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Slaying the Blood King

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warrior
royalty/noble
brilliant
witty
female lead
non-hunman lead
soldier
magical world
kingdom building
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Blurb

Lunar Vey has never had an easy life. Not only has she been abused by her father, she is also the daughter of the notorious Blood King, known for his rule as a merciless killer.

When she escapes the lash of his hands, she finds herself in a ring of helpful allies. These allies are not human, but Fey-folk whispered around campfires, believed to be gone from the earth.

Taking her in, Albesk, the stubborn, bad-boyish commander of the Fey Guard, teaches her how to be a Fey Warrior. With her newfound knowledge and the hidden secrets about herself revealed, can she stop her father, the notorious Blood King? Or will the Fey-folk remain ghosts among the campfires forever?

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♤•Chapter 1•♤
His fist collides with my face, sending stars into my vision as I drop to the floor. "Don't you, ever! And I mean ever!" he says, his face so close to mine as he bends down and grabs my platinum-blonde hair. My sensitive ears start to hurt with the level of his voice. "-get in the f*****g way again." With a final shove to the floor, he gets up, turning as he spots his next victim-a little girl who only wanted an apple. Tears stream helplessly down my face as I watch him strode toward her, malice engulfing his face. She screams and sobs, saying "Please don't!" as he raises his sword. I close my eyes as he swings, but my ears can never unhear the cutting sound. They never unhear the blood that oozes from their slain corpses. This is what it is like- to be the daughter of the Blood King. "Clean up this f*****g mess," he spits at a servant nearby. I watch her as her eyes widen, and she has to do everything in her power not to gag. She runs away quickly. My father turns toward me in a beat, lowering himself to the floor and putting his hand around my neck, pushing my small frame to the floor. He starts squeezing, and I try pawing at his arm as the oxygen in room depleats. Tears stream down my face as he looks at me with his menacing, black eyes-eyes I thankfully do not share. "If you ever get in the way again," he says, his voice deathly low. "You will meet the same fate." And with a final shove on the wooden floor, he gets up, and strodes out of the parlor. My heart beats fast, and I swallow as much air as I can that he had once again stolen from me. My eyes burn hot with tears. All I wanted to do was to save her and I failed. Just a little girl... I see her small frame huddled on the ground, her eyes wide open, showing the terror that had just been brought onto her. Quickly scooting over, I hold her hand, closing her eyes so she seems like she is fitfully sleeping. I choke down a sob. She looked only to be about ten. All she wanted was something to eat, and now a mother lies at home, her stomach aching, wondering where her little one had traveled. I get so lost in my thoughts that I don't see the servants come in. "Miss?" Angela, one of my dearest friends approaches. She walks across the dark, hardwood floor to me, trying to ignore the crumpled body I sit next to. I watch as her thick frame kneels beside me, her grey eyes brimming with worry for me. "I couldn't save her," I whisper, and I lose it. Sobs wrack my body as Angela throws her arms around me. I cry into her dark brown hair, watching in my peripheral as the guards help the servants carry her body away. Her blonde hair tipped with red bounces gracefully, and then my vision of her is gone as the guards round the corner. I'm sorry... "Come on, love," Angela says, her voice filled with hurt as she starts helping to lift me up. "Let's get you cleaned up." I only nod, lifting up my aching body as she takes my arm, and leads me through the castle to my quarters. My eyes travel along the long hallways, taking in the beauty of the castle that holds so much evil. Stained glass windows allow me to see the rays of the setting sunlight of Almania. Angels swoop down in their images, singing songs and carrying harps. It feels too ironic that there would be no angels singing in here. My father would have slain them years ago. We go up the long, stone-lined stairs up to to my quarters. We reach the brown door marked as mine, before heaving it open, the squeal of it's hinges reverbrating through the corridors-like a scream echoing off the walls. I give a shudder as my mind plays the sound of her pleading on repeat. The sound of her small body collapsing on the floor. My mind drifts to her small, delicate features, not yet grown into the woman she could have been. Tears coat my eyes once more. "I'll draw you a bath," Angela says, stridding over to the washroom where a big, golden, tub awaits. I shake my head. "Let me help," I say, following her in, but she puts up a hand. "Lunar, you need to relax. This is my duty, and if your father catches you helping, he'll beat you again. Please don't put me through the pain of seeing it once more," she pleads, her bright eyes brimming with tears. I nod, stepping back away from the tub. I turn and look at myself in the mirror, seeing the blood of the girl decorate my white dress. The once beautiful sleeves were now torn, and bruise marks remain where my father's cruel fingers had caressed my skin too hard. A gigantic bruise rests on the cheek of my ever pale face. My too-wide, hazel-green eyes burn red with tears shed. I take in the beating I had endured, and I start to thank the heavens that my mother can no longer be here to endure them. He had already slain her long ago. "I'm sorry, Lunar," Angela says behind me. Turning, I see her eyes are red as well as tears stream down her chiseled face. I quickly rush over and throw my arms around her. She cries into my chest, shudders wracking her own body. "Please," I start. "Don't be sorry. Just make sure you take care of you." She scoffs wryly. "I'm not worried about us, Lunar, we are worried about you. No one should have to go through what you do." She says as she pulls away. I put my hand up, dismissing her words. "Better me than any of you. I couldn't bear it if he hurt you. You are my only family left," I say. Angela doesn't respond, only hugs me tighter, as we remain in silence. It goes on like that, holding each other until she finally pulls away. "Come on, now. Let's get you cleaned up before the water gets cold," she says. Helping my out of my dress and under garments, I steal a glance at my bruise-covered body. You would think that over the years I would get used to it, but I haven't. I will never get used to looking like this, but when your father is the reason that more than five of your people are slain daily, then you would almost expect that I would meet the same fate. If I stay here any longer, I will.

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