She can save his soul if she sacrifices her ownâbut heâs forbidden to never even remember her name.
A FATED WARRIOR
Decallion is the only blade lord whose soul is not tethered to one of the rulers of the Circle Kingdoms. That makes him the most valuable warrior in the realm⌠it also makes him the most vulnerable.
When the Valour Corp escorting him to the temple for the tethering ceremony is ambushed, Decallion is abducted and sold in the lawless Guildlandsâan act that will change the fate of kingdoms.
For in a land where women control the power of words, a single blade lord can turn the tide of battle. And whoever controls Decallionâs soul can own the world.
AN ASSASSIN AFTER VENGEANCE
Sinnabar is a temple fura; an assassin sent after men who unlawfully learn to read and write. To save Decallion, sheâll take down the Citadel of the Blade Lords, betray everyone and everything she believes in, and destroy the Circle Kingdoms.
But he has no idea who she is.
A KINGDOM IN PERIL
Across the abyss where the undying fire protects the Circle Kingdoms from the Shadow Kingdom, an immortal tyrant is preparing to return.
She can save his soul if she sacrifices her ownâbut heâs forbidden to never even remember her name.
A FATED WARRIOR
Decallion is the only blade lord whose soul is not tethered to one of the rulers of the Circle Kingdoms. That makes him the most valuable warrior in the realm⌠it also makes him the most vulnerable.
When the Valour Corp escorting him to the temple for the tethering ceremony is ambushed, Decallion is abducted and sold in the lawless Guildlandsâan act that will change the fate of kingdoms.
For in a land where women control the power of words, a single blade lord can turn the tide of battle. And whoever controls Decallionâs soul can own the world.
AN ASSASSIN AFTER VENGEANCE
Sinnabar is a temple fura; an assassin sent after men who unlawfully learn to read and write. To save Decallion, sheâll take down the Citadel of the Blade Lords, betray everyone and everything she believes in, and destroy the Circle Kingdoms.
But he has no idea who she is.
A KINGDOM IN PERIL
Across the abyss where the undying fire protects the Circle Kingdoms from the Shadow Kingdom, an immortal tyrant is preparing to return.
âRead it.â The citadel master thrust the book into Decallionâs hands, his knife at the boyâs throat.
Decallion shivered with dread. Not because of the cold steel pricking his skin, his bruised cheek, or the blood trickling from his temple. It was because of the parchment beneath his fingertips. Its brittle paper, its stink of old leather, vanilla, and dust, was the touch and the aroma of death.
âI canât.â Decallionâs sixteen-year-old voice shook. The words were almost lost within the hum of waves below the hallâs arched balcony. âYou know I canât. Please.â
âRead it.â The scar upon Alaricâs ruined face was angry and hot.
âWhy do you bother with this child?â From his place at the citadel masterâs side, Talon curled a lip in disgust. The Skeleton, Decallion and Sinnabar called him. Despite the sultry heat, his gaunt, slender form was adorned in black silk, for he was a vain man. âThe traitor left his mark on him. The boyâs trouble. He has been corrupted.â
âThat is a lie,â Decallion cried. âI am true to the citadel and the temple.â
Alaric fisted Decallionâs hair to bare his throat for the knife. âThen read,â the master said.
Decallion trembled. He glanced about the vaulted stone-lined hall of the citadel. Despite the afternoon heat, the cavernous room, with its trestle tables and benches, was cool and shadowy. This would be the last place he ever sawâif he read a single word.
He lifted his eyes to the master. âIâm not lettered.â Decallionâs voice broke up. He wished he were more like Sinnabarâunafraid and undaunted by authority. But obedience, a lesson absorbed harshly, was not easily set aside. It took all his courage just to lie, all his will not to drop his gaze. âI know itâs forbidden.â
âYou try my patience, boy,â Alaric said. âThat book was hidden in your bedchamber. Read it, or Iâll cut your throat right here and throw your worthless corpse into the sea.â
Terror lanced Decallionâs heart. He glanced at the master then at Talonâs cruelly gleeful expression. His hand unsteady, Decallion touched fingertips to a page.
