From New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter comes a fusion of modern and fantastical worlds, where a young woman must navigate a secret society, uncover a shocking enemy…and resist an undeniable attraction.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Gena Showalter’s Kingdom of Tomorrow, which releases on September 1st 2025.
Twenty-year-old Arden Roosa knows only Ourland. Two worlds split and stitched together, with broken pieces from each, statues of fallen gods, and heavenly artifacts that are worshipped…or feared.
But nothing is more fearsome than the night.
A strange madness haunts the darkest hours, turning innocents into gleeful killers. Arden does her best to stay safe—until she reads a book written about her own life—The Book of Arden. And everything changes.
Forced to join Fort Bala Royal Academy, Arden is paired with the ruthless High Prince Cyrus Dolion. But while he trains her for combat against a mystical adversary, she can’t deny the sparks burning between them.
If her panic attacks and war games aren’t enough, Arden is also tapped to join the Tome Society, rumored guardians of an invisible library with books that foretell the future. But the more she learns about the society, the less she understands about Ourland, the gods…and the person she’s destined to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
Their throats are an open grave, with the sweetest venom dripping from their tongues.
—The Book of Soal 2.6.3.13
I lined up in front of the bus with the other gentry, gawking. Never had the mishmash of realms been more evident. Fort Bala was a wonderland and a hellscape, forced to coincide.
In the sky, sharp, opaque beams of sunlight glinted off the jagged seams between worlds, curling in the shape of roses. Thin white cloud wisps dusted the ethereal petals, giving an illusion of snow. The aerial bouquet bloomed across a baby blue sky and served as a backdrop for an imposing military compound. Half crystal palace, half concrete prison, all fascinating.
The yellow sand extended as far as the eye could see, broken only by a smattering of gnarled bladetrees that bloomed with strange orange flowers. The most flowers I’d seen anywhere other than the Rock, and my jaw slackened.
Hello, my beauties. What are you? Tiny ribbons of smoke wafted from an intricate web of spiraling, upraised roots, and I longed for a closer look.
Platoons navigated obstacle courses, sprinted along tracks, practiced with odd weapons, and trained in hand-to-hand combat. Directly before us was a metal dais. A group of armed soldiers surrounded it, guarding the four individuals who stood shoulder to shoulder on its center. I recognized the oldest. Tagin Dolion, king of CURED’s military forces and the only son of Emperor Piven Dolion, leader of CURED and the United Provinces of Ourland.
Up close, the clean-cut king was everything he seemed to be in televised interviews. Distinguished. Regal. Handsome and in command of his entire being. A little person around forty years old flanked him on his right while a midthirties female with a perma-scowl claimed the spot at his left. The fourth individual, the youngest male, looked to be in his late twenties. Apart from the five o’clock shadow gracing his strong jaw and a handprint branded into one side of his face, causing the skin to pucker and his eye to slightly droop, he greatly resembled the king. They bore the same heavily lashed eyes, aquiline noses, and plump bottom lips.
Despite their similarities, the younger guy was too rough and intense to be labeled handsome, but it didn’t matter. He was something far better: Interesting. A warrior forged in the heat of battle, any hint of weakness hammered out of him.
He was a little taller than Shiloh, and more muscular. Controlled brute force to the medic’s lean strength. He examined the world around him with an air of detachment.
Everything about him ignited a nervous reaction inside me. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Didn’t help that he was the king’s youngest son, High Prince Cyrus Dolion. I would stake my life on it. Like the rest of the world, I’d glimpsed photos and videos of the royal family throughout the years. Images depicting holidays with the family.
The high prince swept his icy gaze over the crowd, but swiftly slid his attention back to me. His lids narrowed to slits. My breath hitched, and my skin warmed. Caught staring. I looked away. My pulse continued to race. I really, really hated this.
“I’m in paradise,” Roman breathed, his expression awed. “This is my happy place.”
“I want to be anywhere else.” When a pallid Mykal realized what she’d said, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s not what I meant to say. Let me rephrase. I’m so happy to be here, beyond grateful to help my family, but I’m nervous about the unknown. Not that I don’t trust CURED to look out for me.” She groaned. “I’ll stop talking now.”
I flashed her a sympathetic smile. “Trust me, I one hundred percent understand.”
Gratitude bathed her delicate features.
“Attention, lords- and ladies-in-training,” a harsh voice called.
Roman and Mykal dropped their bags, lifted their heads, and straightened their shoulders, so I followed suit. I made sure not to glance at High Prince Dolion again. No, thank you.
“I’m Archduke Baracas Heta,” announced the little person. “With me is King Tagin Dolion, High Prince Cyrus Dolion, and Duchess Echo Mimidae.”
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. The mantra always helped me with the Rock, but not with the emperor’s grandson. I failed to prevent my focus from darting his way. Oh, thank goodness! He stared straight ahead, no longer glaring at me.
