I got a very exciting email from Harper Collins about an exciting new book by Lindsay Cummings, and now I get to share the gorgeous cover, title and an extract!
Just look at those colours! The blurb and extract are below. I'm really excited about this one! Thank you to Harper Collins for asking me to help spread the word.
Her destiny was death. The shadows brought
her back.
Wrongly accused of her brother’s murder,
Sonara’s destiny was to die, sentenced to execution by her own mother. Punished
and left for dead, the shadows have cursed her with a second life as a
Shadowblood, cast out and hunted by society for her demon-like powers.
Now known as the Devil of the Deadlands, Sonara
survives as a thief on the edge of society, fighting for survival on a quest to
uncover what really happened to her brother and whether he is even dead at all…
Blood
Metal Bone is the
astounding new novel from New York Times bestselling author Lindsay
Cummings. This is the perfect adrenaline-packed read for fans of Leigh
Bardugo’s Six of Crows, The Mandalorian and Sarah J Maas’ Throne
of Glass series.
To
celebrate the announcement of Blood Metal
Bone, the astounding new novel from New
York Times bestselling author Lindsay Cummings, HQ Stories have decided to
share an exclusive extract with us! Read on for more…
Sonara found him at the ocean’s
edge.
The
suns were just setting, a double green flash as they sank out of view beyond
the farthest stretch of sea.
Seated
on the sand, toes not far from the lapping waves, was Soahm.
A
mere speck in the distance, she hadn’t seen him in weeks, not since the battle.
Not since he’d returned home, wounded from a skirmish in the neighboring
Deadlands, his leg torn open and bloodied as he lay in the back of a soldier’s
cart.
“Slow,
beast,” Sonara murmured to Duran now, leaning back a bit.
The
steed dropped to a calm walk, responding to the motion of her body. She’d
trained him to respond only to the pressure of her legs, to the click of her
tongue, to the shifting of her weight or a gentle murmur of a practiced
command.
The
trainers had called her a fool, at the beginning. But now the bastard girl of
Soreia had become the beast’s master. And perhaps one of the finest riders the
Kingdom had to offer.
“Go
on,” Sonara murmured as she stopped Duran and slid down from his back. “Eat
your fill.”
His
nostrils flared as he trotted off towards the dunes, fresh pale seagrass waving
atop it. Soahm’s mare was already there, happy as could be. The wind blew,
carrying her scent down the hillside, and Sonara swore she could feel a bit of
peace wash over her.
Her footsteps were drowned
out by the crashing sea as she approached her brother. The prince was busy
sketching, the back of his left hand turned dark from smudges of charcoal. She
rarely saw him without those telltale smudges. The moon was out in full
tonight, a beautiful blue that cast a cool glow across the beach.
“What are you doing
all the way out here, Soahm?” Sonara asked.
They were nearly an
hour’s ride from the castle, on the fringes of the freelands where herds of
wild steeds still roamed. He often came out here, to think. To enjoy the
silence, without their mother barking commands, or filling his list with
countless princely duties.
Sonara wouldn’t know a
life like that. And in that, at least, she was grateful for her separation from
the ones she could have called family.
“Sonara.” Soahm sighed
her name in greeting.
She could sense the
sadness in him, as deep as the ocean floor. He tossed a lilac shell into the
sea. “I can’t lead this kingdom the way she wants me to.” He glared at his
injured leg, splayed before him in a splint. Beside him, a discarded crutch
that had become his constant companion. “I’m broken, Sonara.”
“Broken?” Her dark
eyes widened. “You’re injured, Soahm. That’s a far cry from broken. You’ll
heal.”
“There’s a chance I
won’t.” Soahm looked at her fully, and his blue eyes, so unlike hers, were
rimmed with red. “The healers say it’s possible that I’ll never fully recover.
The people want a warrior, Sonara.
Like our mother. They want to know that their future king will rule with sword
and shield, will not balk or falter in the face of his enemies. I cannot give
them that.”
“Perhaps you never
could,” Sonara said with a shrug.
Those blue eyes
widened ever more.
She held up a hand and
offered him a gentle smile. “You’re not like that, Soahm. Before the injury,
after it . . . it’s never been you.
If they want a king like that, they can move north to the Deadlands, and bow at
Jira’s feet. Or worse, to the White Wastes, and praise the ice queen.”
Soahm frowned, his
brow furrowing. “You think me weak?”
“The opposite,” Sonara
said. “I think you’re strong. But in a different way. Perhaps a better way . .
