"Find me when this is over," she whispered. "Promise that you will find me."
I leaned in and kissed her, letting the press of my hands on her back, the beat of my heart against hers, speak the words I lacked the courage to say. The second touch of our lips was deeper, so that I almost believed our souls had connected. Her kiss emptied me of all thoughts but a wish for the world around us to stop turning, for a miracle to let this moment last forever. Or even for a single minute. Couldn't I have just one more minute with her in my arms? Because she was already fading away, and I couldn't hold her tight enough to change the inevitable.
Our final kiss ended too soon. Like a song cut off mid-note, a breath drawn in but not released. It was a start without a finish, but I would finish it ... soon.
We parted with reluctance, and I whispered, "Come back soon. I am a protector with no one to protect."
"I'm going to save Antora," she said. "And then you will rule it."
"Only if you are at my side." I handed her the horse's reins. "I will see you again soon." And think of her unceasingly until then.
She climbed into Shadow's saddle, patted his neck, and said, "I will return, Simon."
Kestra rode away so suddenly that she couldn't have heard my final words. "No, my lady. I will follow."
Turn the page for a sneak peek!
Barely daring to breathe, I crept forward, hoping Lord Endrick wouldn't be aware of my presence until I was closer. He had summoned me here, so there was no chance of surprising him, but I didn't need him watching my every move as I trekked across the great hall toward the Scarlet Throne.
The throne itself was a grand display of rubies and garnets, and had been occupied for the past thousand years by whichever Antoran family was currently in power. But never by an outsider. Never by anyone as evil as Lord Endrick.
Lord Endrick was a head taller than the average Antoran and thick in his build. Today he wore the black Dominion officer uniform, highly decorated with medals he had never earned, and with green accents signifying his rank as King, a position he had seized from the Dallisor family. In public, he wore a mask to disguise his true nature, but he rarely wore it in his palace. I hated having to look upon him. Every murder he had committed against his own people had grayed his flesh and deepened the lines of his skin until he now resembled a monster more than a person.
Such thoughts made it easier to do what I had to do, but I continued walking forward. My heart ached just to think of what was about to happen.
Endrick sat in close conference with Sir Henry, his chief enforcer, confidante, and the man who had pretended to be my father for all of my sixteen years. Even now, he didn't know that I knew the truth, nor could I tell him until this was over.
If I was lucky, that would be within the next few minutes.
The Olden Blade was in its usual spot, tucked in a garter around my right thigh. But I'd deliberately worn a skirt with only a single sash around the waist today, so it wouldn't be hard to get to the weapon when I needed it. My pulse was racing and my body was much too tense. I needed to slow down, to breathe. I needed to keep thinking.
"Kestra, my daughter, you are late." Sir Henry never missed an opportunity to scold me, though I figured most of his disapproval would come after I killed Lord Endrick.
I gave the appropriate bow to the throne, subtly checking with my hand that the Olden Blade's handle was where I expected it, and it was. Good.
"Forgive my delay." My tone was deliberately obstinate. Foolishly provocative. "I'd rather not have come at all."
"Kestra!"
Lord Endrick held up his hand for silence, then gestured for me to rise, which I did.
"You've shown an unusual streak of defiance since returning from the Lava Fields," he said.
I tilted my head. "You must know that defiance is not unusual for me. Wasn't that the reason I was sent to the Lava Fields in the first place?"
"In hopes it would tame you, not encourage you," Sir Henry said. "We--"
He stopped mid-sentence and immediately dipped his head, feeling the burn from Endrick's scathing glare, a reminder that the king did not appreciate being interrupted. I rather enjoyed that. Never in my life had I seen Sir Henry shrink to anyone.
Then Lord Endrick continued. "Some defiance can be tolerated in the young. It's natural to push against one's elders. But it ends here, Miss Dallisor. Before your disappearance several days ago, a wedding was planned for you. Sir Basil has expressed his willingness to continue with the wedding. I only need your promise that, when you stand before the people, you will accept him."
I straightened my spine, hoping it would give me courage. "I will not."
Lord Endrick thrust out his hand, and with it came a force that hit me squarely in the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and sending me sprawling backwards. That had hurt far more than I'd expected, but it had to happen. I needed to draw Lord Endrick nearer to me, away from Sir Henry. And I needed to be in a position to quietly reach beneath my skirts.
"Get up, girl!" Sir Henry called to me. I wasn't sure if his order was meant to demand I show Endrick more respect, or to warn of what Endrick would do next if I didn't get up.
Either way, I couldn't obey him, not yet. "If I get up, he'll do that again!"
Endrick's tone darkened. "And if you don't, things will get worse until you agree to the marriage."
"As far as I can tell, marriage itself is far worse than anything you can do to me." Which may have sounded flippant, except in this case, it was true. Endrick had already forced Basil to agree to kill me on our wedding night, something Basil himself had confirmed in our private conversations over the past few days.
But Lord Endrick didn't take kindly to my words. He stood, threw his cloak off his shoulders, and marched down the stairs from the Scarlet Throne. "On your knees, girl."
