VALIANT REIGN (The Royals Book 3) Read online

  VALIANT REIGN

  Brooke Sivendra

  Copyright © 2020 by BROOKE SIVENDRA

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of Brooke Sivendra to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, not to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover by Virtually Possible Designs

  Ebook: 978-0-6485688-5-8

  Print: 978-0-6485688-4-1

  Contents

  1. Asher

  2. Abi

  3. Asher

  4. Reed

  5. Asher

  6. Abi

  7. Asher

  8. Reed

  9. Asher

  10. Abi

  11. Asher

  12. Reed

  13. Asher

  14. Asher

  15. Abi

  16. Abi

  17. Asher

  18. Reed

  19. Asher

  20. Reed

  21. Asher

  22. Asher

  23. Abi

  24. Asher

  25. Asher

  26. Reed

  27. Asher

  28. Abi

  29. Abi

  30. Abi

  31. Abi

  32. Asher

  33. Asher

  34. Asher

  35. Asher

  36. Asher

  37. Asher

  THE STORY CONTINUES…

  ALSO BY BROOKE SIVENDRA

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  Asher

  “I’m going to execute him,” Asher said, turning to stare his brother in the eye. “And then I’m going to destroy Adani. The world is going to see who they really are. I’m going to take everything from them, just like they tried to do to me.

  “I’m going to destroy them all,” Asher said as a fierce determination rose in his chest. “Adani will fall—and I’m going to take it all.”

  Asher’s chest heaved as he stared through the glass at the manicured lawns outside the windows. Invisible chains tightened around his chest like being squeezed by a cobra. He’d always known someone was working against him—against Santina—but he’d never expected the threat to come from his cousin.

  Troy.

  He was the only person Asher had ever heard use that phrase—velvet stamped—and it all made sense now.

  Troy had accompanied Asher on many official duty trips. He’d been beside Asher when he’d negotiated the last round of aid funding.

  Troy is too ambitious.

  The memory flooded his mind so clearly that for a moment he thought he’d heard his father whisper it. When King Martin had told Asher he would become Crown Prince, Asher had asked why his father hadn’t chosen Troy instead. Troy had military and diplomatic experience and on paper had been a more suitable candidate for the title. His father had responded: “Troy is too ambitious.”

  Had his father had an inkling something wasn’t right?

  He shook his head, a feeble attempt to shake the question from his mind. He would never know the answer, since his murdered father could never tell him.

  Asher sighed heavily as he turned, his eyes landing on his brother, Alistair, who looked like he’d aged ten years in the past few days. His hair was disheveled and his skin grimy from time spent in the cells. His nose was still bruised from Asher punching him, but now Asher felt empathy rather than anger. Alistair was many things . . . but it turned out being a terrible father was not one of them. Asher prayed Alistair’s moves had been enough to ensure the boy hadn’t been harmed.

  “We’ll get him back,” Asher said, determined. “We will get your son back and he will live here at the palace. I will help you.”

  Alistair’s face crumpled and for the first time in Asher’s life, he thought he saw his brother’s eyes glisten.

  Movement across the room distracted him and he realized Abi was still standing there. She looked between the two brothers uncomfortably.

  “I’m going to step out for a moment,” she said, and this time Asher let her go.

  His eyes followed her, and he noticed Alistair watching him.

  “If Martin Snider finds out that I’ve talked, he’ll kill him. Don’t think he won’t, Asher,” Alistair said desperately. “He killed our father. I’m sure of that.”

  “Then it’s a good thing James Thomas is working this case,” Asher said, looking to the door. Where was James Thomas? Why hadn’t he come back to the room?

  Asher’s stomach churned and he walked to the door. Three guards stood outside, poised and ready to defend their king.

  “Where is James?” Asher asked.

  “He said he’d be back in a minute,” one guard responded, his face giving away nothing.

  “How many minutes ago was that?” Asher asked, unsure how long he’d been lost in his thoughts.

  “About three, Your Majesty,” the guard said.

  Asher raised an eyebrow.

  Where are you, James Thomas?

  Asher didn’t like this at all. Surely James could call; why did he need to leave the room?

  The office phone rang, echoing through the otherwise silent room, and Asher stepped back inside and answered it.

  “King Asher speaking,” he said.

  “It’s James. Put the phone on speaker and give it to Alistair,” he demanded.

  Asher clicked on the microphone icon and looked to his brother. “It’s James,” he said slowly.

  Alistair glanced dubiously at him and then cleared his throat. “Hello?”

  “How did you communicate with Martin Snider?” James asked.

  Alistair frowned. “Telephone. I already told you that.”

  “Which telephone? Because the calls weren’t made to your cell phone,” James said, matter-of-factly.