.” She considered for a moment, as a distant pod of sea wyverns splashed their
tails above the waves. “Yima rides with heavy heels. The steeds respond, but
they don’t respect her.” Sonara reached out, and scooped up a handful of sand,
letting it fall through her fingertips. The grains danced away on the wind.
“The people want someone they can respect, and it isn’t always earned with a
warrior’s sword. Give them a reason to follow you. Give them a leader they can
be proud of. Bend a knee to their level, and show them you understand their
struggles, their worries and fears, that you care about filling their bellies
and giving their children a safe place to learn and play and sleep.”
“But how can I do
that?” Soahm asked. “How can I do that like this?
The Great War ended when Jira rose to power, but skirmishes still rise.
There is still unrest on the borderlands.”
Sonara grabbed her
brother’s hand and squeezed it, forcing him to pay attention. To look at her clearly, with her muddied blue hair, her dark eyes, her differences
that marked her as a bastard. The lowest of the low. “See them, Soahm. All of them, not just the wealthy and
the nobles. See them all, the way you
have always seen me.”
He squeezed her hand
back, then let it go. They sat together for a time, watching the stars wink
down from the sky. Behind them, Duran had crossed to the hills, his face buried
in the seagrass as he filled his ever-hungering belly.
“Let’s walk,” Soahm
said. His voice was a bit lighter, the heaviness replaced by what Sonara felt
was, perhaps, hope.
She reached out a hand
to help him stand. He took it gratefully, a prince that was never too proud,
and together, they walked, their cloaks dancing behind them in the wind. In the
distant sky, a star was falling, a trail of glitter in its wake.
“I’ve spent more time
sketching,” Soahm said. “Mother doesn’t know, of course. She’d slay me herself
if she thought I was wasting my time sketching when I could be studying.” He
reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out his leather-bound journal. On the
front, a stamped insignia of a rearing steed. He flipped through the pages
until he landed on a sketch of a warrioress, seated atop Duran.
“It’s me,” Sonara
said.
She smiled.
“The She-Devil,” Soahm
said with a wink. “Keep it.”
He passed her the journal. “I
have plenty. Try your hand at a sketch, Little Sister. It’s kept me busy during
my recovery.”
Sonara laughed, for
she’d never been able to sit still enough to sketch, but she tucked the journal
into her cloak anyways, to humor him. She was about to suggest they turn back,
her body growing tired, when the star in the distance caught her eye again.
Stars didn’t fall
quite like that, cutting through the night like a beacon.
“Do you . . .” Sonara
pointed. “Do you see it?”
Soahm followed her
gaze through the sky, the light reflecting upon the black sea. It drew ever
closer, the brightness intensifying until she saw that it was not a star.
Rather, it was a shape, a blazing trail of
fire beyond it. A shape that looked like the head of an arrow, slicing through
the sky; metallic. Not of this world.
The wind kicked up,
gusting towards her as a rumble sounded from the object, shooting across the
sky like a war drum.
Sonara’s blood felt
cold, her heartbeat rising to her throat. Danger.
She felt it, a sickness spreading through her gut. Behind her, Duran and
the mare cried out, then galloped over the hills, out of sight.
“Run,” Sonara
whispered. She gripped Soahm’s hand, her nails digging into his skin as fear
overcame her. “Soahm, run!”
She turned, tugging
him along with her. The beach was a wide expanse of sand spreading into the
dunes beyond. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to bury themselves in the shadows,
except . . .
The
cave on the edge of the Devil’s Dunes.
A burial ground for
the dead, a sacred space that was not to be disturbed, and yet Sonara found
herself tugging Soahm towards the yawning black mouth of it, the safety of
darkness calling them home.
“Slow down!”
Soahm yelled. He stumbled, but Sonara tugged his hand harder, her fear a
living thing inside of her now.
Run,
it beckoned. Run, and do not slow down.
She had always been
smaller than most, lithe and used to working long hours in the stables. She
pushed herself, legs burning as she trudged through the deep sand.
Behind her, the object
closed in, screaming from the sky as the winds kicked up. She looked overhead
as light flared. She saw only metal, like a great beast in the sky, a crimson
bird painted upon its belly.
At some point her
sweaty hand slipped from Soahm’s. She reached the mouth of the cave, darkness
swallowing her up, safety wrapping its arms around her as she disturbed the
domain of the dead.
