By Mark Lawrence
From the overseas bestselling writer of the damaged Empire Trilogy, the purple Queen’s struggle continues...
After harrowing event and close to loss of life, Prince Jalan Kendeth and the Viking Snorri ver Snagason locate themselves in ownership of Loki’s key, an artifact in a position to beginning any door and sought by means of the main risky beings within the damaged Empire—including the lifeless King.
Jal wishes purely to come domestic to his wine, ladies, and music, yet Snorri has his personal function for the most important: to discover the very door into loss of life, throw it extensive, and convey his kin again into the land of the living.
And as Snorri prepares for his quest to discover death’s door, Jal’s grandmother, the purple Queen, keeps to govern kings and pawns in the direction of an endgame of her personal layout…
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Additional resources for The Liar's Key (The Red Queen's War)
She stands upon the topmost step, bone-thin, bone-white, the useless pores and skin round her mouth wrinkled into a few lousy smile. I can’t inform what color her eyes will be, purely that one is blind and the opposite a drowning pool. The solar splashes around the flooring, the wall, the chairs, however the archway the place she stands is so deep in shadow she could nearly be a trick of the sunshine. I run. during this we're in accord, the boy and that i. One fast kick sends the chair skittering around the flagstones. I chase it and while it stops I’m up and mountaineering, worry boosting me in order that I achieve the seat in a single stride, the again within the subsequent, and because it topples I release towards the window. I’ve now not been within the west spire prior to yet I’ve been within the east. The younger Jalan assumes they're a similar. I pray it. I’ve discovered to worry loads of issues as I grew. so much issues might be. Heights notwithstanding, they nonetheless thrill me. I cling directly to the stonework as I swing in the course of the window, ft looking for the ledge that are supposed to be down and to the left. The boy doesn’t glance to ascertain yet slides reduce, letting the window’s facet slip via his arms. He we could cross and a second later his boots locate buy. We stand flattened to the outer wall, the windowsill above our head, palms large to embody the stones, a three-inch ledge assisting us. through levels I circle around to the gargoyle, dual to the grotesque demon that watches the world from the aspect of the east spire, slightly under the top window. There are a sequence of such demons set in a descending spiral on either spires, all the similar layout yet as person as humans, each one with its dual within the corresponding spot at the different spire. i do know their faces greater than i do know these of my small tribe of cousins. My arms tremble yet it’s the phobia of the blind-eye girl that places the tremor there instead of of the autumn underneath me. I drop from ledge to gargoyle, slide round horns and barbs to arrive the aiding ledge, circle to the subsequent, drop back. this is often how i found the outdated guy within the tower—only then i used to be mountain climbing upward, and approximately a yr more youthful. It’s a ask yourself I didn’t die. Great-uncle Garyus lives, or is stored, within the east spire. while I first climbed there i used to be too younger to appreciate the chance. And in addition to, the spires have been made for hiking. There could be few towers within the empire with such a lot of handholds, lots ornamentation positioned at handy durations. It had looked like a call for participation. or even at an early age break out obsessed me. If the guards and nurses on the Roma corridor took their eye off me for greater than a moment i used to be off, operating, hiding, mountain climbing, studying the entire methods out, all of the methods in. Any excessive window drew me. other than the only within the west spire—that constantly appeared like a devouring mouth, simply awaiting me to clamber in. I succeed in the palace roof and scamper up the tiled slope, over the serrations of the crest, and down towards the east spire. The darkish slates are burning scorching, sizzling my palms. i attempt to retain my legs and arms transparent, sliding on my arse, feeling the warmth even via my trousers.