Theft of Swords (The Riyria Revelations, #1-2)

by Michael J. Sullivan

You might want to burn those before something like this happens again.” She stared at the package as a smile of relief crossed her face. “I—I can’t believe it! I don’t know how you did it, or how to thank you!” “Payment would be nice,” Royce replied. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“Oh, right—you have to forgive me. A minute ago I was about to be executed, and now I’m going to kidnap a king. Things are changing a bit fast for me.”

“I like any plan where I don’t die a horrible death.”

The monk left them without another word, perhaps fearful they would ask for something else.

“It was a trap after all,” Alric said. He turned to Royce. “My apologies for doubting your sound paranoia.”

“I’m starting to see now why they were afraid of you,” Alric said.

Trumbul chuckled at the young prince. “Your uncle is the one who will pay us for your head. He wants you dead.” “What? You lie!” “Believe what you will.”

reading this is getting tedious

forehead, chin, and cheek. He was covered in dirt. He had come within seconds of death and the fear from it was still with him.

“Don’t stare, Myron,” Hadrian told him. “They will think you’re up to something.” “They are even prettier than horses,” the monk remarked, glancing back repeatedly over his shoulder as the girl fell behind them. Hadrian laughed. “Yes, they are, but I wouldn’t tell them that.”

oh good I thought we were going to skip the misogyny in this series

“Oh my,” Myron said to Hadrian as he twisted to get a better view. “I don’t even think of horses when I look at her.”

:-l

“Let me set you up in the back before that chair bucks you off again.” Myron hung his head and said quietly, “I have the same problem with horses.”

People are afraid of what they don’t understand. The thought of a woman with magical powers is terrifying to old men in comfortable positions.

Hadrian looked at Royce, who stood silent. “Well,” he began as he glanced at the floor, “I guess—we’d just grown kind of fond of you, I suppose.”

“I’m already deeply in your debt and have no right to ask, but I must beg you now to display the same poor judgment once again. Please

of course they will, because plot

He looked up with a remorse-filled face and said, “It’s the result of what happens when a woman is educated and, in Arista’s case, introduced to the wicked powers of black magic.”

honestly

Education planted an evil seed in her, and it flowered into the horrible deaths of her father and her brother. She is no longer a princess of the realm but a witch.

eight. The smallest of the children fascinated Myron, and he watched them in amazement. They were like short drunk people, loud and usually dirty, but all were surprisingly cute and looked at him in much the same way that he looked at them.

“Sounds like a fight outside,” Magnus mentioned. “I wonder who will win.” The dwarf scratched his beard. “For that matter, I wonder who is fighting.”

“Oh,” was all she could utter. A scream was growing in her and she covered her mouth with her hand, holding it back. “You’re right. You’re not doing very well.”

“Be careful,” Arista shouted after him. “He’s a renowned swordsman!” “I’m really tired of hearing that,” Hadrian grumbled as he started

imagine how we feel

As the man stepped out of the shadows, Wyatt Deminthal knew this would be the worst, and possibly the last, day of his life.

Let’s not add to it.” She stood up straight, and Hadrian could not help staring. Her long yellow hair, now free of twigs and leaves, shimmered in waves over her shoulders. She was a vision of youthful beauty and Hadrian guessed she could not be more than seventeen.

JC

“She’s not much of a horse really.” “No one in Dahlgren but the lord and his knights own horses, and yours are so pretty. I especially like her eyes—such long lashes. What’s her name?” “I call her Millie, after a woman I once knew who had the same habit of not listening to me.”

Hadrian squeezed her hand and smiled. “You know, I bet you’re a wonderful cook, aren’t you? I could make us dinner, but it would be miserable. All I know how to do is boil potatoes. How about you give it a try? What do you say? There are pots and pans in that sack over there and you’ll find food in the one next to it.” Thrace nodded silently and, with one last glance upward, shuffled over to the packs.

Bernice was an old plump woman with a doughlike face that sagged at the cheeks and doubled at the chin. The color of her hair was unknown, as she always wrapped it in a barbette veil that looped her head from crown to neck.