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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

“I’m sorry, Edward, I’ve dreaded this day ever since your mother’s…passing. But I still wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“What?” Edward said, sure he’d missed something. Some important detail that was leading him to the wrong conclusion. “What about my mother? And why is my great uncle sitting on the throne?”

“Your mother, the queen, is dead, Edward. She was murdered by your own brother. Tomas came to help locate you, and instead he, he…” The man shuddered, his eyes growing misty, which, for him, was an extreme show of emotion.

“Mother? Dead? And Tomas? My brother has never been across the border, much less to Drouin. If this is your idea of a jest, it’s awful.”

“You know I would never joke of such a thing. And yet I wish I was. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry it happened. I’m so sorry that you weren’t here for her entombment. I’m so sorry you won’t have time or space to mourn until the crown is on your head. I’m so sorry that the beginning of your reign will be marked with war.”

“War? War with whom?”

“The Finfallians, of course. We cannot allow their treachery to go unanswered. Blood must be met with blood.”

All of it was too much, a headache burrowing its way into his skull, pounding away like a hammer on an anvil. Mister Finch was still speaking, something about duty and drawing on loyal supporters and calling for an emergency court session, but all of that faded into the background, a single word—a name—repeating itself over and over again like a mantra.

Korsiris…Korsiris…Korsiris…

Then, suddenly, it changed.

I am Korsiris.

Yes, yes you are, that wicked voice answered. It’s time to get back to work.

Thirty-Four

Tomas

Marchessault, Finfalla

In all the years he’d watched his father wear the Finfallian crown, Tomas had never realized how heavy it was. Now, as it was placed, gleaming, upon his head, he finally understood. Its weight was physical—solid silver ornamented with the symbols of his kingdom’s faith—but also ideological, as though a piece of every one of his subjects rested upon him, their hopes, their dreams, their very futures his to bear.

Thousands of whom were watching this moment in history, witnesses to the dawning of a new era, one already blood-soaked and murder-ravaged, the exact opposite of everything Tomas had envisaged his reign to be.