Crimson Dagger

By Morgan Rhodes

Crimson Dagger is the story Falling Kingdoms fans have been waiting for!

In this prequel short story, set before the events of Falling Kingdoms book 1, Prince Magnus is awoken by an unexpected visitor—in his bed. One look into her fierce, hateful eyes, and Magnus knows exactly who it is: Kara Stolo.

Ten years ago, as a scared little boy, he told a lie that irreparably changed Kara’s life. As a result, her father was wrongfully imprisoned, chained in the dark dungeon underneath the palace, where he was to remain until his death. Now, Kara is back to avenge her father's punishment, and there's more. Kara believes he's still alive, and she needs Magnus to help free him . . . or else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Group
• Release date: Sep 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9780448494692

Morgan Rhodes

Morgan Rhodes is the New York Times bestselling author of the Falling Kingdoms series. Under another pen name, she's an award winning author of more than two dozen novels. Morgan lives in Southern Ontario, where she’s currently hard at work on the next Falling Kingdoms book.

Book preview

DAGGER

The sun bouncing off the icicles outside his bedchamber’s window stirred Magnus from a deep sleep. He stretched his legs and shivered. Still groggy, he saw that the fire that kept his bedchamber warm despite the frigid chill of Limeros had gone out. His wool blanket had been cast aside. The only warmth came from the girl in his bed.

Which was odd, since he had not started the night with a girl in his bed.

Amia . . . he murmured, assuming that his favored kitchen maid had joined him in the wee hours of dawn.

Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not Amia.

The press of cold steel against his throat made his eyes shoot wide open. He stared up into the furious gaze of a girl with brown eyes and long honey-blond hair as she threw her leg over his torso, forcing her all her weight on top of him. She was fully dressed in leather trousers and woolen cape.

No, he agreed. Definitely not Amia.

A flash of crimson made him think that she’d already drawn blood, but then he realized the sharp dagger she clutched had a crimson-colored hilt. Would you like to guess who I am? she asked.

Do I have a choice?

No.

Fair enough. He swallowed hard, feeling the sharp edge of the blade far too acutely for him to dismiss this as a dream, and summoned his wits about him—as many as could be gathered at such short notice. I will guess that you are a beautiful but deadly assassin, paid to kill me.

Wrong. Nobody paid me.

So . . . an unpaid assassin then.

Not by trade.

How many have you killed?

Men? Four. Princes with their snobbish royal heads stuck up their arses? None. At least not until today. Her eyes narrowed. Guess again who I am.

He searched her face, trying not to give in to any glimmer of fear. In his seventeen years, he’d never had his life threatened before. Well, not quite so blatantly, anyway. He