“Our laws are simple,” Archduke Heta continued. “Obey the rules. Respect others. Combat the Madness. If anyone exhibits symptoms of the disease, even a commanding officer, you will inform a superior immediately. Always tell. Failure to do so could cost you and countless others their lives.”
He paused, scanning us. “After the Fall of Nations, when the Madness spread through civilization like wildfire, our forebears had to rebuild our great provinces from the ground up. Today, we’re better and stronger than ever, and I will happily die defending Ourland.”
Cheers resounded from the gentry. The second the archduke raised his hand, they quieted.
“I have no idea who any of you are, but I’m certain you’ve never ventured into the night. You think you comprehend what’s waiting for you out there. Let me assure you, you don’t.” Grim confidence emanated from him. “Most of you have never encountered glowers, the most insidious of the maddened. Worse than the newly broken, who rampage. Seemingly calm and rational. Stronger. Faster. Impervious to pritis stones. For decades, CURED has kept them from infiltrating public spaces, ensuring your safety. Now, it’s your honor and duty to protect CURED in return.”
No one uttered a word. Roman was too busy grinning. But me? I was spinning.
The archduke wasn’t done. “I didn’t pursue leadership, but the Madness called, and I answered. Now, you have done the same. For that, I commend you. But are you worthy to bear our name? We will find out.”
To ward off sickness, I pressed my palm against my midsection.
“At the end of your training, we’ll award the top lord or lady with a rare prize.” He stepped to the edge of the dais. “No taxes for the rest of your life.”
I blinked. In an instant, every fiber of my being craved that prize. I could supplement my mother’s income, ensuring she didn’t need to work from sunup to sundown, babysitting a monster child she no longer had the strength to corral. I would never again have to worry she’d end up in Gradon, prey for predators. But I wasn’t the only one bubbling over with sudden excitement. Everyone else wanted the prize too.
Didn’t matter. “I will be the top lady,” I whispered to myself. Though I had no idea what constituted such a title. The most captures or kills, probably. And loyalty. Strategy too. But it still didn’t matter. I would stop at nothing.
Roman heard my personal pep talk. “Shoot for most improved,” he advised me softly. “Top lord is the reason I’m here.”
I recognized a warning when I heard it and gulped. So competition was fierce? So what?
“Today,” Archduke Heta continued, “you’ll undergo a full medical examination. For the good of us all, you will consent to whatever tests and medications we feel you require.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Roman boomed, and the rest of us echoed him.
Two soldiers motioned us to follow, and I picked up my bag. The pair led us up the hill, toward the palace/prison. I didn’t mean to, but I cast a final glance at the high prince as I neared his platform.
Our gazes collided, and my eyes widened. He was glaring so forcefully, his brand pulled taut. I must have done something to offend. Or maybe I resembled someone he despised. Ugh. No. It was my outfit. I’d probably violated sixteen different regulations.
“I didn’t get the what-to-wear memo, all right?” I muttered.
Perhaps he read my lips. Perhaps not. Either way, he blinked with surprise.
I was so flustered by the interaction, I tripped on my own foot. Cheeks on fire, I gripped my bag closer. Finally, I passed the leaders, putting the foursome in my rearview.
“So, this might not be the time and place, but I used to date Shiloh,” Mykal said from in front of me. “Thought you should know.”
I recognized a distraction when I heard it. “Go on.” Please.
“As you probably guessed, it didn’t last long and it didn’t work out, but I want him happy. You returned a smile I’ve missed seeing ever since his sister—never mind,” she mumbled, and said no more.
Oh, no. I could guess what had happened to his sister. The Madness. But she must have survived, since he’d mentioned having fun with her. Still. I knew the horrors of treatment, and my chest constricted with sympathy.
Grains of sand flung in every direction as I climbed the hill. “Why didn’t it work between you guys? You both seem pretty wonderful.”
“She fell in lurve with someone else. Mr. Mystery.” Roman tossed a toothy grin over his shoulder and wiggled his brows. “If you can get her to name names, please share with the rest of us. She’s so secretive.”
“Do you try to be the most annoying person on the planet, Roman, or does it come naturally?” Mykal grumbled.
Another toothy grin made an appearance. “It comes naturally, thank you for asking.”
Their easy banter helped ground me, keeping my usual panic at bay. I mean, I was in a strange place, with strange people, expected to fight an enemy I’d feared my entire life and, and, and—Breathe, just breathe.
A commotion up ahead yanked my attention outward. I forgot my problems as the trainee at the head of the line collapsed. Wait, the second and third collapsed too. Down went several others, one after the other. What the—Roman’s knees buckled. Mykal went down. My blood flashed cold. Did I detect a sickeningly sweet odor in the air?
Run!
