Reign, p.1
Reign, page 1
REIGN
K.T. HOLDER
Copyright © 2023 by K.T. Holder
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents portrayed in it are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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.
For my Wife
CONTENTS
Prologue
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
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Acknowledgments
Afterword
Discover where it all began…
Also by K.T. Holder
PROLOGUE
The wind blew through her hair as she stood on the hill, watching the battle preparation below.
How did it come to this?
So many lives had been lost. So many friends.
Had it all been worth it?
She turned her face to the sun, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
It was time.
She had a war to win.
1
Claire tried to open her eyes. She couldn’t tell if they were caked closed with sleep, or if it was the bruising and swelling. She managed to open them enough for thin lines of light to pierce through before she gave up, exhausted.
What day is it?
She lifted her head slowly, cracking her neck to either side, and took a deep breath. Pain exploded in her ribs, reminding her of the beating she took yesterday. Or was it the day before? Everything was bleeding together. She had lost all concept of time. Some days she was beaten and physically tortured, others she was left in the cell with different sounds playing at painfully high volumes. Recently, they had taken her to a new room, where they strapped her to a chair, forcing her to watch and listen to the repetitive information blasted at her for hours. Trying to rewire her brain.
Claire tried to rub her eyes and found her hands were tied behind her back. She sighed.
Torture today then.
It was easier for her to process time when she assumed it was one type of torture per day. But in reality, she may have been experiencing only one type for a couple of hours before being transferred to the next. Being in a place where time had no meaning, Claire was trying to attach meaning where she could. Though if one type of torture a day was the correct measurement, then Claire had been here for a depressingly long time.
She heard the door open and tensed up automatically. Claire flinched when hands touched her face, but then relief and gratitude washed over her as the fingers guided a straw into her mouth. She took as much water as she dared, not wanting to drink too much only to lose it later.
He’s taking care of me. Just like the prime minister and Ezra are taking care of Highacre.
As the door closed again, Claire shook her head, trying to clear the echo of the propaganda. Was it propaganda? Claire was almost sure it was. Hadn’t she been arrested by the prime minister’s personal police force? And she was sure Ezra had personally tortured her. Almost sure. Or had she dreamed it?
She hadn’t seen Ezra since that first time he visited. If that had been real, surely he would have been back. But maybe she wasn’t important enough to warrant his time. Maybe she had dreamed it, and he hadn’t visited at all. She thought she had been gathering evidence against Ezra before she was brought here. Maybe that was influencing her dreams.
Claire tried to shift her weight, but all that managed to achieve was to remind her of her injuries and aching muscles. Her foot cramped painfully as her lower back spasmed. She cried out and was instantly embarrassed by the show of weakness. She lowered her head and hoped the cameras couldn’t see her tears.
Why hadn’t they rescued her?
The princess is weak and ran away at the first sign of trouble. She has abandoned you.
Claire shook her head clear again, instantly regretting the movement. What was real and what was false? She felt like her mind was underwater. She couldn’t find the space to think clearly. Claire was sure if she just found the space, she could figure this out. Her foot cramped again, and Claire focussed on the pain this time. That was real. The pain was real; the torture was real. Someone was holding her against her will. She needed to escape. But that seemed laughably impossible.
She flinched as the door opened again.
“Oh dear, what have they done to you?”
Claire struggled to open her eyes. She needed to open them. If she could see, she could tell what was real and what was a trick.
“Here now, let me help you.”
Claire flinched as a soft, warm cloth gently dabbed at her face, washing away the blood and grime. It felt so good. A small part of her mind said she should fight it. Not accept any kindness. It was a trick. The rest of her mind told that part to shut up, and she relaxed into the tiny luxury.
“I’m just going to dab a little of this balm on your face to help with your wounds. It won’t hurt you, but it is a little cold. I’m sorry.”
Claire tried to find the lie in the voice. It couldn’t be him. Were they using a vocal distorter? They could have copied his voice patterns by now.
She flinched instinctively despite the man’s warning. He cooed and apologised in a soft, warm voice as he tended to her face and then moved on to her other injuries. Her face tingled where he’d applied the balm. Whether it was that, or simply him cleaning her face, Claire found she could finally open her eyes.
She blanched as her eyes told the same story as her ears. Her mentor was sitting on a chair across from her, cleaning blood off her arm and applying antiseptic to her cuts.
