Royal blood is the key. Zeraâs is on the line.
Disposable in the eyes of her father, Zera must undertake a mission to unlock a tower on the other side of their poisoned kingdom and collect two urgently needed energy cells.
Zeraâs only value is that of a biological âkey.â Until her father gives her a life or death deadline. She must return before her twenty-first birthday, or heâll shut down life support to the lower levels of the city, threatening thousands, including friends she canât bear to lose.
Master Nikolai doesnât relish teaching Zera self-defense, but her bodyguard, Wills, and best friend, Clara, treat her like sheâs made of glass. Unlike them, Nik will be relentless because he has skin in this game and plans of his own.
A disastrous start to the mission and the appearance of Nik and Clara leave Zera wondering who she can trust.
When her hatred for the man who abused her on the training floor turns to passion, Zera must blaze new trails through the dangerous world beyond the Red Forest, a land fraught with love, friendship and betrayal.
Note, as the first in an epic series, this book ends with a cliff-hanger.
Royal blood is the key. Zeraâs is on the line.
Disposable in the eyes of her father, Zera must undertake a mission to unlock a tower on the other side of their poisoned kingdom and collect two urgently needed energy cells.
Zeraâs only value is that of a biological âkey.â Until her father gives her a life or death deadline. She must return before her twenty-first birthday, or heâll shut down life support to the lower levels of the city, threatening thousands, including friends she canât bear to lose.
Master Nikolai doesnât relish teaching Zera self-defense, but her bodyguard, Wills, and best friend, Clara, treat her like sheâs made of glass. Unlike them, Nik will be relentless because he has skin in this game and plans of his own.
A disastrous start to the mission and the appearance of Nik and Clara leave Zera wondering who she can trust.
When her hatred for the man who abused her on the training floor turns to passion, Zera must blaze new trails through the dangerous world beyond the Red Forest, a land fraught with love, friendship and betrayal.
Note, as the first in an epic series, this book ends with a cliff-hanger.
A right hook met the side of Zeraâs head. Knuckles impacted the protective padding above her ear hard enough to make her see stars. Time paused for an instant, then fast-forwarded as adrenaline and outrage combined into a Molotov cocktail of pure fury.
She was nearly twenty-one and had never been struck by a man, or anyone for that matter. Certainly not hard enough to hurt. She sparred with Wills and Clara all the time, but they were civilized. They gave her time to bob and weave, to block their kicks and punches.
She gritted her teeth and trained her watery eyes on Master Nikolai. His lips twisted into an arrogant sneer, one that said he knew she was furious.
With a low growl, she flew at him, fingerless gloves pummeling at his face, but he blocked her strikes, one after the other. Despite his perfect defense, she refused to give in. She would batter him until he begged for mercy.
What annoyed her the most was the smile that refused to budge from his face, a smile that grew wider the harder she attacked. Then it dawned on her. He was wearing her down. His elegant blocks required less energy than her flying punches. Even if she jabbed at him a thousand times, he could block every punch and still have reserves to hit back when her arms turned to jelly.
She slowed her onslaught, considering a new approach. If she slipped an uppercut past his defenses, she could rattle his teeth. She drove forward.
One moment she was chiseling her way through his guard, the next she was on her back, arms pinned above her head, staring into a pair of flashing jasper-colored eyes.
She fought the urge to scream. Where were Wills and Clara? They were supposed to be watching. Why hadnât Wills hauled this insult-to-the-crown off her already? She shifted her head sideways, searching for them.
âThey wonât help you.â Master Nikolaiâs voice grated on her ears like sandpaper.
âWhy not?â she grunted, striving to break the bruising grip of his fingers around her wrists. Her entire body burned with indignation, and she was tempted to order Wills to pull this imbecile off her and into a holding unit.
Who did this man think he was? She hadnât even met him until three months ago, so he wasnât likely a resident of the Upper Domiciles. Not that sheâd judge someone by their social status, unless they happened to be pinning her royal ass to a dojo mat. Such behavior was insufferable.
Even so, she wouldnât give him the satisfaction of seeing her throw three years of training out the biosphere by screaming for help.
A smirk lifted one side of his mouth, and at that moment, she swore she would see this man cast out for putting her in such a compromising position.
âYou can turn the tables, Princess. Dislodge me.â His raspy chuckle gave her a slow burn.
