Evolve , livre ebook

Xlibris US - Alysa Wolfe

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

213 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

After centuries of peace, unrest is rippling through the country right as 21-year-old Kamille is about to take the throne. Kamile struggles with feeling locked away at Evergarden Castle after her mother died in a recent attack that was thought to be meant for her. In her fight for survival, Kamille is assigned a bodyguard, Agent 86, who does not hold back her disdain for what she perceives as a privileged life and yet an unlikely bond forms. As murmurs of rebellion are growing stronger, Kamille starts to unravel secrets that have shifted her view of love and family. Determined not to be her ancestors, Kamille struggles to break away from her past and the ghosts in the basement that haunt her.

Sujets

Science Fiction

Adventure (Guyana)

Evolve

Adventure

Fiction

Informations

Publié par	Xlibris US
Date de parution	23 septembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669846314
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Evolve
Alysa Wolfe

Copyright © 2022 by Alysa Wolfe.

Library of Congress Control Number:
2022916700
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-4633-8

Softcover
978-1-6698-4632-1

eBook
978-1-6698-4631-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 09/23/2022

Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
845164
Contents
Primus
You
Cloistered
Proper
Memento Mori
86 Sapphires
Shape
If You Breathe
Everyday Combat
Sour
Gifted
Sunrise, Sunset
Dropped
Helter-Skelter
Mama
Evolving
Numbers
Airy
Of Cake
Nothing to Do
Secundus
Nothing to Be Done
Unwinding
Alexithymia
Whispers
Say Anything
Believe
The Books
Judgment
The Equinox
Safe
Sound
Red
Awake
Sprung
Crystal
Hearsay
Notes
Andromeda
Lernaean Hydra
Babel
Tertius
Down
Stitches
Normal
Repeat
Eyes in the Storm
Burnt
Attire
Ashes
Fretting
Damages
Nothing
All That Glitters
Maths
Bearer
Done
Blink
Lost
The Circus
Quartus
Storm
A Space for my Head
Hardly
Try
This
What’s Done
Prove
Cold
Act III
Scene III
Check
Plausible
Adapt
Suited
Darkest
Maybe
Anchored
Closed
The Plunge
Dismantle
Restore
Over
Orion
Smudged
Back Again

To my grandpa, Howard, for always encouraging me to keep writing.
Your kindness and strength still inspire me.
Also to my husband, Zach, for your endless love and support.
Primus
You
This is you.
Lying down, half asleep in your room.
Observing the angles of the space,
shadows dance as branches sway in sunlight.
It looks like if you blink wrong,
the silhouettes will leap forward—
any moment now.

This is you.
The silence makes the room feel sharp,
your mind echoes as you absorb it.
The sound of your fingertips
rubbing your eyes seems loud.

This is the precipice of something happening.
Maybe it will be fantastical like in those grand stories.
or nightmarish as windows shattering
one by one.
But unlikely, because this is you.
And things like that don’t happen in real life.
This is you.
Scraped too thin,
trying to hold up the Maginot Line,
set to continuously crumble.
Despair is inevitable.
This is you.
Bleary. Murky. Cloistered.

And thinking like this somehow
makes it easier.
Less bitter to swallow.
Because despite any existential doubt,
this is you.
Listening to the sounds
of your own breathing.
This is you.

Cloistered
A gentle breeze outside danced with the cherry blossoms,
and the early sun projected the choreography on the walls.
I could feel the pink blossom scent dissipate and
turn to gray as it mixed with the stale air in my lungs.

This new room still felt strange.
Two of the walls went straight up until about halfway then,
like a trapezoid, angled inward, connecting to a flat ceiling.

The exposed bricks on one wall were partially covered
with a large tapestry spanning over three meters
of a unicorn in captivity.
Looking up with empty eyes, the unicorn lay in a blue field
of wildflowers enclosed by a small picket fence.
They strapped her neck with a belt, chaining her to a tree.

