The Trash Picker and the Secret King

The Dying Noble

The blue sword comes down fast. I do not think. I just push my hands up to protect my face.

Light explodes from my palms. It is bright, hot, and blinding. The blue beam hits the light in my hands and stops dead in the air. A loud sound like cracking glass fills the small room. The force pushes the lead guard backward, and he crashes hard into the wall. His metal mask falls off, showing a face full of shock.

The other two guards step back. They look at my hands, and their eyes go wide with pure fear.

The king's mark, one of them says. His voice shakes. It is real. He is awake.

I look down at my hands. The purple light is shining bright now, dancing over my fingers like liquid fire. It does not hurt. It feels warm, strong, and alive. But my chest feels heavy, and my head spins. I look over at the floor. Aunt Elena is still lying there, completely still.

Anger takes over my body. I point my glowing hand at the door.

A wave of purple light shoots out from my fingers. It hits the wooden door and smashes it into a million small pieces. The guards do not wait. They grab their fallen friend and run out into the dark alley, shouting in terror.

I drop to my knees beside Aunt Elena. I shake her shoulder, but her body feels cold and heavy. Aunt Elena, get up, I say, my voice breaking. Tears are hot on my cheeks. Please get up.

She does not answer. She is gone. The woman who raised me with strict rules and hard words is dead because of me.

Before I can cry, a wet cough comes from the dark corner near our broken door.

I spin around, my hands still glowing with purple light. I raise them to strike, ready for the next guard.

Wait, a weak voice says. Do not shoot.

A man crawls out from the pile of old boxes near the wall. He is wearing fine clothes, but they are torn and soaked in dark blood. His face is pale, and his hands leave red smears on the floorboards as he drags himself forward. He looks like he was hunted through the worst parts of the city before he managed to find our door.

Who are you? I ask, keeping my hands up. Did you bring the guards here?

The man laughs, but it turns into another painful cough that brings more blood to his lips. No, he gasps. "The guards were hunting me too. I am Lord Valen. And I came here... to find you.

Find me? My heart races. Why would a noble from the glass towers look for a trash picker in the slums?

Lord Valen reaches out with a bloody hand and grabs my wrist. His grip is surprisingly strong for a dying man. He pulls me closer, staring hard into my eyes.

Because your name is not Kian Vance, he says, his voice dropping to a harsh rasp. That is a lie they gave you to keep you safe. Your real family ruled River City before the council stole the throne. You are the true king.

I pull my hand away, shaking my head. You are crazy. I grew up in this dump. I clean trash every day. I am nobody.

Look at your hands, Lord Valen says, pointing a shaky finger at my palms where the purple light is slowly fading back into scarred skin. Only the royal bloodline of River City can hold that power. The council knows you are alive. That is why they sent the elite guards tonight.

He reaches into his blood-soaked coat with both hands. He pulls out a heavy metal box with strange symbols carved into the top. He pushes the box toward me, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Take this, he says. It holds the keys to the central computer in the high glass towers. It has proof of what the council did to your parents. They did not die in an accident. They were murdered.

My chest tightens. The word murdered echoes in my head. I look at Aunt Elena's body, then back at Lord Valen. Everything I thought I knew about my life is falling apart piece by piece.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask him. "What do you want from me?"

I want you to take back your city, Lord Valen whispers. His eyes start to close, and his body goes limp. He falls forward onto the floor.

Hey! Stay with me! I drop to the floor and shake his shoulder, but he does not breathe again. Lord Valen is dead.

Suddenly, I hear loud shouts outside in the street. Heavy boots are running toward our building again. There are more guards this time, lots of them, and their blue swords cast a bright glow through our broken doorway.

I grab the heavy metal box from the floor and shove it under my arm. I cannot stay here. If they catch me now, they will kill me just like they killed Aunt Elena and Lord Valen.

I turn toward the back window, ready to jump out into the dark alley, when a small hand grabs my arm from the shadows.

If you go out that window, the guards will shoot you before you take three steps, a girl's voice says.

I spin around, my hands glowing purple once more. Standing in the dark corner of the room is a young woman with short dark hair and a bright green jacket. She has a wide, confident smile on her face, even though elite guards are right outside our door.

Who are you? I demand, pointing my glowing hand right at her chest.

My name is Lyra, she says, stepping closer without any fear. And if you want to live long enough to find out who you really are, you are going to trust me right now.

Before I can answer, the front wall of our room explodes inward in a shower of wood and dust.