K. EASON lives with her husband and cats in Southern California, where she teaches first-year composition students about food writing and the zombie apocalypse (not at the same time!). Her publications include the On the Bones of Gods trilogy, the Thorne Chronicles duology, and the Weep duology. Her short fiction has appeared in Cabinet-des-Fées, Jabberwocky 4, Crossed Genres, Kaleidotrope, Ink: Queer Sci-Fi's Eighth Annual Flash Fiction Contest, and the Shapers of Worlds III anthology. When she's not writing or commenting on essays, she's probably knitting and playing D&D.
Enemy was a Kindle First selection in May 2016 and reached #4 in its categories on the Kindle store. In addition, Eason's How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse was a Kirkus pick for best SFF of 2019. It was also an Editor's Pick at Amazon and a pick for best SFF of the month in Library Journal, on Amazon, and at Barnes & Noble.
The Illhari Republic teeters on the edge of war…
Rival godsworn battle in Illharek's streets. In the fields and forests, a dragon-led army plots its attack. With powerful allies in the Senate and the Academy trying to maintain order, Snow and Veiko make plans to confront the god's avatar. But as the army—and the dragon—bear down on Illharek, a godsworn assassin shatters the city's fragile peace. As their alliances start to crack, Snow and Veiko find themselves fighting a war on two fronts.
Because this isn't a battle for Illharek's streets, it's a battle for Illharek's soul.
"A solid entry into the fantasy genre, [Enemy] boasts strong sociopolitical themes and unique, layered characters."
– RT Book Reviews"This is rich, complex, and realistic world building with societies, religions, social-classes, and self-interest all in conflict."
– To the Shelves"This might be the best fantasy series you have never heard of."
– Michael Mammay, author of PlanetsideCHAPTER ONE
The alley was the ideal place for murder. Narrow and stinking, backing a row of slaughterhouses, and dark even by an underground Illharek's standards. The witchfire from the main street didn't reach this far except as smeared shadows. There was already blood pooled between the stones, scummed and skinned. No one would notice a little fresh added to it. And the rats, yeah. Rows of glittering eyes that winked and gleamed when the witchfire's glow passed across them. They'd make short work of any meat left on the pavement.
Which, if Snowdenaelikk had her way, there would be in short order. There was just a door, scarred and old and solid-looking, between her and the future meat, who also had a name. Yrse, Midtowner, mother of four and respected member of the butcher's guild. Yrse, who was also godsworn, which made her a heretic and an outlaw in Illharek. She and Snow held that in common.
In the Tiers, Tal'Shik's godsworn walked around under amnesty. Senator Szanys Dekklis had put out that proposal. No surprise a Senate full of Tal'Shik's godsworn voted in favor. But Dek's participation—her instigation—had both surprised and stung.
Not supposed to protect these toadshits, Szanys.
Yrse had friends in the Senate, so maybe she thought the amnesty applied down here in the Suburba, too. Yrse followed Tal'Shik. But there was bloodfeud between Tal'Shik and the Laughing God these days, at least in Suburban streets. Maybe she'd thought the Laughing God's cartel wouldn't dare come at her, with friends that high.
Snow had her own friends. The Laughing God, for one. She had Istel at her back. She had Ari, who was edging up on her left side. Who hissed, head cocked at the door: "She knew we were coming."
Accusing, oh yes, but not her. No, Ari cut his glare at the man on Snow's right.
Veiko shrugged. His braids slithered across his armor, snagged on the border between leather and steel. The witchfire blued the harsh bones of his face. Found its match in his eyes. "The ghosts say she is here. They did not say she was unprepared for us."
"Ghosts. Fuck that." Ari spat again, more slime for the alley's collection. "You say ghosts talk to you. I say it's toadshit. Skraeling witchery." He curled his lip. "We've got a damn spy, that's what, telling tales."
Snow scraped together all her patience. "Even you know how stupid that sounds, yeah? Yrse isn't an idiot, Ari. After the mess you made dealing with Rata, I'm surprised we don't have the fucking legions down here walking patrol."
Ari scowled. "I got her, didn't I?"
"Her and half the motherless street. Be damn glad you can't see ghosts."
Snowdenaelikk could. Tried not to, took pains to avoid it. But she couldn't ignore the pair squatting over a congealed puddle, scooping at its contents with permeable fingers. She knew them. Stig and Kjotvi, who'd been godsworn to the Laughing God in life. Who had both died very badly thanks to Yrse's personal efforts. Veiko had called them out of the black river where the dead go to forget themselves. From the look of Stig and Kjotvi, they'd been soaking a long time.
"Veiko. Can the ghosts say what's waiting for us behind that door? How many people?"
"They cannot. They say it is warded against them."
"Of course it is," from Ari. "Fuck and damn, skraeling, you're no use—"
"Shut up, Ari." The voice was Istel's, soft and level. But that was
Tsabrak
the Laughing God's razor tone. Those were the Laughing God's eyes, tiny orange flames instead of Istel's warm brown. "Veiko is our ally. Show some respect."
"My apologies." Ari bowed, hands folded in front of his face. Made Snow want to shake him upright and explain that the Laughing God didn't rate that kind of deference. Gods were just spirits, powerful and arrogant. He might even believe her.
Ari trusted too much. The God, yeah, but also her. The Laughing God's Right Hand. Way Ari saw it, she was the person who'd found the God and brought him back. He was happy to let her run the cartel, happy to do what she said about anything.
Except in the matter of Veiko. Oh no. Then it was toadbelly when Ari thought Veiko was out of earshot and skraeling the rest of the time. Enough to make Snow wish for Veiko to lose patience. That would end the sniping. Ari would join the ghosts he didn't believe in.
"You don't mean that, Snow," the God whispered with Istel's voice. Leaned close to her, the way Istel would, shoulders just touching. "You don't need that kind of mess."
"What I need is Istel back," she snapped. Ignored Ari's startled glance and Veiko's knowing frown. "He's better in a fight than you."
