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Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph
  6. BEGINNINGS
  7. PART I
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. PART II
  45. THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. THIRTY-NINE
  48. FORTY
  49. FORTY-ONE
  50. FORTY-TWO
  51. FORTY-THREE
  52. FORTY-FOUR
  53. FORTY-FIVE
  54. FORTY-SIX
  55. FORTY-SEVEN
  56. FORTY-EIGHT
  57. FORTY-NINE
  58. FIFTY
  59. FIFTY-ONE
  60. FIFTY-TWO
  61. FIFTY-THREE
  62. FIFTY-FOUR
  63. FIFTY-FIVE
  64. FIFTY-SIX
  65. FIFTY-SEVEN
  66. TRICKSTER
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. Also by Susan Dennard
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

Only when the king comes to a stop before Bastien, does Bastien finally twist his head. “I will find you,” he rasps. “In the next life, I will—”

The king slices off his head. The man’s words end. His head flies to the ground, blood spraying and mixing with the silver. Then the Rook King fixes his dark gaze on Stix. “It will all be over soon,” he tells her before his blade arcs out and crashes against her own neck.

Only as the sword cracks against stone does she realize why she has been locked in place. Only when it cuts through the rock—three swings it takes him—does she realize she has been encased in granite.

Then blade bites into flesh.

At least, she thinks before she dies, the people oppressed by the Exalted Ones have been freed. At least she and the others accomplished this one small task before they were betrayed and their worlds came to an end.

SIX

The Emperor’s crown was too tight. It squeezed the flesh of Henrick’s temples, practically blending into his skin and brown curls. As if his own body had grown around it. Safi had noticed it the first time she’d seen him in Cartorra with Iseult at her side. Then she’d noticed it again during their brief wedding ceremony …

And again on every night of these celebrations since.

Safi’s golden velvet gown, trimmed in Hasstrel blue and bobbin lace, swept around her in time to her forward steps. Domnas and doms bowed like wheat beneath the winds of power. She waved. She offered wisps of a subtle smile. The burn mark around her thumb glistened in the night’s candlelight.

“I am not so awful as you think me,” Henrick murmured beside her. He patted her arm where it was hooked into his. A tender move that was pure performance. “You will come to see that in time.”

“Of course, my Emperor.” Safi continued waving.

Every night since her marriage to Henrick two weeks before, Safi had endured this parade. And every night for two more months, she would continue enduring it. Tonight, however, was different from previous nights, for tonight, Safi burned. Beneath every nod and yes, my Emperor, she clung to her rage. No more layers of gray. No more lightless, purposeless life.

She had no real plan yet—just a vague notion that she needed the chain upon Henrick’s belt, the one he’d used to stop her attack only a few hours before. And perhaps more importantly, she needed the Threadstones beneath the chain. Her Threadstone. Iseult’s Threadstone. Taken from them before the noosing. With those, she could find her Threadsister again.

Even now, dressed for the evening’s festivities, Henrick wore the same belt. Unobtrusive, easy to miss. “Smile,” he ordered as he guided Safi onto the raised dais at the end of the room. “The world is watching.”