The Ruin of Kings (A Chorus of Dragons #1)

by Jenn Lyons

No, my body may not have been worth much, but in Kishna-Farriga the going price for a man’s soul is ten thousand ords.

It’s not that I don’t think my soul is worth more, but I was damned if I wouldn’t make metal off my own sale.

He did what anyone would do when lifted into the air by a rampaging demon about to tear them apart on a public street: Kihrin screamed his head off.

“Are those whales? I’ve never seen whales before.” “Oh, those?” Teraeth looked over the side of the ship with a bored expression. “Nothing but several dozen sixty-foot-long limbless blue elephants going for a swim. Pay them no mind.” “I’ve never seen so many.” “Apparently you haven’t seen any, so that’s not saying much.”

“I ain’t done much in my life that was just pure maliciousness, pure spite. Save one thing. Just one. And it’s come looking for me. I can feel its breath on my heels…”

Believe me, realizing you’re still alive when you should by all rights be dead is a pleasure that never grows stale.

A hero who has never had a bad thing happen to him isn’t a hero—he’s just spoiled.”

What do you say to the group of cultist assassins who rescued you from certain death? Hey, thanks, any of you mind telling me how to get back to the mainland?

Crossbows were useful for grappling hooks and rappelling gear, and sometimes, for guard dogs. He’d never fired one at a person before, but he was pretty sure the technique was the same.

“So sweet of you to ask. I’m Talon. I’ll be your murderer tonight. You should feel honored, really. I’m only sent after the important ones.”

problems are opportunities with thorns attached,”

The thing about anger—especially the thing about righteous anger—is how addictive it is. I didn’t want to let go of it. I didn’t want to calm down. I wanted to be furious, and here Teraeth was being sympathetic and reasonable. He made me irrationally angrier.

This was a tree to hold up the whole world, the sort of place where Galava must live, if any place were consecrated to her. It seemed ageless and immortal, a tree that had always and would always exist. Naturally, we were setting it on fire.

So, if there’s some reason why Tyentso can’t do this—besides flouting the normal rules of the Maevanos—please tell me so I can start working on my next harebrained scheme to get off this island.” I snapped my fingers. “I’ve got it. Any idea where I can buy five crates of hedgehogs?”

Me? I’m disposable. You aren’t.” She didn’t make it sound like a compliment, but were I in her shoes I wouldn’t be happy about the situation either. I opened my mouth to protest, but paused. I could have tried to explain to Tyentso what the Goddess of Luck had said to me about that very fact. However, I didn’t think Tyentso would graciously accept me having visions sent from one of the Eight Immortals as proof that I wasn’t special.

I was elated. Not even the remnants of that hangover could dampen my mood. To finally have some answers, to finally feel that just maybe I understood what the hell was going on, felt amazing. I beamed at the others. Naturally, Teraeth had to ruin that.

“No,” I admitted, “but I can read a book if I stare at it long enough.

“How dare you!” the Old Man screamed. “The mountain will bury you in lava, the molten rocks will be your tomb. You will spend eternity screaming in despair and pain. You will never know peace.” Now that’s a standing ovation, I thought

All I was doing, you understand, was encouraging rock to do what it wants to do anyway. Rock wants to crumble. Stone wants to turn back into sand. You might think the ground would fight this, but you’d be wrong. Everything falls.

But real evil, insidious evil, is what lets us just walk away from another person’s pain and say, well, that’s none of my business.”