Chapter1
Gods,itwasboilinginthisuselessexcuseforakingdom.
OrmaybeitfeltthatwaybecauseCelaenaSardothienhadbeenloungingon
the lip of the terra-cotta roof since midmorning, an arm flung over her eyes,
slowlybakinginthesunliketheloavesofflat-breadthecity’spoorestcitizens
leftontheirwindowsillsbecausetheycouldn’taffordbrickovens.
And gods, she was sick of flatbread—teggya, they called it. Sick of the
crunchy,onionytasteofitthatevenmouthfulsofwatercouldn’twashaway.If
sheneverateanotherbiteofteggyaagain,itwouldbetoosoon.
Mostly because it was all she’d been able to afford when she landed in
Wendlyn two weeks ago and made her way to the capital city, Varese, just as
she’dbeenorderedbyhisGrandImperialMajestyandMasteroftheEarth,the
KingofAdarlan.
She’dresortedtoswipingteggyaandwineoffvendors’cartssincehermoney
ran out, not long after she’d taken one look at the heavily fortified limestone
castle,attheeliteguards,atthecobaltbannersflappingsoproudlyinthedry,hot
windanddecidednottokillherassignedtargets.
So it had been stolen teggya … and wine. The sour red wine from the
vineyardsliningtherollinghillsaroundthewalledcapital—atasteshe’dinitially
spat out but now very, very much enjoyed. Especially since the day when she
decidedthatshedidn’tparticularlycareaboutanythingatall.
Shereachedfortheterra-cottatilesslopingbehindher,gropingfortheclay
jugofwineshe’dhauledontotheroofthatmorning.Patting,feelingforit,and
then—
Sheswore.Whereinhellwasthewine?
The world tilted and went blindingly bright as she hoisted herself onto her
elbows.Birdscircledabove,keepingwellawayfromthewhite-tailedhawkthat
hadbeen perched atop a nearby chimney all morning, waitingto snatch up its
nextmeal.Below,themarketstreetwasabrilliantloomofcolorandsound,full
of braying donkeys, merchants waving their wares, clothes both foreign and
familiar,andtheclackingofwheelsagainstpalecobblestones.Butwhereinhell
wasthe—
Ah.There.Tuckedbeneathoneoftheheavyredtilestokeepcool.Justwhere
she’dstashedithoursbefore,whenshe’dclimbedontotheroofofthemassive
