A Sky Like Blood

A Sky Like Blood KINGDOM OF BETRAYAL BOOK ONE EVERLY FROST Contents Dedication 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 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 A Sin Like Fire Stay in Touch Wolf of Ashes Bright Wicked Storm Princess Saga : The Complete Collection Also by Everly Frost About the Author Copyright © 2023 by Everly Frost All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Frost, Everly A Sky Like Blood Cover design by Claire Holt with Luminescence Covers www.luminescencecovers.com For information on reproducing sections of this book or sales of this book, go to www.EverlyFrost.com [email protected] In the space between heartbeats, anything is possible. Chapter 1 TEN YEARS AGO At any moment, the beast that my people created will break down the throne room door. Then the shadow of death will come for us. I huddle behind the Silver Throne, the malice in its metallic surface surging through my body while I try to shield my brother and my sister from the screams outside the throne room. I don’t have enough hands to cover their small ears. Not enough arms to comfort them. I want to tell them I’ll keep them safe, that I’ll die before I let anyone hurt them, but my mouth is too dry to speak. The pain in my body is too sharp. The malice in the throne is too strong. I would choose to hide somewhere else—anywhere else—but it’s the only structure in the room that we can shelter behind. On the other side of the throne, the floor is a wash of black marble that stretches two hundred paces to the door. The room is cold, shiny, and empty. That was the way our leader liked it. A distant thud makes me jump, my arms closing more tightly around my siblings. It won’t be long now. My little sister, Tamra, is frozen in my arms. She’s nine years old—seven years younger than I am—and she’s small for her age. Her face is upturned to mine, her pale-green eyes wide with fear and her silver-blonde hair matted with blood. Her scalp is bleeding from our mother’s sharp fingernails. There are scratches across her shoulders and down her arms, also from our mother’s grasping hands. Her twin, and our brother, Gallium, huddles against my side. His head is bowed and pressed to my shoulder, allowing me to cover his outer ear with my left hand. He’s shaking, and his breaths are short and fast. He’s not too old to show his fear. Not too proud to seek safety in my arms. He, too, wears bruises on his arms and legs. Along with a cut across his cheekbone. My parents caused those, too. Their faces, wild with panic, flash through my memory. They grabbed Tamra and Gallium, intending to use their bodies as living shields, as if the idea of killing helpless children could deter a beast. But I stopped my parents. I fought them like I never fought them before, using every part of my body to fight back, to wrench my siblings away from them and turn myself into the shield, taking every punch and kick they rained down on my back and head when I refused to let my brother and sister go. I would not let them use my siblings to steal a few extra moments of life. Backing away from me, my mother had screamed at me. “You’ve killed us, you worthless bitch.” It was an irrational scream, full of fear and panic, as if I was somehow responsible for the death they had brought on themselves. As if they could somehow escape their own doom. I refused to hold my tongue, snarling back at my parents like the beast they feared. “You killed yourselves.” Their faces were cold and blank. Nothing I said ever mattered. I was their failure. Their shame. If they thought they could drain the life from me to give them strength, they would have, but I was less than worthless. I would contaminate their power and make them weak. Now, Gallium’s small voice, muffled against my side, stops my fear in its tracks. “I’ll fight beside you, Asha.” I close my eyes and let my tears fall, hating that they drip onto his hair and down his forehead, mingling with his blood. I may have saved him from our parents, but I merely delayed the inevitable. Finally, the screaming outside the throne room stops. I thought I would welcome the silence, but it’s horrifying. It means my people are dead. All of them, including my parents and our leader—the Blacksmith named Malak. It was Malak who created the beast that has now risen up and killed them all. I fight the tightness in my throat and whisper as softly as an exhalation. “Shh. Quiet now.” Tamra closes her eyes as I lower my head to hers and press my cheek to her forehead. I relax my hand against Gallium’s ear, cupping his face, trying to calm him with a gentler touch. He shudders his next breath and then we’re as still as we can be. It won’t matter. The beast will hear our heartbeats and know where we are— A crash at the far end of the