His voice a croak, he read, âThe silver mist rose up from the abyss. In its wake, where its tendrils touched the ground, the undying fire sprang to life, a gift from the blessed goddess Mirr.â Each beautiful, wonderful word condemned him. âAll the rulers of the Circle Kingdoms heard the thunder of water from the endless riverââ
âEnough.â The master lowered the knife. With a gloved finger, he touched a tear on Decallionâs eyelash. âFoolish child,â he said softly, âto be seduced by the promise of knowledge.â
âIt wasnât that.â He had learnt to read to please her, to look clever in front of Sinnabar. Except, he didnât seem so clever now, under arrest and brought forcibly to the hall.
More helpless tears brimmed. Decallion squeezed them back. He knew he must be punished for learning to read. The law of the Circle Kingdoms was clear. Clear, unyielding⌠and flawed. Sinnabar said all laws were imperfect, even when decreed by the temple.
âPlease donât send me away,â he pleaded. âThe citadel is the only home Iâve ever known.â His only skills were what heâd learnt here; the cut and thrust of swordplay, how to nock an arrow to a string, and how to position his body and brace the bow against his shoulder to fire.
The citadel master rested a hand on Decallionâs hair. âBind him,â he told his servant. âI must think what to do.â
The Skeleton grabbed Decallionâs wrists, roped them behind the boyâs back, and dumped him on a stool. âDo not move.â His voice, a stonemasonâs tool scraping a granite block, matched his face. His skin stretched tightly over bones as if prepared for tanning. His hair was a smooth black cap.
Decallion hunched his shoulders, too afraid to run. The room, with its stark walls and gloom that the sunlight pooling near the windows could not penetrate, closed in. He began to shake.
The two men stepped onto the balcony. The minute they were gone, Decallion sobbed openly. His life was over. The future he had dreamed about as he lay on his cot in his bare cell was gone. He would never become a blade lord, never reach the day of tethering and choose Sinnabar.
No, if the master pronounced him dangerous, Alaric would cast him from the citadelâor throw him into the dark place to await his surrender to a temple fura. Decallion shuddered. The Chamber of Whispers deep within the citadel came to him in his nightmares, leaving only an imprint of dread upon his body when he woke. He had told no one about the nightmares. Not even Sinnabar.
His breast ached. Sinnabar. Theyâd not been apart since he was nine. What would become of him without her? What happened to a sixteen-year-old orphan on the streets of the Circle Kingdoms? Friendless, alone, with no trade or knowledge, except how to kill.
A terrible thought stirred then. His breath died, his skin icy with alarm.
Sinnabar.
The master must never learn she had given Decallion the book or that it was she who had taught him to read. He had to protect her, make up a story about finding the book or claim heâd stolen it. Yes, that might work. It rankled him to admit to something as low as theft, but it would make his lie convincing. Desperate to learn if they knew of Sinnabarâs part in his disgrace, Decallion pushed awkwardly to his feet and crept to the balcony door.
âSafer to kill the brat.â The Skeletonâs gravelly voice was low and ugly. âTemple law is clear. You must surrender him to the Sirild Council to be judged.â
Decallion recoiled in shock. The Sirild Council was a death sentence for men.
âI hear the Sirild priestesses chop bits off,â heâd once heard a kitchen maid tell a gardener she had caught sleeping in the clover. âEnding with your head.â
No, no. Better if his life ended in this room, the masterâs knife ripped across his throat, before his body was thrown onto the rocks beneath the citadel, where the gulls would pick at his flesh.
âIt is a waste.â
âIt is the law.â
The masterâs tone was curt. âWho knows about this? About the book.â
âYou and I. The boy. And that young woman, of course. Sinnabar.â
Decallionâs legs almost folded. They suspected Sinnabar. But even the citadel master couldnât arrest her, surely. Not without evidence. And Decallion would give them none. They could throw him into the dark place for eternity, starve and beat him, but he would never give her up.
