By Megan Whalen Turner
Sophos, inheritor to the throne of Sounis, has disappeared with out a hint. Eugenides, the recent and not likely king of Attolia, hasn't ever stopped brooding about what occurred to his buddy. Nor has the Queen of Eddis, who as soon as provided Sophos her hand. They ship spies. They pay informants. They attract the gods. yet as time is going by way of, it turns into much less and not more yes that they're going to ever see their buddy alive back.
Battles are fought, bribes are provided, and conspiracies are set in movement. around the sea, a ruthless empire watches for even the slightest weak point. And Sophos, nameless and on my own, bides his time. till, drawing on his stories of Gen, Pol, the magus—and Eddis—Sophos units out on an event that might swap all in their lives without end.
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Extra info for A Conspiracy of Kings (The Queen's Thief, Book 4)
His tongue appeared in the open O of his mouth. He made a noise. “Ack,” it sounded like. A sickly flush began to rise into his brown cheeks. About one second had passed since I’d thrown my kick. Finally, Chunky was beginning to realize that things were going wrong. “Hey . . ” he started. “Shut up,” I said. “Shut up and listen. I can kill him now. You hear me? ” “Ack! ” said Rat Face, struggling weakly in my grip. ” Chunky yelled. “Let go of him! ” Scared now, he started backing away from me, toward the door.
Maybe they’d fall down while I was hopping around . . I forced the thoughts away. I arranged myself into what’s called the front position: feet together, arms lifted in front of me, hands together just in front of my chin. My right hand was in a fist to represent the power of the yang, or masculine principle; the left hand was open and covered the fist to represent the restraint of the yin, or feminine principle. Power through self-discipline: that’s what karate is all about. I stood like that for a long second.
I said—and he stopped. I turned back to Rat Face. “One . . ” I said. Rat Face’s frantic hands fumbled their way to the strap on my right wrist. It took him a second to steady his fingers enough to do the job. A second later, the strap came loose. Heaving the right side of my body up off the chair, I hurled Rat Face across the room. He smashed hard into the chest of drawers and collapsed to the floor. He lay there, panting, clutching his throat with one hand and his midsection with the other.