Page 5 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Fear was not always the dark, shadowy plague some made it out to be. To fear meant the warriors would fight for their lives with ferocity. They’d fight for each other.

And these folk—thieves and warriors alike—would fight to the hells not to face their fears of losing each other tonight.

I encircled the shore with darkness, concealing the longships and guilds, then looked to Valen. “Do it.”

The king lowered into a crouch, listening as Niklas described the angles and roads surrounding the Falkyn Nest and shoreline.

“What’s happening?” Malin whispered.

I kissed her knuckles. “Watch. You won’t want to miss this.”

CHAPTERTWO

THE MEMORY THIEF

Mesmer was dangerous and miraculous.I’d witnessed grand feats of magic I could not explain, but I was vastly unprepared for the earth splitting like weak ice. I did not anticipate the rumble of stone as the streets bent and broke, reshaping into jagged peaks.

Dust clotted the back of my throat. Mixed with Kase’s shadows and the debris of the shattered cobbled streets of Skítkast, I could barely see beyond my nose.

Valen Ferus was broad, strong, and bold. He walked like a king. The darkness of his eyes burned with a power I could see others bending the knee to serve. His skin reminded me of the smooth soil from the gardens at House Strom. Handsome, with a touch of mischief in his grin that reminded me of Kase.

But when his face hardened into sharp focus as he lifted his hands and bent the earth to his command, I shook in a bit of reverent terror for the man.

Earth magic. They called it . . . fury, I thought. Gunnar used the word, and it was fitting. The swirl of stone and bedrock, roots and mud, rolled upward in a furious storm.

From our position I watched, wide-eyed, as the streets and shacks twisted into jagged teeth along the edges. The nest was underground, so Valen gritted his teeth and focused with more difficulty as Niklas guided him in shaping the walls around the false house on the street while leaving the underground haven undisturbed.

“Junie will cut off your fingers if you ruin her rugs,” Niklas said, clapping a hand on Valen’s shoulder.

Junius laughed. “More like Nik will sob if his vials and elixirs are shattered when we return.”

Niklas paled. “Ah. Very true. Take care, King. Take great care.”

“Then let me focus,” Valen snapped.

“Apologies.”

Drums neared. There were still pockets in the walls where Skydguard could slip through. Weapons were still loaded on the ships, still buried in the nest. Despite our numbers, we would have little to no chance of success if we met skydguard blades with nothing but our bleeding hands.

“We need to guard the holes,” I shouted.

Kase’s eyes coated in inky black. His mesmer gathered around his hands, and I could’ve sworn I felt a bit of shock rush through my veins. As if his rising power fueled my own.

My blood heated more than was typical when mesmer surrounded me. My heart raced. The burn of magic over my fingertips prickled like pin pricks, like my skin could not contain the surge much longer.

I shook out my hands and sprinted toward a gaping hole the king had not reached yet. Here, I would need a blade, not the power of memories.

“Guard up the ships!” The boisterous fae who had plans to drink fecklessly with Raum and Tova shouted.

In action, the man was a different person.

He barked orders with power. With his voice carrying over the rumble of the shifting earth, the Northern warriors bolted into action at his command.

I let out a gasp when sharp slivers of rock jolted from the sea, shaping an oblong barrier around the fleet of longships.

Gods, the king was pulling up the Howl seafloor. Valen let out a cry of frustration. Sweat beaded his forehead. No mistake, fury magic was as taxing as mesmer.

The queen went to his side, resting her hand on his shoulder. Like a ballast in the storm, his strength seemed to return under his wife’s touch. She did not have fae features, but perhaps she had a bit of power over her husband that was a magic all her own.