She deeply opposed torture, but that didnât mean she couldnât fantasize about dismembering various body parts from the man straddling her hips. She fought the urge to add fuel to her fantasy by tilting her eyes toward his crotch, an obvious target for her imaginary knife.
Wills would have a weapon somewhere on his person, a switchblade or throwing star she could borrow. He was forever showing her his blades, as if his ability to slice a manâs throat in three seconds flat should provide comfort.
Sheâd never condone violence, except in self-defense, and Master Nikolai happened to be in an extremely threatening position. What if he really did intend her harm? What if heâd gained her friendsâ trust, talked them out of coming to her rescue, so he could take her life while they stood there and watched?
The blood drained from her face at the thought.
His smirk slipped away. âYouâve rolled Clara from this position a hundred times.â
âYouâre twice her size,â Zera grumbled.
He tilted his head. âDoesnât matter. Youâre using your opponentâs weight against them. You donât have to lift me, only off-balance me. Go through the steps.â
She did as she was told: lifted her knees, hooked her toes over one of his legs, dragged an arm down on one side as she lifted her hip on the other. In slow motion, Zera performed the throw correctly, but the maneuver didnât work.
Master Nikolai caught his balance and bent closer, his face inches from hers. âThis is for real, Princess. A life or death situation. If you donât throw me, Iâll kill you.â
Fear sapped her strength.
He released one of her wrists and produced a training gun from his waistband, which he pointed in her face. The smirk had returned. She wanted nothing more than to wipe it clean off himâin the most painful way possible.
âYou have five seconds before I pull the trigger.â He drew back to sit lower on her hips, releasing her other hand so he could stabilize the weapon with both of his. âOkay, darlinâ, whatcha gonna do?â His neon orange weapon exaggerated the ridiculousness of his fake accent.
âDo villains really talk like that?â She huffed. âYou havenât actually taught us how to disarm from this position.â
âI shouldnât need to. Itâs the same maneuver as standing.â He cocked his head. âGive it a try.â
Zera drew in a breath, gripped the barrel in the U between her thumbs and forefingers, then shoved its business end forward as she twisted the weapon from his hands. She executed the final step, jabbing the gun barrel into his chest.
âNicely done,â he said, âbut what are you going to do now? You havenât hurt me enough to stop me wrestling the weapon away from you. Which I will do inâŚfive, four, threeââ
She swung the training gun at his groin. He twisted, avoiding direct impact, but by his gulp, Zera knew sheâd tapped his cup. She bit back an apology. Heâd started this.
âOkay,â he said. âGun away.â
As she tossed the weapon across the dojo mat, he slid his hands around her throat, thumbs brushing lightly across her windpipe.
âYour arms are free,â he said, âuse them.â
Zera threaded her hands between his outstretched arms to break his hold and unbalance him. His chest dropped toward hers as she thrust her hip, and they rolled.
With a soft cry, Zera found herself straddling his hips and staring down into his expectant features.
âFinish it,â he snapped.
Sheâd practiced these moves so many times they invaded her dreams. Adrenaline pumped as she lifted an elbow and sliced it across his face. Its point grazed his lip. Sheâd meant to come close but not actually hit him. Even so, she couldnât help feeling the tiniest bit of satisfaction as she slammed her palms against his chest and leaped off him, accomplishing a full escape.
Standing a few meters away, Zera watched her opponent wipe a thin streak of blood from his mouth. Her eyes slowly widened.
His chest shook with laughter. âFinally, weâve made some progress.â
Brow pinched, she yanked off her training gloves and walked away.
Wills and Clara stood at the edge of the dojo mat, fake clapping as she passed.
