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  Praise for Jeffe Kennedy’s Twelve Kingdoms

  The Mark of the Tala

  “The fairy-tale setup only hints at the depth of world-building at work in this debut series. What could be clichéd is instead moving as Andi is torn between duty to her father and the pull of Rayfe and his kingdom . . . This well-written and swooningly romantic fantasy will appeal to fans of Juliet Marillier’s Sevenwaters series or Robin McKinley’s The Hero and the Crown.”

  —Library Journal, starred

  “A tale that is both satisfying and tantalizing. This promises to be a trilogy that will leave readers enthralled.”

  —Heroes and Heartbreakers

  “I thoroughly enjoyed the world that Jeffe Kennedy created here. It was the type of sweeping story that was easy to get lost in, thanks to the interesting characters, the bit of mystery surrounding Andi’s mother, Salena, and their otherworldly heritage.”

  —Harlequin Junkie

  “This magnificent fairy tale will captivate you from beginning to end with a richly detailed fantasy world full of shapeshifters, magic, and an exciting romance!”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars, Top Pick

  “I loved every page and the conclusion simply left me stunned.”

  —Tynga’s Reviews

  The Tears of the Rose

  “Kennedy creates a well-constructed world, and Amelia has a solid character arc, moving from unlikable to heroic in her own way.”

  —Library Journal

  “New readers will have no trouble following along.... Amelia’s journey from pampered princess to empowered woman begins with sorrow and pain, until she begins to see her purpose and embraces her newfound strength and power. She is a surprising female character, as is the scarred and mysterious Ash. One of the highlights of the Twelve Kingdoms series so far is that the women are charged with saving themselves and creating their own happily-ever-after, with the men surrounding them just one part of the process.”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars, Top Pick Gold

  “The Tears of the Rose strikes gold . . .”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Certainly, Jeffe Kennedy’s characters are not perfect. No, they are flawed, even Andi in the first book, but their flaws are believable and make them relatable. So, even if you don’t like them (like I didn’t like Amelia at first), you can definitely understand where they’re coming from.”

  —The Romance Reviews

  The Talon of the Hawk

  “The saga of The Twelve Kingdoms returns in grand style! This is a complex world full of danger, subterfuge, and secrets with empowering female characters who are not afraid to fight for their future.”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4½ Stars, Top Pick

  “Excellent character development and strong action continue to characterize the Twelve Kingdoms, and I’m thrilled beyond belief to know that we will see more of this world in future Kennedy books.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Riveting.”

  —The Romance Reviews

  “This series has left me with a serious book hangover. Do not read this as a standalone novel—buy all three and enjoy the marvelous world that Jeffe Kennedy has created for us all. . . .”

  —Urban Girl Reader

  “This is powerful stuff. Epic fantasy!!! I absolutely adored this book!”

  —Tea and Book

  “The Talon of the Hawk is everything a lover of high fantasy and romance can expect: action, adventure, closure, and sweet romance.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “The third installment of Jeffe Kennedy’s Twelve Kingdoms fantasy series tears sharply and deeply into the books’ mythology as well as into the heart of its core family. The Talon of the Hawk, Ursula’s story, doesn’t hesitate to draw blood and, in the process, proves also to be incredibly healing.”

  —Heroes and Heartbreakers

  “Ursula is such a great character. She doesn’t take people’s crap and she tells it like it is. No matter if anyone likes it or not.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  Books by Jeffe Kennedy

  The Master of the Opera

  The Twelve Kingdoms:

  The Mark of the Tala

  The Tears of the Rose

  The Talon of the Hawk

  The Uncharted Realms:

  The Pages of the Mind

  The Edge of the Blade

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  THE EDGE OF THE BLADE

  JEFFE KENNEDY

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for Jeffe Kennedy’s Twelve Kingdoms

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Jeffe Kennedy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0426-9

  First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: January 2017

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0427-6

  eISBN-10: 1-4967-0427-4

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: January 2017

  To Jillianne Wilkinson

  You were on my mind as I wrote this book—maybe you’ll understand why, if you ever see this. I think of you often, with hope and love.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Carien and Sullivan McPig, for many services rendered, including beta reading, assisting on All the Things, and in particular for photos of Fraeylemaborg, the inspiration for the Imperial Palace in Dasnaria.

  Thanks to Marcella Burnard, for notes on all things nautical. As always, any errors are due to my obtuseness or willfulness, possibly both at once. She tried to teach me about sailing, folks—she really did. Also thanks to Anna Philpot, for close reading on a short timeline. And for bubbly in the grape arbor.

  Hat tip to Jeremy Brazille, Karen Hardie, and Worldbuilders. You all know why.