By then, I'd already worked the Olden Blade free of the garter. It was now in my hand, with part of the skirt wrapped around the blade to hide it. I rolled to my knees, facing away from him.
This was it, the moment I would kill him. The timing had to be perfect. He could not see it, could not suspect, until the blade was piercing his gut.
Lord Endrick held out his right hand and a servant ran forward with a grip glove, fastening it to the king's palm. The grip glove would intensify anything that Endrick's magic could already do. I'd experienced a lesser version of his punishments before, and it was awful.
Sir Henry had remained in his seat, which he rarely did. He was ordinarily the punisher, and if not, he usually relished the pleasure of being up close when Endrick did the job instead. But maybe somewhere, deep in his miserable black heart, he had tender feelings for me.
Either that, or he didn't want to bother himself with walking down the steps, only to climb them a minute or two later. That was probably it.
I lowered my head, and redoubled my grip on the Olden Blade. Endrick's footsteps were behind me and coming closer. It felt like he was deliberately walking slowly, drawing out the torture. Maybe he was.
Finally, I sensed his presence behind me, like a corporeal shadow, like he was death itself. He raised his hand to part my hair, so that he could get a solid grip on my neck, but as he did, I leapt to my feet, swinging around with the blade.
This book would never have been possible without the very significant contributions of my editor, Lisa Sandell, and agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette. From the early conceptual stages through the final edit, there is hardly a sentence that did not improve thanks to their attention, talent, and, most importantly, their dedication.
Thank you, Joan, for believing in me and encouraging me to take risks and to push myself. Lisa, thank you for seeing beyond who I am and finding ways to help me move closer to the writer I want to become.
I am also lucky to have a family who supports me through this crazy ride we're on. I could not do this without your support, your input, and your faith in me. To Jeff, thanks for understanding when it's four a.m. and a scene won't leave me alone. For filling
in when I can't break away. And for enabling me with Mountain Dew. That is true love. To my children, nothing I'll ever accomplish as a writer could be greater than who each of you has become.
My gratitude extends to all those in the various divisions at Scholastic who have worked tirelessly to help this book go into the world. I cannot imagine a finer group of people with more passion for putting great books into the hands of young readers. It is an honor to associate with each of you.
Final thanks go to you, the reader. A character begins as an idea in the author's head, and is developed on the written page, but the character is not given life until you open the pages and walk into their story. As long as you are a reader, I will continue writing. Thank you, always and forever.
JENNIFER A. NIELSEN is the acclaimed author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Ascendance Trilogy: The False Prince, The Runaway King, and The Shadow Throne. She also wrote the New York Times bestselling Mark of the Thief trilogy: Mark of the Thief, Rise of the Wolf, and Wrath of the Storm; the stand-alone fantasy The Scourge; the historical thriller A Night Divided; Book Two in the Horizon series, Deadzone; and Book Six of the Infinity Ring series, Behind Enemy Lines.
Jennifer collects old books, loves good theater, and thinks that a quiet afternoon in the mountains makes for a nearly perfect moment. She lives in northern Utah with her husband, their three children, and a perpetually muddy dog. You can visit her online at www.jennielsen.com.
Also by JENNIFER A. NIELSEN
THE ASCENDANCE TRILOGY
The False Prince
The Runaway King
The Shadow Throne
THE MARK OF THE THIEF TRILOGY
Mark of the Thief
Rise of the Wolf
Wrath of the Storm
A Night Divided The Scourge
Deadzone, Book Two in the Horizon series Behind Enemy Lines, Book Six in the Infinity Ring series
Copyright (c) 2018 by Jennifer A. Nielsen
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Nielsen, Jennifer A., author.
Title: The traitor's game / Jennifer A. Nielsen.
Description: First edition. | New York : Scholastic Press, 2018. | Summary:
After three years in exile Kestra Dallisor has been summoned back to Antora by her father, right-hand man of the seemingly immortal king, Lord Endrick, but she is intercepted and kidnapped by the Coracks who want to use her to get the Olden Blade, which they believe can be used to kill the despot--Simon, one of the rebels with his own grudge against the Dallisors, is assigned to accompany her, but Kestra has her own plans and she does not intend to let anyone get in her way.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017020257 | ISBN 9781338045376
Subjects: LCSH: Weapons--Juvenile fiction. | Conspiracies--Juvenile fiction. | Kidnapping--Juvenile fiction. | Friendship--Juvenile fiction. | Adventure stories. | CYAC: Weapons--Fiction. | Conspiracies--Fiction. | Kidnapping--Fiction. | Friendship--Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers--Fiction. | GSAFD: Adventure fiction. | LCGFT: Action and adventure fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.N5672 Tr 2018 | DDC 813.6 [Fic] --dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017020257
First edition, March 2018
Cover design by Christopher Stengel
Cover art (c) 2018 Billelis
e-ISBN 978-1-33804539-0
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Jennifer A. Nielsen, The Traitor's Game
(Series: # )
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