Zera rolled her eyes. âThat man is unbelievable.â She looked accusingly at Wills. âWhere did you find him? Wait, let me guess, in the Catacombs searching for the Minotaur.â
âThat would make him an epic hero,â Clara said. âBesides, it was a labyrinth.â
Zera shrugged. âSame difference.â She walked between them toward the dressing rooms. âAre you two coming?â She glanced over her shoulder and caught Master Nikolai staring at her across the training floor. He had a chip on his shoulder, something to prove. Everything about him made her uncomfortable. She punched Wills in the arm. âSeriously, where did you find him?â
âWorks down in Science.â
She huffed. âDoing what? Being an experiment?â
Clara laughed. âOuch. You seriously donât like that guy, do you?â
Zera stopped. âHe hit me, then threw me to the ground and pointed a gun in my face. Whatâs to like? And where were you two?â
Wills turned to her. âHeâs been all over us for weeks about going too soft on you. Guess he decided to work with you himself. He told us to keep a distance and let you handle things on your own.â
âAnd you let him put his hands around my throat? He could have killed me while you stood there, smiling.â
He shook his head. âNikolai Mykola comes with the highest recommendation. Heâs been training in martial arts since before he could walk and has more black belts than you have fingers and toes.â
Zera harrumphed. âSo, you set a highly trained killer on me?â
Claraâs laugh made her black ponytail bounce. âHeâs more pacifist than you.â
âWhich makes no sense,â Zera replied. âWhy spend your life training to be a killing machine when you abhor violence?â
âFor a show of force,â Wills said. âItâs more about what he could do than what he would do.â
âMaybe,â Zera narrowed her eyes, âbut Iâll bet there are plenty of egos around whoâd take his reputation as a challenge, and not a deterrent.â
âHow would you know that? Have you been sneaking off to the Lower Domiciles again?â Clara met Zeraâs wide eyes and gasped. âYou have! Ooh, you naughty girl.â She slapped Zera lightly on the arm with her grappling glove.
Zera avoided eye contact with Wills. âI am not devoid of imagination, thank you very much.â Wills was more than a distant cousin and friend; he was her personal guard. But he knew nothing of her frequent escapes through the Servantsâ Way.
Since the day sheâd wandered off course and found Mikhail playing the violin, she had traveled to the Lower Domiciles without trouble.
Her father, the king, referred to those from the Lower Domiciles as Commoners, a term Zera despised, especially because Mikhail was perfectly uncommon.
Wills offered no comment, which Zera assumed meant he didnât believe it possible his line-toeing charge had the gumption to break the rules. If he knew the lengths she went, to escape her velvet-lined prison cell, heâd have handcuffed himself to her years ago.
âSpeaking of imagination, I wonder what Master Nikolai looks like without a shirt,â Clara said.
Zera rolled her eyes at Wills, but when she saw his grimace, her imagination took a massive leap of its own. Wills and Clara?
Her eyes shifted between them. Wills looked away, but Claraâs smile was fluid and relaxed.
Willsâ reaction worried Zera. She couldnât deny a romantic interest would be good for him, but his choice of Clara concerned her. Clara preferred to keep her options openâMaster Nikolaiâs upper body being the current case in point.
Zeraâs mission to the Outside had complicated life for all of them these past three years. And more recently, it had brought the Master of a Thousand Black Belts onto their playing field and ratcheted up Zeraâs training from a necessary evil to a serious nuisance.
She didnât need to be manhandled into fending for herself. Why would she when she had Wills and a troop of royal guards to escort her to Chern Tower and back? She didnât need to be an expert. Her only function was to be a key.
As they left Wills and headed for the womenâs changing room, Zera leaned toward Clara. âAre you seriously going after that guy?â
Her friend smiled in a way that said it all. âIâll need something to do while you and Wills are off on your mission, having fun. My first step is a private session with Master Nikolai very early tomorrow morning. Weâll have the training center to ourselves.â
Zera swept a hand across her damp forehead. âHow old is he, anyway?â
âHe canât be more than a year or two older than us.â Clara smirked. âHeâs definitely younger than Wills. Better looking too.â
Zera sighed at Claraâs comparison and suspected Master Nikolai would have his work cut out for him, and not just on the dojo mat.
* * *
The next dayâs training session was worse. Master Nikolai continued to be the only man to hit Zera in her life, his strike count now up to four. Sheâd been seeing stars and experiencing adrenaline spikes all morning.
Sweating from high heaven to hell again, Zera hit the floor, the victim of another takedown by the most annoying man in the whole of their biospheric city.
She tried to twist away, but he trapped her, his damp body pinning hers.
âHere, we are again.â He smiled in that villainous way, his face so close to hers she could see the sheen of sweat across his skin. She tried to wriggle out from under him. But each move she made, he countered until heâd trapped her arms behind her and his breath was cooling the perspiration on her neck.
