Blog Tour- THE QUEEN'S REAPER by Cole Hopkins With An Excerpt & A $100 Amazon GC #Giveaway!
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Title:ย THE QUEEN'S REAPER
Pub. Date:ย January 7, 2025
Formats:ย Paperback, eBook
Find it:ย Goodreads,ย https://books2read.com/THE-QUEENS-REAPER
Read the book for FREE with a Kindle Unlimited membership!ย
"In this debut fantasy, a legendary assassin seemingly aligns himself with a young princess determined to claim her throne... Remarkable characters headline this epic tale of duty, treachery, and never ending battles." --Kirkus Reviews
Are some men born evil, no chance of redemption from the moment they draw breath? Perhaps, perhaps not. Grim doesn't seem to think so, and yet, he knows better than to believe that knowledge alone would curb a cruel man's intent... Even if that man is himself.
He's made a life, no a legend, out of hunting and killing the conceited nobles of Harth. His sword always answering to the highest bidder. This isn't because he desires to walk the bloodstained path laid out before him, at least not usually. To him, he's merely playing the hand he was dealt. Using the skills of his dark and convoluted past as a means to provide for and protect the one thing he holds most dear--the only thing he holds dear--in this world. The shadow of the woman he loves...
But what will Grim do when that shadow is taken from him? Ripped from his grasp and exploited against him. Will he answer the demands of those who have betrayed him so completely, even if to do so means to perform the unthinkable, throwing the Kingdom of Harth into a spiral of chaos it's not likely to survive?
Well, of course. It's not like he gives a damn about the kingdom anyway...ย right?
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Grim slid through the shadows like a specter. The hour was late, and the moon sat high in the night sky. In spite of that the streets of Everharth bustled still. This was the city that never stopped after allโthe capital of the Kingdom of Harth. The crown jewel of the Westโฆ
Grim had spent most of his adult life here, and here was where he had mastered his professionโkilling. He was an assassin by trade and a damn good one, too. Taking his time to remain completely undetected, he crept from one back alley to another, always on the move. Sometimes a group of city denizens would walk within inches of him and not notice his presence.
The assassin was so stealthy, obsessed with perfecting his art, he would avoid alerting even the local drunks who roamed the capitalโs dark streets at night. And not just drunks, but horses and livestock as well. Anything with a pulse was a challenge for the dangerous man to overcome.
His target this night was a noblemanโas was often the caseโby the name of Orven Ogle. He was not a particularly rich man, though certainly better off than most of the poor souls who roamed the streets alongside Grim this night. What was this Orven guilty of?
The assassin had no idea. He rarely asked those kinds of questions. Easier to let his imagination convict his victim than hear the truth of why these pathetic nobleโs peers might want him dead. Grim almost chuckled out loud at that thought. The noble lords and ladies of Harth were a petty bunch and hardly needed a good reason to want someone dead. All that mattered to Grim was that they paid him sufficiently for the deed.
Although, this particular contract had managed to pique his curiosity. The man who wanted Orven dead was not another noble, but a godly manโa rather revered Father of the Cathedral of Thondel. It wasnโt uncommon for the church to be involved in nefarious business, Grim thought, but assassinations were a bit extreme for them. No matter, he had been paid to do the job and that was exactly what he was going to do.
Pushing the thoughts from his mind, the assassin continued his silent trek through Everharthโs Water District, until he came to the base of the wall surrounding Orven Ogleโs villa. The wall stood twice Grimโs height and was made of strong, thick stone, likely mined from the caverns that snaked through the mountains just south of Everharth.
The assassin wore no armor, other than an iron gauntlet on his left hand, and sturdy, flexible leathers which were complimented by a heavy black riding cloak. Grim briefly considered unfastening the cloak and scaling the wall without it but decided against that course of action when he saw a trio of torch-bearing guards round the corner of the villa, some forty yards away. Their torchlight blinded them to his presence for the time being, but Grim knew that would not be the case for long.
Not waiting to be discovered by the guards, the assassin quickly and quietly took a step back, before launching himself at the wall and half running half climbing, pulled himself atop the thick stone barrier. He made almost no noise during his ascent and the trio passed underneath him, completely unaware of his presence.
Grim quickly surveyed the interior of the villa before him. Directly beneath him was a large courtyard, dimly lit by scattered torches, which were all burning extremely low. On the far side of the courtyard was the main building, a large two-story complex, surrounded entirely by an elegant patio on the ground level, and a high-ceilinged deck atop that.
