Author:
Publication:
Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult
Synopsis:
For over a thousand years the kingdom of Lardan has been at peace: isolated from the world, safe from the wars of its neighbors, slowly forgetting the wild and deadly magic of its origins. Now the deepest truths of the past and the darkest predictions for the future survive only in the verses of nursery rhymes.
For over a thousand years, some of Lardan’s fractious provinces have been biding their time.
Kyali Corwynall is the daughter of the Lord General, a child of one of the royal Houses, and the court’s only sword-wielding girl. She has known for all of her sixteen years what the future holds for her–politics and duty, the management of a House, and protecting her best friend, the princess and presumed heir to the throne. But one day an old nursery rhyme begins to come true, an ancient magic wakes, and the future changes for everyone. In the space of a single night her entire life unravels into violence and chaos. Now Kyali must find a way to master the magic her people have left behind, or watch her world–and her closest friends–fall to a war older than the kingdom itself.
For over a thousand years, some of Lardan’s fractious provinces have been biding their time.
Kyali Corwynall is the daughter of the Lord General, a child of one of the royal Houses, and the court’s only sword-wielding girl. She has known for all of her sixteen years what the future holds for her–politics and duty, the management of a House, and protecting her best friend, the princess and presumed heir to the throne. But one day an old nursery rhyme begins to come true, an ancient magic wakes, and the future changes for everyone. In the space of a single night her entire life unravels into violence and chaos. Now Kyali must find a way to master the magic her people have left behind, or watch her world–and her closest friends–fall to a war older than the kingdom itself.
Excerpt:
An arm reached out of the dark and
wrapped around her neck.
She saw it coming from the corner of
her eye, but only had time to twitch uselessly sideways. Another arm
immediately followed the first one, muffling her startled cry and stealing her
breath.
Too shocked to be afraid, she bit down.
The hand over her face jerked away. Her elbow drove backwards and her heel went
up into a knee. The awful crack of bone that followed drew a pained groan from
behind her, and brought her panic in a thundering flood. Her attacker
staggered, pulling her with him. The dropped candle sputtered on the floor
beside them, throwing huge shadows everywhere. Spurred on by the thought that
she might have to finish this struggle in the dark, she shouted. It was a much
softer sound than she'd intended, but the floorboards above them creaked ominously,
the arms around her fell away, and he screamed, as though she had burned him.
Leaving this mystery for later
consideration, Kyali flung herself at the steps and scrambled up, leaving the
back panel of her skirts in his fist. Her sword clattered on the floor as she
snatched at it. He came hard on her heels and, as she turned, drove himself
obligingly onto it for her. Stunned, she froze again.
Her blood sang in her ears. By the look
on his face—a fair face, some much colder part of her noted, with the Western
short-beard—he was at least as surprised as she was. He drew a bubbling breath.
A dagger dropped from his hand and hit the floor between them.
They stared at one another.
He made an odd face then, and coughed a
gout of blood all over her. She blinked through the drops. She knew she had to
move—not dead till they stop bleeding, Father would say—but she
couldn't. For all her years of study, all the secrecy and swordplay, she had
never killed a man. She supposed, watching his face in a perversely distant
way, that she still hadn't quite managed it. But he fell forward onto her then,
going limp, and after the instinctive terror of having him land on her subsided
the sight of his glassy gaze, of her old practice sword sticking out of his
ribs, made it clear that she had done it now.
She watched his face closely while his
blood dripped down her cheek. He didn't move. He seemed not to be bleeding
anymore, though with all the blood on him already how could one tell? She
didn’t intend to get closer to check. She couldn't hear anyone else in the
house. Through the haze of shock, she was grateful the soldiers weren't here to
witness this bizarrely personal moment.
"Well," Kyali said, beginning
to be pleased at how well she was taking this—and then threw up on him.
Damn.
Author Bio:
Amy Bai has been, by order of neither chronology nor preference, a barista, a numbers-cruncher, a paper-pusher, and a farmhand. She likes thunderstorms, the enthusiasm of dogs, tall boots and long jackets, cinnamon basil, margaritas, and being surprised by the weirdness of her fellow humans. She lives in New England with her guitar-playing Russian husband and two very goofy sheepdogs.
Amy Bai has been, by order of neither chronology nor preference, a barista, a numbers-cruncher, a paper-pusher, and a farmhand. She likes thunderstorms, the enthusiasm of dogs, tall boots and long jackets, cinnamon basil, margaritas, and being surprised by the weirdness of her fellow humans. She lives in New England with her guitar-playing Russian husband and two very goofy sheepdogs.
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