The Sins on Their Bones: Book one of The Cursed Crown series (The Cursed Crown Duology, Band 1) - Softcover

Buch 1 von 2: The Cursed Crown Duology

Samotin, Laura R.

 
9781039007567: The Sins on Their Bones: Book one of The Cursed Crown series (The Cursed Crown Duology, Band 1)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1039007562 ISBN 13: 9781039007567
Verlag: Random House of Canada, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

Set in a Jewish folklore-inspired reimagining of 19th century Eastern Europe, this LGBTQ+ dark fantasy debut pits two estranged husbands and a daring spymaster on opposite sides of a civil war. Perfect for fans of Leigh Bardugo, C.S. Pacat, and readers who love deliciously queer, spicy fantasy.

Two men. One cursed crown. And a love that could burn an empire to the ground.

Dimitri Alexeyev used to be the Tzar of Novo-Svitsevo. Now, he is merely a broken man, languishing in exile after losing a devastating civil war instigated by his estranged husband, Alexey Balakin. In hiding with what remains of his court, Dimitri and his spymaster, Vasily Sokolov, engineer a dangerous ruse. Vasily will sneak into Alexey’s court under a false identity to gather information, paving the way for the usurper’s downfall, while Dimitri finds a way to kill him for good.

But stopping Alexey is not so easy as plotting to kill an ordinary man. Through a perversion of the Ludayzim religion that he terms the Holy Science, Alexey has died and resurrected himself in an immortal, indestructible body—and now claims he is guided by the voice of God Himself. Able to summon forth creatures from the realm of demons, he seeks to build an army, turning Novo-Svitsevo into the greatest empire that history has ever seen.

Dimitri is determined not to let Alexey corrupt his country, but saving Novo-Svitsevo and its people will mean forfeiting the soul of the husband he can’t bring himself to forsake—or the spymaster he’s come to love.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

LAURA R. SAMOTIN and her spouse live with two enormously large felines. When she’s not pursuing her academic research on military tactics, power politics, and leadership, she relishes her role as a full-time cat servant.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