Growling, she turned over to face him, which only tightened the knot. She expected him to offer guidance, but he only said, âYour boyfriend been kissing you too hard?â
Zera blinked, realizing he was referring to the cabernet-colored mark on her neck, the result of hours of violin practice. Her cheeks flamed.
With an angry grunt, she wrenched her arm out of his grip and palmed him across the chin. His autonomic reaction to pull back gave her just enough opening to jam her elbow against his breastbone. Not much of a strike, but something.
He twisted over to one side and trapped her in an armbar. âGuess I struck a nerve,â he said, then let go.
You bastard! she thought, conveying her opinion of him through her narrowed eyes and pinched lips, rather than her mouth. No one had ever pushed her to the point of wanting to kill them. But even more infuriating was the fact that no matter how hard she tried, the man with a million black belts would survive to insult her another day.
Without a word to her friends, Zera showered, changed and departed the training center. She strode out of the elevator on the top floor of the cityâs Central Dome and stormed along the Grand Corridor, her tailored skirt flapping around her legs.
Zera had learned at an early age to conceal her emotions, but this continual abuse and complete indifference by the Royal Guardânamely Wills, who watched her get beaten and did absolutely nothingâwas the final straw.
Her eyes stung, and her throat ached, but her face remained neutral enough that several passing dignitaries greeted her with standard formality, displaying no awareness of the storm raging inside her. By the time she reached the Corridorâs center, marked by an unassuming dedication to the Master Engineer, her fury had spun into a knot and dropped to the base of her stomach.
Struggling to calm her breath, she retreated into the alcove that housed a statuary tribute to Francis Strumbec, the man who had designed the City of Reflections. Francis was depicted with an architectural plan of the city spread between his hands.
The cupola, with its domed roof of blue-veined marble, gave her the sense of looking into the sky. Her love of open spaces contributed to Zeraâs obsession with escaping to the agridomes at the tender age of eight. This need had led her to cross paths with Myr in the Servantsâ Way. And years later, sheâd met Mikhail after being drawn to the Lower Domiciles by his music.
Myr had been carrying a roll of drawings when they met in the Servantsâ Way. He said Myr was his code name, which meant peace, then he helped her make up a code name too. She chose The Violinist. A few months later, they found each other on the messaging app, Communique.
Zera knew nothing about Myrâs past. Theyâd agreed to only talk about the present and future. It wasnât easy hiding her identity. But truth be told, she was more open with Myr than anyone. She might not recognize him if they passed in a hallwayâand maybe they hadâbut they knew each other so well inside, she was sure a five-minute conversation would reveal him.
Focusing on Myr extinguished her anger, and Zera resumed the journey to her rooms with the requisite poise of a princess. The sitting room was empty. She noted the glass of green juice on a tray beside the red velvet settee. Delivering the beverage was Elsiaâs final task of the day. With her assistant gone, Zera would remain undisturbed until dinner.
She stepped across a worn Persian rug to sit at an ornate cherry-wood desk that was a century older than the City of Reflections.
Once settled, she activated her virtual desktop. A colorful vortex spun to life on the wall, and a holographic keyboard appeared on her desk. She switched the active window to Communique. Her last conversation with Myr was still open, his name written in cursive under an archival photograph of a Siberian husky.
Myr? You there? she typed.
Finally, he answered. Hey, Vio. Whatâs up?
Zera had set up her account with a picture of her Stradivarius, once the property of Queen Angelica, wife of Ivan the Second, who had commissioned the construction of their biospheric city.
She sighed as she typed. Oh, nothing.
As in everything? Tell me whatâs going on.
Myr was too good at reading between her words, but he asked all the right questions, questions she needed to ask herself.
Is it okay to hate someone so much you want to kill them? she wrote.
It took a while for him to answer. Iâll assume thatâs a rhetorical question.
She crumpled her torso over the virtual keyboard with an exhausted sigh. ThisâŚperson seems to think he can knock me around, and I should deal with it.
Someone hit you? Vio, thatâs unacceptable. Have you reported him to the Peace Force?
With a groan, Zera thumped the desk. He calls it training, and when I try to fight back, he humiliates me every time.
Oh, youâre talking about your self-defense class. Thought I was going to have to kick someoneâs ass.
