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Back Forsworn
Chapters (53)
  1. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area- Western Half
  2. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Eastern Half
  3. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Full Map
  4. Important Trigger Warning
  5. Prologue
  6. PART I
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Interlude: The River of Life
  20. PART II
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Seventeen
  26. Eighteen
  27. Nineteen
  28. Interlude: Fallow Fields
  29. PART III
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Interlude: Of Man and Monster
  37. PART IV
  38. Twenty-Six
  39. Twenty-Seven
  40. Twenty-Eight
  41. Twenty-Nine
  42. Thirty
  43. Thirty-One
  44. Thirty-Two
  45. Thirty-Three
  46. Thirty-Four
  47. POSTLUDES
  48. Postlude 1: Lana Vica
  49. Postlude 2: Ludo Vica
  50. Postlude 3: Cainan
  51. Acknowledgments
  52. An excerpt from Heartsworn, Volume II in The Forsworn Oath, available for preorder now!
  53. PART I

Beside the king stood the crown prince, Tomas, hands clasped snobbishly behind his back. Beneath his mop of golden hair, he wore a slight frown, as though analyzing her every move, her every blink, trying to get the measure of the woman who would dare enter these hallowed chambers. His trousers were, of all things, white, and Bryony wondered if he used a serviette the size of a blanket to protect them from stains during mealtimes. The silver belt holding them up was shiny enough to admire one’s reflection if a mirror wasn’t readily available. His shirt was a floral shade of fuchsia, with poofy material bunched around each elbow. His icy blue eyes were lined with kohl, drawing her attention away from the rest of his features, an effect that seemed, to her at least, as purposeful as the rest of his ensemble.

Bryony wondered what he saw in her eyes in that fleeting moment just before she lowered them respectfully to her feet and sank into a reverent bow.

“What in the world are you wearing?” Tomas said, not bothering to disguise the disdain in his voice. Bryony supposed that if she were born the future ruler of a kingdom, she wouldn’t bother to either.

“Decorum, Tomas, decorum,” the king rumbled, waving aside his son’s words as though they could be carried away by an errant bit of wind. “We are not here to assess fashion choices. State your name, miss.”

“Bryony, Your Majesty,” she said, fixing her gaze on her black boots. The boots that were part of the unusual clothing—at least for a woman—that had drawn the prince’s ire. The rest of the outfit consisted of sturdy black trousers, a black shirt that tied at the front with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a belt that had been painted black to hide its true, more vibrant, hue. That wasn’t the only thing she was hiding, the contraption of wood and leather attached to her right knee invisible beneath her boyish garb.

“Were your parents of such lowly class that they didn’t bother to bestow a surname on you?” The question came from the prince, and drew a long sigh from his father’s lips, though he didn’t bother to reprimand his son for his continued rudeness.

“None worth mentioning, Your Majesty,” Bryony said. She had a plan, one she hoped to be able to stick to unless things went…awry. And that plan involved giving them the least information about herself as possible. If they insisted, she had a fake surname at the ready to placate their curiosity. Dobbs. What name could be more boring and unexciting than Bryony Dobbs?