THE
EMPEROR’S WOLVES
Author:
Michelle Sagara
ISBN:
9780778309918
Publication
Date: 10/13/20
Publisher:
MIRA Books
Book Summary:
Set in
the bestselling world of The Chronicles of Elantra, THE EMPEROR'S WOLVES is a
prequel spin-off based on a fan-favorite character, and broadens the beloved
fantasy world with another action-packed tale of intrigue and magic.
As an
orphan scrounging in the lawless slums, young Severn Handred didn’t have the
luxury of believing in anything beyond his own survival. Now he’s crossed the
river and entered the heart of the empire: the city of Elantra. When Severn is
spotted tailing some lawmen of the Hawks—a not insignificant feat to go
otherwise undetected—the recruiter for the Imperial Wolves thinks he should
join their ranks. The Wolves are a small, select group that work within the
Halls of Law, reporting directly to the Eternal Emperor. Severn hopes to avoid
the law—he certainly had no intention of joining it.
In order
to become a wolf—even on probation—Severn must face the investigators most
dreaded throughout the Empire: The Tha’alani, readers of minds. No secret is
safe from their prying, no knowledge can remain buried. But Severn’s secret,
never shared before, is not enough to prevent the Wolves from adopting him as
one of their own. All men have secrets, after all. Severn’s first job will be
joining a hunt, but between the treacherous politics of the High Court, the
almost unnatural interest of one of the Lords, and those who wish long-held
secrets to remain buried forever, the trick will be surviving it.
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Excerpt Sneak Peek:
CHAPTER ONE
ELLUVIAN OF DANARRE DID NOT LIKE THRONE rooms.
For much of his life,
throne rooms and audience chambers had been a grueling exercise in humiliation;
humiliation was always the outcome when one had no power. His presence in a
throne room was meant to emphasize that utter lack of power. He was called. He
came. He stood—or knelt—at the foot of the platform that led to the raised
throne.
There he had
remained, while the disappointment of his lord made itself known.
There were
significant differences between this throne room, this audience chamber, and
the throne room of his youth. An act of war had given him a freedom he had
never before possessed.
And the actor in that
action occupied the current throne as a force of nature, uneasily caged by
masks of civility and mundane governance. Elluvian had been announced; he had
been given permission—or an order—to approach the Imperial Presence. His steps
across the runner that covered worked stone were as loud as his breathing.
Before him sat the
Eternal Emperor, Dariandaros of the Ebon Flight. Neither name had been used by
any of the Emperor’s subjects for centuries. Elluvian, however, remembered. The
only freedom he had ever known had occurred because of war. At the end of the
third war, the Dragon Emperor had demanded oaths of allegiance from each and
every Barrani adult who had survived it and intended to live within the
boundaries of the Empire.
Elluvian had offered
his willingly. He had offered it without reservation. Had the Emperor demanded
Elluvian swear a blood oath, a binding oath, he would have done so without
hesitation. The Emperor did not demand his True Name. Anything else, he could
live with. Nonbinding oaths were just words.
He knelt.
“Rise,” the Emperor
said. The undercurrents of his voice filled the vaulted ceilings above with a
distinctly draconic rumble. Elluvian obeyed, meeting the Emperor’s gaze for the
first time; the Dragon’s eyes were orange, but the orange was tinged with gold.
No discussion between
Emperor and subject was private. The Imperial guard and the Imperial aides were
omnipresent; an Imperial secretary or three were positioned by the throne to
take notes where notes were necessary.
“Approach the
throne.”
Elluvian was aware
that of all the Barrani—each forced to offer an oath of allegiance to the
Emperor directly—only a handful were allowed to approach the throne. It was not
considered, by most of his kin, an honor. Were any of those disapproving kin to
be present, they would have obeyed regardless. Just as Elluvian did.
The Imperial guards
stepped back.
“You look peaked, old
friend,” the Emperor said, when the guards were standing as far from the
Emperor as they were willing to go.
“You did not summon
me here to discuss my health.”
“Ah, no. But I have
been informed that I lack certain social graces, and it seems incumbent on me
to practice.”
Elluvian raised a
brow. His eyes were blue; Barrani blue denoted many things. At the moment, he
was annoyed. Annoyed and tired.
“Very well. The Halls
of Law seem to be having some minor difficulty.” When Elluvian failed to reply,
the Emperor continued. “In particular, and of interest to you, the difficulty
involves the Wolves.” Of course it did. The Halls of Law were divided into
three distinct divisions: the Hawks, the Swords, and the Wolves. The only
division of relevance to Elluvian was the Wolves.
Elluvian exhaled.
“Again.”
“Indeed.” The
Emperor’s eyes remained orange; the orange, however, did not darken toward red,
the color of Dragon anger.
Elluvian bowed his
head for one long moment. His eyes, he knew, were now the blue of anger and
frustration. In a life considered, by the youthful Barrani and Dragon kin,
long, failure was not the worst thing to happen to him. But consistent failure
remained humiliating—and no Barrani wished their failures dissected by Dragons.
He struggled to contain emotion, to submerge it.
In this, too, he
failed.
“I have never
understood why you wish to create this division of mortal Wolves. We have power structures developed over a longer
stretch of time, and we have not descended to barbarism or savagery. Those who
have power rule those who do not.”
“That is what the
animals do. Those with power rule those with less. We are not animals.”
Elluvian’s mood was
dark enough, the sting of failure dragging it down in a spiral that had no good
end. Humans, who comprised the vast majority of mortals within the Empire, were
one step up from animals, with their unchanging, fixed eye colors, their ability
to propagate, their short, inconsequential lives.
“I do not understand
the Empire you are attempting to build. I have never understood it, and the
centuries I have spent observing it have not surrendered answers.” The
admission of ignorance was costly.
For a man who
professed not to want to rule by power, his form of communication was
questionable. He commanded, and those who had survived the wars and sworn
personal loyalty to the Emperor—most Barrani, given the sparsity of Dragons by
that time—obeyed.
Elluvian had been
summoned. The summons was, in theory, an invitation, but Elluvian was not
naive. The oath of service had weight and meaning to both the Emperor who had
demanded it and the man who had offered that vow.
Mortals were not a
threat to either the Barrani or the Dragons, but many of the Imperial systems
of governance—the Emperor’s word—were most concerned with those very mortals.
The Emperor had created the Halls of Law, with Swords and Hawks to police the
mortals who vastly outnumbered those who rose above time and age. He had also
created the Wolves.
“No,” the Emperor
replied.
Excerpted from The Emperor’s Wolves
by Michelle Sagara, Copyright © 2020 by Michelle Sagara Published
by MIRA Books
Author Bio:
Michelle Sagara is an author,
bookseller, and lover of literature based in Toronto. She writes fantasy
novels and lives with her husband and her two children, and to her regret has
no dogs. Reading is one of her life-long passions, and she is sometimes paid
for her opinions about what she’s read by the venerable Magazine of Fantasy and
Science Fiction. No matter how many bookshelves she buys, there is Never
Enough Shelf space. Ever.
Social
Links:
Twitter: @msagara
Facebook: @MMSagara
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