Age of War (The Legends of the First Empire #3)

“What exactly do you want from me?”

“Right now?” Makareta licked chapped lips. “Food and a safe place to sleep. Later, maybe you could make a case for leniency? Or, perhaps convince the fane to stop looking and let me go somewhere far away where I can try to live. It’s so hard to constantly block the searches. I can’t even shave my head. It’s disgusting.” A tear slipped down the girl’s cheek. “I’m—I’m only a hundred and sixteen. I’m—” She sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her lips tight, then wiped her eyes. “I don’t want my life to be over before I’ve had a chance to do anything. I made a mistake. I know that, and I’m sorry. We were all so swept up; it was all so—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She sobbed then.

Imaly let her. The girl was a manipulator, but then Imaly had spent nearly three thousand years dealing with far more savvy ones than Makareta. She got up, walked the distance between them, and put her arms around the girl, hugging back while she cried into the curator’s chest.

“I’m so scared.”



“You should be,” Imaly said.

The sound of footfalls came from the outside steps. Makareta looked up, pleading.

“Hide behind the pillar.”

The girl sprinted out of sight.

What am I doing? Harboring a fugitive—a traitor to the fane, no less!

She was still shaking her head when the Fhrey who made the noises came into view. Imaly knew him only vaguely, a face seen on occasion. She couldn’t remember the name, but the uniform said everything she needed to know. He was a courier from the Talwara. In his hand, he held a dispatch.

“A message,” he told her with a modest bow of his head.

“Message? From where?”

“Bird from Alon Rhist. Usually, we would let it sit, waiting for the fane’s return. But it’s possible the fane sent it from there, and if that is the case, it would be meant for your eyes.”

She took the sealed wooden tube encased in wax and cracked it open.

The palace servant waited.

“You can go,” she told him.

He obviously wanted to know what was in the message, and so he gave a look of disappointment before he pivoted and walked out.

Listening to his fading footfalls, Imaly drew forth the small bit of parchment and unrolled it. She read it three times before Makareta emerged from the shadow of the pillar and approached.

“What does it say?” the girl asked with a hopeful tone.

“It doesn’t say the fane is dead,” Imaly assured her. “In fact, this isn’t from our forces at all. This appears to be from the enemy holding Alon Rhist.”

Makareta appeared disappointed. “What does it say?” she repeated.

Imaly crushed the paper in her hand and smiled at the girl. “It says I could benefit from the services of an outlawed Miralyith who is willing to do whatever she’s told.”





Afterword

And there you have it. We’ve concluded another installment, and I hope you’ve enjoyed the tale. My name is Robin, and I’m Michael’s wife. I asked him if I could write the afterword for this book, and he agreed, so here I am! Michael says I tend to proclaim my favorite book to be whichever novel I just finished reading. He’s probably right. As we were finalizing the edits for Age of War, I recall I used the word favorite several times.

Don’t get me wrong; I love Age of Swords (my previously self-proclaimed favorite book of the series). One of the reasons was learning more about the characters of Roan, Moya, and Gifford. I cried at the heartbreaking sacrifice of Suri, and I cheered that Persephone went off and accomplished the impossible while men in power sat around, trying to advance their ambitions. Ah, it makes me smile just thinking about those things now.

Okay, so let me bring the focus back to this book. What did I like so much? I’d say the number one factor is how often it pulled at my heart. I cried when Suri once more had to kill someone she loved to serve the greater good. Had she not, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been possible for the Rhunes of Alon Rhist to survive. I loved Suri at the opening of Age of Myth, but her growth from caterpillar to butterfly is a remarkable transformation. In many ways, I can’t help but see corollaries between her and Myron from the Riyria books, and as much as I loved him in Theft of Swords, he was even more incredible in Heir of Novron. But I’ve digressed once more.



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