Dark Empathy Archibald Bradford (best books to read in your 20s TXT) 📖

work: once bundled up for warmth in the chill air she would trek to the bakery before the sun came up, her breath fogging in front of her as she walked through the quiet streets.

Whether due to Loskins’ pride, or the arrogance of youth, she always took the straightest route, one that brought her close to one of the many shanty towns around the city.

A dangerous course given the desperation of the people living there, especially in the dark.

She wasn’t yet halfway to work when a harsh voice cut through her cheery mood like a hot knife through butter.

“Oi! Give over the crown then, or I’ll cut ya.”

She yelped in surprise and whirled to face the source of the threat.

“What the fuck? Don’t sneak up on-”

“Didn’t you ‘ear me, ya foul mouthed bint?! The shiny! Give it over!”

Algrade’s streets boasted a full complement of solar powered lights suspended on wires above, but she was just at the edge of the grid, and the last of their energy was nearly expended as their panels waited for dawn’s arrival.

The dim orange light they gave off cast the scrawny man’s face in shadow, though it was enough to reflect off of the short knife he was directing at her.

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the blade, but Cordelia Loskins was not one to be cowed lightly.

Especially when her assailant was shorter than she was.

“You going to trim my nails with that thing? Fuck off!”

Out of reflex, she spoke loudly to draw attention, the opposite of what he wanted.

He had mistaken the solitary woman for an easy mark, but was now taken aback by her words, flinching away and looking from side to side in alarm.

But poverty is a great motivator, so in a bid to get his way he doubled down on his threatening posture, drawing himself up and stepping closer to her, trying to intimidate her with his nearness.

She felt a faint twinge of fear then, but it was short-lived as a pair of her Hornets landed on him before he could come within striking distance of their queen.

One other thing she had to get used to: with the crown on her head, at least one of Oldeera’s hive had to be near the heartstone within it at all times.

This meant that she was never truly alone, even when she might want to be, the compromise then was the Hornets buzzing along above her to keep her safe while not intruding on the private ritual of her morning walk.

“Oi! Gerroff!”

The knife clattered to the street as they quickly subdued her assailant, his face pressed to the ice-cold cobblestones.

“Be silent!” One of them commanded, the barbed tip of her lance pressing into his cheek.

He froze.

“Seriously, what kind of an idiot tries to steal a Hornet queen’s crown?!” Cordelia griped, brushing of the worried attention of a third monster girl.

“Let me go! I weren’t going to ‘urt anyone, honest!”

His voice cracked mid-sentence and she realized then that the ‘man’ trying to mug her was little more than a teenage boy.

With him safely restrained, both arms held behind his back by the angry Hornets, she leaned in to get a better look.

He was dressed in a worn woven coat that was too big for him; in the dark it made him look larger than he was, but once she was closer she could see that the shoulders were comically bulky and he even had to roll up the long sleeves to accommodate his shorter arms.

“Holy fuck, how old are you?”

“Piss off your royal fatness!” He snarled in response.

Her ears burned at the insult, sure she had gained a few pounds under the spoiled attention of her hive, but she could hardly be called fat!

The lance dug into his cheek harder as its owner felt her queen’s irritation.

“How dare you!”

“You wanna die?” The other one threatened, pressing him to the ground with more weight.

He gave a distinctly unmanly squeal at the promise of death, struggling mightily in their grip.

“Alight! Enough already girls, sheesh. Let him up.”

The Hornet beside Cordelia narrowed her eyes as her sisters hoisted the cursing teen to his feet.

“We should leave his body in the gutter as a warning to others.” She suggested menacingly.

The royal baker rolled her eyes.

“Oh for- no! He’s just a kid! What’s your name?” Her finger came up threateningly before he could answer; “And if you call me fat again, I’ll kick you in the balls!”

His mouth closed, apparently thinking better of whatever he had been about to say, though his chin lifted defiantly when he found his words again.

“Known as Cutter.”

“Not with that dinky knife you aren’t.” The Hornets on either side of him responded.

He squirmed between the two monsters, looking sullen.

“I could be… you don’t know.”

“How about the one your parents gave you?” Cordelia said drily.

His head rose and he suddenly looked like he swallowed a lemon.

“What would I need parents fer, eh princess?”

Once again he felt the barbed tip of a lance against his face.

“She is a QUEEN! And she asked for your name!” The monster holding it declared.

He took a minute to measure the resolve on the Hornet’s face before finally muttering something under his breath.

The lance didn’t move.

“Louder!”

“Oliver! Relax wouldja? Not like a name means anythin’.”

With two fingers Cordelia retrieved the little knife, only to discover that it wasn’t a knife at all, but rather a cheap brass letter opener.

“Oliver the Orphan? Seriously?”

He bristled at her tone, despite the grip of the monsters holding him.

“You take that back, I aint never touched no ‘orphs’ afore!”

She rolled her eyes at his mistake, then tried a different tact.

“Why were you trying to steal my crown?”