Nikki Key Books

Six realms. Eighteen warriors. Five spots in the King’s Guard. The Crown Games are about to begin — and Kira has spent ten years making sure she’s ready.

This is the opening of A Court of Rivals, the first book in The Black Crown Trilogy. If you want to know what it feels like to walk into that arena, keep reading.

ONE

KIRA

Ten years. Ten swords. And ten broken bones.

That was what Kira had sacrificed for this day.

And now that it was here, walking beside her father through the east corridor of Korrath’s great lane with the roar of the crowd bleeding through the stone walls, she almost didn’t know what to do with it. The day she’d built her entire life around was no longer ahead of her. It was happening. Right now. Under her boots. In the sweat already forming on her palms despite the cold.

She curled her fingers into fists and kept walking.

“Are you ready?” Her father’s voice was low, close to her ear, meant only for her. She glanced at him, smiling at the silver clasp on his old Guard cloak that her mother always said made him look distinguished. Not that any member of the King’s Guard would look anything other than esteemed. He had insisted on walking her into the arena for the parade this morning, and although she had tried to argue, telling him she would walk in with Lord Northman just like Geffray, Kylo, and Hazel, he wouldn’t have it.

That was another thing about the King’s Guard: you didn’t tell them what to do; they told you what to do. There was no telling how she and her father would debate when they were both in the King’s Guard.

“Of course,” she said. It was the only answer that came to her mind because it was the only answer that she’d spent ten years waiting to say.

Her father sighed—a long exhale that rocked him back on his heel. “This has been far easier for you than it was for me.”

She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I was a nervous wreck before the opening parade of my Crown Games. Couldn’t eat breakfast. Couldn’t sit still. Your grandmother likes to tell the story that I paced a trench in the floor of my bedroom. I would say she was exaggerating, but to be honest, she wasn’t.”

Kira raised an eyebrow. “Why were you so nervous?”

“I don’t know.” He said it as if he were admitting to something mildly embarrassing. “But I was. I also remember throwing up behind the armory.”

“You did. Did anyone see you?”

“Northman did.” He straightened his shoulders. “But I told him I ate rotten fish the night before.”

“Did he believe you?”

“Of course. Although he wasn’t that smart back then.” Her father winked. “I can’t say that he’s much better now.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

They rounded the corner, and the noise rumbled through the stone before they reached the opening. It was a low, rolling thunder that didn’t sound like people until the corridor widened and she could see a hint of blue sky. The crowd cheered, sensing the start of the parade. Tens of thousands were packed into tiered seating that climbed both sides of the Grand Processional, a stone avenue wide enough to march an army down, stretching from the city gates all the way to the palace steps. Banners in the King’s colors snapped from every pillar, and the smell of roasted meat and honeyed wine drifted through the air from the vendor stalls below, mixing with dust, sweat, and the tang of griffin or dragon. Kira looked down at her hand, picking at a bit of dirt underneath her nail that she’d missed.

For years, she had imagined this moment, and it was bigger than she’d let herself picture.

The crowd shouted loud enough to press against her chest. Men waved flags; women waved their hands. Even the children jumped up and down, trying to make their voices carry over the adults who were treating this like a festival.

But this wasn’t a festival.

It was the Crown Trials presentation—the day every warrior who’d earned the right to compete would walk the Processional before the King, the Queen, the Lords of every realm, and thousands of citizens who’d traveled to watch. After today, the Games would begin, and after the Games, the best of them would be chosen for the King’s Guard.

She’d wanted this since she was nine years old, standing on a crate in the streets of Grimhold, watching her father in the Guard ride through in full armor while his horse’s shoes struck sparks from the cobblestones. She had turned to her mother, who had been standing next to her, and said, “I’m going to do that.” Not “I want to.” Not “Can I?” Just: I’m going to. And her mother had looked at her and nodded as if she’d been expecting it.

Ten years of training later, here she was.

“There they are.” Her father tipped his chin toward the front of the corridor.

Lord Northman was already positioned at the ready in his King’s Guard armor with his hands clasped behind him. Beside him stood Geffray, Kylo, and Hazel, the only three warriors besides Kira from the Grimhold Realm to qualify for the Games.

Geffray had a strip of dried meat in one hand and was gesturing with it as he talked, while Kylo was leaning so far forward, trying to see around the opening of the corridor that Kira briefly considered whether she’d be obligated to catch him if he tipped over. She decided, probably not.

Lord Northman had trained all of Grimhold’s competitors for the last several years. Every one of them had passed through his hands before they could represent the realm. He was exacting, humorless, and believed that discipline was the only thing standing between civilization and chaos. Kira respected him for his principles. She suspected Geffray and Kylo respected him the way you respect a thunderstorm—not because they admired it, but because they’d be idiots not to.

“Did you throw up behind the armory again, Stephen?” Lord Northman asked, turning to smirk at her father.

“No. Fortunately, I didn’t have any fish last night.”

“I didn’t believe you then, and I wouldn’t believe you now.” Lord Northman looked back at the gate as Kira and her father stood beside him. “If you didn’t stop by the armory, what other excuse do you have for your tardiness?”

“We’re not late. We’re early,” her father said. “The first realm hasn’t come through yet.”

“If you’re not here before me, you’re late.” He moved ahead of them, glancing over his shoulder. “I will let them know we are all here.”

Stephen glanced at Kira as Lord Northman vanished into the corridor’s darkness.