KINGS RISING - Sneak peek!

A new snippet of Kings Rising, hot off the press! Spoilers note: This is a snippet from Chapter 9, and while there are no big plot spoilers, there are hints and clues so there can be considered to be spoilers in that sense.

Kings Rising - Chapter 9 - snippet

"I'm going to inspect the spears that will be used in the okton. I would be honoured," said Nikandros, "if you would join me."

He said it to Damen. Checking over his equipment in meticulous detail before an okton had been Damen's habit since boyhood, and it appealed to Damen that during the lull between events, the king would tour the tents, view the weaponry, and greet the stewards and those who would be his competitors who were outfitting themselves for the ride.

He stood. They reminisced about past contests. Damen was undefeated in the okton, but Nikandros was his closest competitor, and excelled at throws made from a turn. Damen felt his spirits lift. It would feel good to compete again. He lifted the tent flap, and stepped inside.

There was no one in the tent. Damen turned, to see Nikandros advancing on him.

"What--"

A rough, painful grip closed on his upper arm. Startled, he let it happen, never thinking for a moment that Nikandros was a threat. He allowed himself to be pushed backwards, allowed Nikandros to take hold of a fistful of fabric at his shoulder, and yank it, hard.

"Nikandros—"

He was staring at Nikandros in confusion, with his clothing hanging from his waist, and Nikandros was staring back at him.

Nikandros said, "Your back."

Damen flushed. Nikandros was staring at him as if he had needed to see it up close to believe it. Damen felt stripped, exposed. He knew . . . He knew there was scarring. He knew it extended across his shoulders, down to his mid-back. He knew the scars had been well taken care of. They didn't pull. They didn't twinge, even during the most strenuous swordwork. The smelly salves that Paschal had administered to him had seen to that. But he had never taken himself to a mirror and looked at them.

Now his mirror was Nikandros's eyes, the stark horror in his expression. Nikandros turned him, put his hands on Damen's body, spreading them over Damen's back, as if touch would confirm what his eyes wouldn't believe.

"Who did this to you?"

"I did," Laurent said.








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