“Are you here to get me out?” Claire whispered, her voice cracking from lack of use.
“Now, now. Let’s just focus on getting you cleaned up,” he replied.
“We need to get out of here. Now.”
“I know it may not seem like it, but you’re safe here.”
She stared at him in disbelief. For a time, they were silent as he cleaned and dressed her wounds. Finally, he put his bucket to the side and looked at her, a kind smile lighting his eyes.
“You’ve been through an ordeal.”
Claire considered that the understatement of the century and didn’t feel it required a response.
“I don’t expect you remember it all, but you were taken by Meridian forces. They tried to turn you against Highacre, but you’re too strong for that. You fought them, just like I taught you.” He smiled again. Claire remained silent. That was a lie. Wasn’t it?
“We got you back a couple of days ago, but you were fighting us. They did a real job brainwashing you.” He leant in conspiratorially. “I’ve heard that they might have developed a way to implant false memories, but that’s highly classified.”
Claire searched his face. A small wave of panic grew in her chest. She was almost certain it was her mentor and not an imposter. But last time she saw him, they had been looking to fight against whatever power was interfering in Highacren politics. That didn’t include investigating the latest technological developments from Meridia. So how would he know if they had developed a way to implant false memories? And he no longer had access to anything highly classified. He’d been fired.
Implanted memories would be a convenient way to explain everything. Well, to explain everything in a way to suit his own narrative. But then, how would she know what memories were real?
“We’ve spent the last couple of days trying to see if they did any actual damage to your brain, and also playing you some news clips to bring you back. Show you what’s real.”
News clips? The bombardment of messages about the prime minister and Ezra was nothing like news clips. All they kept saying was that the two men were great—saving Highacre, helping the people. Modern-day heroes.
Seeing her face, her mentor looked slightly abashed. “Okay, I know. They were a little more full-on. That’s my fault. I authorised them to turn it up a notch. I wanted you back and operational quickly.”
“What’s going on?”
“Last time we met, I was pretty negative. I had just been fired from the Highacren Intelligence Agency, and I was bitter. I’ll admit it.”
So at least that memory was real.
“But I was blaming the wrong side. The prime minister wasn’t trying to get rid of the agency completely. He was trying to cut away the dead wood and build something worthwhile in its place. The old regime had become lax. Highacre was lazy in our victory, and we were ignoring the signs that Meridia was gearing up for round two.” He sighed. “The PM saw the warning signs, but no one would listen. Change is uncomfortable, and everyone was comfortable in their ignorance, thinking we’d won peace for good. We saw the PM’s actions as a grab for power. But what he was really trying to do was bring Highacre into a state of readiness to counter the inevitable Meridian invasion.”
Had Meridia invaded? Claire tried to force her brain to work. She remembered an attack on the arena, but that had been terrorists. Or at least, she thought that was terrorists. And they’d been condemned by Meridia, right? But Meridia had pressed into the Disputed Region between Highacre and Meridia. They had taken some mines, maybe? The felixium mines! But that was it. They hadn’t declared war. At least, she didn’t think they had. But her mentor was telling her that Meridia were the ones who had taken her. Tortured her. She didn’t think that was real, but it did seem to fit.
“Look, I was like you. I thought the PM was out for himself. Grabbing power after the royal family was assassinated by Meridia. But he was thrust into a leadership position he never wanted because of the power vacuum. And of course, others saw the opportunity too late, and they used the tragic deaths of the royal family to try to unseat him and take the power for themselves. I’m ashamed that I didn’t see it at first. But he needed to get rid of those who wanted to destabilise Highacre for their own gain. Destabilise us while the wolves were at our door. That’s why he shut the HIA down. But he was looking to build something better in its place. Something free from self-interested vermin. Something free of bureaucratic power magnets.”
He sounded like her mentor had sounded before he was fired. Energised, passionate. Like he had a purpose, a mission. Claire felt the familiar urge to be a part of the mission. To join a team and work together for a common goal.
“I get your skepticism,” he said with a chuckle. “And while I admit that I misjudged the PM, I still don’t like the guy. He’s still a politician.”
Claire let a laugh escape her lips. Her throat was still fairly dry, and it sounded like a cough. Her mentor stood and shuffled to the door, talking softly to someone outside. He returned with another glass of water and a straw. She drank gratefully.
