Vincent, former leader of the Consortium, Hand to the newly crowned Head of the Consortium , had discovered that he hated one sound above all others.Wheels.Specifically, their clattering along the planks of the ship on which he’d spent the past three weeks sailing through storm-tossed waters. And now their rattle and thunk over the shining green marble floors and intricate mosaics throughout the Kan of the Southern Continent’s shining palace in Antica.With nothing to do beyond sit in the wheeled chair that he’d deemed had become both his prison and his only path to seeing the world, Vincent took in the details of the sprawling palace perched atop one of the capital city’s countless hills. Every bit of material had been taken from and built in honor of some portion of the Kan ’s mighty empire:Those polished green floors his chair now clattered over were hewn from quarries in the southwest of the continent. The red pillars fashioned like mighty trees, their uppermost branches stre
There were two parts of her, Nasir supposed.The part that was now Captain of Consortium ’s Royal Guard, who had made a vow to her king to see that the man in the wheeled chair beside her was healed— and to muster an army from the man enthroned before her. That part of Nasir kept her head high, her shoulders back, her hands within a nonthreatening distance of the ornate sword at her hip.Then there was the other part.The part that had glimpsed the spires and minarets and domes of the god-city breaking over the horizon as they’d sailed in, the shining pillar of the Torre standing proud over it all, and had to swallow back tears. The part that had scented the smoky paprika and crisp tang of ginger and beckoning sweetness of cumin as soon as she had cleared the docks and knew, deep in her bones, that she was home. That, yes, she lived and served and would die for Consortium , for the family still there, but this place, where her father had once lived and where even her Consortium -bor
Nasir had been standing beside her new king when Jane had flipped open two trunks in her chambers. Jewelry fit for a queen—for a Queen of Assassins— had sparkled within.I’ve enough funds for now, Jane had only said to Levi when he began to object. Give the Kan some of Consortium ’s finest.In the weeks since, Nasir had wondered if Jane had been glad to be rid of what she’d purchased with her blood money. The jewels of Consortium , it seemed, would not travel to Terrasen.And now, as the servants laid out the four smaller trunks—divided from the original two to make it seem like more, Jane had suggested—as they flipped open the lids, the still-silent court pressed in to see.A murmur went through them at the glistening gems and gold and silver.“A gift,” Vincent declared as even the Kan himself leaned forward toexamine the trove. “From King Levi Havilliard of Consortium , and Jane , Queen of Terrasen.”Princess Hasar’s eyes snapped to Vincent at the second name.Prince Sartaq
“Arghun informed me your injuries are new—that they happened when the glass castle exploded. It seems the Queen of Terrasen was not quite so careful about shielding her allies.”A muscle feathered in Vincent ’s jaw as everyone, from prince to servant, looked to his legs.“Because your relations with Doranelle are now strained, also thanks to Jane , I assume the only path toward healing that remains open to you is here. At the Torre Cesme.”The Kan shrugged, the only reveal of the irreverent warrior-youth he’d once been. “My beloved wife will be deeply upset if I were to deny an injured man a chance at healing”—the empress was nowhere to be seen in this room, Nasir realized with a start—“so I, of course, shall grant you permission to enter the Torre. Whether its healers will agree to work upon you shall be up to them. Even I do not control the will of the Torre.”The Torre—the Tower. It dominated the southern edge of Antica, nestled atop its highest hill to overlook the city that slo
Vincent was tempted to say he understood. Had felt that way for most of his life. But he asked, “You think Perrington’s forces have infiltrated this court?”How much did Kashin, or Arghun, know of Perrington’s forces—know the truth of the Valg king who wore Perrington’s skin? Or the armies hecommanded, worse than any their imaginations might conjure? But that information … He’d keep that to himself. See if it could somehow be used, if Arghun and the Kan did not know of it.Kashin rubbed at his neck. “I do not know if it is Perrington, or someone from Terrasen, or Melisande, or Wendlyn. All I know is that my sister is now dead.”Vincent ’s heart stumbled a beat. But he dared ask, “How did it come about?” Grief flickered in Kashin’s eyes. “Tumelun was always a bit wild, reckless.Prone to moods. One day, happy and laughing; the next, withdrawn and hopeless. They …” His throat bobbed. “They say she leaped from her balcony because of it. Duva and her husband found her later that night.
“War could also claim your life.”She knew this. Irene lifted her chin. “I am aware of the risks.” Hadiza ’s dark eyes softened. “Yes, yes, you are.”It had come out during that first, mortifying meeting with the Healer on High. Irene had not cried for years—since that day her mother had become ash on the wind—and yet the moment Hadiza had asked about Irene ’s parents … she had buried her face in her hands and wept. Hadiza had come from around thatdesk and held her, rubbing her back in soothing circles.Hadiza often did that. Not just to Irene , but to all her healers, when the hours were long and their backs had cramped and the combat had taken everything and it was still not enough. A quiet, steady presence who steeled them, soothed them.Hadiza was as close to a mother as Irene had found since she was eleven. And now weeks away from twenty-two, she doubted she’d ever find another like her.“I have taken the examinations,” Irene said, even though Hadiza knew that already.
Of all the rooms in the Torre Cesme, Irene Towers loved this one best.Perhaps it was because the room, located at the very pinnacle of the pale-stoned tower and its sprawling complex below, had unparalleled views of the sunset over Antica.Perhaps it was because this was the place where she’d felt the first shred of safety in nearly ten years. The place she had first looked upon the ancient woman now sitting across the paper- and book-strewn desk, and heard the words that changed everything: You are welcome here, Irene Towers.It had been over two years since then.Two years of working here, living here, in this tower and in this city of so many peoples, so many foods and caches of knowledge.It had been all she’d dreamed it would be—and she had seized every opportunity, every challenge, with both hands. Had studied and listened and practiced and saved lives, changed them, until she had climbed to the very top of her class. Until an unknown healer’s daughter from Benjamin was appr
Hadiza ’s face darkened. Not with ire, but memory. “I was once asked to heal a man who was injured while evading capture. After he had committed a crime so unspeakable … The guards told me what he’d done before I walked into his cell. They wanted him patched up so he could live to be put on trial. He’d undoubtedly be executed—they had victims willing to testify and proof aplenty. Eretia herself saw the latest victim. His last one. Gathered all the evidence she needed and stood in that court and condemned him with what she had seen.”Hadiza ’s throat bobbed. “They chained him down in that cell, and he was hurt enough that I knew … I knew I could use my combat to make the internal bleeding worse. They’d never know. He’d be dead by morning, and no one would dare question me.” She studied the vial of blue tonic. “It was the closest I have ever come to killing. I wanted to kill him for what he had done. The world would be better for it. I had my hands on his chest—I was ready to do it. Bu