Valiant Ladies
Chapters (47)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
Copyright Notice
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Dedication
To the girls with steel in their bones and fire in their blood
Epigraph
Let him who calls me wild beast and basilisk, leave me alone as something noxious and evil; let him who calls me ungrateful, withhold his service; who calls me wayward, seek not my acquaintance; who calls me cruel, pursue me not; for this wild beast, this basilisk, this ungrateful, cruel, wayward being has no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow them.
—Marcella, Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote
CHAPTER 1
Kiki
It’s a shame what we’re about to do to this tavern. Admittedly, it’s already a bit of a shithole, but it’s our shithole. Mine and Ana’s. The proprietor, Santiago, always keeps barrels of his best booze aside for us and makes sure to save the very best gossip for our ears only. But alas, some confrontations simply cannot be avoided.
The tip of the knife digs into my skin as the man holding the blade sneers at me. He’s standing and I’m sitting, which would theoretically put him at an advantage, but if I had to put money on someone, it wouldn’t be him. He’s an ugly bastard with the personality to match. A ragged scar runs from his hairline to his chin, and he’s missing several teeth. I’d wager most of them were victims of bar fights.
Much like the one about to break out now.
I tilt my head back to look the man in the eye.
Never take your eyes off your opponent. That is the first rule of swordplay.
We aren’t playing, and this isn’t a game, but the rules still apply.
I don’t need to look down at the cards in my hand. I memorized them as soon as they were dealt. It is an excellent hand. A shame, really, that I’ll have to hasten this fool’s shuffle off this mortal coil before I get to play it.
I set my cards down on the table as the corners of my lips tick upward. It isn’t a pleasant smile. It isn’t meant to be. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why not?” The man’s words are slightly slurred, but he isn’t swaying on his feet, and the hand holding the knife is steady. So he isn’t fully drunk, not yet. Just drunk enough to feel brave.
And that will be his undoing.