By C. E. Murphy
“Wow. C. E. Murphy is nice. courtroom intrigue in an alternative Elizabethan-era delusion global: realpolitik with the intercourse included.”–Kate Elliott, writer of Crown of StarsIn a global the place faith has ripped aside the previous order, Belinda Primrose is the queen’s mystery weapon. The unacknowledged daughter of Lorraine, the 1st queen to sit down at the Aulunian throne, Belinda has been proficient as a secret agent because the age of twelve via her father, Lorraine’s lover and spymaster.Cunning and inviting, fluent in languages and ready to tackle any character, Belinda can infiltrate the glittering courts of Echon the place her mother’s enemies conspire. she will seduce at will and kill if she needs to. yet Belinda’s spying takes a brand new twist whilst her witchlight appears to be like. Now Belinda’s powers are in contrast to whatever Lorraine may have imagined. they could flip an obedient daughter right into a rival who is aware that something might be hers, together with the wickedly sensual Javier, whose throne Lorraine either covets and fears. yet Javier is usually witchbreed, a guy whose skill opponents Belinda’s personal . . . and will be simply as dangerous.Amid courtroom intrigue and magic, loyalty and love can result in extra bold passions, as Belinda discovers that energy is the last word aphrodisiac.“C. E. Murphy vividly reimagines Renaissance Europe as an international either everyday and unusual. choked with intrigue and betrayal, her tale is a chess video game with six of 7 facets, and that i wait for seeing what the subsequent strikes are.”–Marie Brennan, writer of Warrior and Witch
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Example text
In the far distance, chimney smoke rose up, blue against grey clouds; the scent of wood smoke, rich and sharp, intruded on her senses, now that the task put to her was finished.
It felt like standing on a knife’s edge, fathomless depths below her and impatience prodding her on. There was purpose there somewhere; Robert would not otherwise have troubled himself with the cost of her eclectic education. Lately she had realised that girls were not taught the things she had been taught; they did not study the blade, or learn politics and history. Rather, their days were filled with learning embroidery and managing households. Belinda had learned those things, too, but her math went beyond the numbers to balance the manor books, and her languages, written and spoken both, were numerous.
The rules were easier in thought than action. In the beginning there were more failures than successes. Belinda taught herself to use the memory of Robert’s shoulders in the soft gold sunlight of morning as a cloak, wrapping it around herself. She made it into armour, hardening the memory of being left behind into a layer of protectiveness between her skin and the invading entities. The tiny dagger, held against the small of her back, began as an irritation, and became the test itself. Days turned into weeks, and the stiffened brocade of her dresses changed from pressing the hilt of the dagger uncomfortably into her spine to something she no longer noticed, and finally felt undressed without.