  Thanks to Peter Senftleben, editor extraordinaire, for loving Jepp best of all. (And not letting me kill her off in a previous book.) Attendant thanks to everyone at Kensington, all of whom work so hard to make these books wonderful and get them into readers’ hands, especially Rebecca Cremonese, Jane Nutter, Vida Engstrand, Lauren Jernigan, and Kristine Mills.

  As always the terrific team at Fuse Literary gets my gratitude, particularly fabulous agent Connor Goldsmith and savvy agency partner Laurie McLean.

  Many thanks to all the reviewers, readers, and book bloggers who’ve supported these books—I would be lost without you.

  Love
to bestie Megan Hart, forever and always an LH. And to Margaret, who remains my source of light.

  Hugs to Veronica Scott, steadfast supporter and loyal friend. Same to Katie Lane, who always makes me smile.

  Huge thanks, love, early morning coffee IMs, and cupcakes to Grace (Darling) Draven, for help with a difficult scene. No raw chicken parts hitting the floor—I just couldn’t go there—but I used most everything else, you gory wench.

  I’d be a sad and lonely writer without my professional organizations. Here’s a shout out to the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA)—especially the Keepers of the Flame in the chatroom—and the Romance Writers of America (RWA), with special hugs to the wonderful folks in my local chapter, the Land of Enchantment Romance Authors (LERA).

  Finally, much love to my family. I was writing this book over Thanksgiving and Christmas—and no one blinked that I spent hours at Starbucks. My stepsister Hope even met me there a couple of times for a quick latte and left quickly. There is no greater love.

  Always, to David, who’s with me every day. No cottages and picket fences for us either—and we’ve made it work brilliantly. I love you, my dear.

  1

  The dragons loomed in silent menace against the rosy dawn. They’d given me a serious chill the first time the Hákyrling sailed between their fearsome snarling mouths. This time their daunting size and gleaming black coils seemed to mock me.

  Running away, little warrior?

  No—just abandoning the field of battle, deserting the woman entrusted to my protection by the High Queen, and flinging myself headfirst into a mission completely beyond my skills. Nothing to write home about. If anyone at home had cared. Ha!—and if I could write very well. Stupid saying, anyway.

  As Glorianna’s sun tipped over the ocean’s horizon, the rays caught the sharp edges of the dragons’ scales, glinting as on the finest blade’s edge. Carved from the island rock and built up from there so they reared ten times the height of the Hákyrling’s mast, they looked about to spring to annihilating life. Great bat wings lay folded against the back of one, half-mantled on the other, massive snakelike tails winding down the rockfall to dangle in the seawater. Impossible creatures, I’d thought—until I’d seen one flying through the air.

  The guardians delivered an obvious warning that I’d nevertheless neglected to heed. Now Dafne, my friend and the person I had been supposed to protect, lay prisoner in the clutches of the dragon king. I gripped the polished rail of the ship, keeping myself from looking back. Bryn never look back. More than a superstition, less than a magic spell, I’d heard that caution all my young life, told me first by my mother, and echoed by my grandmother, aunts, great-aunts, sisters, cousins, friends, and teachers.

  Bryn never look back.

  I wouldn’t shame their legacy by doing so now. Much as it pained me. Had I been gifted with Zynda’s shape-shifting magic, I might not have been able to hold out. How she kept from leaping into the water and swimming back to Dafne’s side, I didn’t know. Maybe that was why she’d gone below, an unusual move for her, as much as she thrived on being outdoors. Likely the worry wormed in her gut also, wondering what Dafne might suffer even at that very moment. Alone among a foreign people, likely married to a tyrant—a mark of the muddle we’d made of it that we weren’t entirely sure of even that much—and barely able to speak the language. Walking away in the dark before dawn had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

  And I’d done plenty of hard things.

  Where I came from, you did hard or you gave up and died. Easy decision. Usually.

  We passed beneath the silently roaring dragon guardians, and my gut lurched. No, the ship did, leaping to the wind outside the protected harbor, wine-dark sails billowing with a series of booms as the Dasnarian sailors scrambled to adjust them. Within moments, the island, and any hope of reneging on my decision to shirk one duty in favor of another, fell behind me.

  “She’ll be all right—don’t fret yourself so much.”

  Oh joy. Kral. Just the megalomaniac to make my morning perfect. “Is that an order, General Kral of Dasnaria and Imperial Prince of the Royal House of Konyngrr? Ooh—or perhaps you’re relating a vision from Danu herself!”

  He growled in his throat and leaned his forearms on the rail next to me, bracing against the pitch of his ship as we crossed into the choppier open sea, away from the lee of the island. “In Dasnaria we do not heed your three goddesses. Perhaps the women do, to succor hearth and home, but such weakness would not be fitting for a warrior of our people, much less one of the royal line.”

