Manus left without another word.
The queen continued to sit in silence as all of Nyr celebrated her marriage to a man who she was not certain she could trust. A man who regarded her as an enemy.
A man she had been in love with for years.
He’d done what no other suitor or lover had ever done before. He’d followed the trail of her cleverness to its end. Her garden, her private joke…
She was overcome with feeling at the thought of the clever prince of Austrisia, his brow knit and his expression remote as he pondered the puzzle she’d designed, a puzzle she’d never shown to another person before.
She felt seen—known—in a way she had never been before.
It was exhilarating.
But he could never know how she felt. He could never know that she had longed, even as they spoke their vows before the assembly in the throne room, to crush her lips to his with a passionate kiss.
It was her greatest weakness, this foolish affection she harbored for him.
She dared not expose herself by revealing it.
And so, the queen of Nyr spent her wedding night alone, thinking of her bridegroom, who was bridegroom in name only.
That was all he would ever be.
No matter what she wanted, she dared not trust him. What was more vulnerable and exposed than being in love with someone? Like a snake that had rolled over to expose its soft, delicate underbelly to a predator.
She would never be so foolish as to be vulnerable to him.
And it was breaking her heart.
~
When Jehn reached his quarters, the new captain of his guard was waiting there for him, hands clasped behind his back, standing in the shadows near the window that showed the sky. The fireworks lit his profile in scarlet and then gold. He looked tired.
“Tell me more about the mission,” Jehn said.
“It was successful,” Kael murmured.
Jehn sank down on the edge of the bed and reached for the medicine tucked in his pocket. His arm throbbed where the brand had seared his flesh, and his hand answered it in a symphony of pain. His mind was a swirl of dark memories of smoke and cannon fire, thanks to the thunderous sound of fireworks outside. Every boom dredged up the taste of sweat and blood on his lips, the panic in his chest.
It was going to be a long night.
No servants had come to light the lamps. They must think he was with the queen. The room was filled with shadows.
He swallowed from the vial and sighed at the relief he knew was coming soon.
Kael’s expression was unreadable as the spray of fireworks across the night sky bathed him in violet and blue.
“And the dragonsayer?” Jehn asked.
A flash of something that looked like deep joy mixed with longing glinted in Kael’s eyes before he blinked it away and resumed his expression of watchful sobriety that he always wore. Jehn found himself envious of that look. That contentment. What must it be like to love and be loved in return, as Kael and the dragonsayer?
“She is well,” Kael said then. “Being a queen of thieves suits her perfectly. She has risen to the occasion most admirably.”
Jehn swallowed a laugh. “I can imagine it.”
And he could—that spitfire guttersnipe had always been destined for greatness. He remembered the games of Dubbok they’d played. Her furious, passionate temper that she worked to curb. Her occasional brilliance when it came to negotiating and manipulating.
In the game of kingmaking, Briand Varryda was becoming a true contender. He was proud of her.
Kael smiled once at some remembered thing, the corners of his mouth lifting briefly. “She’s still furious at you, Jehn.”
“Noted,” the prince said.
“She discovered a new ability,” Kael continued. “She can reason with the dragons. She was able to wield one with greatly diminished pain.”
The pain medication was beginning to take effect. Jehn leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes. He rubbed a hand across his head. His blood began to feel slow and thick, like honey in his veins.
“We found the guardians,” Kael reported. “They have agreed to journey to Gillspin under the dragonsayer’s protection as thief-queen.”
“And the Seeker, Auberon?” Jehn asked. “What of him and his sister, Jade?”
“He and his sister fled,” Kael said. “He tried to double-cross us in the end, as I suspected.”
“Oh?” Jehn asked, and Kael recounted the events of the prison break. Jehn listened, amused at points and impressed at others.
“Clever, to trick him as you did,” he said, opening his eyes when Kael had finished and propping himself up on his elbows. He felt woozy now. Sleepy. His tongue felt unloosened, his whole body relaxed. Perhaps he had taken too much. But at least his hand was not hurting. “I am impressed, my friend.”
Kael gave a slight bow. “I learned from the best.” He paused. “But I did not get all the information he promised.”
“The information was only ever a secondary goal,” Jehn mused. “He will think he has cheated you, and not suspect the truth.”
“I agree,” Kael said. “He will think himself the victor.”
“You have it with you now?” Jehn asked.
Kael reached into his breast pocket and produced a slender vial. It glinted in the light of the fireworks as he held it out. “I was able to procure it without any notice from anyone. We already had a reason to go to the storage room in the prison. It was there, as you suspected, stored among the other artifacts.”
Jehn looked at the vial in Kael’s hand. He felt no triumph at being right about what he’d hoped Kael would find. He was too tired, too bombarded with the sound of the fireworks still.
But he knew the importance of what they were looking at.
A second vial of poison.
The kind of poison that could make another dragonsayer.
Look for book #7 in the Kingmakers’ War, A Reign of Thieves, in Fall/Winter 2018!