I braced for launch, planning to go anywhere else as fast as my feet could carry me. But a thick fog blanketed my mind, and strength abandoned me in a rush. I wobbled, fighting to remain aware, internally screaming. Sleep. Vulnerable. No!
The more I battled, the more my nerve endings sizzled.
Don’t fight the pain. Shiloh’s voice boomed through my head.
Don’t fight.
So badly I wanted to heed him. How easy it would be to let go and drift off. But experience had taught me better. Trust no one. Sleep alone. Always alone. I was currently in public. But the pain! The heat.
Sweat poured over me, and muscles jerked. My lungs flattened, the ability to breathe gone. At last I tumbled into an endless abyss . . .
**
“—dead within a month, tops.”
“She might surprise us. I hear she fought the toxin longer than the beefed-up brute whose dad served with honors.”
“A by-product of fear, exactly what will get her killed. I’ve been here eight years and examined countless lords and ladies. Those with panic disorders never last long.”
The casualness of the conversation lured me from a deep sleep. I tried to make sense of the words, but my brain wasn’t fully online yet.
“She wakes,” the man muttered.
Finally I managed to hold my eyes open for several seconds. I groaned. The world was spinning. Inhale. Exhale. As the momentum slowed, memories invaded. The bus ride. Fort Bala Royal Academy. The competition and prize. Pain.
Stiffening, I took stock of my surroundings. I reclined on a medical gurney, inside a small sterile room cordoned off by a curtain. I still wore my running clothes. On the counter, my bag gaped open, the contents spilling out. Clearly someone had rooted through my stuff.
Tension snatched me in its jaws and held on with a vise grip. An unfamiliar young man and a thirtysomething woman in medical scrubs stood beside the gurney, a wheeled tray between them. The man plunged a needle into a vial, filled the belly of a syringe with gray liquid, and turned to stick me in the arm.
The sharp prick startled me from my malaise, and I yelped.
He didn’t react in the slightest.
“Who are you?” I demanded, gathering what remained of my strength. Yes! I collected enough to pull myself into an upright position. “What did you inject in me?”
“I’m Dr. Korey.” The woman extended her hand to the medic. He placed a second syringe in her palm. “You’re receiving vitamins, vaccinations, and anything else I think you need to survive interrealm travel and keep you and your teammates safe.”
Translation: Shut up and acquiesce.
A tide of frustration rushed through my veins. All my life, others had dictated what I could and could not do. From what building I lived in to where I worked to what I deserved to be paid. I rarely had a say in even the smallest details. If I’d dared to ask questions, I’d been rebuked without receiving a straight answer. But always I’d rolled with the punches. All before one.
With so much new being tossed at me, I was tempted to do something foolish and protest. A mistake I couldn’t afford. Just like I’d done every time before, I gathered and dumped the frustration into an ever-growing cauldron, letting it simmer in the shadows of my mind.
My fate rested in the hands of CURED. Considering I now contended for the title of top lady, I should do nothing to jeopardize my chances of victory. I must win that prize.
Saying nothing else, the doctor jabbed me with the second needle. I cringed as icy cold spread through my arm. I, too, held my silence.
From outside the room, a knight gripped the curtain and shoved the material aside. I looked beyond him, seeing a hallway loaded with other exam rooms, some open. Mykal sprawled on a gurney across from me, appearing as traumatized as I felt. Shiloh stood beside her. The sight of him served as an anchor to calm.
Our gazes met, and his beautiful features twisted with concern. I offered him a tentative smile, trying to tell him I was fine. Then High Prince Cyrus Dolion marched into my field of vision and hijacked my thoughts.
He stalked into my room, and my heart attempted to pound through my ribs. Stopping near my gurney, he claimed a file from the table. As he read, never speaking a word, he and his intensity dominated the space. Controlled power formed an almost tangible shield around him. But that was expected. What wasn’t? The incredible scent wafting from him, infiltrating every molecule of oxygen.
Mmm. What was that? Fairy dust and ambrosia? The sweet cologne so did not fit the skull and crossbones bottle.
“Nice to see you, Cyrus,” Dr. Korey greeted, her voice suddenly higher than it had been a few minutes ago.
Oh la la. They were on a first-name basis.
“Leave us,” he said, his deep baritone inviting no arguments. He didn’t glance up from the file.
The doctor’s colleague strode out without hesitation. She lingered, seeming to gear up to spew facts about me. The high prince remained preoccupied, reading the screen.
“My apologies if I wasn’t clear,” he said, amicable. “Go. Get out. Be gone.”
She worked her jaw, cast me a glare as if I were at fault, and exited the room, the curtain swishing behind her. Suddenly, I was alone with royalty.
His nearness put me on edge. I missed Shiloh and his measure of peace. Though I longed to call for the medic, I made the best move for my situation, kicking my legs over the side of the bed and standing. A wave of dizziness struck. I teetered but didn’t collapse.
