What do you think?
Rate this book
804 pages, Paperback
First published March 15, 2016
鈥淚t鈥檚 not always up to a man,鈥� the Flea replied quietly, 鈥渨hat he is, and what he鈥檚 not. Some things you don鈥檛 get to choose.鈥�
鈥淚t was a good lesson, if she somehow survived to remember it: silence had its own violence; some reigns ended in blades and fire; some with the barest nod of a head.鈥�
鈥淭here are words,鈥� Gerra mused, 鈥渁nd there are deeds.鈥�
鈥淪ometimes you need to break a thing,鈥� the Flea said finally, 鈥渋n order to see what鈥檚 inside it.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 used to being given up by now. I expect it. But I鈥檒l tell you what I won鈥檛 do鈥擨 won鈥檛 accept it. I won鈥檛 play along.鈥�
鈥淣ight was a foreign nation. It had always felt that way to Adare hui鈥橫alkeenian, as though the world changed after the setting of the sun. Shadow elided hard edges, hid form, rendered sunlight鈥檚 familiar chambers strange. Darkness leached color from the brightest silk. Moonlight silvered water and glass, made lambent and cold the day鈥檚 basic substances. Even lamps, like the two that sat on the desk before her now, caused the world to shift and twitch with the motion of the captured flame.鈥�
It was strange the way that people venerated truth. Everyone seemed to strive for it, as though it were some unalloyed good, a perfect gem of glittering rectitude. Women and men might disagree about its definition, but priests and prostitutes, mothers and monks all mouthed the word with respect, even reverence. No one seemed to realize how stooped the truth could be, how twisted and how ugly.
That makes you Kettral, you crazy sons of bitches, and let me tell you something about being Kettral. We don鈥檛 get the easy jobs. We don鈥檛 pull wall duty or guarding the baggage chain. In return for getting to fly around on these enormous, manslaughtering hawks, we actually have to go do the dangerous shit, the shit that gets men and women killed, and so if this isn鈥檛 what you signed up for, you tell me now.鈥� She paused, shifting her eyes from one soldier to the next. 鈥淲hich one of you isn鈥檛 Kettral? Who wants to wash out all over again?鈥�
鈥淚 suppose it would be too much to hope,鈥� Pyrre said, 鈥渢hat one or both of you might have spent the past year studying something other than pottery or fellatio?鈥� The assassin raised an eyebrow. 鈥淣o?鈥�
She let out a long sigh. 鈥淚 guess we鈥檒l stick with the same plan as last time, then.鈥�
鈥淲hat plan?鈥� Triste demanded.
鈥淵ou run as fast as you can,鈥� Pyrre replied brightly, 鈥渨hile I kill people.鈥�
鈥淭he thing you don鈥檛 understand, my calm, quiet brother, is that sometimes goodness and nobility aren鈥檛 enough. Sometimes, when the monsters come, you need a dark, monstrous thing to pit against them.鈥�
鈥淪hatter the parents and the children crumble.鈥�
鈥淚t is difficult to hear a thing when your ears are filled with your own words.鈥�
鈥淪he was the Emperor.
She had taken that title, had demanded it, not so she could primp atop an uncomfortable throne to the flattery of courtiers, but because she鈥檇 believed she could do a good job, a better job, certainly, than the man who had murdered her father.
She鈥檇 taken the title because she thought she could make life better for the millions inside the empire, protect them, and bring peace and prosperity.
And so far, she鈥檇 failed.鈥