From where he crouched, Grim could make out six guards: two in the courtyard, two more by the front door, and the last two patrolled the balcony. Without a second thought, the assassin slipped down the wall on the inside of the villa and disappeared into the shadows cast by the dying torches. Within moments, he was pulling himself up one of the elegantly designed pillars that supported the second-story deck. At the top of the pillar the assassin waited, hanging from only his fingers, and bracing himself with his toes.
After several seconds, the first of the two guards on the deck passed above Grim. The guard was tired and likely thinking of dawn, which was not far off, when he would be able to return to the comfort of his bed and finally get some sleep. The man marched passed without suspecting a thing.
With little effort, Grim pulled himself up onto the deck and moved to open the window across from him. Locked. Knowing he had less than a minute before the other guard turned the corner, the assassin pulled out a small pouch containing his lockpicking tools and deftly went to work. After only a few tense seconds, the lock clicked open and Grim slid through the window, quietly closing it behind him.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Orven Ogle sat alone behind his large oaken desk, playing a game of chess against himself in the light cast by the many candles that dotted his personal study. The room was covered with books, both old and new. They filled shelves all along the walls and even sat in piles on the floor. He was filled with many regrets that night, but perhaps the greatest of all was the fact he would never have the chance to read all those books. To learn their secrets and envision the glorious tales their storied authors had to tell.
Orven was moving the white queenโs knight when he suddenly felt another presence in the room. He had heard nothing, and when he looked out over his desk, he saw nothing, but he knew he was no longer alone. Swallowing his rising dread, he called out into the darkness, โShow yourself, assassin. I know you are there.โ
As if Orvenโs words had summoned him out of thin air, the assassin confidently strode forward into the light. Grim was a tall man, olive skinned and dark haired. He sported a full beard that looked to be meticulously maintained and well-trimmed. His hair, although long, was also well kept and hung down just past his jawline. The manโs eyes were dark gray and intimidating, and his facial features were strong and angular, reminding Orven very much of a predatorโs.
All and all, the assassin struck quite a handsome figure, and somehow it put the nobleman at ease, knowing he wouldnโt be butchered by some leering thug looking to make a copper. This man was no thug. No, this was a true assassin. One Orven knew wellโor rather, knew of. The nobles called him Grim. He was distinguishable by his tall, lean figure, and his unique black gauntlet and intricate sword.
Orven eyeballed that sword now. This was the weapon that would ultimately end his life unless the assassin had some other method in mind. It was a long weapon, almost too long to be an assassinโs blade, but the hand-and-a-half sword fit the tall man well. Hanging diagonally from his waist, it cleared the ground with several inches left to spare. It was the handle of that weapon that truly identified Orvenโs soon-to-be killer.
The grip was long enough for the assassin to hold with both hands and simple enough in design. The pommel at the end of the hilt, however, was painstakingly carved into the figure of a wolfโs head, and the crossguard was decorated with tiny reliefs telling the story of one of Harthโs mightiest legions.
โMy lord,โ the assassin greeted. โThe hour is late. You should be in bed.โ
โHard to sleep knowing death courts you.โ Orven replied, almost chuckling at the hopelessness of it all.
โDeath courts us all, my friend,โ Grim responded, in a tone dripping with disinterest. He stalked toward one of the bookshelves in the chamber and began sifting through the spines of the many novels housed there. โThe key is to die of old age before it catches you.โ
Orven released a shaky sigh. โI suppose that is an opportunity I wonโt be granted this night?โ
โNo,โ Grim admitted, finding a book that caught his interest. โIโm afraid not.โ
Nodding in reservation, Orven asked, โHow much?โ
Glancing up from his book, Grim replied with mock surprise, โMy lord, my loyalty cannot be bartered for. It would ruin my reputation.โ
โI donโt mean to buy you out. I havenโt the money left for it,โ Orven declared. โI mean how much is he paying you, how much is my life worth?โ
Grim chuckled. โSeventy gold coins, a small fortune. Though, the church is infamous for overspending their followersโ hard-earned gold.โ
โSeventy gold coins,โ Orven mused. โIs that really all my life sums up to?โ
โYes,โ Grim confirmed, placing the book back on the shelf and presenting Orven with his undivided attention. โOr at least, Father Bezind seems to think so.โ
โTell me,โ the assassin continued. โAnd I know this is a bit unprofessional, but what does someone have to do to make a man so devout as Father Bezind want them dead?โ
โI put out a hit on him first,โ Orven admitted. โI nearly emptied the family vault to pay for some mercenaries from the Oval Islands to kill him.โ
This drew a raised eyebrow from Grim. โHiring men to kill members of the clergy, that is an interesting way to spend your familyโs fortuneโฆโ
Orvenโs calm demeanor finally diminished, and he stood up, outraged. โMembers of the clergy?โ the nobleman scoffed. โWhat a jest! Theyโre liars and hypocrites, all of them. They take and take, until thereโs nothing left. Then they try to take more! And for what? Hope? The chance of a better afterlife? Unlikely.โ
Orvenโs sudden outburst had Grim on edge, and he glanced toward the door, wondering who else might have heard the angry nobleman. โLower your voice, my lord, I implore you.โ The assassin whispered rather dangerously.
