Chapters (64)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Pronunciation Guide
- Prologue
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Part Two
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Part Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Part Four
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Epilogue
- Excerpt from The Sun and Its Shade
- The Night and Its Moon Playlist
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
She’d slid out her pawn as an opening move, and he’d responded with one of his own, cautiously guarding the conversation. Her interactions with men had always been a game of chess, and she’d never lost a match. Now, when she finally did, she had failed spectacularly. Her round with the coppery mercenary had been a two-move checkmate, and she had not come out the victor. Their exchange had been a textbook execution of the Fool’s Mate. It was the single, worst opening in the game.
That’s what she was. A fool.
So what if the boy’s complexion matched her own? She would not go north of the border for camaraderie but for vengeance. What had the north done for her but breed her mother with its demons, abandon her at a child mill, and spirit away the only person in this world she had ever loved? What would a band of assassins have done with such a fragile girl?
She felt like she was going to be sick. How had she let the man get away, and how could she find him again? Her reaction had revealed her hand, and he had fled. Why hadn’t she taken a horse and followed? Why hadn’t she screamed that the young man had stolen from her, or sent someone else after him? Why hadn’t she kept her wits about her? She’d been too hysteric to think rationally. She’d run this race since childhood, yet here she was, tripping at the finish line. Nox had simply let her knees go weak, sinking to the floor of the tavern as he’d wormed away from the grip she’d had on his tunic. The surrounding men, eager to defend her honor, had taken off after him, hurling their curses and threats while she’d remained slumped on the ground.
She hadn’t just lost; she’d failed.
Surely, he had returned to whatever Raascot men of his had been in Yelagin and alerted them to her hunt. She had been careful not to use any specifics, like her name, or even Amaris’s, lest she risk spooking them into discarding the problem. If she had been able to get the young man back to her room, she would already know everything. He should have been hers. He had been within her grasp. She had sat across from the answers she’d needed. She had touched his hand. She had been so close to everything she’d ached to know.
She hadn’t just failed herself; she’d failed Amaris.