, and I catch another and another, then a glistening ivory tusk. Guttural growling rumbles in time with our hurried footsteps, and the air feels electric, like Im back on the battlefield.

Ive never seen a boar up close, but I will today, if everything goes well. And it has to go well or our failure will reflect on Rayce. A new emperor must produce a wild boar he caught for his coronation night as a gift to his subjects, or they will view it as the gods disapproval of Rayces ascension.

I dont understand this tradition, and I hate how dangerous it is, but after seeing all the color drain from his cheeks in the last ten hours as we searched for a pack of wild boars without success, Ive come to realize the importance of it. This single day will set up his entire reign, which is why he hand-selected fifteen of his best soldiers to accompany us, as well as Arlo, his right hand, Marin, Arlos sister and a scout, and their mother, Commander Darra Shing.

To be honest, I wish hed chosen either Marin or Darra but not both. Ever since Marin found out that her mother was living in the neighboring country of Varsha all these years and in contact with her brother Arlo, even though she had been led to believe her parents were dead, shes not been friendly with either of them. Not that I blame her. But its created tension that we could do without on a day like today.

Marin would be furious if she ever found out that I sympathized with her mother, but my feelings toward Darra are a little more complex. We are similar, Darra and I, both thrown into lands we werent from and forced to adapt. Without her and the small squadron of Varshan soldiers she brought here, we might not have succeeded in overthrowing Rayces uncle, the previous Emperor of Delmar, in our war to free the empire, and Rayce wouldnt have been able to claim his right to the crown. We owe Varsha, and Darra in particular, for the prosperity thats blossomed in Delmar the past few months.

At the sight of an entire pack of wild boars, the tension in every face lessens, weapons gripped tighter and at the ready, and a sense of calm comes over the small pack of hunters, showing in the lightness of their step. And here I thought killing the creature would be the hard part.

The tightness in my chest loosens a fraction, and I touch two fingers to my lips in silent thanks. Prayers go up to whichever of the gods are listening, but Id prefer to give credit for this stroke of good luck to Oren, Rayces closest advisor, father figure, and the man who sacrificed his life so that this moment could even happen. I can almost feel his patient gaze looking down on this moment tucked away deep in the forest.

The taste of rot from wet foliage crunching below fills my mouth as I breathe in heavily, keeping time with the hunting party. Rayce moves beneath me like my own shadow, his long black hair slicked back by the rain and held tight in a bun on top of his head. His sharp gaze lies on our prize, a pack of boars that runs up ahead of us, trampling earth under hooves.

His form-fitting dark green robe clings to his lean chest, and water drips down the profile of his determined face, making its way over the bumpy scar that runs from his eyebrow all the way down his cheek. Its been far too long since my fingers have been allowed to trace the mark he wears as a badge of honor.

Three months and eight days to be exact. My skin craves his as desperately as a flower craves water. Rayce has always been my sunlight, the thing that makes me whole.

But ever since I saved his life and damned him at the same time by mixing Borenite, a glowing blue mineral from my homeland that was supposed to heal him, with the Zarenite tattooed into his body, it causes him to go feral every time we touch. A brush from my fingertips brings out the monster buried inside him, and only when I touch him again can I silence it.

I am Delmars worst enemy and only savior all wrapped into one. Even though Rayce tried to ignore the toxin now spreading through every one of our touches, it was ultimately agreed upon that until Piper can produce a cure, we need to keep our space. But how can a heart keep beating if it is wrenched from the cavity inside ones chest? It feels like ages since Rayces lips have kissed mine, and the temptation to break our promise grows stronger every time he draws near.

Perhaps thats why we can never find a moment to ourselves anymore.

Gritting my teeth, I touch the vial of Borenite sitting next to the one of Zarenite vials hanging from my necklace. Though Delmarian soldiers only carry a spare vial of ground Zarenite in case they need to refill their stunner, I have both. Borenites healing properties are usefulat least, they are for me. I spent the first half of my life around one mineral and the other half around the second, growing immune to the dangerous effects of mixing both.

Faster now! Rayce yells, strain tightening his voice.

His short command snaps me back to attention, gripping my grappler hilts tighter in each hand. Growls fly at Rayces words as if the boars can understand them, too, and the hunt is on.

Keep a tight formation! Arlo yells from the rear of the group, his short light-brown hair sticking to his face and causing his usually neatly trimmed goatee to appear straggly.

Their words stir everyone else forward, but I stop. Aiming the grappler in my right hand for a sturdy-looking tree branch up ahead, I click the trigger and feel the kickback as the three-pronged hook rockets forward. Another click upward and wire as thin as spiders silk begins to retract, pulling me from the branch I was perched on.