Page 1 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

Hagan could feel the ancient, cruel presence that slithered just beyond the edges of the light as he wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the castle.

His crimson uniform was immaculate, his glamour perfectly maintained, allowing the world to see the polished mask of a drakonian rather than the warlock that hid beneath.

He offered polite nods to the ladies of the court as they drifted past in rustling silks, some giggling behind gloved hands, their cheeks flushed like roses.

Hagan had long been aware of the pull he held over women.

He’d never much cared for it, but had learnt well how to wield it as a weapon.

Turning sharply, he ascended a narrow flight of stairs and slipped into a small study, the sort frequented more by lecherous scholars that enjoyed whoring more than reading.

He left the door ajar, just enough for the ancient thing that followed to slip inside unnoticed.

Moving to the window, he looked out at the restless sea, its waters dark and unending.

He wondered, as he often did, what other worlds might lie beyond that endless blue—lands untouched by gods and men alike.

‘Blood magic,’ the god purred from behind him, ‘has served you well.’

Hagan glanced down at his hands, remembering the sacrifices they had made, the horrors they had conjured since he began learning the forbidden craft. It had cost much. It always did. But for his people, he would pay any price.

‘It will take something from you,’ the god whispered.

He looked back over his shoulder at the being, its form deceptively mortal. He knew it wore this guise only because it must. In its own realm, it would be something far older. Far more terrifying.

‘This world has already taken everything from me,’ he said. He would not speak of his mother, of the way she’d died and left him to navigate the world alone. ‘I want more power.’ His jaw clenched, fists curling with purpose.

‘Patience,’ the god cautioned. ‘When the gods return, they must have hosts. They cannot walk this realm in their true forms.’

‘Then how are you here?’ Hagan asked. He saw annoyance flash in the god’s white eyes, but pressed on. ‘I thought the curse barred your kind. How did you escape it?’

The god smiled—a terrible, knowing smile.

‘When the curse was cast, some of us had already crossed into the mortal realm. Those caught here were trapped, bound in flesh, unable to return. I have worn this mortal face and many others for a century now. Others like me wait, hidden. But when the curse is broken, we will rise. All of us. But first, we must find a host for my sister.’

Hagan nodded. ‘The plan is already in motion.’

‘Good,’ the god said with quiet delight. ‘Then let us drown this world in chaos.’

Hagan remained silent as the god turned and slipped through the doorway, vanishing into the shadows once more. Alone, he looked out again at the sea, at the floating isle that hovered just beyond the horizon, and thought of what was yet to come.