Other Books by Gena Showalter

  Book of Arden Series

  Kingdom of Tomorrow

  Stand-Alone Title

  The Great and Terrible

  Kings of Fury Series, with Jill Monroe

  The Wrong Bride

  The Stolen Bride

  A Jane Ladling Mystery Series, with Jill Monroe

  Romancing the Gravestone

  No Gravestone Left Unturned

  Game of Gravestones

  Twelve Graves of Christmas

  Conrad: Falling for the Gravekeeper

  Grave Wars

  Grave New World

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2025 by Gena Showalter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake, Seattle

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  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

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  ISBN-13: 9781662530531 (paperback)

  ISBN-13: 9781662530548 (digital)

  Cover design by Faceout Studio, Molly von Borstel

  Cover image: © alblec / Getty; © GB_Art, © alias612, © Tattoboo, © Miroslav Becvar, © All for you friend / Shutterstock

  To Vicki Tolbert, my extraordinary, beautiful, faith-filled mother. I’ve dedicated books to you twice before—in the first inadvertently calling you “kiss-a” instead of “kick-a,” and in the second misspelling your name entirely for reasons I have yet to even comprehend. Third time’s the charm, right? (But let’s be honest. Considering none of my siblings have ever put you in a book dedication, I still hold the title of favorite.)

  To Mike Tolbert, my wonderful, strong, and unstoppable father. Your life is a living testimony to God’s goodness. While I wrote this book, you faced a heart attack, a stroke, and pneumonia, among other things—and you overcame them all. Your resilience humbles me, and your determination inspires me. I will always be in awe of you. (And your favorite.)

  And to you, my beloved readers, who have embraced the Book of Arden. Thank you for loving this passion project and walking this epic road with me. Your enthusiasm and support mean so much.

  Contents

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  About the Author

  It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

  —Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

  Prologue

  A grinning Cyrus clutches two scarlet-stained daggers.

  We stand in a stalemate, the battlefield between us a nightmare of lifeless bodies and scattered limbs bathed in the unflinching light of Theirland’s twin suns. Lavender and gold streak the sky, casting an eerie glow over the blood-soaked earth, where rivers of crimson carve fresh paths through the flatland. Overhead, a restless flock of scavenger birds circles, their shrill cries piercing the thick, heavy silence as they await their feast.

  A fresh wave of CURED soldiers floods in, surging from behind the former high prince and hurrying to kill the array of glowers trapped around me. Men and women I admire. Many more will die today if I don’t stop Cyrus. But how do I strike down the man I love?

  Is he still the man I love, though?

  In the morning’s brightness, I notice his missing facial brand. No sign of it remains, and my guts twist. More evidence of the monster he’s becoming.

  “It doesn’t have to end this way, Arden,” he calls.

  “You’re right.” I huff and puff my breaths. “Walk away now, and I’ll spare you.”

  His grin turns wry as he spreads his arms. Thin, snakelike shadows seep from his fingertips, coil up, and band around his neck. “I admit, your new confidence is adorable.”

  “Isn’t it?” I rock on my heels and white-knuckle my sword hilt as I scrutinize my newest enemy. Cyrus is a god of a man in more ways than one. Beautiful, tall, and powerfully built, with features somehow both surprisingly soft and far too harsh. The contradiction fits. He’s always been a paradox. Demanding yet indulgent. Mysterious but open. Perfect in his imperfections. An opponent feared by the world and yet my greatest ally. From the first moment I laid eyes on him, he fascinated me. And now here we are, soldiers on opposite sides of a war I only just realized I’ve been fighting my entire life.

  A chorus of grunts, groans, clinking metal, and gunfire rises as his army attacks my allies.

  “You won’t kill me.” Urgency whips at my back. “But I will hurt you if you continue on this path.”

  He tsks. “You give me too little credit and yourself too much. I will do whatever proves necessary to secure my rule.” A promise he made at the start of this journey. “Join my team. Merciful leader that I am, I’ll give you one more chance. Refuse, and my desire for you will no longer factor into my decisions.”

  There is no need to ponder my response. I lift my sword. “I will never help you destroy Soal.”

  Cyrus shrugs. “That’s disappointing but not shocking. Just know you chose this, sweetness.”

  I jut my chin. “No, sweetie. You chose it.”

  He draws in a deep breath, then releases a short, sharp exhalation. “Let’s get to it, then.”

  “Yes. Let’s.” Heart a war drum, I run at him.

  He runs at me.

  We meet in the middle . . .

  —The Book of Arden, volume 20, section 18, paragraph 3, verses 5–26

  Chapter One

  The past cannot be undone, but you can begin again right where you are.

