The King's Blood (The Dagger and the Coin)
WAR AND MADNESS CAST SHADOWS OVER THE LANDS DRAGONS ONCE RULED.
Geder Palliako's star is rising. He is a hero of Antea, protector to the crown prince, and darling of the court. But storms from his past are gathering, and with them, a war that will change everything.
Cithrin bel Sarcour founded a powerful bank on stolen wealth, forged papers, and ready blades. Now every move she makes is observed, recorded, and controlled. Unless Cithrin can free herself from her gilded cage, the life she made will be for naught; war may provide just the opportunity she needs.
An apostate priest sees the hidden hand behind all: a long-buried secret of the dragon empire threatens everything humanity has built. An age of madness and death approaches, with only a few doomed heroes to stand in its way.
do, Kalliam. Some people think that’s true.” “There are always idiots,” Dawson said as a rough knot of melee pushed its way back round the corner and toward Klin’s courtyard. “And you’re one for talking to them. Damn it, they’ve come back. Sound the defense.” “What’s the point?” Klin asked. “That they don’t kill us,” Dawson said, speaking each word individually. Klin only smiled. “Every man dies sometime,” he said. “At least it won’t be in that swamp.” At last, the drums beat out the
brethren are permitted to join us.” “How many more?” “I would send for ten cohorts of ten,” Basrahip said. “A hundred?” Geder said. “Is that all? Of course you can. If it’s a question of seeing them with food and shelter, I can send a hundred servants away tonight and not miss them tomorrow. In fact, why not take Kalliam’s mansion? I mean, it won’t be enough space, I don’t think, but there’s a poetry in it.” They paused at a small fountain, water pouring over the shoulders of an ancient king
felt like he should recall better how she’d died, but for the most part he just remembered that he’d done it and pitched her body through the gap in the seawall. “Is that why you wanted me?” Marcus asked. “Is this about Opal?” “No,” Kit said. “It isn’t.” Marcus nodded. “What’s the issue, then?” The old man laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. His eyes had dark pouches under them and he held his cup in both hands, as if weary. “I have come here from Camnipol to talk with you, and now
of course Alan Klin, and the others, served under him. Everything about Vanai was badly done. My part too, though I don’t like to say it, could probably have been done better.” You are a traitor to your crown and the memory of my friend, Dawson thought. “Anyway, the short of it is, I don’t trust him. You and your family have always been kind to me. You’ve been my patron, so to speak, when I really didn’t know my way around court. So now that I’m in need of a Lord Marshal, on the one hand it
the apple and popped it into his mouth before pointing the blade at Dawson. “You’re making very fine distinctions. You should watch that or you’ll turn into a politician.” “Don’t be rude,” Dawson said. “There’s nothing to be done until the war’s finished, one way or the other. But as long as I am Lord Marshal, it’s my duty to cultivate the loyalty of the high houses. And when we’ve finished with Asterilhold, those priests have to be dealt with.” Canl Daskellin sighed. “You’re a difficult man