Back The Stone Knife Save as PDF
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. THE STONE KNIFE
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. THE SINGER
  6. XESSA
  7. LILLA
  8. TAYAN
  9. ENET
  10. THE SINGER
  11. XESSA
  12. TAYAN
  13. PILOS
  14. LILLA
  15. TAYAN
  16. ENET
  17. THE SINGER
  18. TAYAN
  19. XESSA
  20. PILOS
  21. TAYAN
  22. PILOS
  23. LILLA
  24. XESSA
  25. ILANDEH
  26. ENET
  27. THE SINGER
  28. TAYAN
  29. XESSA
  30. LILLA
  31. XESSA
  32. ILANDEH
  33. PILOS
  34. TAYAN
  35. ENET
  36. THE SINGER
  37. LILLA
  38. PILOS
  39. TAYAN
  40. LILLA
  41. ENET
  42. THE SINGER
  43. ILANDEH
  44. PILOS
  45. XESSA
  46. ENET
  47. THE SINGER
  48. PILOS
  49. LILLA
  50. XESSA
  51. ILANDEH
  52. TAYAN
  53. ENET
  54. THE SINGER
  55. XESSA
  56. PILOS
  57. XESSA
  58. PILOS
  59. ILANDEH
  60. PILOS
  61. TAYAN
  62. XESSA
  63. EPILOGUE
  64. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  65. By Anna Stephens
  66. About the Publisher

By now, it seemed that the entire council and most of the nobles were aware of the blooding – or that the Singer’s indulgences had gone wrong, at least. Some of his favourites had quietly disappeared from the source, likely fearing that they would be the next to leave a bloody stain on the mats. Those who remained redoubled their efforts to ingratiate themselves, hinting at the blooding and making approving noises. So far, none had attempted to procure an offering themselves, and Enet worked hard to ensure that one of the Chorus loyal to her was on duty whenever she couldn’t be there. She couldn’t afford for anyone else to start supplying the Singer with this particular experience.

Not that anyone would be able to harm Enet now, no matter their suspicions. Not Yana or the remaining favourites, not even Pilos when he slunk back from war like the blood-clotted dog he was. No one. Curving up the column of Enet’s throat was a tattoo of a dark feather. The mark of a Chosen. Chosen of the Singer. Chosen to ascend with him – or even, perhaps, to succeed him. Singer Enet.

Xac had taken very little convincing in the end. He had seen the exquisite twin slaves she’d found for him and begged for them. Actually begged her, panting like a dog in heat and the song building in waves all around. Enet had cooed and flattered and placed the tattoo equipment into his hands. The Singer had complied without even a murmur. Quickly, while the slaves knelt at the edge of the mats with their eyes cast down in respect, he had dipped the thorn into the ink and given her the mark. And she had given him the twins.

Enet had inspected it in a piece of polished gold later that night when the Singer slept in his bloodstained glory – and then she’d summoned her own tattooist and had the design tidied up around the edges, so that none might mistake it.

Nothing could take this away from her now: Enet was Chosen, elite even among Pechaqueh nobility, as far above them as the sun was above the earth. The future was bright – incandescent – with possibility.