âThat wilful girl,â the master said. âI let this go on too long. I dismissed it as a childish fancy theyâd grow out of. She, surely, must tire of him eventually. Or so I thought.â
âThe bond between them is strong,â the Skeleton said.
âYes,â Alaric said. âYes. And that makes it dangerous.â
The two men fell silent. Only the whisper of the breeze through stonework and a rattle of a shutter from above broke the silence. The citadel in the afternoon was always hushed, the daily morning clanging of battering, ringing steel from the training ground gone.
âIf it were any otherââthe masterâs velvet voice held regretââI would surrender him to the council. But his skill is unsurpassed for one so young. Already, he commands the sword. Hardly surprising. Given who he is.â
Who he is? Surprise then eagerness rushed through Decallion.
He knew nothing of his past. The master had told him the citadel had taken him in as an orphaned infant, fed, and clothed him. Theyâd raised him to become a blade lord in service to the Circle Kingdomsâif he proved worthy. Goddess, how he wanted to be worthy.
âThe traitor could have lied about who the boy is,â the Skeleton said. âHeâs nothing like the man rumoured to be his father.â
âThere was no deception,â the master said. âThe boy is the product of an incredible and unlikely mating.â
Decallionâs scalp prickled. Such strange and bewildering words. He chanced a look, irrationally hoping their expressions or gestures might reveal something more.
âThat only makes him more dangerous,â the Skeleton said.
The master knuckled the balconyâs stone wall. âWith his blood, this child could be the most powerful blade lord of all.â He sighed. âNo. I will not kill him. But I will fix this, fix him.â
Not âkill him.â Not âbanish him.â Decallion shook with relief. He backed away quietly and sank onto the stool, stunned by what heâd just heard. He was someone. Not just an orphan or a nameless, abandoned child.
Oh goddess⌠A warmth stirred in his belly. It was too much to take in.
âDecallion.â A cool hand fell on his arm.
Sinnabar crouched beside him. Her steps across the hall to his side had been as stealthy as an assassinâs.
âHe bound you.â Her lips were tight with indignation, her gardenia-and-lily perfume silk soft in his nostrils. âHow dare he? How dare he send guards to arrest you?â
âYou canât be here.â Decallion glanced nervously at the balcony. âThey found the book, Sinnabar.â
She rocked back on her heels, her dark eyes round, and gasped, âNo.â
âI wonât betray you,â he said fiercely. âNot ever. Even if he tortures me.â
She stared at him as if unable to grasp his meaning. Then she blinked off the trance. Touching fingertips to his cheek, she said softly, âDo you think Iâd let him torture you, Decallion? Iâd give myself up before that happens.â
âHe says heâs going to fix this. The master. He says heâs going to fix me.â
âFix you?â Sinnabar hissed warm breath onto his face. A twig stuck in her black hair from the forest, where theyâd met secretly at noon while everyone slept in the heat. He wanted to brush that twig away then smooth an unruly lock between his fingers.
âNo.â She ground a fist into her palm. âHe wonât.â
âYou canât stop him. Alaric is master of the citadel. Master of the blade lords. The most powerful man in the Circle Kingdoms.â
âOh, my darling Decallion. Soul of my soul. Is that what you think?â She laughed, the sound thick with bitter resolve.
He knew her every mood: the tenderness in her, the stubbornness, the storm. He loved each part, how they knitted into the force that was Sinnabar. He had to protect that precious force, the precious young woman.
âYou have to go, Sinnabar. He canât find you in this hall. Itâs forbidden.â
âI brought this.â She drew an ampoule from beneath her gown, squeezed out the stopper, and held it to his lips. âDrink,â she urged. âDecallion, drink.â
âWhat is it?â
âI know what he intends. This will save you. I wonât let him part us.â
âI donât understand. What is this potion?â
âWhat indeed?â Alaric asked.