She turned in time to
see Soahm hit the sand. For a moment, her panic cleared at the sight of him,
his crutch discarded, his hand reaching for her.
But fear snapped its
angry jaws, freezing Sonara in place as her entire body shook. Soahm sruggled
to his feet, then cried out in pain again.
He was crawling now,
his leg splayed at an awkward angle behind her.
“Sonara!”
She saw his lips move,
forming her name. But she could not hear him over the screeching of the metal
beast in the sky.
She took a step
forward, her whole body so seized in fear that her legs felt leaden.
Another step. She could do this. She could save Soahm. She
reached out her hand, leaving the shadows just as a beam of blue light erupted
from the belly of the beast. It surrounded Soahm, lifting him from the sand. He
screamed and thrashed, trying to escape, but he was powerless to the beam’s
hold, as if it were some dark, powerful magic. His arms stretched, his amulet
dangling from his tunic, shining in the beam as the beast’s great metal belly
yawned wide, pulling him inside before slamming back shut.
Soahm was gone.
The floor beneath the Queen’s
dais was bathed in blood.
It was a cool night,
steam still rising from the rivers of crimson that had pooled between the
pearlescent green tiles. They came to a stop at the edge of the throne room, where
rows of soldiers stood guard, swords and spears in hand. Behind them, a thick
crowd stood watching the public trial.
All had been called to
file in, to boo and jeer and stomp their feet as Queen Iridis charged the Bastard Girl of Soreia with the murder of the Crown
Prince.
“You will never shed
your filth on this Kingdom again,” Iridis said. She lifted a hand in command.
Another lash of the whip followed. The sharpened prongs tore Sonara’s skin away
in bleeding chunks, dragging through muscle down to bone. “You will spend the
rest of your days wandering the planet alone like the bastard you were born
as.”
“I
didn’t kill the prince!” Sonara
screamed. She hardly recognized her own voice, as if her vocal cords had been
ripped to shreds with each scream following the lash of the whip.
The crowd began to
boo, spitting as they stared at Sonara with disgust in their eyes. The skin on
her back was torn to ribbons; the blood that was half-Soahm’s pooling around
her body. Gone. Soahm was gone.
Some, watching from
the sides, held hands to their faces, horrified as the Queen’s guard slung the
whip again. Blood and bits of flesh rained upon the floor.
But they hadn’t
uttered a word in her defense. Nothing to lay claim to the fact that they might
have seen the great metal beast falling from the sky, lighting up the night
like a beacon before it took Soahm.
Sonara hadn’t known true pain, hadn’t known agony, until
this moment. She became only the rush of hot blood running down her back, knew
only the wicked kiss of the whip as it feasted on her skin.
How many times would
her mother order her flayed? How many strokes of that whip would she endure,
before death stole her away?
It was a mercy she
would have begged for, had she the strength to utter the words.
She’d come to the
castle last night to save him. She’d
ridden from that hellish beach as fast as Duran could carry them both. She’d
burst through the gates, his hooves pounding across the cobbles like a war
drum, not caring about the citizens diving out of the way, or the soldiers
standing guard, the weapons they’d pointed as they’d commanded her to halt.
Nothing else mattered,
for the Crown Prince was gone.
Up, and away, into the
silent skies, as if he’d never existed at all.
Beneath the moon,
Sonara had pleaded with the guards to wake her mother, and by the grace of the
goddesses, the Queen had come, wrapped in robes, her face gaunt as she listened
to Sonara sob the truth of Soahm’s taking.
Iridis hadn’t believed
her.
She’d placed the blame
of Soahm’s disappearance upon Sonara, refusing
to believe her tall tale of a great metal beast soaring down from the night
skies.
Now, Sonara lay dying,
“He was my firstborn.
The heir to the Soreian throne,” the
Queen said. She stood atop the dais, her voice ringing out across the throne
room, sickeningly calm. “You killed him. For that, you will die.”
The whip came down
again.
“Bastard!”
the
crowd shouted. “The Bastard girl of
Soreia!”
Another lash.
“You have no name,” the
Queen said.
Skin, torn away from
Sonara’s muscles.
“You have no kingdom.”
Muscles, torn away
from her bones.
And then the sentence
came.
“Tonight,” the Queen
said, as silence swept across the throne room, “you will die.”
In her mind, Sonara
escaped to thoughts of the girl Soahm had once spoken of: the She-Devil, the
dream she should have grabbed a hold of when they’d thought it up together in
the stables. She should have run far, far away.
