A Heart of Blood and Ashes (A Gathering of Dragons, #1)

by Milla Vane

Perhaps the savage would cross the river with intention of raping and killing every human it encountered. But Maddek would not kill even a Farian for what it had not yet done.

For he’d been celibate after assuming command at the Lave eight years past, mindful of his parents’ warning that when the High Commander of the Army of the Great Alliance asked someone to share his furs, there was not much difference between an invitation and an order.

And though not ugly as her brother had claimed, she was a thin and sickly-looking thing, with a yellow tinge to her brown skin.

Oh, all the features were in the same places and the coloring was similar.

He ought to have waited until they had the sleeping draught. He ought to have heeded his warriors’ warnings. And never again would he ask Yvenne to drink the potion. By Temra’s fist, he vowed it.

Damn straight on both

Yet perhaps the downpour against her heated skin was not the only reason it was sweet. The first day upon her horse, she had lifted her face to the warmth of the sun in the same way, though it burned her. Because she’d never known it before. Just as she’d never known the rain. He held her gaze for another long moment, an odd tightness squeezing within his chest. Finally he nodded and faced forward again.

Gruffly Banek said, “I was sorry to hear of the illness that stole her strength. If not for that, no doubt she would have destroyed him when she realized what he was.” A bitter smile twisted her mouth. “It was not an illness.” Maddek frowned. “That is what has been said.” “Zhalen said many things. He said that he loved her even as he poisoned her wine with a full measure of fellroot.” The same poison that had withered the minister Nayil’s limbs—though it had been delivered by a blade, not ingested. Drinking fellroot should have killed her. But perhaps a strong, goddess-favored queen could survive it. Goddess-favored, but not invincible. “She did not see him do that, either?”

Maddek’s fists clenched against the instinctive need to take the reins back from her, but she would not appreciate it or benefit if he tended to her horse to spare her hands. As with saddle-sore muscles, the only remedy was more riding and calluses.

The ocean at the center of the world.

Either flat world or they think it’s so.

you would see nothing but water stretching to the horizon.

If there’s a horizon their world is round.