The balcony shutters banged at his back. In a few long strides, the master was at Sinnabarâs side, snatching the ampoule from her. The Skeleton followed, his lips set in a nasty grin.
Sinnabar sprang up, her hands outstretched. âGive that back. You have no right.â
Alaric weaved away from her. He sniffed at the ampoule. His face darkened. âWhere did you get this?â
âAs if Iâd tell you, monster.â
âMonster.â He rolled the word in his mouth. A shadow, an age-old weariness, hollowed his eyes. As if compelled, he lifted his hand to his scarred face, only to whip it away.
Afraid for her, Decallion shifted on the stool. If only Sinnabar werenât so bold, so rash. If she thought a thing, she said it, careless of the consequences. But this was the time for guile, for honeyed excuses and apologies. The time to run.
âSinnabar.â The word creaked from his tight throat. âSinnabar, go now.â
The young woman shoved her hands to her hips to stare down the master. âI know what âfix himâ means. Iâm not going to let you take him to that terrible room.â
The master hurled the ampoule away. The glass shattered against the wall, its amber liquid contents trickling down the stone. âIt was you,â he said. âYou taught him to read.â
âSo what?â Sinnabar squared her shoulders. âThe law is archaic. One day, it will be swept aside.â
âYou little fool, do you know what happens to a man who can read? The Sirild Council will judge then execute him. As for the woman who dared teach a manâŚâ He let the words trail away. Their threat lingered, bloating in the quiet.
Decallion wanted to surge up, hold Sinnabar to his breast, and at least offer her the protection of his body. Not that she, so independent, would thank him for it.
âIâm not afraid for me. But I wonât let you surrender him to the council.â
âSinnabar.â Decallion was frantic now. âPlease, please, just go. It doesnât matter about me. Iâm nothing. No one.â
She swung around to face him, her hands bunched. âHow can you say that? Youâre everything. Youâve always been everything.â
âYouâre everything,â the Skeleton mimicked. âOh, Decallion, youâve always been everything.â He pressed his thin mouth into a sneer. âPathetic.â
The master held up a hand. He was watching Sinnabar. âWhat if I said there might be a way to save him? That you can do just that, if you choose to be sensible?â
Sinnabar swallowed hard. âWhat do you propose?â
âI propose we reach an agreement, you and I.â
She scoffed. âIf you think Iâd agree to anything you wantââ
âYou want him to live, donât you? The boy.â
Sinnabar glanced uneasily at Decallion. âYes.â
âDonât,â he whispered. âDo not surrender a thing. Not for me.â
âWhat sort of agreement?â
âNo.â He shot up, but the Skeleton shoved him down.
Sinnabar didnât look at Decallion. She looked only at the master.
He spread his arms with the assurance of the most formidable man in the Circle Kingdoms. Alaric, commander of the citadel. Commander of the blade lords. As always, he was in control.
âIf you wish me to spare his life, this is what youâll do.â Alaric paused to smile. It was a satisfied smile, but Decallion glimpsed menace within it.
âYouâll go away. Join the Sirild Council. Tell your mother you wish to become a guardian of the knowledge that only women may possess.â
âNo,â Decallion cried. âSinnabar, you canât.â
âQuiet, you wretched boy,â the Skeleton rasped. âAnother word, and Iâll gag you.â
Still Sinnabarâs gaze held on the master, as if she and Alaric were bound by a secret language, as if there were layers within their negotiations understood only by them.
âAnd if I do thisââ She tongued her top lip. âThen he is safe?â
âSinnabar, stop.â Decallion stormed to his feet. He elbowed the Skeleton aside, moving between her and the master. Hands bound, he had only his legs and the lean bulk of his young body to defend her.
At the masterâs nod, the Skeleton backhanded Decallionâs face. The blow spun him to his knees. The Skeleton yanked him up and held his shoulders.
âStop.â Sinnabar rounded on the Skeleton, her fists knotted. âDonât you dare hurt him.â
âThatâs up to you,â the master said calmly.
