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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

Time had felt as though it had slowed once more while she’d taken in the features of the others. She’d managed to spy the faces, postures, and ages of the men at the table. While many were in the second half of their life, there appeared to be more than a few men in their teens and twenties at the table. Her eyes had snagged once more on the arch of fae ears as she looked away from a young, coppery man who may very well have been her age. That meant there were two fae at the table.

She shouldn’t have looked. It had been a distraction, and one that cost her. Now she stammered as she attempted to pull her thoughts together.

Somehow, starting to speak and then stopping again made things worse than if she hadn’t said anything at all. She was butchering her first impression, and she knew it. Amaris didn’t have the luxury of sounding like a child. She swallowed and willed authority into her voice as she spoke. She didn’t truly know what she was saying, but she spoke from her heart, scarcely examining the words that left her lips.

“I have no people,” she restated, voice wavering slightly. Insecurity would get her nowhere. If she didn’t feel particularly bold, she’d need to fake it to survive. Her words swelled to a false confidence as she spoke. “But if you’ll have me, you will be my people. You’re worried I’m a woman? I have no interest in being a damsel. I want to train, to learn, and to fight alongside you. I know what you must see when you look at me. I don’t blame you for your skepticism. Yes, today I am soft, but I wouldn’t ask for softness. Treat me as you would any boy of my age who arrived at your doorstep. Put me through the same trials. If I fail, I will fail as an assassin, not as a woman.”

“A reever,” the fae at the end of the table corrected.

“I—” she stammered at the amendment, not sure if she should apologize. “If I fail, I fail as a reever.”

His voice was almost as lovely as his face, though there was no question as to its strength. She’d tripped over the correction, feeling her courage unravel. She’d been on the edge of a rallying speech before stumbling over her words.

The eldest man grunted his disapproval, not looking at her as he spoke. “There’s a reason we don’t have women here. I won’t be making lighter armor, making smaller weapons, creating dainty—”