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454 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 2014
Skellan pressed his face close to the black granite, drinking in the thick musky scent of the living body lying just beneath the stone. Old memories of summer afternoons spent sprawled across this warm rock, licking honey from his fingers and laughing as Bone-crusher's deep voice shook his whole body flickered through the cold hunger of his mind. For an instant he felt a chasm of raw sorrow open in him - he would never know that life again.
But he caught himself. He wasn't a child anymore and he'd have his revenge soon enough. Then he'd eat pork and cherries in winter, and he'd wear mink-lined gloves. He'd possess sweet beeswax tapers, burn butter in his lamps if he wanted, and at night he'd sleep on silk and goose down. But he'd get none of that by scrubbing his face raw against a rough stone while mourning the ruin of his boyhood.
Oesir's treachery had taught him one thing very well. Fortune favored those with the daring and drive to seize what they wanted.
"Tonight I'll break Oesir and take the sanctum," Skellan whispered. "And I will keep my promise to you, Bone-crusher."
Cool, sea-scented winds rose off the river and brushed over Elezar like cold-fingered pickpockets.
Only an idiot would sacrifice his life for nothing.
Elezar wiped the blade of his sword clean with the cloth he carried for just that purpose. The fact that he always kept such a cloth at hand struck him as speaking volumes about the life he’d made for himself as opposed to the one this witch led.