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
As she tore her gaze from the retina-burning sun, her eyes snagged on a new threat.
Even if it weren’t the broad light of day, a row of what must have been twenty marksmen lined the bottom tier of the stadium fifty feet overhead, planting their protective weapons directly in front of Queen Moirai. They stood with the stillness of statues, all wearing metallic breastplates with the queen’s insignia. The archers held their bows, strings drawn loosely in a ready but resting position. The glint of the sun on every one of the arrows they’d nocked told her that they were made of wing-shredding, Raascot-murdering metal. The queen was sending her a message.
Amaris stumbled farther to the center as she absorbed the sounds of cheers and jeers alike. There was no stockade, no noose. There was no executioner. Why hadn’t the queen left her to rot? If her secret was so precious, why would she risk allowing Amaris to see the light of day? Was she just to stand in here and perish from thirst?
The chatter of the babbling audience swelled in excitement as her eyes refocused on the object that had joined her on the sands. Whatever it was, the onlookers were eager for her to reach it. In the center of the coliseum, she saw a single blade displayed upon two rough-hewn wooden stands of twin sawhorses on the sand. She’d been given a sword. Perhaps this was why she’d been tied with rope. She was meant to free herself before the public using this blade.
Amaris closed the distance between herself and the weapon. The garbled words of what may have been hundreds, thousands, or millions of onlookers created the white noise of a stream, completely unintelligible and of utter disinterest to her. She approached the blade cautiously, examining the single, simple sword before her. She and the blade were alone on the enormous sand floor of the stadium. The crowd hummed with excitement in a way that told her she would not be alone for long.
Somehow, she didn’t feel afraid. She wasn’t excited or nervous or even the sort of calm that came from preparedness. No, this peace came from knowing she was not alone. Nox was here. Nox had told her to buy time. The only people she’d ever loved or trusted were here.
If she had to die, it was okay to do it knowing that she was with the ones she loved.
A voice bellowed as if from everywhere and nowhere. Amaris spun, scanning the tightly packed crowd until she found the shaded alcove of the queen behind her archers, accompanied by a similar performatively empty chair to the one she’d seen in the throne room. She would have recognized the owner of that horrid voice anywhere.
The display of wealth before her was abhorrent but not the least bit surprising.