A new age begins in the Kingdom of Íseldur in this sizzling third installment of the Viking-inspired romantasy, The Ashen series. The lost Volsik heir has finally returned to the people of Íseldur, and even with the warrior who’s captured her heart standing by her side, Silla’s task is monumental. She must earn the loyalty of the northern jarls to drive Ivar Ironheart from the throne and restore peace in the kingdom. But the secret she guards vigilantly threatens to ruin all her plans: a shard of a god lives in her mind, twisting her thoughts and deeds to His will. Meanwhile, held captive on the mysterious Isle of Zagadka, Saga Volsik fights to return to her sister in Íseldur. But when King Ivar sets his sights on the Zagadkians, she’s forced to make an impossible choice: fight for the man who stole her--and is now hellbent on marrying her--or let the innocent people of his kingdom die. As a poisonous mist threatens the realm, the sisters will delve into the unknowns of their magic to battle against evil. Return to the land of ice and fire, where a god awakens, a queen finds her power, and sisters must unite against the darkness threatening their realm.

Autorentext

Demi Winters is the author of The Road of Bones, Kingdom of Claw, and Roots of Darkness, books featuring softer female leads, grumpy heroes, and immersive worlds. Lover of all things fairy-tale, fantasy, and romance, Winters lives with her husband and two kids in British Columbia, Canada. When she’s not busy brainstorming fantastical worlds and morally gray love interests, Winters loves reading and cooking.

Klappentext

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A new age begins in the Kingdom of Íseldur in this sizzling third installment of the Viking-inspired Ashen romantasy the series.

The lost Volsik heir has finally returned to the people of Íseldur, and even with the warrior who’s captured her heart standing by her side, Silla’s task is monumental. She must earn the loyalty of the northern jarls to drive Ivar Ironheart from the throne and restore peace in the kingdom. But the secret she vigilantly guards threatens to ruin all her plans: A shard of a god lives in her mind, twisting her thoughts and deeds to His will.

Meanwhile, held captive on the mysterious isle of Zagadka, Saga Volsik fights to return to her sister in Íseldur. But when King Ivar sets his sights on the Zagadkians, she’s forced to make an impossible choice: fight for the man who stole her—and is now hell-bent on marrying her—or let the innocent people of his kingdom die.

As a poisonous mist threatens the realm, the sisters will delve into the unknowns of their magic to battle against evil. Return to the land of ice and fire, where a god awakens, a queen finds her power, and sisters must unite against the darkness threatening their realm.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Kopa, Íseldur

One week after Kingdom of Claw

A bead of sweat trickled down Silla’s brow as she stood before the largest pair of doors she’d ever seen—as tall as three warriors stacked up. Knotwork was carved into thick oak planks that were secured on enormous iron hinges. If the doors were this massive, she wondered how big the council room beyond them would be.

Silla blotted her forehead with the sleeve of her dress, then paused. Would Eisa Volsik wipe sweat on her sleeve? She could not recall discussing how a queen was to deal with such things during her daily etiquette lessons. More likely, a queen did not sweat at all. But bother that, Silla was melting. The secret council room used for Uppreisna gatherings was deep beneath Ashfall Fortress. And given that the fortress was built into a slumbering fire mountain, it was sweltering.

She glanced over her shoulder at Rey. Half a head taller than Runný and her other queensguard, Rey was rather hard to miss. Torchlight caught on his tight black curls and gave his brown cheekbones a bronzed glow. But as her gaze slid to his tunic—a shade so red, the word violent came to mind—laughter escaped through Silla’s nose in a decidedly unqueenly sound.

“Quiet, woman,” grumbled Rey, folding his arms and looking away.

Jarl Hakon had insisted that, in his second son Eyvind’s absence, Rey must wear House Hakon’s colors and take a seat of honor with his family. Though Rey had protested valiantly, the jarl had won out in the end.

“You look so . . . festive,” Silla teased, glad for a distraction from her frayed nerves.

“I look like a rowan berry.” Those gold-flecked eyes landed on her, sliding down her body like the softest silk. “And you,” he said in a low voice, “look like a goddess.”

Silla was certain she flushed right down to her toes. “I feel . . . strange. Unlike myself.” She looked at her gown. Beautiful it was—sumptuous emerald silks contrasted with stunning embroidery and elegantly draped cuffs that reached to the floor. This was the kind of garment Eisa Volsik wore. But Silla couldn’t shake her disappointment—there were no pockets!—nor could she keep herself from wondering how many mouths the sales proceeds would feed.

Silla tried to focus. In a moment, she would stride through those mountainous doors and present Eisa Volsik to the most powerful households in Kopa. It was the first step of many they’d concocted—unite the jarls of the north under a common banner; gather allies in the south and abroad; amass enough might to keep the Urkans at bay and prevent the god of chaos from bringing fire and death to the realm.

That last item knocked her off kilter. “It’s only the twilight of days,” she muttered to herself, a statement that did nothing to ease her discomfort. Though if she were being honest, Silla had not felt comfort since the moment she’d woken in Kopa unable to sense the source of her magic.

Daily doses of hindrium smothered her Ashbringer galdur—an unfortunate necessity to keep the god of chaos from accessing it as He had in Svangormr Pass. A life for a life, Myrkur had vowed. But without access to Silla’s magic, He seemed to have lost interest in her. Though she could sense Him slumbering low inside her, the god had remained quiet since that horrid day. She remained vigilant all the same, searching relentlessly for a way to escape this ill-worded bargain of her mother’s.

Silla stared at the doors, trying to ease her nerves. Despite her desire to rip the dangling sleeves from this dress and run off to the stables to take Dawn for a ride, she could not give in.

That, she decided, would definitely be unqueenly.

“If you run, I run,” warned Rey.

“Don’t tempt me,” she teased back, unable to keep from imagining the pair of them tearing away from the fortress on horseback, the ridiculous garments flapping behind them in the wind. Sadness panged inside her chest at the impossibility of the idea.

A loud creak echoed in the corridor, making Silla jump in her skin. The enormous doors swung slowly outward, and her heart raced ever faster. With a deep breath, she forced her feet forward. She felt like an imposter. She was an imposter. It was Saga who was rightful heir to the throne—Saga who ought to be standing before these doors. But for now, Eisa would have to do.

And so, Silla would do her part. Would play queen for a while. And when Saga was found and brought to Kopa, everything would change.

“This is only temporary,” Silla recited to herself as she gathered her courage and strode through the doors.

As expected, the room was cavernous, with an enormous arched roof held up by towering black columns. Sill…