Maybe standing without permission in the company of a decorated officer was a crime, maybe not. Either way, instinct insisted I prepare to run. Only stubbornness held me in place. Eye on the prize!
He didn’t protest my actions. “Twenty years old. Overachiever. A dedicated rule follower.”
The invasion of privacy nettled me more than ever. Teachers, doctors, advisers, and now military personnel had access to every physical, mental, and emotional test I’d ever taken, yet I did not. But just as before, I dumped my frustration and contained my protests, allowing not a sound to escape. Must win!
Then he said, “Willing to turn in a beloved family member you suspected of being infected.”
Guilt and shame I’d never shed flared with renewed fervor. “I did what was necessary to save my mother and others.”
“Oh, I know your reasons for doing it. Assume I’ve perused every report ever written about you, memorized each detail, and now comprehend more about you than you do. But even I’m not sure what you’re doing here.”
“Paying a debt. Sir,” I tacked on as an afterthought.
“You may call me High Prince. I’ll even answer to HP.” He scrolled to another page. “I’m aware of the reason listed in your file. I was asking if your death will make Mama glad she stayed in her nice, cozy Lucrea apartment and let you ship out to certain death, or if she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.”
A muscle jumped in my jaw. “I won’t die.” I couldn’t. The quality of my mother’s life rested on my shoulders. Because he was right. If I died, she would forever blame herself.
“Bubble Gum,” he said, finally glancing up from the screen. Our gazes locked. “I’m willing to bet you’re killed before our first excursion into Theirland.”
Lead dropped into my stomach. “Are you trying to scare me?” And did he really call me Bubble Gum?
He shrugged his broad shoulders, not the least bit abashed. “It’s too late for your withdrawal. I’m here to offer you a one-time opportunity. Serve as my assistant, and you’ll choose your roommate, meet high-ranking officials able to aid your chosen career, and never see combat. Instead, you’ll fetch and carry for me. When I have no more use for you, you’ll graduate to a safe office job to serve out the rest of your term.”
Okay, that sounded amazingly wonderful and checked all my boxes. No fighting glowers and other maddened. Right contacts. Safe office job. Yes, please and thank you.
And yet, I hesitated. “Are you offering me a choice or explaining what you expect me to accept?”
“With me, you will always have a choice,” he said, scrolling again. “But you alone are responsible for the consequences.”
A surprising turn. He was the grandson of CURED’s emperor, son of the military’s king, and a high prince on his own merit rather than lineage (supposedly). He could issue a command and compel me to obey or face imprisonment.
Whatever the reason for his show of mercy, I took advantage of my freedom and sought more information. “Will I remain a contender for top lady if I agree?”
A humorless laugh barked from him. He flipped up his gaze a second time, meeting mine. I ignored the little blip of my heart. “Entertain aspirations of being the best, do you, Bubble Gum?” When I pursed my lips in distaste, he laughed again. “You do. How novel. No, as my assistant, you are ineligible for the competition because you won’t be attending class, drills, or practice missions. So? What’s it to be?”
Good question. Did I stay safe or go for gold? Let fear paralyze me, preventing me from supplying my mother with the life she deserved, or keep my word and face my nightmares?
Plant seeds that could produce a long-term harvest for my well-being, or stick with the status quo?
Take the job, self-preservation shrieked.
But. A small voice in the back of my mind persisted. What about the prize? And not just the taxes, but the training. Learning how to protect myself.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I’ll do patrol,” I croaked. Maybe, if I put my all into this, I would experience true, lasting peace. The holy grail. A prize greater than the one CURED offered.
The barest hint of shock flickered over the HP’s expression. “You’re sure? The offer expires as soon as I leave.”
I wrinkled my nose, reminded of Ms. Butler’s offer to join Fort Bala. Hurry! Act now or lose out! “Is introducing an invisible ticking clock an intimidation tool I’ll be learning here?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Perhaps you didn’t understand my proposal. As a lady, you’ll be forced to train alongside the others. You’ll be injured. That’s a guarantee. There’s a good chance you’ll break bones, get shot, be stabbed.”
My small measure of confidence cracked. By some miracle, I maintained a firm clasp on a sliver of hope. What he offered sounded good on the surface, but it also struck me as a trap. I wouldn’t face the maddened, but I would face him on a daily basis.
“I’m sure I don’t want to be your assistant.” If the worst happened and I did, in fact, get killed, I’d rather have a quick end. A trap was just a slow way to die.
“Very well. A foolish choice, but a choice all the same.” He gave me another of those negligent shrugs, as if he hadn’t cared one way or the other and returned the file to the cart. “The night will chew you up and spit out your bones. I would’ve kept you around.” With a cool smile, he headed for the exit, adding, “At least until you lost your flavor.”