  Alistair paused for the briefest moment, but Asher didn’t miss it.

  When Alistair didn’t immediately respond, James spoke again. “Where is the other phone?” he demanded.

  Alistair tipped his head back, sighing heavily. “It’s in the pipe underneath the left sink in my bathroom.”

  His eyes remained closed and Asher wondered if his brother didn’t want to look at him.

  “I’ll call you back,” James said quickly.

  Alistair looked to his feet. “Don’t start,” he said quietly. “I was out of options and I had no one to turn to.”

  But Asher shook his head, his expression full of disappointment. “You’re wrong. You had options, but your pride got in the way of them.”

  Alistair’s eyes snapped to Asher and his jaw set. “Pride? What the fuck do I have to be prideful about?” His words were short, clipped.

  Asher sighed. “You just made some bad choices, Alistair. You’re not a bad person . . . and you’re capable of much more than you think you are.”

  His office door swung open and James walked in carrying a phone and bag of white powder.

  “Burner phone and a few more days’ supply,” he said with raised eyebrows.

  Alistair only looked away.

  “Can you trace the calls?” Asher asked, assuming there were some to trace.

  “Samuel
is working on it,” James said, sounding tired. Then he looked to Alistair, his face hardening. “You should’ve told me about this phone.”

  “Why?” Alistair snarked defensively with a weak shake of his head.

  “Because two messages arrived yesterday, and that information would’ve been really fucking helpful,” James said, his voice menacing.

  Alistair frowned like he’d eaten something sour, and Asher felt dizzy.

  “What did the messages say?” Asher asked.

  James looked at him with an apology in his eyes, then sighed. “They’re a list of addresses and times. They correspond with the attacks.”

  Asher’s jaw fell open. “What?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

  James bit his lip. “It’s odd, given the messages have come from the same source as other messages that were not so nice. My initial thought was that someone was trying to help you . . . but on second thought, maybe this message was meant as a torment. Maybe they wanted Alistair to see it afterward, when it was too late.”

  Asher’s jaw ground together and he fought the urge to scream. He could’ve protected the people of Santina—he could’ve stopped the bombings!

  Asher locked his eyes on his brother’s. “What else haven’t you told me?”

  Alistair’s face was an off-white color and he slowly lifted his gaze, looking directly at Asher. “Nothing, I swear. That’s the only burner phone I have,” he said, then paused. “And the only bag of cocaine I have,” he added quietly, sounding tormented.

  Asher considered his brother’s words for a moment, then looked at James. “Bring Troy in.”

  James drew a short breath between his teeth and seemed to brace himself. “Troy was seen not far from the restaurant last night. Abi and Rachel saw him, as you would’ve heard through the communication lines. But he hasn’t been seen since the attack. He didn’t return home last night and he hasn’t used his phone or touched his bank account in days.”

  Asher paused. “Do you think he’s dead?”

  James looked thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps. But if I were going to wager a bet, I’d say he’s in hiding. I think we scared him last night and he’s taking precautions. But we’ll find him, I promise you that.” He searched Asher’s eyes. “Is there anyone else you’ve ever heard use the phrase velvet stamped? Think carefully.”

  There was something in James’s eyes that gave him pause. Suppressing a chill, Asher reached through his mind, searching through years of memories. “No.”

  James looked uncertain and Asher didn’t understand why.

  “What about his father?” James asked.

  Asher balked. “My father’s brother?”

  James nodded unapologetically. “The stakes are high, and when there’s power involved, blood ties mean nothing to some people. You wouldn’t be the first case I’ve worked where a family member was behind the attack.”

  “No,” Asher said, but even he heard the uncertainty in his voice. “I mean . . . I don’t know. I didn’t have much to do with my uncle—he didn’t accompany me on any trips and he wasn’t an advisor—so I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s capable of murdering his own brother. But, I suppose he could’ve said it and that’s where Troy picked it up.”

  James nodded slowly. “Troy will be the focus . . . but I’m not ruling out his father.”

  Abi

  Abi’s stomach churned as she watched the television footage of the protestors lining the streets of Santina. Asher was due to make an announcement any minute, and Abi prayed that his words—the truth—would be enough to settle the crowd.

  As if the retaliation attacks hadn’t been enough, the press had been leaked evidence that Asher had warning of the attack but had chosen to ignore that warning in order to protect Abi. Her teeth ground together at the unfairness of it all. Hadn’t Asher been through enough? Hadn’t they all?

  But then, when was life ever fair?

  She sat her coffee down on the table, deciding she didn’t need another ounce of caffeine right now. There was enough adrenaline and fury racing through her veins to power the city.

  The door swung open and Rachel walked in, security closing it behind her.