Her other
half-siblings, the princes and princesses of Soreia, stood with their arms
crossed on the dais, the fringes of their robes flecked with her blood. They
watched, unwavering as their mother beat Sonara to the end of breathing.
They left just enough
life in her to perform the Leaping.
At dusk, Sonara was
placed on an open wagon and carted to the edge of the Kingdom in full view, so
that the watching crowd could gaze upon the fate of a kingdom’s traitor.
They gathered and grew
and followed to the edge of Cradle’s Cliff. It towered so high the clouds kissed
it, moistened the earth like it had been covered in a blanket of winter’s
breath. The ocean raged against the rocks below, sea-spray erupting in the air
where it was picked up by the wind.
The salt air stung as
it landed on Sonara’s open back. Her vision flitted from dark to light as the
cart wheels groaned to a stop, and strong hands lifted her ruined body.
She could scarcely
hold open her eyes as the crowd chanted.
But one sound broke
above it all.
A cry. A mighty,
beastly screech that forced her eyes open.
Duran.
Her heart sank. There
he was, the beast that had become hers, fighting for freedom at the edge of
the cliff. Two trainers held a rope, their feet scrambling for purchase against
the moist earth as Duran reared and threw his mighty head about, trying in vain
to escape.
They made her watch as
they bound him, man by man, ropes on his legs, ropes slung around his strong
neck. His red eyes were ablaze, sides heaving as he stood there, a captive.
He was hers.
And that made him as
good as dead.
Fight, Sonara wanted to tell him, as she
was lifted from the cart by strong soldier hands. She hung between two men as
they dragged her towards Duran, feet scraping the earth. Oh, goddesses, just keep fighting.
But in her presence,
at her touch, the mighty steed calmed. He allowed Sonara to be placed upon him,
those very ropes used to bind them both together as the guards slung her on his
back.
She knew this death:
the Leaping.
A death reserved for a
traitor. A coward. A deserter, tied to the back of their own steed, forced to
ride over the edge of the abyss.
The crowd cheered, as
Sonara slumped forwards on Duran. They made a path, two sides that closed in,
the nearer they got to the edge.
“Over the edge,” the
Queen said. “To a death that has no peace. No silence. No end.”
The trainers released
the ropes, cracking the whip over Duran’s back as they commanded him forwards.
His nostrils flared.
But he steeled himself and did not move.
“Again,” the Queen
commanded. The tips of her blue braids danced in the wind, mirroring her cold
blue eyes. Soahm’s eyes.
The whip cracked
again, doubly as hard. Duran screamed as his skin split open. But still, he
held his ground.
Tears streamed down
Sonara’s cheeks. She had only enough strength to utter a plea. “Just me.”
But the Queen only
lifted her hand again, and the guards brought down the whip once more.
Duran finally took a
step forward.
“Fight
against them,” Sonara
thought to him. With everything in her, she wished he could hear her words,
could take comfort in her presence. “Don’t
let it end like this.”
Another step. This one
a lurch as Duran sidestepped, another lash open on his side. The motion sent
pain rocketing into Sonara’s body, the wind howling, the cold salt spray like a
knife reopening her wounds.
“Direct him,” the
Queen ordered.
She marched up to
Sonara’s side, reached out and gripped her by the chin.
“For you there will be
no grave.”
Sonara spat in her face.
Then she turned, her
fingers digging into Duran’s wet mane. The crowd closed in behind them, pushing
until onwards, the mighty steed stepped. He kept stepping as the crowd pressed
in, until it became a jog. Until the jog became a thundering canter, consciousness
slipping from Sonara’s grasp with every beat of his hooves.
The last thing she
saw, the last thing she heard, was Duran’s defiant cry as they made the
Leaping.
Over the cliff they
soared, tumbling headlong into the raging waters below.
Sonara could have
sworn, just before death stole her away, that soft hands caressed her skin.
That the sea split open around both of their bodies. That tendrils of shadowy
darkness slithered up from the depths of the sea and wove their way around her
skin, coiling against her fingertips, her legs, her throat. Sliding their way
into her mouth, choking her last breath.
And then a whisper.
Delicate, but as steady as the nearby tides as she drifted, slowly, towards
dark.
Not
yet, my heart.
Not
yet.
Afterwards came stillness.
Silence.
Death.
Want to carry on reading? Request Blood Metal Bone on NetGalley now!
Blood
Metal Bone is coming January
2021. Available to pre-order here.
