The cover reveal for my debut fantasy novel, City of Reckoning, is finally here! City of Reckoning is a secondary-world fantasy about group of young people who get caught up in a war, but begin to wonder if they’re fighting for the wrong side.

Featuring winged people, wolf companions, and epic journeys, City of Reckoning is a dark, violent story that deals with trauma, revolution, and revenge. (Also, fair warning: No characters in this book are safe!)

To celebrate the cover reveal and launch of pre-orders*, I’m sharing an excerpt from the book. Scroll down to read Chapter 1 for free!

*Note: Pre-orders are currently only available for eBook, but pre-orders for print are coming soon!

Read Chapter 1

(TW: Sexual assault)

Kindy knew she shouldn’t be on this side of town. Especially in the dead of night. Especially alone.

But it had never stopped her before.

Streaks of starlight and ekralight knifed through the dense clouds and glinted on wet, cobblestone streets, barely illuminating her way. Kindy tugged her cloak tighter around her lanky frame, adjusting her hood against the chilly air. Shadows clung to the crooked stone walls of tightly-packed houses. The lingering smell of rain hung in the air from a recent downpour, now past. She stepped over a puddle, her long dress trailing in grimy water, her flat shoes pattering against the wet ground.

A man and a woman, both dressed in swaths of sheer, revealing linen that couldn’t have been comfortable on a bitter night like tonight, stood outside an open shop. Lulling stringed music, drunken laughter, and a delectable, sweet incense that seemed to imbue pleasure all drifted from the glowing windows. The prostitutes’ eyes, painted with thick black lines that curled at the sides of their heads, trailed Kindy’s furtive movements.

“Good evening, chasur,” the man crooned.

Kindy’s gaze flitted from the male prostitute to the female, and then sharply away, embarrassment burning her cheeks. An uneasy feeling clawed at her stomach. How had he recognized her nobility? She frowned down at her cloak, decorated at the hems with geometric patterns and fastened at the top with a large, expensive brooch. Probably a poor choice.

Fear fluttered through her. As a sixteen-year-old nobleman’s daughter… this was not where she should be. She’d heard rumors, horror stories, of the crimes that sometimes happened in these streets in the middle of night.

But determination hardened her jaw and lead her forward like a steel arrow. She let out a steadying breath.

You’ve done this before, she reminded herself. She forced her steps to lengthen into a confident stride, feeling her cloak billow loosely behind her. You can do it again.

Still, all the other times she’d traversed these streets, it’d been during the day—when there was a greater risk of being seen by someone she knew, but at least the only criminals she had to worry about were pickpockets.

At night, the city of Taevro was almost unfamiliar. Her breath sounded unnaturally loud in the eerie stillness of the street, especially as the brothel music faded behind her. Water dripped, steady, rhythmic, from one of the angled, thatched roofs. As she rounded a corner, a whispering breeze swayed a broken shutter on its hinge, squeaking as it dangled from its wooden frame.

She heard a scuffling of footsteps behind her. Kindy glanced back, heart pattering. For a second, she oddly expected to see one of the prostitutes, but the back of her neck prickled when no one was there.

Just the wind, she thought unconvincingly, rubbing her arms. But her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She suddenly wished she’d snagged a dagger from her brother, even if she hadn’t the faintest idea how to use one.

After a long, thorough stare into the shadows, she continued down the damp street, glancing frequently behind her. She kept her ears perked for any movement. Almost there, Kindy. Almost there.

Relief flooded her when she finally spotted her destination ahead: A rusty wooden sign picturing a black flask. She checked one more time to ensure she was truly alone, then leaned her weight against the door and slipped quietly inside.

In the warmth and security of the shop she knew so well, she let herself relax a little. The place was dimly lit with golden candlelight, and cluttered with tables and shelves filled with colored vials and haphazard stacks of bottles. Open scrolls lined the floor, their pages stained with spills, and strings of strange glass flasks hung from rafters in the ceiling.

Kindy lowered her hood. Thick brown hair tumbled out around her shoulders.

“Hellooo,” she called, stepping over a pile of discarded vials and flinching as she avoided broken glass. She still made a poor placement of her foot and somehow tripped over herself, colliding with a shelf. The whole thing rocked, glass bottles trembling in their places. One glass toppled over and shattered loudly on the floor, before she could regain her balance and stabilize the shelf with both hands. She grimaced. “Uh… it’s me… Kindy.”

