The brawl at the tavern had been nasty. Aerys’ scales had protected him from the brunt of the attack, but the softer flesh underneath felt bruised and tender.

Besides, at the range at which any combat would occur in this rapidly filling – in bodies, stench, and smoke – common room, a dagger, surreptitiously twisted

She thought back on the indelicate way Sehanierianna would tug at her auburn tresses (rare against the silver and gold locks of her kith and kin), and…

He had a name in his head: Cabal. He assumed it was his name, but he couldn’t be sure. Flooded with questions of identity, past, purpose, he stood bricked in place.

Feigning sleepy readjustment, Covey felt along her arms, stopping at the raised welts of scratched skin. The slight sting of the scratches along her arms and legs did not bother her but, instead, invigorated, and…

As a rule, tieflings are best left alone. The descendants of human nobles who bargained with dark powers, they are heirs of an ancient, infernal bloodline. Though now, having no realm of their own…

The escape would have been so much easier if they simply could have killed The Sergeant…

A large man, lips sewn shut with black thread, rushed the small room before any of the three could defend themselves. The intruder wore a black steel breastplate molded to the musculature of his chest, marred and scarred as though from a million battles.

She stopped. She returned to the switch and flipped it back and forth. She definitely heard something. She had never noticed it before, but there it was. Locke put her safe-cracking ear up to the switch and flipped it a couple more times