Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms, #4)

by L.J. Andrews

Those were the nights when a poor boy and a forgotten girl dreamed aloud of the new lives they’d live far across the sea. Of good kings and gods’ magic. Tales where they were not hunted, where they were not afraid. The sort of tales where heroes never died, and pain did not exist. Those were nights when the girl told the boy he was valiant and steady like a raven, and he said she looked as pretty as a rose. The boy whittled them, a raven and rose, then tied the raven to her neck, the rose to his, and told her he’d always keep her secrets. Always.

He’d stolen my heart when we were young, and I’d never asked for it back. When he lifted his eyes, only brilliant, beautiful gold stared back. He studied me, commanded me. Ansel had warned me the Nightrender would own my soul. Oh, how little my friend understood. I owned nothing, for everything I had to give had always belonged to the Nightrender.

“I only bow to you.”

Malin Strom was my beautiful downfall. And I would take any pain if it meant more of her. Ruin me. Brutalize me. Just give me her.

What I would do to get her free of this place. There were no lengths I would not go. No man I would not kill. I would burn the world to the ground to keep her breathing and in my arms.

She was the first girl to tell me I was brave and strong. Malin was the first, she was the only one, to hold my heart and soul in her hands. I would always choose her life over mine.