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EPIC Award winning series!
On the mist-shrouded world of Ziem . . .
Eirlys Davorin, daughter of the "first family” of Ziem, feels ravaged by both the invasion of her peaceful world by the vicious Coalition and by newly discovered secrets that change her perception of everything she knows.
Brander Kalon uses his reputation as a scapegrace gambler to get close to the Coalition and aid the rebellion. Every risk he takes is fueled by the desire to buy the rebels enough time to cobble together a plan to end the invasion for good. He also finds himself facing the wrath of an independent young woman who feels betrayed by his deception, by her brother’s secret life as leader of the rebellion, and by their determination to keep her safe and out of harm’s way.
Eirlys clings to her burgeoning anger at what has been done to her world, and what those she had once trusted have kept from her. Only when she is at last free to fight back and join the rebellion does she begin to realize the true enormity of the battle they all face. And the kind of love it will take to survive.
Their chance to save the rebellion will hinge on the most dangerous gambit they’ve ever attempted . . . .
Author of more than sixty books (she sold her first ten in less than two years), Justine Dare Davis is a four-time winner of the coveted RWA RITA Award, and has been inducted into the RWA Hall of Fame. Her books have appeared on national bestseller lists, including
USA Today. She has been featured on CNN and has taught at several national and international conferences and at the UCLA writer’s program.
Find out more at her website and blog at justinedavis.com, Facebook at JustineDareDavis, or Twitter @Justine_D_Davis.
Coming Soon!
Chapter 1
THE
MIST MADE the ruined building look as if it still smoldered. Thin wisps swirled
here and there, appearing to rise like smoke before gradually blending with the
heavier layer above. The mist was thick and low today, as if in mourning for
the loss of what had once been the most popular stopping place in Zelos.
Brander Kalon felt a jab of sadness—and anger—himself, since he’d spent many an
hour in this taproom, sipping brew. And listening, ever listening, for no one
paid much mind to what they said in front of the man looking only for his next
game of chaser, never guessing who and what he really was.
"Insane.” Brander said it out loud,
kicking at a charred plank with a booted foot. He repeated the move, with more
vehemence. "Insane. I swear to Eos this entire planet has gone insane.”
There was a
movement behind him. Slowly, like a man distracted rather than afraid, he shoved
back the hair that always seemed to fall over his brow as he turned. He’d known
the man was there, had known the instant he’d arrived at the wreckage that had
once been the prosperous taproom, but it didn’t seem wise to let the commander
of the Coalition on Ziem know it. And this would make part of the plan even
better, to have the top Coalition officer witness his presence here just now.
He scowled
at his occasional chaser opponent. He gestured at the destruction around them,
retaliation for the decisive victory won by the man once known only as the
Raider, but now known to one and all as Drake Davorin, son of Ziem firebrand
Torstan Davorin and his pledged mate Iolana, a legend in her own right.
"Come to
see your handiwork?” Brander asked.
Major Caze
Paledan strolled through the wreckage as if he had all the time in the
universe.
"As it
happens,” he said in answer as he looked around, "it is not my handiwork. I’ve
only just returned today. That is not to say I would not have done the same.”
Brander
gave him a wry half smile, masking the fact that he’d known of the man’s
return; reports had come in from several of the spies now eagerly reporting to
the Raider in the wake of his greatest victory. He also noted that visiting
this scene had been high on the man’s priority list, to come his first day
back.
Brander
looked around again. They’d expected the Coalition to strike back at Drake in
the only way they could, but seeing the destruction firsthand was different
than knowing.
"This is
the first time I’ve had the stomach to come here,” he said, trying for equal
amounts of aggravation and bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t hard, for he felt
both in reality—over different things.
"The
Coalition is nothing if not thorough,” Paledan said, scanning the spot where
they had once had several vigorous games of chaser. It was now a pile of
rubble, the table they’d used reduced to dust and splinters.
Given what
he knew of Paledan, and of himself and his own hard-built reputation as an
idler and a gambler interested only in his next game, Brander had pondered this
approach, this reconnection, for a long time. Drake had argued with him, but
he’d been set on it despite the risk. They needed a source in Zelos, and with
Drake’s façade now as destroyed as this place, Brander was the best option.