A woman popped up behind one of the tables, making Kindy shriek.

“Raena! You scared me.” She slapped a gloved hand over her heart, breathing hard.

The apothecary grinned at her with that typical, wild look in her eyes. Dark mangy hair framed her tawny face.

“Apologies, lass,” she said toothily. “I didn’t hear ya come in.” Obviously she didn’t care about the bottle. “Will it be the usual?”

Kindy glared at her, tense after her anxiety-ridden walk through town, and flustered from just colliding with a shelf. Of course she wanted the usual order. What else would it ever be?

Raena, unlike most people, was unaffected by icy looks. She continued as if Kindy had given her a regular “yes,” and disappeared behind a stack of shelves, humming to herself off-key as she rummaged through glass bottles and flasks.

As she waited, Kindy drummed her fingers on the table. How things had changed since the first day she came here, a year and a half ago. She had been only fifteen at the time. Terrified. Trapped by a horrific, inescapable future. She had secretly come for pain medicine, too ashamed to tell her parents what she had almost done to herself, no longer able to bear her self-imposed wounds.

But when she broke down in front of the apothecary, Raena had tried to comfort her. She spoke soothingly to her. She listened. No one had ever… listened to her like that.

Her throat tightened at the memory. Her finger-drumming slowed.

It had just been one dose. Raena gave her one dose. It’ll make you feel better, she had promised. And oh, had her promise delivered.

Kindy had sworn to herself she wouldn’t do it again. Not more than once or twice.

But then the cravings started.

She stiffened when Raena returned from her forage, holding a small, brown-red pouch. There was no compassion in the apothecary’s eyes now.

But Kindy no longer cared.

She reached inside her cloak, counting the appropriate number of coins from the larger pouch in her waistband. She swallowed a pang of guilt. Most noble girls in Dorina spent their allowance on shoes, specially tailored gowns and dresses, and lavish accessories, all in the latest fashions. Her parents had no idea that she spent most of her money on… well, her secret.

She dropped the coins, letting them rattle on the wood table. Raena snatched them up, smiling crookedly as she tasted their copper edges, and clucked her tongue. A scrawny, hairy cat jumped up onto the table. It squinted its shining eyes at Kindy, giving a low, threatening meow, as Raena tucked the coins into a bag around its neck. Raena stroked the cat’s arching back, and it purred.

Kindy grabbed the brown-red pouch, but as soon as she fastened it to her belt, her stomach clenched with nausea. One hand flew to her belly, and the other gripped the edge of the table, steadying herself. She exhaled slowly, head bowed, waiting for the feeling to pass.

“Are you all right, lass?”

Kindy grit her teeth. Like you care, she thought. Instead she said out loud, “Give me more of that nectar, too.”

“Mmm,” Raena said, compressing her lips with that enigmatic look that usually came when she was about to make a load of money. She produced a palm-sized vial of thick yellow liquid, seemingly out of nowhere, as if she’d placed it nearby expecting she’d need it. “That’s twelve more coppers ‘an usual. It’s off season.”

Kindy muttered an offhand curse and handed over the coins. She had the vague, dizzying sensation that she was paying in her own blood, not in expendable allowance money.

After taking a sip of the disgustingly sweet syrup, she straightened, tucked the vial in her belt with her new pouch, and staggered for the door, gaining composure again as she grabbed the wooden doorframe. It would take a few minutes for the medicine to fully ease her stomach pain, but already she could feel it dulling, at least enough to walk.

“Night.” She opened the door and frowned. It was raining again. Little droplets bounced on the doorframe and splattered on the floor.

“Night… is a strange thing,” Raena croaked.

Her statement made Kindy pause.

“Especially this time of night,” the apothecary continued. “Especially this side of town. Especially if you’re a lovely little girl like yourself… all alone.”

Kindy peered at her, flashed a mysterious, amused smile, and hitched her hood over her head before stepping outside.

As soon as she shut the door behind her, she shivered. With the steady rain assaulting her, the cold night was especially uncomfortable.

Just walk quickly, she told herself, crossing her arms and hunching against the cold. She still felt a lingering sense of sickness, and looked forward to curling up in her warm bed. Just get back home.

For the next few blocks, she scuffled in the rain, her footsteps the only sign of life in the dank, dismal street. Ekra, the ringed orb many times larger than the sun, hid its face now behind a sheet of clouds and rainfall, but the deepening darkness was no problem for Kindy. In an instant, her eyes adjusted, and her vision cut through the shadows with unnatural, abnormal clarity.

