Excerpt from CROWN OF SALT AND BONE by Katherine Quinn
Her heart skipped a beat and excitement pulsed in her veins. Her crew should be here with her, but there wasn’t time to waste, and she suspected they were growing weaker—if the dark circles below their eyes and sallow skin were any indication.
Once the portal’s foggy blue mist cleared and she landed on its other side, Margrete scanned the grand foyer of the main floor. There were no lingering guards stationed, which she found peculiar, but Halio had told her that this area was deemed neutral, so armed soldiers would likely go against the agreement.
The lone sound arose from the ticking of a clock stationed above the staircase’s first landing, its steady rhythm matching the beating in her chest.
On the ground floor, so close to the mysterious hall, Margrete’s skin tingled. She could practically smell Bash’s signature scent of pine and sea, and she yearned to race to the portal and—
And what?
Fuck. She hadn’t thought it all through, and if this was some fantasy tale she was reading, she’d curse at the heroine and wonder why she hadn’t planned better. Whenever Bash was concerned, Margrete’s logic was nonexistent.
The key in her pocket pulsated, its energy much stronger than when she’d been in her own court. Was it calling to something close by? Drawn to a door in Halio’s court as she was drawn to the shadows masking the entrance to the realm of the dead?
She peered to the corridor that would bring her to Bash. As if sensing her presence, the swirling onyx mist roared to life, causing her magic to thrum.
A warning. She understood this with every fiber of her being.
Ignoring the sensation of the misty shadows clawing at her exposed skin and twirling about her legs, Margrete scurried forward. She all but sprinted down the hall, her aim ahead, on her prize, which happened to be a locked door.
A locked door.
She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the polished metal of the key. Was luck finally on her side?
Unlike the rest of the obnoxiously lavish entryways, this one was framed with nothing but dark, uneven stones, the curving handle fashioned in the shape of a cracked femur bone. The scent of mold and rot clung to the air, and a draft carrying the aroma of wild earth filled her nostrils. The combination had her skin itching.
Bash? she silently called, hoping she’d hear his voice as plainly as she had yesterday.
No one answered, which shouldn’t have surprised her.
Margrete grasped the key and brought it to the lock. It didn’t throb as strongly as before, but she held firm, slipping it inside. A thrill shot down her back when it slid in without a fight.
She turned the handle.
Resistance.
Margrete clutched the bone, her hands clammy and slick. Fruitlessly, she jerked the key—the handle, shoved against the door—doing everything she could to thrust it open.
The key didn’t belong to this portal; fate worked once again to diminish her hope.
Something wrapped around her neck, tight.
Sputtering, she dropped her arm, and the key plummeted to the floor with a resounding clatter. Grabbing at her neck, she found nothing there but air, and yet, the pressure increased, cutting off her oxygen. Panic surged, and she tasted copper on her tongue.
“That door is forbidden, Goddess.”
She couldn’t turn toward the deep voice, could do nothing as the rope of invisible power cut into her skin. Margrete fell to her knees, the impact eliciting a hiss.
“Why are you here?” the voice continued, anger lining every syllable.
As she couldn’t breathe, let alone speak, all she could manage was a choked gasp.
“Ah, my apologies.”
A moment later, the noose loosened, the burning surrounding her neck soothed by a frosted wind. Margrete shoved to her feet and spun around. Black spots dotted her vision.
Halio. He stood before her, his hands thrust deep in his silver pockets, his gray stare narrowed in reproach.
“I-I heard something,” she said, raising a hand to her neck. Gods, it still ached.
He tsked. “Don’t lie to the God of Death, Margrete. It’s insulting.”
She wasn’t lying, not really. She had heard a voice—Bash’s. Instead of saying that, she ran her hands down her robe and met the god’s incensed gaze. How was she supposed to get to Bash with the fucking God of Death standing in her way?
“That, my dear, is the portal to the dead. As I’m sure you’ve already figured out.” His focus drifted to the floor, to where the key had fallen. Surprisingly, he made no move to pick it up. If anything, he seemed to inch back. “And entrance is forbidden to all except me.”
She curled her hands into fists. “I heard—”
“I know what you heard!” Halio’s voice rose and his nostrils flared, his earlier kindness a distant memory. “And it doesn’t matter. The man you’re seeking is dead and cannot be brought back, even by you.”
Fuck. That.
She didn’t come this far to be turned away.
“No.” The word slipped out of her mouth before she could contain it.
“No?” Halio lifted a black brow. The circlet around his head pulsed with white light. He took a step closer, then another, until they were nearly nose to nose. “You do not tell me no. Not in my realm when I have been nothing but welcoming. Do whatever you wish in your own court, but the realm of the dead is mine.”
Margrete searched his eyes for anything—for a sign of lenience, a sign that she could bargain with him. She’d give anything. Maybe her desperation shone on her face because Halio’s eyes softened just the slightest.
“Please.” This time, her voice cracked, and a strangled sob had her chest trembling. She’d done her best to shove aside her emotions, but in the face of defeat, they all came rushing to the surface. “I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll give anything. Anything!”
Halio released an exasperated sigh. Taking a step back, he cocked his head and studied her, his silence worse than any harsh words.
Just when she thought she could take no more, he said, “Such a promise is a dangerous thing to make, youngling. If you were wise, you’d accept what fate has dealt you and move on. You aren’t ready for what it would take to fulfill such a bargain. ”
(C) Katherine Quinn, City Owl Press, 2023. Shared with permission from the publisher.
CROWN OF SALT AND BONE by Katherine Quinn
The Azantian Trilogy #3
A lost king. A deadly bargain. And the ultimate sacrifice.
After losing the love of her life on an island of horrors, Margrete Wood opens a portal to the Underworld. She’s claimed her full powers, becoming a powerful goddess, and she’ll use her new magic to steal Bash’s soul back from the realm of the dead.
Darius, the God of the Sea, has waited centuries for Margrete to return. She’s the reincarnation of the woman he once loved, and he’s hellbent on wiping away Bash’s memory. But the Underworld is filled with ruthless gods and corrupt bargains, and when Margrete makes a deal with the God of Death himself to get her king back, Darius agrees to help—for a steep price.
With monsters of the deep to slay and a death god to appease, Margrete is forced to work with her enemy before time runs out and everything she loves is destroyed. For good, this time.
The third book of this exciting fantasy trilogy is perfect for readers who love high-seas adventures, swashbuckling heroes, and forbidden, steamy romance. Fans of Danielle L. Jensen’s The Bridge Kingdom, and Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses will be enthralled.
Fantasy [City Owl Press, On Sale: September 26, 2023, e-Book, ISBN: 9781648983696 / ]
Buy CROWN OF SALT AND BONE: Kindle | BN.com | Amazon CA | Amazon UK | Amazon DE | Amazon FR
About Katherine Quinn
Katherine Quinn is a fantasy romance author and poet. She graduated from the University of Central Florida with a degree in psychology. She resides in Houston, Texas with her husband and three children.
Her love for writing began after she read her first fantasy series, Song of the Lioness, by Tamora Pierce. After that, she wanted nothing more than to be a dagger-wielding heroine. Unfortunately, it’s frowned upon to give a child a dagger, so she settled on writing about daring adventures instead.
Coffee is her true love, and she believes anything can be fixed with Starbucks and dark humor.
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