At least they had moved my bed.
Apparently, it was an heirloom, a tall oak canopy
with vines and flowers carved into the posts.
Mama cut notches in the back,
right post to mark my height, anyway.
Grampa was so mad that his face turned the room
scarlet with his rage.

Being cloistered away in Evergarden Castle was a challenge
as it was less of a castle and, in reality, was a large brick home
modeled after an old-time cuckoo clock.

With a steeply pitched roof, octagonal bay windows,
and an odd internal arrangement that had
everything lead into and connect with one another.
There wasn’t a corridor or wing that could
be isolated
from everyone else.

The only communication that is allowed out
of Evergarden are the letters for the governors,
meetings to discuss security or other important matters.
But for the most part, no one goes in
and no one goes out.

I gazed back at the unicorn
and her empty eyes.
The tapestry was ill-kempt,
and the finishing knots had come loose,
so now it was starting the
long journey of unraveling.

I guess we have more in common
than I thought.

We were both moved into the spare room
and day by day
becoming slightly more

undone.

Proper
“I really must insist you wear
a dress, Princess Kamille.”

“And I am telling you, Madame Paulette,
I do not want to wear a dress this morning.”

She held up the floor-length satin gown.

“It’s all about perception,
Lady Kamille,
a purple dress shows prestige.”

Prodding. Poking.

“My mama, the queen, wore trousers
more than dresses, yet she managed to
make her perception just fine.
Now, Madame Paulette, I must ask you to
leave as you are only holding me up.”

“This isn’t proper—”

“It’s the fifth millennium, and you are talking
right out of the nineteenth century.”

Pretentious. Pompous. Pushy.

Mama never liked you either.

Memento Mori
The conference room held the legacy: the round table.
I guess it makes sense since square tables would force
someone into the uncomfortable corner that no one likes.

The table was made from various trees,
specifically ones that represent the different seasons,
arranged into a chevron to show the
connectivity of time or the circle of life.

At least, that is what Mama told me.
It was like a time machine, looking at etchings and
photographs showing centuries
of rulers standing around this table.
Ink stains from the treaties, laws, and amendments
seeped into the wood, which was also
probably saturated deep with secrets.

Colonel 00 sat rigid, with Papa to his right.
It looks like he had metal rods in his uniform,
forcing every movement to be a jointed pivot.

There are a few new people around the table,
but they might as well be the same, since they all have
impassive faces like marble statues
wearing the same formal uniform:
dark khaki pants, a light khaki button-down shirt,
and some higher ranks wore a matching dress jacket.

“We’ve done investigations and interviews. We
have not yet been able to identify who is behind this
or how they got into Evergarden and disappeared
without a trace. But we believe that Lady Kamille
was the intended target.”

Even the colonel’s words were awkwardly joined together.

My eyes drifted to how the wall was sandwiched
between intricate molding on the floor and ceiling
and the red curtains tied open with mustard-colored tassels
for the arched picture window.

Outside, you could see the tree-lined path
to the carriage house and the corner of
Paulette’s extensive vegetable garden.

“So we just wait around for another attack?” Papa exclaimed.
My attention snapped back to the table.

“No, Your Majesty, we are going to be prepared
this time. I believe the best tactic is to
assign Lady Kamille a security escort. I would like
to introduce Agent 86.”

One statue came to life.

She stood up and bowed her head to Papa.

“Is she an evolved?”
Papa asked as he looked
her up and down.

“No. As of now, only four soldiers have
self-identified as water . . . erm . . .
Hydroadaptives. But Agent 86 has top scores in
fight and strategy. She came highly
recommended for this assignment.”

“Very well. And what shall we do
in terms of security in the kitchen?
I will not ask of anyone to
sample food for poison.”

“We will station guards in the kitchen.
Guards will be assigned as escorts for trips
to the market to make sure nothing
is mishandled or tampered with.”

Papa turned to me,
and everyone’s eyes followed.

“Why don’t you resume your lessons in the library?”

“I’d actually prefer to stay.
I’d like to learn more about the uprising.”

“Kamille.” The warning.