  —The Book of Soal 1.23.43.18

  “I won’t do it.” The words echoed in the empty train cart as it rattled along a winding track. I stood with my back pressed against a cold metal pole, its unforgiving chill seeping through my shirt. High Prince Cyrus Dolion occupied the space just in front of me, his massive frame a tower of strength. He gripped the bar just above my head, his arms forming an unbreakable cage around me.

  “Yes, kitten. You will.” Each gravelly syllable contained the full authority inherent in his title. He searched my eyes, intense to the max, before leaning closer to set his mouth near my ear. “We both know I didn’t issue a request, but a demand.”

  My pulse jumped wildly until I felt a heartbeat in every part of my body. “You aren’t the boss of me?” A breathless question when it should have been a firm statement.

  “I am indeed the boss of you.” He recaptured my gaze. “I outrank you by miles.”

  An undeniable fact. “Fine.” I exaggerated a put-upon sigh. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll do it. I’ll obey the oh-so-important order of a superior officer.” Gliding my palms up his powerful torso to toy with the ends of his silken hair, I confessed, “I will miss you today.”

  “You had better, because I’ll be missing you.” He brushed the tip of his nose against mine. “Thinking about you. Craving you.”

  The air between us crackled, filling my nostrils with his intoxicating, ambrosial scent. There was no man more striking than Cyrus Dolion, especially when he cranked up his smolder like this. From the dark shadow dusting his firm jaw, to the large handprint branded on the side of his face, to his heavily lashed eyes, aquiline nose, and soft lips, he exuded pure confidence. But then, he was a warrior to his core. Absolute control radiated from every inch of his lean, muscular form, now decked out in fatigues.

  “You’ll be safe,” I said, a demand and a request rolled into a plea. Behind him, windows revealed a whizzing underground tunnel illuminated by pritis light. Every few seconds, a clock flashed the time remaining until we reached Fort Bala. A familiar destination amid unfamiliar circumstances. Our first time back since the Incident. “Yes?”

  “I’ll be as safe as you’ll let me be,” he vowed.


/>   Not the response I’d expected. “I have no intention of endangering you.”

  “Are you sure?” He leaned in, erasing what remained of my personal space, ensuring I burned in the flames of his searing heat. “Let me start by saying I’m not attempting to manipulate you. I’m being honest about what will happen if you stir up trouble during the investigation into my father’s death. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, even risk my life.”

  My bones melted to the consistency of warm butter, which I’d recently sampled and loved far too much. “I’m going to be a model student. You’ll see.” At Fort Bala Royal Academy, I studied as a lady-in-training, the lowest rung of CURED’s military forces. But I was now a double agent, no longer loyal to the Citizens for Unified Reform, Education, and Defense. I worked for Soal, their greatest enemy. Best not draw any attention to myself. Well, other than what I would garner when news of my romantic relationship with a certain high prince leaked. “Guess that means you’ll be extra safe.”

  “A nice change of pace since meeting you,” he teased.

  I snorted and gripped his shirt, wrinkling the material. The train and its bumpy track rocked us closer together. “Now that we’ve got that covered, put me out of my misery and kiss me, Cyrus.”

  “Oh, I will kiss you.” Agonizingly slow, he lowered his mouth to mine. A torment and a temptation all at once. But he didn’t claim my lips with his. Instead, he rasped, “Just not now. I prefer to take my time.”

  “I’m not rushing you, honest!”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “Two minutes out,” an automated voice announced over the intercom.

  “Ah. Okay.” Regret set in, but I rallied fast. I had tons to do today, and pouting didn’t even make the podium.

  Cyrus gave my brow a sweet peck before shoving a hand in his pocket and withdrawing a small velvet box. My breath caught. Um . . .

  He lifted the lid, the case’s hinges opening with a soft whine to reveal a barely there necklace with small, clear stones that reminded me of waterdrops. His knuckles brushed my skin as he secured the piece around my neck, sending delightful shivers raining over the ridges of my spine. “This blends into your skin, preventing theft. Never take it off. It will distort your voice whenever you’re being recorded.”

  Very cool. But. “Won’t that be suspicious?”

  “It would be suspicious if you didn’t wear it. All royals and their closest associates take such precautions.” He tapped one of five rings displayed on his fingers. “This is my distorter.”

  Okay. All right. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

  “Always.” That said, he severed contact, pivoted, and stared straight ahead. All hint of softness vanished from him, leaving a hard, shudder-inducing expression behind. Truly the stuff of nightmares. “We’re ready for what’s coming. We’ll be fine.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed with a nod. Last night, we’d discussed and compared our stories, then practiced being interrogated.

  “We’ll be fine,” he repeated, as if I’d protested.

