They say the Lady of the Realm is the reason for all our troubles. That she's why my family now lays six feet beneath the frozen earth. That it wasn’t the seeds that didn’t take, or the raiders that gutted them, but a woman atop the tallest tower set upon the tallest mountain who said it was their time. They say she's all-powerful; strong enough to slay a hundred men with nothing more than an errant twitch. They say that only fools are fearless. I’m not afraid. Not one bit.

Slayer Horsun is not a kind woman. She is a mercenary sanctioned by the Lady’s cruel magicks; a sellsword whose blade bends to the fattest coin purse. Her cruelty is bartered between tongues and smuggled across borders; a callousness rumoured able to stain the very sky black with her crimes. Ruthless killer. Savage monster. Loving mother. Her daughter is the only family she has left, and there is nothing she wouldn’t do for her. But Dagny is nothing like her. She knows nothing of the desperate measures taken to keep her safe. Or else she is ignorant, unwilling to see the harshness of the world’s true face. Both have become comfortable. Complacent in their ways. They do not see the treachery afoot; they hardly see past one another.