The Oleander Sword (The Burning Kingdoms, #2)

by Tasha Suri

But forgetting or not forgetting Priya was not a political concern. It was a thing of her heart: the husk of a flower she wore on a chain around the throat.

I have looked upon the ocean, she wrote. And it made me recall the tale of a river. And of a fish, searching for a new world on its bank. And I remember a tale of garlands. And ill stars. And two people who found their way to one another. Tell me, do you remember it too?

She would do what she had always done: play at obedience, while ever sharpening her knives.

“I have never,” she said, “been a woman of faith. And you forgot one truth about me, faceless son: I have never been afraid of killing priests.”