  My sweet, protective Cyrus. I shifted to his side, offering what comfort I could. Difficult to do when our lives depended on our coming performances.

  In only twenty-four hours, both our worlds had turned upside down and inside out. From cementing our unlikely romantic relationship to killing his father, the king. Yeah. The Incident. We were the ones responsible for the death of Tagin Dolion, and there was no going back, only forward.

  The awful action had saved me from certain death, yes, but it had also ushered in a whole new host of troubles. And not just Cyrus’s conflicted emotions regarding the loss of his father. Now, CURED must crown a new king of the United Provinces of Ourland. A position of unequaled authority and power, answerable only to the emperor, who answered only to a god named Astan. Not that the public knew of the otherworldly immortal operating behind the scenes.

  Cyrus was one of seven high princes eligible for becoming king. Considering he was a double agent like me, locked in a secret war between Astan and Soal, the god of all gods, Cyrus’s victory would absolutely, beyond any doubt, facilitate necessary change worldwide. But his loss could spell our ruin.

  “I sense your growing anxiety, Pink.” He kept his attention on the clock. “Remember the expert teachings of your extraordinary instructor.”

  “That’s a task easier thought than implemented. Last night, I read the royal handbook,” I admitted. “If you opt not to throw your hat into the king ring, you’ll remain a high prince, able to help Soal in ways no other person can, but you’ll fall under the authority of an unknown, possibly bigger threat than your father. If you do it and win, we can defeat Astan at last. But if you lose, you’ll be stripped of your royal title and kicked out of the army. We’ll forfeit the unfettered access we require for victory.” He couldn’t even hobble the competition. To strike against another candidate without the emperor’s permission meant certain disqualification. “But no pressure,” I rushed to add with a wince.

  “High stakes ensure nonserious contenders are weeded out.”

  “Can we afford to take the risk? Everything has changed.” Our circumstances. My allegiance. My outlook. All of my goals, hopes, and dreams. My very purpose. Three days ago, I’d left the base as Lady-in-Training Arden Roosa, mostly loyal citizen and dedicated cadet, but I was returning as a determined spy and willing traitor. While my mistakes in the days to come wouldn’t cost us the war, they could usher in my death. Or his.

  “Great risk, great reward.” He notched his chin. “Consider the possibilities, not the complications, or you’ll crumble before things get difficult.”

  “They aren’t difficult now?” I squeaked. Then I muttered, “Leave me, fear.” Watch Arden put one of those expert teachings to work: speaking to fear when it speaks to her and reminding it of who’s boss. Because once again, Cyrus wasn’t wrong. If I didn’t put what I’d learned to work, I would absolutely crumble. “I’m strong and brave, and I can overcome anything.”

  “Yes, you are, and you can. Never forget.”

  Right. I must keep my eyes on the prize: Breaking through mass terror stoked by CURED and proving everything we’d been taught the whole of our lives was a lie. Stopping the purposeful spread of a terrible disease known as the Madness and defeating Astan before his human-animal acolytes wake from their centuries-long slumber and slaughter us all. Talk about treasure upon treasure. And yet, the obstacles.

  We were up against a war machine with well-oiled cogs. CURED had an unfathomable number of supporters who believed Soalians like us were a threat to civilization. Once, I’d been among their numbers.

  “When I’m king, as I was born to be,” Cyrus said with steel, menace, and relish, “I will dismantle CURED and free every imprisoned Soalian.”

  Goose bumps spread over my limbs. “King Cyrus Dolion. I like it.”

  “Not as much as you like calling me sugar bear, I hope.” Some of his previous playfulness returned.

  I rolled my eyes, but I also smiled. Despite the seriousness of our circumstances, he still showcased a sense of humor reserved for me alone, and I couldn’t help but tease him about it. “You are so into me.”

  “I am. I’m all in with you, Arden.” The sudden gravity of his tone affected me as strongly as his nearness. “Whatever happens in the coming days, remember that.”

  “I’m all in with you too,” I whispered, taking his wonderful confession and planting it in the Beloved Moments section of my memory garden. Since my childhood, I’d longed to work in agriculture. I’d been forced to join the military instead. Now, I gardened the only way I could—inside my mind. What better way to keep track of my double life?

  Less than a minute remained until we arrived.

  Doom prickled me, a seed born of mysterious origins, and my stomach curdled. Why feel this way? Inhale, exhale. No reason to discuss it right now, adding to our plate of problems. I’d wait until I’d dug deeper and discovered the source. For the time being, I buried the doom in my least favorite section of the memory garden: Problems for Later.

  “I can’t tell you everything that will happen today,” Cyrus said, “but I can tell you this. We’ll be separated. You’ll be shut in a room, tested for Madness, and questioned.”