A Note to My Lovely Readers:
Thank you so much for joining me in the story of Briand, Kael, and the rest of their friends. I hope you enjoyed reading this story half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Scrappy, defiant Briand, enigmatic Kael, cranky Nath, and longsuffering Tibus (and all the others) hold a special place in my heart, even among all of my book characters. This was one of my earliest stories that I set out to write, way back when I was still a teenager. I love that it lives on the published page for people like you to discover and enjoy.
If you loved this book and think other readers might enjoy it too, consider taking a moment and leaving a review on Amazon! I would deeply appreciate it. As a reader, reviews are the first thing I look at when deciding whether or not I'll like a new book, and the same is true for many others. Reviews help readers find books. Your words are especially powerful in reviews of later books in the series, since less people write reviews for those. So be a booksayer and write a review! Your words have more power than you know.
Sincerely,
Kate
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kate Avery Ellison lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, two children, and two cats. She loves dark chocolate, fairy tale retellings, and love stories with witty banter and sizzling, unspoken feelings. When she isn’t working on her next writing project, she can be found reading, watching one of her favorite TV shows, or lying on the couch in exhaustion due to her two rambunctious children under the age of three.
You can find more information about Kate Avery Ellison’s books and other upcoming projects online at http://thesouthernscrawl.blogspot.com/.
To be notified of new releases by Kate Avery Ellison, sign up for her New Releases Newsletter at http://thesouthernscrawl.blogspot.com/p/new-releases-newsletter.html, or “like” her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/kateaveryellison.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Scott, for being the best human being on this planet. You are my best friend and my favorite person. You are
the Kael to my Briand. Thank you for getting me donuts at 10 PM when I am editing and need chocolate desperately, for listening to me talk about character arcs for hours, for taking both kids to the park by yourself in the evenings so I can write, and all the other ways you support me and my career.
My children, for lighting up my life, for sharing more smiles than germs lately, for inspiring me with their courage and tenacity, and for sleeping well at night (finally). I love you both so much.
Christine, for watching the littlest one so I can write more often, and for being a sweet friend to me.
My family (my parents, siblings, and wonderful in-laws), for helping so much with the babies so I can write, for talking about my books to practically every person you meet in every doctor’s office and classroom between here and North Carolina, for cheering me on, and for acting like I’m famous. I love you all.
Dani, for being an editing ninja of awesome, for being flexible and accommodating even when I’m a forgetful mess, and for working with me for some many years.
And lastly, my readers, for their faithful support and infectious enthusiasm. It means so much to me that you all love these characters. The author only holds half the story—you guys make it come alive in your imaginations as you read. Without readers, the characters are only words on a page. Thank you for reading. Every time I sit down to write, I hope to produce words that will amuse, delight, and occasionally break your hearts (in the best possible way).
Read the first chapter of The Season of Lightning, a story set in the same world as the Kingmakers' War, available now in paperback and ebook format!
~ONE~
THE SOLDIERS HAD their guns pointed straight at me.
The sky was cloudless and blue as azure above us, the air dry and hot with late summer heat. I was bruised from falling off Gryphon, my horse, and my temper was as short as the hair of a newly articled servant.
I’d escaped from the house on horseback after another argument with the housekeeper about my inability to keep shoes on while walking the grounds. Riding Gryphon hard across the gold-brown flatlands outside the fields of the plantation made my head clear, so I’d given him slack in the rein¬s, and that brat took the bit in his teeth and ran wild for the Jessu River, which cut like a jewel-green snake through the hills between our land and the port city at the edge of the sea. He’d been startled by a hawk in the foothills and thrown me, and then my companion, Trilly, had shown up with the air of a martyr and the scolding of a sergeant to usher me home on foot.
We’d been arguing about the propriety of my actions when the soldiers appeared, guns slung across their arms, on patrol against smugglers that sometimes roamed the river at night. I’d known immediately by the expression that crossed the big one’s face that we were in trouble.
Now, he was toying with us like a cat plays with an injured sparrow.
They were young soldiers—new ones I’d never seen before—the buttons on the gold-embroidered uniforms still sparkled clean and bright in the sunlight, the fringe on their belt-ends still hung straight and soft and clean, unstained by the dust of the canyons that edged the river. Their faces were sunburned, their eyebrows drawn together like locked gates as they looked at me. One was tall, with bright blond hair that marked him as barbarian-blooded somewhere in his past. A foreigner. He jerked his chin at me.
“What’s your business on this road?”
He spoke with the lazy drawl of a man who knows he will be having some fun and who wants to take his time so he can savor it.
The second soldier, who was smaller, swarthier, and darker-haired, an Austrisian, looked away at the twisted trees lining the water of the Jessu instead of the boardwalk we stood on. One of his eyebrows lifted a little, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the courage to speak in front of the blond.
“I was riding my horse, and I fell off when a bird flew up from behind a rock and startled him. He reared, dumping me. We were walking home, where he has surely already gone.” My words came out stiff and hoarse instead of cold and strong like I wanted.