“Ezra though,” he continued, “he’s the one that’s really in charge, and he is all about preventing another war. He’ll be able to ensure that the new agency is not overly politicised, or used for political purposes. He really knows his craft.”
“Yeah, which he learned in Meridia by spying on Highacre.” Claire tried to gesture, and was reminded that she was restrained. She looked accusingly at her mentor.
“Oh, yes.” He chuckled again, looking embarrassed, then got up and shuffled around behind her. “When we got you back, you were a little, er, animated and enthusiastic about escaping.”
Claire felt a tug, and then her arms were free. Blood returned to her hands painfully as she rubbed her wrists.
“Which we don’t blame you for, of course. Anyone who goes through what you went through would be looking to escape at the first opportunity. But after you knocked out the third guard, we had to put you in some restraints.”
Claire couldn’t remember that at all. She frowned as she looked at the marks on her wrists. Did they have to restrain her so tightly?
“Look, Ezra was all for Meridia, but then they screwed him. He’s not loyal to them. He became a businessman. What he really wants is peace to enable positive trade across the world so he can be rich and live on a yacht, or whatever rich people do. The PM’s asked him to get our new intelligence agency up and running, and he’s agreed. It’s a win-win for him, and it’s great for us. We get the inside scoop on the tactics the Meridians use, and a new effective agency. So, no, I don’t like the PM. But I get what he is doing now, and I’m sorry for some of the things I said about him. He and Ezra are the real deal.”
Real deal. The phrase from the footage that had been repeatedly blasted at Claire resonated, echoing in her mind.
“They want to help. They’re the good guys.”
Good guys.
“I know it’s hard, especially after the brainwashing job those Meridians did on you.” Her mentor looked sympathetically at Claire. “But we can trust them. Especially Ezra. I’d trust the bloke with my life. And you should too.”
Claire could vaguely remember thinking that she couldn’t trust Ezra. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why. It was just out of reach, like a name forgotten, but on the tip of your tongue. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe that was a false memory, and there was no reason not to trust Ezra.
Maybe she dreamed it.
2
Highacre is at war.
Everything froze. A high-pitched ringing began in Lily’s ears.
I’m too late.
Lily could hear her own heartbeat as she moved forwards, her mind stuck in the slow-motion sludge of wanting to go back. Wanting it not to be true. Needing another chance.
With a snap, everything came back into focus. People were moving urgently, talking loudly about what had just happened. Those who supported the prime minister were cheering, gleefully congratulating themselves on sending their country to war with Meridia. A war they would not personally fight.
Not all were with the prime minister. Lily could see some politicians looking sombre, shaking their heads, disappointment on their faces. Some even looked scared, and she thought she saw a couple wiping tears hurriedly away. But no one was loudly protesting. No one wanted to stand out in opposition. Lily could feel the fear.
“What do we do now?”
Lily looked at Ava. Her Meridian friend looked as stunned as Lily felt. They had hoped to get to the Tower in time to prevent the declaration of war. But in the rush, no one had thought about what would happen if they failed.
Lily had never been at war before. Would Ava be okay? She was a Meridian, but as ambassador to court, surely she would be treated well. Lily chastised herself. Surely every Meridian currently in Highacre would be treated well, regardless of status.
But would they? From what Giles and Naomi had told her, the HSP was oppressing the Highacren population. If that was how the citizens were being treated, what would happen to any Meridians living in Highacre?
They will be treated respectfully. Lily swore it to herself. She would make sure the Meridians within her borders were treated well, just as she would end the oppression of the HSP. And if she could negate the declaration of war, then maybe she wouldn’t need to worry so much about the Meridians in Highacre at all.
She needed to do something. She was queen now, after all. Sure, they had performed the ceremony in the back of a van as they sped their way to the Tower. And yes, the prime minister was still claiming that Lily had not successfully completed the Trials and therefore had not been confirmed as the rightful ruler of Highacre. But she had been assured that the experts agreed he was wrong, and her coronation was legitimate.
Lily went to approach the parliamentary floor, but the politicians were already dispersing.
Hurry. Speak up and call them all back.
But it was like Lily’s feet were stuck. What if they didn’t listen? What if she couldn’t take back the declaration for some reason? Irrational social anxiety gripped her, and the idea of asserting herself in this room full of important people had a paralysing effect.
It doesn’t matter! You have to try.
Lily took a deep breath and stepped in the direction of the podium. She saw several large, heavily armed police walking with purpose towards her and her friends.
