Bone Palace, The - Amanda Downum Page 0,154

a return to power when Nikolaos Alexios married Korina Petreos, but the marriage was loveless, and Mathiros Alexios favored his mother’s family no more than his father’s. It is widely supposed that Korina’s ties to a Mortificant cult did nothing to help her relations with her husband and son; Sophia Petreos, the current high priestess of Erishal, tries to distance her house from such cults. The house’s crest is a cockatrice, vermilion on brown.

House Ctesiphon was another house present for the founding of Selafai. Though their star has risen several times, they have never held the throne. They are currently nearing the end of a thirty-year exile after their archon Kraetos attempted to assassinate Nikolaos Alexios. Their crest is a crouching sphinx, grey on indigo.

The Fallen House:

House Korinthes is not the only house to have fallen from glory, but is certainly the most notorious. Beginning with the rumors surrounding Iodith Petreos’s death and ending with the Hecatomb, their 73-year reign is generally considered a shadow on Selafaïn history. Demos I was a ruthless ruler, as was his daughter Damia. Demos II was a burgeoning tyrant when Tsetsilya Konstantin’s death triggered the destruction of the palace and the devastation of Erisín. Historians often speculate what sort of king Ioanis might have been, but most are just as glad not to know. Their crest was a winged boar, red on black.

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meet the author

AMANDA DOWNUM was born in Virginia and has since spent time in Indonesia, Micronesia, Missouri, and Arizona. In 1990 she was sucked into the gravity well of Texas and has not yet escaped. She graduated from the University of North Texas with a degree in English literature, and has spent the last ten years working in a succession of libraries and bookstores; she is very fond of alphabetizing. She currently lives near Austin in a house with a spooky attic, which she shares with her long-suffering husband and fluctuating numbers of animals and half-finished novels. She spends her spare time making jewelry and falling off perfectly good rocks. To learn more about the author, visit www.amandadownum.com.

introducing

If you enjoyed THE BONE PALACE, look out for

THE KINGDOMS OF DUST

The Necromancer Chronicles Book Three

by Amanda Downum

It rained all the way to the prison.

The coach rattled and juddered through Kehribar’s uneven streets, jarring Isyllt Iskaldur’s spine with every pothole. Beyond the window, rain softened square buildings and spindle-sharp spires, bled haloes of amber and citrine around the scattered city lights. Watchfires burned on distant walls, orange pinpricks against the night.

The lights, the streets, the scents embedded in the carriage cushions were all foreign to her. Even the rain tasted different, the alchemy of wind and water subtly altered as it blew off the Zaratan Sea. By day she could distract herself with sights and sounds, but at night homesickness stole over her. Even nights like this, when she had work to do.

Another bone-jarring bounce, and Isyllt’s companion cursed again. Isyllt kept her invective to herself for fear of biting her tongue off mid-jolt.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Moth asked when the road smoothed again.

“Easier if you don’t,” Isyllt said. “I’ve made the arrangements. Best to keep this as quiet as possible.” Wisdom for any jailbreak, even one arranged through bribery and veiled threats instead of swords and black powder bombs.

“I don’t like you going into an Iskari prison alone.”

Isyllt smiled ruefully, tugging the curtain shut against the damp. When had her apprentice become her caregiver? The first time she’d cried herself to sleep in Moth’s lap, no doubt. “I promise to come out again.” And not alone, if all went well.

It might have been an argument, but Moth had a magpie’s curiosity—or merely an adolescent’s—and a new city to explore. She’d gone out every night since they’d arrived in Kehribar, winding farther and farther each time. Dangerous to be sure, but the girl had grown up a street rat and had no use for coddling. Six months ago she had been Dahlia, a whore’s androgyne child with a prostitute’s life awaiting her. Now she was an apprentice mage, and shed more of her old life with every new place they traveled. She was due her freedom.

Six months ago Isyllt had been a Crown Investigator, student to Selafai’s spymaster. Now she was jobless, her master dead, her home miles away, abandoned to ghosts and memories. What was she due?

The carriage slowed, knocking Isyllt’s shoulder against the bench. She snorted humorlessly—due a cut purse or a cut throat, if she