To Kill a Kingdom (Hundred Kingdoms, #1)

by Alexandra Christo

Men like Torik – good men – see what these creatures could be: women and girls, mothers and daughters. But I can only see them as they are: monsters and beasts, creatures and devils.

“Lies aren’t answers.” “But they sound so much better than the truth.”

Arguably, she is the most fearsome woman in Midas. And I don’t make a habit of turning my back on fearsome women.

“I’m no runaway,” says Sakura. “Then what are you?” “Something you will never be,” she sneers. “Free.”

“That’s the thing about risks,” Kye says. “It’s impossible to know which ones are worth it until it’s too late.”

It seems to be a way for him to fit in with the thieves and rogues he has collected, in a similar way that I was fashioned into my mother’s vision of a true siren. And because of this, I know his attempts are fruitless. Royalty cannot be unmade. Birth rights cannot be changed. Hearts are forever scarred by our true nature.

“Wars aren’t won by running,” she says. “You can’t win a war,” I tell her. “Someone else just loses.”

“Lira,” I say, the word more like a plea than a name. “You’re not going to die.” I resist looking at the wound again. Not wanting to, for fear that she might actually die and my last words to her might be a lie and what a jackass thing that would be.

She may not have been one of us before, but dying in the line of duty has a way of securing people’s loyalty.

I’m caught off guard by the notion that out of all the princes and pirates and killers and convicts, a small boy from a circus is the only one who can help.

Her use of the word royalty stings more than it should. I’ve spent so long trying to escape that as my only marker, and for her to say it with such certainty, as though she’s never once seen me as something else, pinches. Always a prince, never just a man.