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336 pages, Hardcover
First published July 3, 2014
Once, after his father had hit him in a rage, Yarvi's mother had found him crying. The fool strikes, she had said. The wise man smiles, and watches, and learns.
Then strikes.
From the many cages ranked around the walls they looked down on him now, the doves, and one great bronze-feathered eagle which must have brought a message from the High King in Skekenhouse. The one person in the lands around the Shattered Sea who had the right to make requests of Yarvi now. Yet here he sat against the dropping-speckled wall, picking at the nail on his shriveled hand, buried beneath a howe of demands he could never fulfill.
The fool strikes. The wise man smiles, and watches, and learns. Then strikes.
When you're in hell, only a devil can point the way out.
You may need two hands to fight someone, but only one to stab them in the back.
"If life has taught me one thing, it's that there are no villains. Only people, doing their best."
"The fool strikes," she had said. "The wise man smiles, watches, and learns.
Then strikes."