Welcome! I'm happy to be sharing an excerpt from this YA fantasy with you today. Read on below...
Royal Spy
(Fate of Eyrinthia #2)
By Heather Frost
YA Fantasy, Romance
Hardcover & ebook, 467 Pages
May 20, 2021
Summary
A DECOY recruited to be a spy.
A PRINCE compelled to become an assassin.
A SERJAH pressured by an unwanted crown.
A WORLD covered in shadows.
Mere months ago, Clare was just a kitchen maid. Now, she is a decoy for Princess Serene and a novice spy, caught in the royal family's web of secrets. While journeying to Mortise to finalize the princess’s betrothal to Serjah Desfan, Clare lives for the stolen moments she has with Bennick, the bodyguard who is quickly claiming her heart. But when a notorious assassin is hired to kill her, Clare’s life and the alliance hang in the balance.
In Ryden, Grayson prepares to leave for Mortise with his brother, Liam. Their orders are to ignite a war between their enemies, and Grayson has been tasked with assassinating Princess Serene. It may cost his soul, but he is ready to comply, as long as he gets something in return: freedom for Mia, the girl he loves. But the more time he spends with his brother, the more he begins to wonder if Liam is what Grayson wishes he had the courage to be . . . a traitor.
Desfan feels trapped. By his disapproving council, his impending marriage to a stranger, and the imminent arrival of enemy princes who may not want the peace they profess. When a dangerous drug threatens his people, Desfan jumps at the chance to rely on his swords instead of politics. But his investigation uncovers more than he bargained for—a plot that may destroy Mortise from within.
Eyrinthia hovers on the edge of war. Spies. Rebels. Traitors. All must choose a side.
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EXCLUSIVE scene from Bennick’s POV: The Decoy and the Bodyguard
Bennick is a royal bodyguard, prepared for anything—except Clare Ellington. THE DECOY AND THE BODYGUARD follows Bennick and Clare during their first day together, but from Bennick’s POV. Of course, things go terribly wrong . . .
Excerpt: Warehouse Raid, Part 3
The man surprised him with a flash of his fist, and knuckles smashed Desfan’s nose. Cartilage cracked and blood spurted. Desfan gasped at the sharp pain, one sword falling as his hand instinctively flashed to his throbbing nose. Broken. His nose was broken.
Fates, not again.
The watering in his eyes distorted his vision, but he still saw the man’s meaty fist fly for his jaw. He cursed and spun to the right, his shoulders bumping against the wall.
He tensed as the man raised his sword, and he knew he would need to go for the man’s exposed gut. It was his life, or the criminal’s.
Desfan’s fingers flexed around the hilt of his remaining sword, but before he could strike a deathblow, his attacker suddenly jerked forward, his expression freezing, then slackening. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he rocked forward.
Desfan kicked him back so the large body wouldn’t crush him and the smuggler hit the floor, dead.
Several paces away, Karim’s arm slowly lowered, clearly having just thrown the knife that had saved Desfan’s life.
Karim was tall, trim, and his dark hair was pulled into a knot at the back of his head. His belt was weighed down with a creative assortment of knives. His beard was short and framed his angular face, which was generally locked in a smooth expression that gave away nothing.
At this moment, he’d traded that stoicism for a fierce glare.
Desfan swiped the back of his wrist under his bleeding nose, blinking rapidly to keep his vision from clouding. “Hello, Karim. How are you?”
His bodyguard’s thick eyebrows pulled tightly together. “I’m going to kill you.”
Desfan snorted—and immediately grabbed his nose. Fates, that hurt.
Karim growled as he stalked forward. “Did you break your nose? Again?”
“I had help.” Desfan lowered his hand, still cringing at the pain. He nudged the dead smuggler’s boot with his own. “I was trying to keep him alive.”
“That’s what I keep saying about you, despite all your efforts to get yourself killed.”
Desfan snatched up his fallen sword and sheathed them both, the twin blades hissing into place against his back. He wiped again at his nose and looked beyond Karim to see the fighting was over. Soldiers secured prisoners as Kiv Arcas scanned the room. The older man’s eyes flared wide when he spotted Desfan’s bloody face. “Serjah!” He darted forward, and Desfan barely smothered a groan.
Karim spun on the kiv before he could get too close, and the older man withered a little under his glare. “You let him come on a fates-blasted raid? Are you insane? He’s the future serjan!”
“It’s not his fault,” Desfan said, his tone a little nasal. “I made him.”
Karim ignored that, his glare still on the kiv.
Arcas’s throat bobbed almost violently as he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t sure—He insisted, and I—”
Karim shoved a finger in the man’s face. “Never. Again. Understood?”
Karim was a man of few words, but he usually made them count.
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