Forsaken Thrones

FORSAKEN THRONESTHE FORSAKEN KINGDOM SERIESBOOK 1 L. L. STILES Copyright © 2023 by L. L. Stiles All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover and map design by L. L. Stiles. Edited by Norma Gambini. Created with Vellum To all who like to escape from our world by getting lost in another. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING Graphic violence, Death, Mature Content, Mature Language, Death of a Parent, Misogyny. CONTENTS Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58Chapter 59Chapter 60Chapter 61Chapter 62_Acknowledgments 1 Aswift kick to the chest had Ellie Batair falling to the ground. Her pride, and the thin veil that held back her anger, fell with her. Gasping for air, she quickly rolled to the right, dodging a stomp that would have left her shoulder aching for days. In a smooth motion, she gracefully lifted herself, dirt and hay from the barn floor now covering her. Sweat rolled down her back as she dodged another blow from her older sister. Cammie’s manic smile sent a chill up Ellie’s spine. Her sister’s golden-blonde hair had been tied up before the start of their sparring, but large strands had escaped and were now stuck flat to her sweaty face. Cammie’s wild green eyes stared at Ellie as she contemplated her next move. “You know you can’t dodge me forever, sis,” Cammie taunted, her arms stretched out as if welcoming an attack. Cammie was the tallest and strongest of the three Batair sisters, but what Ellie lacked in strength, she made up for in speed. Her sister often had trouble tracking her movements, and years of practice made her evasions and strikes nearly unpredictable. Ellie sucked in a breath, pushing back at her growing anger. “If you’re getting tired, Cam, just say the words and we’ll stop.” Her sister howled then lunged forward, fists at the ready. Ellie dodged the first punch that flew towards her face, but in doing so failed to track the trajectory of the second fist that landed swiftly into her left side. She stumbled back, holding in the gasp of pain. The delight in her sister’s eyes caused Ellie’s own to blur with rage. Anger. It was a constant battle. Controlling it had only gotten more difficult with age, and her eldest sister thrived on that anger, pushed at it any chance that she could, but Ellie never let it take over. Cammie’s arrogant attitude from the lucky blow she’d landed left her careless and unaware of her wide, welcoming stance. Ellie sent a vicious smile towards Cam before swiftly sliding underneath her legs. Seeing an opportunity, Ellie grabbed an old rake that leaned against the barn’s only window. She stomped off the metal head, leaving four feet of wooden hilt swinging in her hands. “Woah! No weapons!” Cammie’s protests were nearly drowned out by the rage ringing in Ellie’s ears. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She blinked away the blur in her eyes and shook her head to clear it. With a steady breath, she replied to Cammie’s plea, “What is Grandpa’s number one rule and first lesson?” “Never fight fair, just win.” Cammie rolled her eyes but knew she couldn’t argue against the advantage that Ellie now held. Using items and their surroundings to their benefit was just one of her grandpa’s many, many lessons. She swung the makeshift staff towards Cammie’s face, who blocked it with her forearms. Ellie smiled, knowing the hit would definitely leave some bruising. Cammie pushed it off, and Ellie immediately swung towards her legs. Cammie tried to jump but wasn’t fast enough. Ellie made contact with her ankles, leading her sister to fall hard on her side. She went in for one more blow. “HEY!” Their grandpa’s voice boomed through the small wood structure. Ellie stopped the splintered hilt just inches above Cammie’s panicked face. “Ellie, did you break a perfectly good rake? Just to have an upper hand?” His voice was reprimanding, but Ellie could see a glimmer of pride hiding behind his angry facade. Since the age of five, their grandpa had been training the three girls in a variety of physical combat—along with an assortment of lessons. Lessons on war strategy, on observation, on poisons and their many effects, and lessons on alliances and inevitable betrayals. Years of schooling and training led to three fierce, beautiful weapons. “Was it a perfectly good rake, Grandpa? It was rusted, and the hilt snapped off like a twig. Admittedly, though, this rake was the only thing that kept me from saying those two horrible words.” Ellie turned to her sister, who still lay flat on the dirt ground. “Actually, Cammie, I think I need to hear those words from you. I clearly would have won if Grandpa hadn’t so rudely interrupted us.” She swung the hilt to point at the slender, yet muscular old man, hoping she didn’t misread the glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Fine.” Cammie sat up and dusted the dirt from her arms. “You win.” Her annoyed growl was music to Ellie’s ears. “Whatever. I’m bathing first.” “Bathing may need to wait. It seems you both have forgotten what day it is.” “We didn’t forget, Grandpa. We just chose to ignore it as long as possible.” Ellie’s gut twisted at the thought of the