He just
hadn’t expected that encounter to happen so soon, barely five minutes after he
had reached the city. He wondered if Paledan had someone watching what was left
of the taproom and the small house behind it that had been home to the Davorins
for the three years Drake had played his dangerous game.
"I should
have known you hadn’t ordered it,” Brander said now. "You wouldn’t be fool
enough to destroy the best taproom on Ziem just because the owner turned out to
be an idiot rebel. The idiot rebel.”
Paledan
came to a halt before him, looked at him consideringly before he said, "I was
under the impression that... idiot was your best friend.”
"So was I.”
Brander snorted. "I guess that makes me the idiot.”
"Are you
saying you did not know?”
"I’m saying
my supposed best friend keeps secrets like a planium safe.” He turned, kicked
at another chunk of wood, saw half a glass skitter away in the ash.
"One does
wonder how he did it.”
He whirled
on the man then. "One wonders what in hades else he lied about!”
"Being the
brigand known as the Raider was not enough?” Paledan asked mildly.
Damn, but
the man was unreadable. Just as when he was playing chaser, there were no
tells, no giveaways.
"I still
can’t believe it,” he muttered, making his way through the wreckage. "I
believed he’d broken, but I never thought him a fool.” No matter how well he
played the part of one, and a coward into the bargain.
"You don’t
find him admirable, as so many of your fellow citizens do?”
Sensing the
danger lurking in the question, Brander calculated answers as he turned back to
look at the man who was the final authority on the entire planet. Decided to
answer honestly; the man was too clever to lie to unless absolutely necessary.
Of course, the entire image Brander presented was a lie, but that façade was,
in fact, absolutely necessary. In his own way, he’d been living as much a lie
as Drake had been. Only the mask he wore was much closer to his true nature.
"If you’re
asking if I like the fact that the Coalition has taken over my world, the
answer is no. If you’re asking if I think it is in any way logical to try and
fight the Coalition with some tiny band of pitifully armed rebels, the answer
is also no.”
Paledan
smiled. Funny, Brander thought. The man was very different than the rest of the
Coalition officers stationed on Ziem, and hardly seemed even the same species
as the mindless troopers who marched to the Coalition tune in lockstep. Brander
was usually an excellent judge of people’s motivations and often able to
predict what they would do in various situations. But he didn’t understand what
made this man tick, and men he didn’t understand made him nervous.
"And yet
Drake Davorin has fought with that pitiful band of rebels,” Paledan said. "With
some success.”
Brander
calculated hastily. Should he agree? Disagree? Keeping in the character he’d
always shown to the man, he shrugged. "Some? He’s still alive. That’s total
success in my book.”
"You
sound... at least a little impressed.”
"That he’s
alive? No, that’s more amazed.” He shrugged again. "And add a little bit
rankled. My best friend, leading a secret life, a totally insane secret life?
How would you feel?”
"Not an
issue for me,” Paledan said, his tone cool.
Because it
wouldn’t bother him? Or because he didn’t have a best friend? Or any friends?
Brander had certainly never seen him with anyone, but as commander of all
forces on Ziem, he had to hold himself somewhat apart. Funny, he’d never
thought of how lonely being a leader could be until Drake had begun the resistance
with a handful of rebels who took their name from the Sentinel Mountain that
towered over Zelos. The few tastes he’d had of leading a Sentinel mission here
or there and sending people into a battle were the worst moments he’d ever
experienced in this fight. Well, that and Eirlys were the worst, but he wasn’t
letting his mind go there, not now. He needed all his wits about him to deal
with Paledan, and thoughts of Drake’s sister surely scrambled his head.
Brander put
on the most rueful expression he could manage, and made sure his voice matched.
"Probably not an issue,” he said wryly. "You could never be fooled for long
anyway.”
"It has
happened,” Paledan said, looking reflective rather than rueful. "But not
recently, no.”
Brander
gauged his next words carefully. More depended on them than any chaser bluff of
his life. "Did you suspect?”
Paledan
lifted a brow. He seemed surprised at the question. He shouldn’t have been,
given he had not only apparently believed Drake’s carefully constructed façade,
but had faced the Raider in person and not tumbled to the secret. But Paledan
didn’t know Brander knew that, had been present as protection for that meeting,
but out of sight. Besides, he doubted a Coalition major would admit he’d been
so fooled.