Sinnabarâs cheeks flushed. Her eyes were wide as if she held back tears. Decallionâs heart hurt to see the struggle in her.
âBut youâll make him forget me,â she said. âThatâs what youâll do to him in that terrible chamber.â
âThe Chamber of Whispers is nothing to do with you, Sinnabar, daughter of the Circle Kingdoms.â
At their strange words, a shiver iced Decallionâs neck. The dark place. Every blade lord must go there after battle. He looked from Sinnabar to the master in bewilderment. Neither paid him any attention. This was a private contract between them. Over him.
âYouâll go away,â Alaric said. âHeâll become a blade lord, and youâll forget him, just as heâll forget you.â
âNever.â Decallion struggled in the Skeletonâs hold. âIâll never forget you, Sinnabar.â
âDecallionââat last, she looked at himââI have to protect you. Iâve always had to protect you.â
âDonât do this,â he pleaded. âI donât care what he does to me.â
âBe brave. Nothing lasts forever. This, too, will end.â She faced Alaric. âWhy are you forcing me to leave? Why does it matter so much?â
âThat does not concern you,â Alaric said.
âYouâre jealous.â She stabbed a finger at him. âAlaric, master of the citadel, can stand no rivals. Decallion must be yours. Every blade lord belongs to you.â
âItâs a matter of loyalty,â he said. âThatâs all.â
âSinnabar, please,â Decallion said.
She turned and took a step towards him. The Skeleton dropped Decallion to block her. The master waved him off. He watched her with a curious intensity.
Sinnabar cupped Decallionâs cheek. Her touch was so tender, he trembled with longing. Leaning closer, she brushed his lips with hers then whispered, âRemember me.â
Decallion could not answer her. A sob blocked his throat.
âDo I have your word?â the master asked.
Sinnabar straightened. She turned to Alaric, her face broken with sadness. âIâll go away. But I wonât forget him. Nor will I forget you, Alaric, master of the citadel.â
âSo you give me fair warning,â he said softly. âI shall repay the favour, Sinnabar, daughter of the Circle Kingdoms. Listen hard. If you think to play with me, whatever terrible game you choose, it will be one even you, for all your wits, cannot win.â
âI will win,â she said. âBecause I will be fighting for love.â
âThen you will be fighting for nothing.â The citadel master snapped his fingers at the Skeleton. âBring the boy. Itâs time his training to become a blade lord began in earnest.â
âI no longer want to be a blade lord,â Decallion cried. âIf Sinnabar is leaving, then Iâm going with her. She is my life, my heart.â
âYour life is mine,â Alaric said. âA blade lord does not even possess his own soul, Decallion. Your heartââhe shruggedââshall belong to who I order you to give it to. And I will never tell you to give it to her.â
âThen it will never belong to anyone,â Decallion said.
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Decallion is the only blade lord whose soul is not tied to one of the rulers of the Circle Kingdoms. This means he's invaluable, but also extremely vulnerable. While he is being escorted to the Temple where his soul will be entangled forever, the Valour Corp is ambushed and our hero is abducted.
Sold into a lawless guild, Decallion is left to fight an potentially hopeless battle....a battle for his own soul. You see, whoever owns his soul, as the most powerful blade lord, is destined to rule the world. Unless someone rescues him from such a fate. Someone who loves him, although he has no idea. Her name is Sinnabar, and she a Temple Assassin, tasked with hunting down males who unlawfully learn to read.
This matriarchal world is hauntingly familiar to our own medieval history, only in reverse. Women hold authority and power over men in this place where the Circle Kingdoms and Shadow Kingdom set the stage for seething action, tense romance, and mysteries that are sure to keep readers flipping pages.Â
Although this is a new series, this realm is connected to the authors previous Shadow Sword series, and Im curious to learn if old characters will find their way into this new story. Like the great bards of Olde, author Hartland knows precisely how to spin an intricate web of intrigue with great promise and I'm already keen to read the next tale.