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CONTENT WARNING This book is a fantasy romance that explores themes of alcoholism, addiction, colonialism, depression, and systemic violence. While it is not the focus of this book or depicted graphically on the page, some content may be triggering for readers who have experienced self-harm, assault, depression, or suicidal ideation. Please read with care.
No Mortal was above the Crown, and Halflings were expendable.
Halflings trying to evade the king’s service by hiding their Elvish blood. The ones who looked human enough could live for years without being found, but eventually their ruse was discovered. A nosy neighbor would become suspicious. Someone would notice their pinched ears or faster reflexes. Or worse yet, they would cut themselves and expose the amber color of their blood.
All Halflings were owned by the king, forced into his service. I served him best through death.
Part of me wanted to believe the Shadow was nothing but myth, but even I had crossed his path once. The Shadow was real, masquerading in a black cloak, concealing his identity from those who would kill him. People like me.
Having the eyes of the Crown on your head was dangerous. I should know as the person the Crown sends to retrieve those heads.
Fae. They had been the makers of this house millennia before. It had been the homestead of the Light Fae, a magical race that had long ago gone extinct.
I may be the king’s Blade, but I was certainly no lady. In Elverath, I wasn’t even considered a woman. Those who bothered to address my kind called me the same as they did all women with Elvish blood—female. Halflings had dirty blood, part-Mortal and part-animal in the eyes of the king. Calling us by our sexes was just another way he solidified the distinction between our kinds. Our enslavement was for the good of all; Halflings weren’t even human. The guard stepped back from the door. No Mortal man would deign to touch a Halfling.
a Shade, one of the elite forces of Halfling females the king trained to do his bidding.
Shades were only permitted a hood; a cloak had to be earned.
As the Blade, I was the head of the Arsenal, and by extension, the Shades. But I found the day-to-day of it taxing. Why would I want to manage the hundreds of spies that were stationed across the continent?
When the Blood Wars ended and their numbers had dwindled almost to the point of extinction, the Dark Fae had agreed to sign a treaty with the king.
They wouldn’t interfere with the Crown or the newfound kingdom of Elverath and, in return, they got to live out the rest of their immortal lives in the Faeland. Now that their last female had died, the Dark Fae could no longer pass on their magic.
Winvra was one of the few magical plants that still grew in Elverath. Most recognized it by its crimson vines and black leaves, but its true magic was held in its berries. Berries the color of night that could create all kinds of healing concoctions and bloodred fruit that could poison an entire table with a single drop of its juice. Winvra needed magic to grow,
magic in Elverath had been fading for millennia and seemed to be fading even more quickly now.
Gerarda Vallaqar was also a spy and assassin for the king. We had trained together at the Order before she passed her Trials and became a Shade. By the time I graduated, she had already been promoted to the king’s Dagger. It was the second highest position in the king’s Arsenal.
I wasn’t like my sisters in the Order. For whatever reason, my Elvish blood ran stronger than theirs. My ears were long and pointed, unlike most Halflings who had something between Mortal and Elf. I stood tall among the Mortals at court, even among the Halflings.
One never knew where the allegiances of paid men fell.
Shadows were largest just before the sunset, but lost their power when night inevitably fell. For Shadows don’t truly exist in the dark. It was time for me to bring the night.
The poor tended to have few secrets. Secret was just another word for power, and the poor certainly did not have any of that.
“We all have to do bad things, Keera. Things we don’t want to do but have to in order to survive. Your hands are forced more than most, but not everyone decides to be kind. That should count for more than the bad.”
Many believed that when the last of the Dark Fae passed, all the magic would leech from Elverath entirely.
“Funny how we can feed the poor and it’s called treason, while the Crown lets its people starve and it’s the king’s divine right.”
“If we don’t fight, who will hold the king responsible?”
“That’s the thing about crowns,” I whispered. “When one head falls, they’re placed on another.”
His hand held my neck as he bit me back. Tugged at my hair. I let out a soft moan as I slammed the dagger into his chest. The Shadow moved so fast his arm was a blur. One moment his lips were bruising mine, and the next his fingers were wrapped around my wrist. He held my arm in the air, the dagger suspended just above my head.
My skin was raw, burning with rage at the king’s indifference. He didn’t care how many Halflings died in the Trials. He didn’t care that they would serve him better with more training. He wanted more Shades. Whatever the cost.