  “I thought you’d be here, torturing yourself,” she said, sitting beside Abi.

  “What am I supposed to do? Eat cake and sip on champagne while Asher deals with this mess?” she asked bitterly, shaking her head.

  Rachel chewed on her cheek, thoughtful. “If Martin Snider, or Troy, or whoever it was behind the attacks hadn’t used you to get to Asher, they would’ve used someone else—so you should stop feeling guilty for something that’s not your fault.”

  “Who does Asher have left that they could’ve targeted? They’ve tried to take everyone from him,” Abi said with a strained voice.

  “But they didn’t succeed,” Rachel said. “I know this is hard for you to watch, but I think you’re underestimating Asher right now.”

  Abi kept her eyes on the television as Asher walked out onto the balcony. The crowd jeered insults and Abi was glad she couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. She hoped Asher couldn’t either.

  Asher stood tall and calm, giving the crowd a moment to have their say.

  “Today is a day of heartbreak for Santina, and one that will torment our kingdom for many years to come. I have spoken to the families of the attacks, but I come here today to give you, and all Santinians, the facts regarding what occurred last night, because what you’ve been told—conveniently leaked to the press—is so far from the truth it makes my blood boil,” Asher said, his voice like a growl.

  The crowd quieted.

  Asher continued, “It is true that I knew about the attacks several hours in advance, but I did not know the full details of each attack. It is also true that I was advised if I handed over Abigail Bennett, the attacks would not go ahead. But that’s the thing about doing business with criminals: they don’t stand by their word. The person behind these attacks is the same person who killed my father, your late king. Would you have trusted them?”

  The crowd was silent.

  “Regardless, a strategy was devised by my security team and Abi. It was not a plan I willingly accepted, but my hands were tied. Abi volunteered to meet the men behind the attacks at a specific location. She put her life at risk, and her life was almost taken. But thanks to an incredibly experienced and skilled security team, Abi survived.”

  Asher paused, looking directly into the camera. “As a result of her heroic plan, Lamberi—a warlord known for capturing, mutilating, torturing, and raping thousands of women—was killed. Before Abi left last night, she said to me, ‘If we can do one thing to make this world a better, safer place, eliminating Lamberi would be it.’ Lamberi is the same man who tried to take her hostage a few weeks ago, the same man she told me she wouldn’t have survived. So I ask you, if you had been in her position, would you have volunteered to walk back into his reach?”

  No one muttered a word.

  “I admit,” Asher said, shaking his head softly, “I didn’t want the plan to go ahead. I’ve already attended two funerals in as many months, and I couldn’t stand the thought of attending a third—or potentially worse: Abi being captured and living the rest of her life in horror. Lamberi and his cohorts have tried to strip everything from me—from Santina. They took your king, tried to kill your queen, and have attempted to ruin my leadership every day since King Martin’s assassination.”

  Asher’s eyes darkened. “But now we know exactly who is behind the murders . . . and the attacks last night. Lamberi was involved, but the treason runs much deeper. We were in the darkness, fearing our enemies, but now the tables have turned. Our enemies should be fearing us, because they will pay for the lives of the innocent Santinians they murdered last night!” Asher’s voice boomed.

  “They will pay, and they will scream for mercy, but we will not give it to them. I will make you one promise, Santina: this is my kingdom, and I will make sure those responsible for last n
ight burn in hell. There will be no mercy. There will be no leniency. I did not forsake Santina last night, and I never will. This ends now!”

  The booming cheer of the crowd filled the room and the cameras swept over the thousands of Santinians lining the streets before returning to their king. Asher was a picture of calmness, except for his eyes—his eyes were narrowed, determined, harrowing.

  Hail King Asher.

  Abi exhaled with relief. If Asher was going to bring down his cousin and cohorts, and ruin Adani, the last thing he needed to worry about was Santina turning on him. But for now, they could all breathe again.

  “Not bad,” Rachel said with an appreciative smile. “Your man sure knows how to make a killer speech.”

  Abi nodded. “He cares about people first and foremost—that’s why he’s so good.”

  Rachel nodded, and her expression softened. “His life is never going to be fair, Abi. He’s going to be criticized—constantly—and harsh accusations will be made against him. And you need to figure out how to deal with that. You’re so used to protecting people, but you won’t be able to protect him from this.”

  Abi sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “I know, it’s just hard. I want to take away his pain.”

  Rachel smiled. “We both know pain can be a good tool. I don’t make light of Noah or King Martin’s death, but I don’t know if Asher would be the same man today without that happening. Whether he does it consciously or not, Asher knows how to use pain to his advantage. If I were his enemies, after today and the speech he gave at his father’s funeral, I’d be scared right now.”