As she passed the brothel, she pulled her hood lower over her face, afraid someone might see the catlike glint in her eyes that revealed her for what she was.

She was already several blocks past the brothel when she heard laughter behind her.

Kindy’s heart skipped a beat, and she plastered her back against a wall in the shadow of a low, overhanging roof. Without moving, she watched a group of young men emerge from an alley like wolves slinking out of a cave.

There were three of them. They must have been in their late teens, or maybe early twenties. They were all dressed in black, like her, but with masks, too, that covered everything but their eyes.

One thing was clear: Just like her, these men were not in this side of town for good reasons.

Slowly, she eased sideways, her eyes still fixed on them. They didn’t see her—did they? As far as she could tell, they weren’t looking at her.

She stepped covertly around the corner and hurried away, her steps quick and light. She heard their laughter again and glanced back.

The men were following her.

Her heart galloped, her mind racing with a thousand horrors. Just keep walking, she told herself. She tried to breathe. She scanned the street, eyes locking on a pile of crates half a block away. Just keep walking.

She looked back again.

They were still following her.

Their pace was quickening, too. Deliberate.

Trembling, she took a few more steps, and glanced behind her one more time.

Then she broke into a run.

Beelining toward the crates, she fumbled with the brooch of her cloak. She could hear the men running after her, their steps splashing in the wet street, their laughter taking a wicked, taunting tone. She couldn’t snap off the brooch; her hands were shaking, her fingers numb, the clasp slippery. The crates were still too far away—

Someone grabbed her. She started to scream, but a strong hand from behind clamped over her mouth. She struggled to pull away.

“Don’t scream,” said a smooth, lilting voice. That voice. She knew that voice. How did she know that voice? “No one is going to save you,” the voice continued, showing pure enjoyment in her terror.

She writhed against sturdy arms, but more came to hold her fast, pinning her against the wall. Shock and panic seized her with a death grip, making it hard to think. She tried to cry out, but her voice was muffled against her captor’s hand.

“Come here,” that spine-tingling, familiar voice said. “Let’s see your face.”

The other two men laughed. Her captor began to turn her around, into the relative light.

The terror of being identified stirred something deep and primal within her, as if a beast had been awakened, animated from the cold ashes of her mind. Rage flashed through her, hot and thick like a surging fire.

And that something in her snapped.

Claws tore out from the tips of Kindy’s fingers, bursting through her gloves. She slashed her claws across her captor’s face with a feral hiss; he pulled back, crying out in pain, and covered his right cheek as blood seeped through his fingers.

Another man, confused by her outburst, tried to grab her again, but she tore a deep slice across his arm. He sprang back with a startled shout. Seizing upon her moment of freedom, she dashed past the third man, who actually leapt away from her.

Kindy sprinted like a madwoman for the crates, unable to believe she’d actually done it—she’d used her claws! She’d used them! Defended herself! A thrill of dark satisfaction swelled in her, until she glanced back—and saw the young man she first injured charging after her, hand still pressed against his cheek, his cold blue eyes flashing with fury.

Wildly, she clambered up the stack of crates, slipping twice as they groaned and shifted beneath her, and hurriedly fumbled with her brooch again. Blood coated her fingers, mixing with rainwater, making it almost impossible to come free.

The man was three paces away, hand outstretched.

Come on! she begged desperately. Come on!

The man grabbed her cloak, just as the clasp finally came undone, and the cloak fell from her shoulders—

—revealing membranous, bat-like wings, which she spread as she leapt to the air—

—leaving her attackers, bewildered, in the street below.

Her small wings weren’t strong enough yet to lift her high, but with a couple shaky, unstable flaps she rose above the gutters, banked right, and collapsed in an awkward heap onto the slanted rooftop. Her body instantly slid, her feet dangling over the edge, but she stabbed the thatch with the two claws at the top of her wings, halting her descent. Frantically, she crawled up the incline, reaching the peak of the roof in seconds.

Glancing back, she saw the slashed-face man still standing there, her cloak hanging limply in his hand. He lowered the hand from his bloody cheek and watched in astonishment as she slunk down the other side of the roof, disappearing into the murky night.

Get City of Reckoning

City of Reckoning comes out September 21, 2021. Meanwhile, you can pre-order the eBook, add it on Goodreads, or sign up to be one of the first people with access to ARCs!

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