Zera chuckled, grateful for his gesture, even though it was ridiculous. Yes, that class, but heâs the one doing the kicking, and Iâm his target. I swear an oath to Perun, this man has it in for me, and my (so-called) friends stand on the sidelines and do nothing.
But this is training, right? Myr wrote. If heâs an instructor, heâs probably pushing you for an appropriate response. Iâd guess to fight him back, which it sounds like youâre doing.
So, how do I deal with his abuse? Every time he hits me, I want to kill him.
Ah, I get it.
Zeraâs fingers flew across the keys. What?
Iâll bet provoking you is his aimâyou know, to trigger your fight-or-flight responseâso you defend yourself like you would in real life. If you want to stop him hitting you, youâll have to jump-start your fight response before he whacks you.
She considered Myrâs advice. So, heâs not being a, um⌠she cringed as she typed, prick?
Ha, ha. But no, I doubt it. Not if heâs trying to teach you. Maybe give him the adrenaline charge he wants right away and see how it goes.
Myrâs suggestion made sense.
Wills and Clara had watched her fight off Master Nikolaiâor try toâbut neither had suggested he pushed her to trigger a fight response.
Iâm so glad I have you to help me sort these muddles out, she wrote.
My pleasure. Iâm always here for you, Vio. You know that.
Her heart warmed at his words.
If you're searching for a strong female lead, look no further than Zera from Alex Hayes' novel Beyond the Red Forest; when her bodyguard Wills feels sorry for her, Zera replies, "Take the pity with you. I need your strength, not your sympathy." Love it.
However, Zera is in a truly awful situation. She's a princess, living in the Upper Domiciles of the City of Reflections--a kingdom enclosed inside a biosphere, because the outside world is poisoned. The City of Reflections is an oppressive society, literally stratified by height. The Lower Domiciles make up the city's base and contain the majority of its residents, who suffer in poverty from inefficient food rations and draconian population control regulations, while the middle and upper classes above them exist in relative ease. Zera frequently sneaks out to the Lower Domiciles, and she knows many of the residents--including a talented young man named Mikhail, who tutors her in violin.
In terms of her royal duties, though, Zera is nothing more than an object. She's being trained (by a relentless self-defense master named Nikolai) for a hazardous mission to save the kingdom. The City of Reflections is running out of fuel, so Zera must travel through the poisoned outer world to a remote tower where essential energy cells are located. Why Zera? Because the tower has DNA locks, so Zera's the only "biological key" who can open them. And everyone else who's attempted this journey hasn't returned.
But this isn't even the worst part, which is Zera's father, the ruthless king of the City of Reflections. He gives Zera a callous ultimatum: if she doesn't retrieve the energy cells by her twenty-first birthday, he'll shut down life support to the Lower Domiciles to ensure safety for everyone else. He's willing to murder 80% of the population, including many of Zera's friends, which leaves the princess no choice in the matter. Zera will have more help than those who tried previously--a team including Wills, Nikolai, and her best friend Clara. But the mission begins in total chaos, and the group soon realizes that what they've been told about the outside world isn't the complete truth. Zera and her friends will encounter weaponized robots, murderous bounty hunters, and treasonous city officials. Should they follow their mission or not, and who can be trusted--even within their own group?
Beyond the Red Forest is a delightfully nuanced adventure story with tons of complicated characters and crucial themes about protecting animals and the environment. Author Alex Hayes also makes some excellent narrative choices that subvert typical fantasy genre tropes: Zera and her female friends openly criticize the lone white male hero narrative, which is what caused earlier mission attempts to fail. Instead of going alone, Zera knows that she'll fare better with a group's backing and protection. Additionally, Zera is dark-skinned--the result of an ancestral marriage arrangement in the past--and faces prejudice, particularly from her father (who blatantly prefers his more white-passing, blond-haired, four-year-old son). Zera's skin is even artificially lightened in media presentations; the royal family claims this is to help hide her identity from the public, but it's obvious that the real reason is racism. And although Zera can sometimes be cast as overly naive and innocent when it comes to love and sex, many of the book's female characters are wonderfully confident about their eroticism and physical needs.
Beyond the Red Forest is Book One of The Firebird's Gift Series, and the cliffhanger ending means that we're definitely getting a sequel. For those who don't like to wait, you're in luck: Alex Hayes is also the author of The Chameleon Effect Series.