Along the Razor's Edge (The War Eternal, #1)

by Rob J. Hayes

No, I start my story at the end of the war for good reason. I consider that the time where my life began in earnest. It was after the war, after everything had been taken from me, that I had to stand on my own for the first time. It was down in the Pit where I found a purpose for my existence, a reason for living. I'm not about to claim that retribution is a wholesome purpose, but then my life has never been that. Friend and enemy alike have long referred to me as the Corpse Queen, and it is a name I bloody well earned.

I didn't so much desire to escape, as I needed to visit my burning wrath upon all the bastards who had put me there. I had a great many enemies to kill, and most of them didn't even know I existed. There is little that is as maddening as being beneath the notice of those you wish to murder.

These days, I couldn't buy that sort of anonymity. My name is known far beyond the limits of this continent. It's known far beyond the reach of the Terran language. These days even gods know my name, and that's not the sort of attention you want. Trust me. But back then, I was no one, and no one knew who I was.

I have often wondered if the Pit made them cruel, or simply allowed them to stop hiding their true natures. Are we all just monsters waiting for the opportunity to show it?

My emotions have always made me stronger. My hatred and anger give me strength when it should fail. My love and compassion have made me allies that otherwise might have been enemies. I have known emperors who were trained to wear their face like a mask, fall. Yet I have sat on a throne of corpses, and it was my emotions that helped put me here.

I've never been able to decide if I worked so hard to impress them, or simply not to hate myself for failing.

I knew I could shout for help. Isen was only a few tables away and both Josef and Hardt would come running if they knew I was in trouble. But I had gotten myself into this mess and I was determined I would get myself out of it. I've never been one to go screaming to the nearest men for help. That being said, I was an antagonistic bitch without a diplomatic bone in my body and had less chance of winning in a fight than I did of learning to fly. "You," I said, pointing at a big man with a scarred lip and scarred knuckles. "I'll give you half the bread if you beat him unconscious."

That man should have been a surgeon, but men as big as Hardt are always taught to fight before they are taught to heal.

Defiance has always been written into my very nature. Nothing brings it out of me quite like authority.

Another lie on my part. I was one turn away from giving away the last bloody thing I owned to that shrewd old man. The thing about bluffing is you need to be able to understand when the bluff has failed. You need to know when to get out and admit defeat. Perhaps you have noticed, I am not good at admitting defeat. I really shouldn't be allowed to bluff.

I couldn't help but wonder if I'd just destroyed another friendship. I was fast running out them to burn. I've never been very good at repairing things, relationships least of all. I've always been so much better at doubling down and laying waste to everything around me.

I'm not sure he really knew what we found so funny, but I've noticed many times in my life that Tamura doesn't need to know. He just enjoys laughing, and it's an act that's always more fun with a group.

The man has faced down armies with nothing but his fists, yet he is constantly defeated by low ceilings.