The Realm Reaper’s Prey

The Realm Reaper’s Prey Celeste King Protheka Publishing Copyright © 2023 by Celeste King 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. Sigh up for my newsletter at https://www.subscribepage.com/celesteking Join my Facebook group here! Dedication This book is dedicated to Kaylee, Emily, Taylor, Jordon, Melanie, Jamie, Jennifer, Hannah, Donna and the whole “Project Protheka” family. Thanks for believing in the world. Contents Books in The World of Protheka The World of Protheka 1. Asra 2. Mael 3. Asra 4. Asra 5. Mael 6. Asra 7. Mael 8. Asra 9. Mael 10. Asra 11. Mael 12. Asra 13. Mael 14. Asra 15. Mael 16. Asra 17. Mael 18. Asra 19. Mael 20. Asra 21. Mael 22. Asra 23. Mael 24. Asra 25. Mael 26. Asra 27. Mael 28. Asra 29. Mael 30. Nechtan Preview of The Naga’s Mate 31. Jemma 32. Uzha 33. Jemma 34. Uzha Books in The World of Protheka Orc Warriors of Protheka Series Mates of the Burning Sun Clan Series Dark Elves of Protheka Series Thoruk’s Prize: A Monster Romance Naga’s of Protheka Series Minotaur’s of Protheka Series Demon’s of Protheka Series Vampires of Protheka Gargoyles of Protheka The World of Protheka 1 Asra Sweat beads on my brow, chilling immediately in the brisk air. Some of the leaves on the trees have finally started to change, turning to vibrant oranges and reds and signaling the coming autumn. The goal is to have the wall around our village complete before winter sweeps in so that we can have more permanent structures for all of the families in our makeshift village. The thought of happily smoking chimneys and families bundled together in their homes gives me a second wind, and I sink my shovel into the earth at my feet again. “Asra’s got the right idea!” I hear Grim shout from above my head, the sound of his cane thunking against the ground as he walks toward me. I smile as I pitch the dirt out of the trench, going for another scoop. Many of the other humans working alongside me, most of them men, have begun to tire as the day draws to a close. Especially as a child, I was always self-conscious of my taller build and the unladylike strength that resides in my muscles. It wasn’t until after Clay and I lost our parents and that strength saved us more times than I can count that I truly began to be grateful for it. My thoughts turn unbidden to my parents, to the day we lost them in Orthani. I’d grown up happy, by human standards. I was 8 when Clay was born in the small shack we called home on the edge of the Mirsiths’ property. My father worked as an animal tamer and groundskeeper, and my mother was the gardener. I’m not entirely sure why, but we were allowed to live as a family in relative privacy, something that I learned was exceedingly rare when I recounted Clay and I’s story to Cecilia and Grim for the first time. I was about 13 when Master Mirsith caught me playing outside with Clay. It wasn’t unusual for us to do this, so I never really understood the danger of being in plain sight. I learned that lesson quickly, however, when he took a liking to me, claiming I was his property to use as he saw fit. Everything after that is a bit of a blur. I remember his hand in my hair as he dragged me away from my crying baby brother, 5 at the time. I remember screaming for my parents, trying to fight against him uselessly. And then I remember my father- his rugged face twisted in rage as he came barreling out of the gardens, tackling Master Mirsith to the ground, my mother hot on his heels. My mother dragged me away from Mirsith as he and my father fought, gathering Clay up and pushing us into the woods, telling us to run as fast as we could. No amount of running could have driven the sounds of my father’s death from my ears, or the way Mirsith laughed and promised he’d find us no matter where we ran to. My mother managed to keep us hidden for a few days, and now in hindsight, I realize she was trying to get us to the docks, probably to flee the continent and get somewhere new, somewhere safer. The guards found us hiding out in a warehouse, and that was where I made my final promise to my mother- a promise to keep Clay safe, and to find a life worth living. Then I ran, with Clay in my arms, while my mother tried to hold off the guards. Clay and I were nearly caught, and I had my jaw split open by one of the guards as I slipped through their hold, but we got away. After everything that’s happened, we deserve a place to call home. And I’m happy to build one for us. The sun begins sinking through the tops of the dense trees, the temperature dropping and the light growing sparser by the second before Grim finally calls it a day. “Bah, go home,” the grizzled older man says dismissively, the men around me quickly beginning to clamber out of the trench we’ve dug. I pull myself out after them, wiping the dirt off of my hands and onto my pants as Grim offers me a water skin. “You put those men to shame, I’ll tell you that much,” Grim grumbles, though he gives me a wink. I grin back at him, downing the contents of the skin as I survey the work we’ve managed to complete so far. Wide, heavy wooden posts line the completed half of the trench, branches