A boy orphaned by violence grows up in the shadow of his father's murder. His older brother offers him a home, but the life of a farmer is a poor fit for Christian Richardson.
Set in England in the 1400s, the Wars of the Roses litters the country with plenty of jobs for a young mercenary trained in how to wield a sword. Christian grows out of his youth and becomes a capable fighter, one who inherited his father's blade. As a member of the Brotherhood of the Black Rose, he puts coins in his pockets and food in his stomach, but every day he searches for the sigil of the men who took his father's life.
Finally, after years skirting the edges of a group called the Luminaries, he'll make a discovery that will put him in reach of his goal. Vengeance.
The sword was not the only possession his father had given to him, though, and unbeknownst to Christian, the Luminaries have been hunting for Richard's son - the boy who escaped from them nearly a decade ago - just as he has been scouring for signs of them.
An almost successful attempt on his life reveals hidden gifts, and even more secrets that his father had taken to the grave. As Christian reaches the threshold of claiming revenge, he faces the realization that retribution might come at a high price. Will he listen to the pleas of his loved ones, cautioning him away from danger? Or will his pursuit for justice take him down a path from where he can never return?
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“The thought bother you?”
This time, I couldn’t conceal the reaction his question inspired. My eyes shifted to the far wall, then down to the table, a deep breath filling my lungs before being exhaled. Whatever Roland read of it, I neither knew, nor cared, but in the moments which followed, I saw the demons I used to entertain while working Jeffrey’s farm; the ones who lured me away when I couldn’t ward them off any longer. At the very least, I held them at a distance in using the blade, even for show. Each time I held a sickle or polished my father’s sword while under my brother’s roof, however, I wanted nothing more than to cut into the man who had taken Richard Hardi away from me.
Slowly, my gaze lifted, a look in my eyes even I could feel without seeing it for myself. Roland sobered and I shook my head. “No, sir,” I said. “The thought of killing people doesn’t bother me at all.”
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