Free The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) by Victoria Grefer

I’d be interested in some offer you might have.
He said you’d find my visit a pleasant surprise.”
    Linstrom
observed, “It’s not your average man who doesn’t blink at the sight of three
incantations cast in a row.”
    Vane
responded, “ Mudar ,” and a box of
nails that had fallen to the floor flew up into Linstrom’s hand. “I’m not your
average man.”
    Linstrom
nodded in approval. “No wonder that cousin of yours thought we should meet.
Again, how much did he tell you?”
    “Mentioned
our meeting up wouldn’t be something the king would like, and left it there.”
That was the only safe answer to give. Anything more would paint Howar as
having a loose tongue.
    The man
called Terrance sneered. “And that brought you here from—Podrar, is it?”
    Vane’s new
accent. Rexson’s spy explained, “Ryne was cryptic enough to inspire the
journey, seeing as anything the king wouldn’t like is generally all right by
me.”
    Linstrom
asked, “And why would that be?”
    “Because His
Majesty’s a bloody fool, that’s why.”
    “In what
sense?” Linstrom demanded. “What’s your grudge? Most deem the man rules fairly
enough. He created the Magic Council. Supports the sorcerer-duke….”
    Vane sprang
at Linstrom. He pushed him back against the shelves, where folds of leather
tumbled down around them. “Don’t mention the Duke of Ingleton in front of me!
Do you know who I am? I’m the Duke of Yangerton’s bastard. Carson Amison’s, the
man Ingleton damn well butchered ten years back.”
    Linstrom
hazarded, “Yangerton was no sorcerer.”
    “I got my
magic from my mother. As for my father: Yangerton had his flaws, but he sent
her money through the years. When she fell ill, he started sending more. I
never met him, but I sure as hell respected him. Followed his work on the
Foreign Affairs Council.
    “My mother’s
health was going when that maniac slew Amison, and in cold blood. The money
stopped. I didn’t know magic then and I couldn’t afford a doctor, so she died.
Ingleton killed my mother when he killed Yangerton, that’s simple fact. As for
His Majesty tucked away in the Crystal Palace, well, he sees fit to accept
Ingleton as his personal lap dog of a sorcerer, doesn’t he?”
    Vane’s blood
went cold. He had indeed killed the Duke of Yangerton a decade back, after
casting a spell to trade places with August, a pregnant August, whom Yangerton
had been about to stab in the abdomen. Vane took the dagger instead, before
slicing open the monster’s chest with an incantation. He avoided referencing
the event whenever possible, and sensed that Terrance, if not Linstrom, would
gut him a second time at the slightest suspicion his story was cock and bull.
    Terrance
nodded in approbation of Vane’s hatred, while Linstrom adjusted his tunic and
pushed Vane against the door, an arm to his throat. “No one touches me, is that
clear? I will bleed you dry if you lay a hand on me again.”
    Vane forced
out some phrase that signaled he understood, and Linstrom released his
chokehold. Terrance asked, unmoved, “Got a name beyond Howar’s cousin?”
    “That
depends,” said Vane. “You got a job for me?”
    Linstrom
cast a quizzical eye over the newcomer. Vane stared right back, and Linstrom’s
lips stretched in a smirk. Good: the man’s last doubts were settled. He repeated,
“Do I have a job for you? Of a sort, Howar’s cousin. Of a sort. I can’t promise
payment in coin, but you’ll have your pick of the spoils.”
    “What
spoils?”
    “From this
area. Shops, homes: any place but the Temple. The Temple’s forbidden. I won’t
condone sacrilege.”
    Vane crossed
his arms and leaned back, letting out a slow, deliberate breath. “You planning
to attack Partsvale?”
    Linstrom
confided, “You don’t like the king’s choice of pets, it seems. I don’t like the
king. The man’s an utter fraud. Claims to champion the magicked, to strive for
their good, their integration into