  I rolled my eyes, ostentatiously so he wouldn’t miss it, turning so I stood hipshot, daring him to take a good long look at what he’d never again lay a finger on. “Danu is the goddess of clear-eyed wisdom, the bright blade, unflinching justice, and self-discipline. I can see your point—not manly virtues at all.”

  He turned his head, blue eyes glittering. Not like the sea, but like the deep ice of Branli near the Northern Wastes, where cliffs of it rose so thick, the white darkened to blue. Chill and ruthless as any of my blades. “If you were a man, I’d challenge you for such words.”

  “Challenge me anyway. I could use a minute or so of exercise. Though I might not need even that long to take you down.”

  “My honor does not permit me to challenge a woman. Now, if you care to attack first . . .” he trailed off invitingly, jaw hard behind the short golden beard he’d grown on the journey.

  I ground my teeth. “You know full well my pledge to the High Queen prevents me from doing so.”

  “A woman making a vow to another woman.” He shook his head, assuming an expression of innocent wonder. “You’re all so adorable.”

  My grasp of Dasnarian still lagged miserably behind fluent, but I thought I had the meaning there. Even if not, his condescending tone expressed plenty. My fingers itched to pull the twin daggers from the sheaths at my hips. How fine it would be, to see the bright blood springing red against his tanned skin, shocked surprise burbling into that cold gaze as he clutched his throat, collapsing at my feet. Unable to even beg for the mercy I’d never offer.

  “What?” Kral’s brows drew together in suspicion.

  I raked his long body with a deliberately salacious stare and grinned. “Just enjoying a little fantasy.”

  That got him. Petty revenge, perhaps, and a smidge compared to how I’d love to make him suffer for his many sins. Lust flared in his hard-lined face and he clamped his lips down on it. A pity, as that mouth had provided me with considerable pleasure that one ill-advised night we’d spent together. As had those big hands with their fierce strength. Hung like a stallion, with the stamina of a man half his age and oh, Danu, the devastating and meticulous patience to use it all to drive a woman crazy.

  Goddesses take me, I was getting all hot and bothered thinking about it. Thanks to Lunkhead and his tyrannical edict that none of his men touch me, I already suffered from longer privation than I had since I figured out someone else’s hand felt even better than my own.

  He iced it over fast, covering it with neutral arrogance. “Learn to squelch your fantasies. I will not have you again, rekjabrel.”

  “I didn’t offer. You will never be so lucky. Oh, and it wasn’t that kind of fantasy.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No.” I yawned deliberately, which turned into a real jaw cracker. Nothing like missing two nights of sleep. Zynda and I had taken turns guarding Dafne while she slept, but I’d never quite managed more than a light snooze. Odd, as I’d long ago mastered the soldier’s art of taking restorative sleep instantly at the opportunities afforded by circumstance. It might have been because I’d never before had sole responsibility for another’s life—and at the charge of my captain, now High Queen. Who I’d already failed by fucking up with this very man. You pissed off a prince of the Dasnarian throne, general of their armies, with whom we just created a very new and even more tenuous peace? Dafne’s incredulous voice still echoe
d in my head. How was I supposed to know Kral expected some kind of fidelity? After one encounter. Well, six or seven—I’d lost count somewhere in the early dawn hours—but only one night. One of the best I’d ever had. Unfortunate, given his obstinate irascibility.

  “No,” I repeated. “I don’t want to hurt your fragile manly feelings, but really the fucking was quite forgettable. I thought maybe you’d improve with practice, but alas.” I shrugged for the inevitability of it all. My Dasnarian might be far from fluent, but I knew most of the sex words, and it had proved to be a language excellent for delivering insults.

  Kral straightened, folding his arms as he faced me, muscled legs impressively absorbing the ship’s movement. I’d like to be able to do the same and not hang on to the rail, but pitching overboard would be an even bigger blow to my pride.

  “I seem to recall otherwise.” His turn to look me over with hot eyes, taunting me. “Once I had you on your back, you squirmed like a kottyr, purring and helplessly happy to have her belly rubbed just so.”

  The image shouldn’t have made me as hot as it did. My susceptibility was no doubt due to his thrice-damned enforced celibacy. Well, and my unreasonable attraction to him. Gathering up all that too easily aroused lust, I funneled it into a prayer. Danu, accept my sacrifice for you. If the goddess talked to me—which, ha! Goddesses didn’t really do that kind of thing—she would be snorting in disgust. Her priestesses offered Her their celibacy as a sign of devotion, dedicating their bodies to being instruments of war and justice, channeling sexual energy into devotion to a cause, not to the softer, hedonistic delights. I was pretty sure being hard up didn’t exactly count as a sacrifice.