The yellow-haired soldier frowned. “Let me see your papers.”
This was, of course, an outrage. I wasn’t carrying papers because I didn’t have any, because I wasn’t a bonded servant or a silvra freewoman, or a tyrra like these men assumed. My hair might be curly with a hint of red-brown and my skin milky with a touch of bronze in the summer like a tyyra, the river people who lived in our land as immigrants and strangers, but I was the daughter of a plantation owner, an Austrisian, and I had every right in the world to be walking on this road with my companion.
“Didn’t you hear me? I want to see your papers.”
“I don’t have them, you idiot. I don’t need them.”
“Oh?” His mouth turned down, but his eyes sparkled. The malice in them made me furious instead of afraid.
“My name is Verity Ely—”
“Shut up. I only want to see the notification that you have the right to escort this seevver along this route. I don’t want a sob story.”
I quit feeling frightened when the word seevver left his lips like a breath of smoke.
“You pig,” I snapped, drawing in a quick, sharp breath. “We don’t need papers. Get your guns out of our faces before I have my father arrest you. I—”
“I said shut up!” He stepped forward fast, grabbing my shoulder hard. Trilly screamed, and the other soldier started to raise his gun at Trilly.
The soldier’s hands dug into my arm. His eyes blazed as they stared into mine, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw his weapon in his hand, and the way his fingers tightened reflexively over the trigger. His breath was hot against my chin.
“I’ll teach you to insult me, you little minx. Your father, you say? He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere, shot for insolence against a patrol. You need to be taught a lesson.”
I heard the sharp rap of a horse’s hooves on the boardwalk, and my mind screamed out for salvation from this new person, but the soldier ignored the sound of hoofbeats, drunk with his station and the power that came with his firearm. He knew as well as I that no farmer would mess with him, not with a gun in his hand, not with the uniform he wore on his back, not with the fury written all over his face.
My heartbeat pulsed in my throat. My shoulder ached beneath his hands. I saw the way his jaw tightened as though he was holding his temper in check, but just barely.
“For the last time, girl,” he growled. “Your papers.”
The hoofbeats halted behind us, and a cool voice cut in. “I knew that the regiment had taken to importing barbarians to do its dirty work, but I was unaware that it had begun recruiting the brain-injured.”
I knew that voice. My heart sank.
The soldier swung around with a swagger of confidence, lifting his gun. As he caught a glimpse of the man who’d dared to interrupt his interrogation, his hand slipped on my arm, and I yanked away.
“Sir,” the soldier muttered, his tone grudgingly deferential.
The nobleman on the horse tapped one gloved hand against his thigh as his lips pursed in a scowl. He darted a look at me that embodied pure scorn before returning his attention to the two soldiers before him.
“I am of course assuming that you were unaware that you were accosting the beloved and only daughter of General Elysius?” Their faces turned ashen as they realized their horrible, horrible mistake, and I smiled tightly at the way they darted furtive glances at me, their mouths snapping open and then closed, as if they were holding in curses. The dark-haired one stepped away from Trilly hastily.
“Give me your regiment numbers,” the young nobleman snapped, looking disgusted at having to continue even conversing with them. “I’ll report you myself. If you are lucky, you’ll get by with only a caning instead of a full dismissal.”
He remained astride his horse and watched as they wrote down their regiment numbers and gave them to him. My eyes lingered on the pistol strapped to his leg, the fine lambskin boots
that came almost to his knees, the crisp white gloves that covered his hands. Lords, I had such terrible luck. Of all the people to have rescued us, it had to be him.
After the soldiers scrambled away, not daring to look back, he turned to us, his mouth folding back into its characteristic smirk. “Ladies.”
I wiped the beads of sweat from my upper lip, avoiding his gaze. I was thankful, naturally. But...
Trilly, on the other hand, gasped out a sigh and snatched up the fallen bonnets and basket, trying without success to smooth out the wrinkles from the bonnets. “Lord Roth, I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
I swallowed the snarl that came to my lips, because, after all, he had just saved us. Gratefulness was in order.
His lordship dismounted smoothly, and his eyes found mine. There was a lazy sort of appraisal in them, as always, as though he’d measured my talents and faults and found me wanting in every way. I busied myself with brushing a bit of mud from the full bodice of my gown.
“Thank you,” Trilly said to Roth.
“Oh, it was nothing. I’m sure Verity would have been able to find something to say to keep that lackey at bay.” He folded his arms, as if waiting for my smart reply.
“That’s Miss Elysius,” I snapped, feeling stupid for being unable to think of anything wittier to say to him. “Anyway, we really must be going. We’ve lingered here long enough, and Mimi is probably frantic about us. Goodbye.”
Roth tsked cheerfully under his breath. Now that the soldiers were gone and the danger was over, he was sarcasm as usual.
“Is that any way to thank me?”
I grabbed Trilly’s arm and pulled her down the pathway for my father’s plantation, my silk shoes barely whispering against the planks of the boardwalk that carried us safely over the waters of the Jessu.
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