Kaltain watched in rage and agony as Lizzy and the Crown Prince of Adarlan danced and danced and danced. Even with a much more concealing mask, she would have recognized the upstart. And what sort of a person wore gray to a ball? Kaltain looked down at her dress and smiled. Bright shades of blue, emerald, and soft brown, her gown and matching peacock mask had cost as much as a small house. It was all a gift from Bolton, of course, along with the jewelry that decorated much of her neck and arms. It was certainly not the dull, drab mess of crystal that the conniving harlot wore.Bolton stroked her arm, and Kaltain turned to him with fluttering eyelashes. “You look handsome tonight, my love,” she said, adjusting a gold chain across his red tunic. His face quickly matched the color of his clothes. She wondered if she could bear the repulsion of kissing him. She could always keep refusing, just as she had for the past month; but when he was this drunk . . .She would have to think of a wa
Jane groaned as something cold and wet brushed her cheek and moved to lick her face. She opened an eye and found the puppy looking down at her, its tail wagging. Adjusting herself in the bed, she winced at the sunlight. She hadn’t meant to sleep in. They had a Test in two days, and she needed to train. It was their last Test before the final duel—the Test that decided who the four finalists would be.Janerubbed an eye and then scratched the dog behind the ears. “Have you peed somewhere and wish to tell me about it?”“Oh no,” said someone as the bedroom door swung open—Vincent . “I took her out at dawn with the other dogs.”She smiled weakly as he approached. “Isn’t it rather early for a visit?” “Early?” He laughed, sitting on the bed. She inched away. “It’s almost one inthe afternoon! Philippa told me you’ve been sleeping like the dead all morning.” One! She’d slept that long? What about lessons with Chaol? She scratched her nose and pulled the puppy onto her lap. At least nothing ha
Pain lanced through her hand as they slammed into the wall and fell to the ground, scattering treasure. Black blood that stank of waste sprayed onto her.She didn’t move, not as she stared at those black eyes barely inches from her own, not as she saw her right hand held between its black teeth, her blood already oozing down its chin. She just panted and shook, not taking her left hand from the hilt of the sword, even after those hungry eyes turned dull and its body sagged atop hers.It was only when the amulet throbbed again that she blinked. Everything afterthat became a series of steps, a dance that she had to execute perfectly or else she’d fall apart right there in that tomb and never get up.She first pried her hand from its teeth. It burned mercilessly. An arc of gushing puncture wounds encircled her thumb, and she swayed on her feet as she shoved the ridderak off her. It was surprisingly light—as if its bones were hollow, or there were nothing inside of it. Though the world b
Bolton’s mouth parted. Slowly, she shook her head. “But they sent you to Endovier. You were supposed to be in Endovier with—” Bolton’s eyes widened. “You speak the Eyllwe of the peasants—of those enslaved in Endovier. That was how you learned.” Jane’s breathing became a bit difficult. Bolton’s lips trembled. “You went . . . you went to Endovier? Endovier is a death camp. But . . . why did you not tell me? Do you not trust me?”“Of course I do,” she said. Especially now that she’d proven beyond a doubt that she wasn’t the one responsible for those murders. “I was ordered by the king not to speak a word of it.”“A word of what?” Bolton said sharply, blinking back her tears. “The king knows you’re here? He gives you orders?”“I’m here for his amusement.” Jane sat up straighter in bed. “I’m here because he’s hosting a competition to be the King’s Champion. And after I win—if I win, I’m to work for the king for four years as his lackey and assassin. And then I’ll be freed, and my name cle
Nox rubbed his neck. “I don’t understand a word of what you just said. Why don’t you have a choice? I know things are bad with your father, but surely he won’t—” She silenced him with a pointed stare. “And you’re not a jewel thief, are you?” She shook her head. Nox glanced again at Zagreb. “Zagreb knows, too. That’s why he always tries to rile you—to get you to show who you truly are.”She nodded. What difference did it make if he knew? She had more important things to worry about now. Like how she’d survive until the duels. Or stop Zagreb.“But who are you?” Nox said. She bit her lip. “You said your father moved you to New York, that much is true. The prince went there to retrieve you— there’s evidence of that journey.” Even as he said it, his eyes slid toward her back. She could practically see the revelations as they bloomed in his mind. “And—you weren’t in the town of New York. You were in New York. The Salt Mines. That explains why you were so painfully thin when I first saw you.
And she’d never, not in a million years, tell him about the ridderak. She might feel something for him, but if he told his father about the power of the Wyrdmarks and Wyrdgates . . . Her blood chilled at the thought.But looking at him, with his face illuminated by firelight, she couldn’t see any resemblance to his father. No, she could only see his kindness, and intelligence, and maybe he was a tad arrogant, but . . . Jane’s toes scratched Fleetfoot’s ears. She’d expected him to stay away, to move on to another woman now that he’d tasted her.Well, did he even want to taste you in the first place?He moved his High Priestess, and Jane laughed. “Do you really wish to do that?” she asked. His face contorted with confusion, and she picked up her pawn, moving it diagonally, and easily knocked over the piece.“Damn!” he cried, and she cackled.“Here.” She handed him the piece. “Take it and try another move.” “No. I’ll play like a man and accept my losses!”They laughed, but silence soon c
The city was still and frozen around Vincent , and snow collapsed from the trees in large clumps as he passed by. His eyes darted among the branches and bushes. He’d needed to come out for a hunt today, if only to let the freezing air rush through him.He saw her face each time he closed his eyes. She haunted his thoughts, made him wish to do grand and wonderful things in her name, made him want to be a man who deserved to wear a crown.But Jane—he didn’t know how she felt. She kissed him—greedily, at that —but the women he’d loved in the past had always been eager. They’d gazed at him adoringly, while she just looked at him like a cat watching a mouse. Vincent straightened, detecting nearby movement. A stag stood ten yards away, feeding on bark. He stopped his horse and drew an arrow from its quiver. But he slackened the bow.She was to duel tomorrow.If harm came to her . . . No, she could hold her own; she was strong and smart and quick. He’d gone too far; he should never have kis
Standing on the wide veranda that encompassed the obsidian clock tower, Jane tried not to shiver. She couldn’t see the point in having the duels outside —well, apart from making the Champions even more uncomfortable. She glanced longingly at the glass windows that lined the wall of the castle, and then at the frost-covered garden. Her hands were already numb. Tucking them into her fur-lined pockets, she approached Benjamin, who was standing near the edge of the giant chalk circle that had been drawn on the flagstones.“It’s freezing out here,” she said. The collar and sleeves of her black jacketwere lined with rabbit fur, but it wasn’t enough. “Why didn’t you tell me it was outside?”Benjamin shook his head, looking at Grave, and at Renault—the mercenary from Skull’s Bay, who, to her satisfaction, also seemed fairly miserable in the cold. “We didn’t know; the king decided just now,” Benjamin said. “At least it should be over quickly.” He smiled slightly, though she didn’t return it.