CHAPTER ONE

DIMITRI

Dimitri pulled the velvet dressing gown tighter around his bare chest to ward off the chill from the nighttime breeze.
     As he moved, vodka sloshed out of the goblet he held, splashing onto the cobblestones of the street below. He drained the rest of the alcohol in one long swig, then let the crystal drop from his fingers in a tinkle of shattering glass. A disgruntled shout sounded from below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Perched on the roof of the townhouse as he was, it wasn’t like anyone could scale up the facade to reprimand him.
     Although at this point, it would’ve been preferable to face an angry citizen of Wilnetzk—maybe even preferable to get into a light fistfight—than to be alone with his thoughts for one second longer.
   You always were a weak one, Alexey murmured in his ear, the memory of his voice low and smooth as silk. You never had what it takes to rule.
     Dimitri wished he had thought to bring the entire bottle onto the roof with him. Copious amounts of vodka were the only thing that would silence Alexey’s voice on nights like this, the only thing that would stop him from feeling like his beating heart was being ripped out of his rib cage and devoured.
     The window creaked and Dimitri jumped, half expecting Alexey to be leaning over the sill, his shirtsleeves rolled up in that familiar, intoxicating way of his, pointing a pistol at his head.
     But it was only Annika who slipped through, her silk dressing gown whispering over the shingles. “Moy Tzar,” she said, dipping her chin, as if he still sat on a throne. As if they weren’t two best friends, perched on the roof of a shabby townhome in a disgusting, backward city, all because his piss-poor choices had led them here.
     “Are you here to tell me off for being on the roof?” He tried unsuccessfully to stop his teeth from grinding together.
     “I’m here to find out why you’re not in bed,” she replied. “I could hear the creaking of the roof from the second story of the house. Not to mention the little explosion you just created.” She winced and shame washed through him. His highest-ranking general, the woman who had led his armies, his brightest and best soldier, still hated sudden loud noises almost a year after the end of the war.
     Her long, dark curls whipped across her copper skin in the icy wind, and he reached out to brush them behind her ear in apology. She leaned into the touch, then nudged him over so she could scoot off the window ledge and onto the roof proper.
     “Couldn’t sleep,” Dimitri replied. “Nightmares. I needed fresh air.”
     “Most people who can’t sleep and need fresh air take a walk, not sit on the roof like an overgrown crow.” Her tone was light and teasing—she was always cheerful, even when he wanted her to rage at him—but she threaded her hand through his and gave it a squeeze. Annika had always looked out for him, even when he didn’t want to be looked after. Even when giving him a little push off the roof would bring such an easy end to all their troubles. They could bury his corpse and perhaps then he would finally find a moment’s peace.
     She looked at him, furrowing her brow. “The nightmares. Was it him?”
     “Always,” Dimitri said. “It’s always him.” He pulled a match and a cigarette out of his dressing gown’s pocket. Disgusting habit, he heard an echo of his father’s voice say. Not befitting a member of the royal family.
     Dimitri dragged the end of the cigarette against his lips, then lit it with shaking fingers and inhaled. It was a delicious way of saying fuck you to his father’s memory. The old bastard shouldn’t have gone and died if he hadn’t wanted his third son to shit on his memory.
     “Are you sure they’re just dreams?” Annika plucked the cigarette out of his fingers. “Just nightmares and not portents?” She fingered the bone amulet she wore around her neck, the one she always claimed kept demons at bay, the one she clung to as she warred with her fear and guilt before every battle. Her family may have been followers of modern Ludayzim like Dimitri, but she still clung to some of the old ways, the ones with their roots in folktales and superstition. He’d never had the heart to point out that even with all her rituals and charms and protections, everything was still fucked to hell anyway.
     She brought the cigarette to her own lips, the tip glowing like a star in the dark when she took a drag. It was the only star that Dimitri would see tonight, with the fog and soot that always hung over Wilnetzk. One couldn’t see the stars here, not like home.
   Home.
     Ever since the end of the war, ever since he had exiled himself, the thought of home was like a bullet lodged next to his heart, one beat away from killing him.
     Dimitri bit the knuckle of his left index finger. His hand felt so light now, without his wedding ring. So empty. Wrong. “It’s not a warning,” he said, letting out a long, slow breath. “I’d know the difference between a nightmare and a missive from the Lord, Anna. These are fueled by regrets, not the hand of God.”
     Annika handed him back the cigarette with a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not your fault, you know. Scream, cry, rage at the Almighty. Let yourself fall apart. You are allowed to grieve. You are allowed to let the pain of this bring you to your knees and lay you bare. It’s been a year, Dima, and I’ve never once seen you fall to pieces.” The pity in her eyes made him flinch. “You’re going to have to forgive yourself eventually. It’s been long enough.”
     “Pray tell,” he bit back, “how long is it supposed to take to forgive oneself for dooming one’s country to the rule of a raving madman, killing hundreds of thousands in a war that one lost—badly—and then running off like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs to save one’s own sorry hide?” He stubbed the cigarette out on the back of his own hand and relished the searing burn. He felt so little worth feeling, these days, that sometimes pain was a relief.
     “Not all of us can have good taste in who we bring to bed,” Annika mumbled under her breath.
     And suddenly, Dimitri wasn’t on the roof of a townhouse in Wilnetzk. He was in the palace library, lying on the floor, his feet propped up on a stack of books, his knees falling open, his desire evident, heat coiling in his belly at Alexey’s predatory gaze. Alexey’s hand on his chest, pinning him down, the other opening his vest and then his shirt button by button, trailing a line of kisses down to his waistband that left him burning. Alexey’s mouth on him, his fingers curled into Alexey’s hair as he silently urged him for more . . .
     Dimitri shook his head, clearing the ghost of old desire from his body. The last time he had seen Alexey, they were standing on opposite sides of a bloody battlefield. His pistol had been raised, aimed right at Alexey’s heart, and he had failed to shoot. Because even if Alexey had become something worse than a...

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Verlag
Random House of Canada
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1039007562
ISBN 13 
9781039007567
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
416
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Yeepin GmbH
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