Kings of Paradise (Ash and Sand, #1)

by Richard Nell

Ruka stared at the corpse of the boy he’d killed, and his stomach growled.

Not the plan, he thought, but meat is meat.

‘Lawless pagans’ his mother called them when they first arrived near Hulbron, ‘as like to kill you as look at you’. Her attitude had since softened, but not by much.

Southerners still literally believed Edda, the goddess of words, heard everything ever spoken—they believed insults and slurs that stood unopposed became true, and that harsh words should always be challenged by deed. Failure to do so diminished you, and gave the words weight.

So strange how a thing can one day be true, then another ridiculous.

I’ll be part of your book, Mother, but not like Egil or Haki or Rupa. I’ll be Omika, the giant. I’ll be the monster who frightens little girls. That’s what I am. I’ll butcher the whole world one by one with my bare hands, and when they’re all dead, the lawmakers and priestesses and all their servants, then I’ll go to the afterlife and find you, and I’ll make you their queen.

Hypocrisy festered like an open sore in Ruka’s mouth. He smelled self-interest and deception in the air as if some foul miasma, choking every breath until he felt each was the last and deadly corruption of his lungs.

Surely, there is nothing more free than a beast of the wild, Mother. Surely, to change the world, I must first change myself.

Her father had bound her arms and legs, rolling her for miles in a wagon with her baby brothers, and left them there like discarded dogs.

“You think words stop violence? You think words do anything at all?”

They were afraid of a world they didn’t understand, afraid of their own ignorance, angry at rich men and their sons who had things they didn’t. Almost none could read except a few simple words. What choice did they have, to keep their pride, but to look down on those who could?

“It’s being aware of yourself and others. Of knowing…or…trying to understand that all things are connected. It’s called the Central Path. The path to all things.”

“I learned that suffering of the body is often suffering of the mind. It isn’t hunger that disturbs me, it is a head cluttered with useless thoughts. And loneliness. I know I will sleep well tonight.”

“Faith is the desire for virtue. The pursuit is worthy of respect, if not the conclusions. Try not to judge those who have been led astray.”

“I’m sorry, my son. You will be made a eunuch, and then a royal priest. Tomorrow morning.”

But you must never trust too much, or love too deep, because as a king or a prince or just a man sometimes you must give up the things you love.”

Aunt Kikay’s words came back to Kale, then, after she’d caught him in bed with Lani. “You are a child playing in an adult world.” It was said perhaps with pity more than judgment, but that brought no comfort, and the more he learned, the more he understood how true it was. How complex the world is, he thought, and how little I will truly ever know.

A week after the attack, Kale learned Lani had a son. One of Nuo’s silent guards bowed and handed him a letter with his afternoon meal.

Thank you, Ando, for teaching me your Way. And thank you, Ru, for teaching me I am nothing. He had to smile. And thank you, Master Lo, for teaching me it still matters why.

“Pyu under attack. White-skinned giants in ships. Sri Kon in flames. Palace sacked.”