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Back The Night and Its Moon
Chapters (64)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  6. Pronunciation Guide
  7. Prologue
  8. Part One
  9. One
  10. Two
  11. Three
  12. Four
  13. Five
  14. Six
  15. Seven
  16. Eight
  17. Nine
  18. Ten
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Part Two
  23. Fourteen
  24. Fifteen
  25. Sixteen
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Twenty
  30. Twenty-One
  31. Twenty-Two
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. Part Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Part Four
  47. Thirty-Six
  48. Thirty-Seven
  49. Thirty-Eight
  50. Thirty-Nine
  51. Forty
  52. Forty-One
  53. Forty-Two
  54. Forty-Three
  55. Forty-Four
  56. Forty-Five
  57. Forty-Six
  58. Forty-Seven
  59. Epilogue
  60. Excerpt from The Sun and Its Shade
  61. The Night and Its Moon Playlist
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. About the Author
  64. Back Cover

Odrin hadn’t spoken the truth, whether or not he realized he was telling a lie. He hadn’t witnessed what had occurred in the dining room at the mill. Amaris had accomplished what she had done at Farleigh not out of bravery but fear. She had been more terrified of a life with Millicent than of anything that could be found in an assassin’s keep. The stolen knife—Odrin’s knife—had been the quickest way to provide an exit. She would not be the pure, unmarked treasure, set aside like a delicate teacup for the finest of guests. She would take her life into her own hands. If she had gone with the Madame, she would have been bound and clipped, her spirit broken. With the kingdoms of men, she at least had a chance to become something more. She would sell her body to the fight of her own volition rather than to the highest bidder against her will.

“Shall we vote?” Grem pushed the men.

“No,” Amaris objected, surprised at herself for speaking. Her voice was a mixture of confusion and impatience at their unwillingness to hear her story. She didn’t have any follow-up plan, except knowing at her core that this hadn’t been fair. They shouldn’t be able to vote yet. They didn’t understand. They didn’t know what she’d been through. They didn’t understand how far she was willing to go.

Several of the reevers shuffled in their seats, jarred by the firmness of the word. There was a tension, unsettled by how she’d disrupted Grem’s petition for a decision.

Amaris shifted in her chair. She was confident that if it were put to a vote, the scowling faces would outnumber the open-minded ones significantly. The energy was not in her favor. Rather than allowing her feelings of discomfort to take root, she felt herself transition into anger. She would not have escaped Farleigh and cut her way out of the claws of Millicent just to be turned away by men and their prejudice. She did not leave Nox—the only person who had ever cared for her—just to be cast back into the world alone. She would not have begged an assassin to take her in, ridden for days, suffered mangled feet, aching muscles, bruised tailbones, and bright pink scars, only to be told her womanhood forbade her from training.

As she’d come to learn, passion often precludes wisdom.

Her body moved before her mind understood what she was doing. She was on her feet, slamming a fist onto the table. It was a childish outburst, and the flimsy impact of her balled fist made little sound on the stone table. Still, the confidence and command that surged from her hit their mark. She looked the men in the eye without a drop of doubt. The tumultuous curl of her fury burst out in a single demand.