"Why would
I suspect when his best friend did not?”
Brander did
his best to look disgusted with himself. "I did not see what I didn’t want to
see.”
"And that
is why it does not pay.”
Brander’s
brow furrowed. "To trust?”
"To have
friends. It colors your judgment.”
Brander
stared at him. All pretense, all thought of the façade he was trying to
maintain vanished for a moment.
"What a
cold, lonely life you’ve chosen,” he said, his voice low.
Surprise
flashed across Paledan’s face, but only for an instant. There was a tinge of
bitterness in his voice when he said, "It was not my choice. It was chosen for
me.”
The moment
the words were out the cool, unreadable expression was back. And it seemed
impossible to Brander that he’d heard what he’d heard. He frowned.
"Did they
conscript you? I’d heard they did such but—”
"Why are
you here?” Paledan asked, cutting him off.
Brander
kicked at a beam that had collapsed directly across the entrance to the
storeroom, where not so long ago he had hidden while Drake had sacrificed
himself for his sister. That brute Jakel might be stupid, but he was also
shrewd, and he’d grabbed Eirlys knowing Drake would give himself up to keep her
safe.
And I let
him do it. For Eirlys.
He forced
his mind off that path. He’d come here in part to see if there was anything
left, in particular something Drake wanted, but that hadn’t been the only
reason. He just couldn’t put a name to the others.
He finally
answered Paledan’s question. "I’m not sure.”
"Thinking
you can’t trust your judgment anymore?”
Again he looked
at the man who was the commander of the enemy, the man who would no doubt be
eventually charged with the task of wiping the Sentinels off the planet now
that the rebels had taken out the fusion cannon and the Coalition’s ultimate
leverage over Ziem.
"Thinking,”
he said flatly, "I’d much rather just stick to playing chaser.” And that also
was pure truth.
"I, on the
other hand,” Paledan said in an idle tone that didn’t fool Brander for a
moment—nothing this man said was idle, "am wondering how he miraculously
recovered from Jakel’s ministrations in time to lead that raid.”
So he
either had not heard or put no stock in the rumors that the healer of the
mountain, the Spirit who dwelt above the Edge, had healed the grievously
wounded Raider. Brander wasn’t surprised; Caze Paledan didn’t seem the type to
believe in such mystical nonsense. Nor would he himself be, had he not been a
witness. He would sooner believe in blazers, the stone called the Heart of
Ziem, or even the lost tribe of the badlands.
"Maybe Jakel
isn’t as tough as he thinks he is,” Brander said.
Paledan
smiled. "Oh, he is not. I’ve seen his kind before.”
So he had
Jakel’s number too.
"But,” the
Coalition commander went on, "I also saw what was left of Drake Davorin when
Jakel got through with him.”
Brander’s
gaze narrowed, focused, although he already knew this from Drake himself. "Did
you?”
"Yes. I
would have sworn he was a hairsbreadth from death.”
He was.
Closer even.
"I guess
he’s tougher than he looks,” Brander said wryly, thinking of all the times
Drake had masqueraded as a broken weakling, not just resigned to serving their
Coalition masters but doing it with enthusiasm. "Or acts tougher.”
"Or he had
help.”
Brander
shrugged. "If he’s the Raider, he has people who would die for him.”
"But you do
not number yourself among them?”
"I prefer
living, thank you.”
That, he
knew, held the ring of truth because it was true. He had no desire, never had
had any desire, to set out on some idealistic crusade. He’d wanted only to live
his life, in the world he’d grown up in. He wasn’t averse to working, but he
played just as hard. That was, until the Coalition had arrived and undermined
the very foundation of Ziem’s culture, destroyed all expectations, and sent
them back to living in caves and ruins, scrabbling for food, frightened, and
defenseless. They’d been blasted back to the Creonic Age by weapons that
overwhelmed their minimal armory of hand blasters and their small, neglected
fleet of starfighters. Ziem hadn’t built anything more aggressive than a cargo
ship for eons, and they’d paid the price for that for these last dozen years.
Only since the rise of the Raider had they fought back—
On the
thought, the sound of a distant explosion rippled through the mist.
Speaking of, Brander
thought with an inward grin.
The Raider had struck
again.
