Behind the castle walls, a brutal group of warriors known as the King’s Children is engaged in a competition: the first to find the rebel leader will be made King’s Fang, the right hand of the King of Erdis. And Adley Farre is hunting down the rebels one by one, torturing her way to Ren and the rebel leader, and the coveted King’s Fang title.
But time is running out for all of them, including the youngest Prince of Erdis, who finds himself pulled into the rebellion. Political tensions have reached a boiling point, and Ren and the rebels must take the throne before war breaks out.
Opening Excerpt
The player slapped his cards against the table, leaned back in his chair, and grinned.
“Impressive hand,” Ren said. She would know. She’d crafted it. “But better luck next time.”
She fanned out her winning cards, and the man’s smile waned, his arrogance falling away like an unclasped cloak slipping from his shoulders. The other two players whistled low. They had long ago folded, but not before parting with a dozen gold coins and a handful of silver. It was enough
money to keep Ren comfortable for a week.
Standing from her seat in the crowded tavern, she swept her winnings into a pouch and shrugged on her black coat. She tipped her head at the table. “Gentlemen.”
The losing player jumped to his feet, his hand latching on to her arm. “How about another round?”
When Ren looked pointedly at his grip, he released her but offered no apology. Entitled and cocky, with a taste for gambling and more than enough money to support the unfortunate habit, he possessed all the qualities Ren looked for in an opponent. But she had grown rather tired of him. He’d spent the game complimenting her pretty poker face, while his eyes not so discreetly darted to her low neckline every other second. He was so relentless she had started to wonder if it was possible to be killed by aggressive flirtation.
“Tempting,” she said. “But I have places to be and your money to spend.”
“Come on. I can’t go home with empty pockets.”
Ren was already walking away. “Looks like you’ll need to ask for an advance on your allowance.”
Chilly winter air greeted her outside the tavern doors. Slipping on thick leather gloves, Ren set out into the dark streets of Denfell. As she made her way through the city, she fingered the coins in her pocket. The man really hadn’t thought she would win. They never did. Not when she’d played her first game at twelve, her black hair ratty and matted, limbs scarcely larger than the cards in her hand. Definitely not now. She was six years older, her long hair shined like fresh ink, and she’d packed on a fair amount of lean muscle, but now she wasn’t a threat because she had the breasts to fill out a corset.
It didn’t matter if people underestimated her or not. She would win either way.
Ren had a matter to attend to, and afterward she was heading to a fighting pit just across the river, but she didn’t have anywhere to be for another hour. The tavern she’d chosen tonight wasn’t far from the Golden Strait, a long stretch of road where the city’s wealthiest shopped and dined. It emptied after dusk, and though guards made their rounds, if Ren timed it right, she could avoid them entirely. If she timed it wrong—well, she knew how to deal with it.
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