โWhat does it matter?โ Orven smirked. โMy fate will not change. It seems I am to die regardless.โ
โThere are many different ways to die,โ Grim warned. โSome much more painful than others. I get paid the same, either way.โ
Taking the hint, Orven lowered himself back down into his chair, glaring daggers at the assassin.
โObviously, the mercs failed,โ Grim continued. โEven a pompous fool like you should have anticipated that, so why do it? Why forfeit your life so knowingly?โ
โYou want to know why I did it?โ Orven asked, his voice once again filling with rage. โI did it because I had to. I did it, because that bastard had to be made to pay for what he did to my little girl, Aleigh.โ
โWhat did he do to your girl?โ The assassin asked, his demeanor suddenly darkening.
โHe forced himself on her,โ Orven said, through gritted teeth and teary eyes. โHe forced himself on my little girl, five nights ago, when she was staying late at the cathedral for one of her lessons. And this wasnโt the first time. Heโs doneโฆ things to her before. He said it would help her be closer to Thondel. That it would secure our family a place in High Hathbornโin the afterlife.โ He paused, holding back sobs. โSo, you see, assassin, I did what I did, because I had no other choice.โ
Grim seemed very distant then, as if he was reliving an old memory, or was simply lost in thought. โWe do what we must.โ the assassin finally declared. Slowly, he began drawing his hand-and-a-half sword.
Orven finally broke into sobs and lowered his head, defeated. Grim walked around the large wooden desk. He stood behind the nobleman and placed the tip of his blade on Orvenโs collar, just above the manโs heart. The noble was prepared for death then in that moment, but the assassin hesitated and leaned down to whisper into Orvenโs ear, โMay it comfort you, Orven Ogle, to know that Father Bezind is not long for this world either.โ
The nobleman sucked in a shaky breath between sobs and even managed a triumphant little smirk before Grimโs sword plunged down into his heart, killing him in an instant. The assassin stood there for a moment before removing his sword and wiping it clean on Orvenโs fine pajamas. As he placed the sword back into its sheath, he heard a quiet voice from the door to the study.
โFather? Father is that you?โ
Grim felt his heart sink. In walked Aleigh, Orvenโs daughter.
โWho are you?โ she asked, her panic growing as she took in the scene before her. โWhat have you done to my daddy?โ
Grim knew what he had to do, but for some reason he could not force his body into action. The little girl before him was young indeed. No more than twelve years old. Even though she was recovering from what appeared to be the bruising of a black eye, he could tell she would grow up to be a very beautiful woman.
What would that future look like now that he had robbed her of her father, and that sick bastard, Bezind, had robbed her of her innocence? The assassin knew he should kill her, if not to protect his own vile skin, then for mercyโs sake alone, but he could not do it. He related to this little girl, and he saw some of himself in her as he looked her in the eyes and witnessed the hatred and fear that was rising within her.
โWhy did you kill him?โ she demanded, her voice cracking as she choked down tears. โWhy did you kill my father?โ
โIโm sorry,โ was all Grim could offer as he rushed out of Orvenโs study.
โStop!โ Aleigh yelled, grabbing the assassinโs cloak as he passed her and attempting to hit himโto hurt him in some way.ย โStop! I hate youโI hate you!โ she screamed. โGuards, he killed my father! Guards, help!โ
Her screams soon became incoherent and Grim grabbed her hands, yanking them away from his cloak before shoving her to the ground. He took one last look at the broken little girl, before charging down the stairs and rushing toward the front door. Aleighโs screams haunted him the whole way and he knew his cover was already blown. It seemed he would be fighting his way out.
The assassin drew his sword as he approached the door and kicked it open with all his strength. The door flew open, and the guard who had been attempting to open it was launched back down the small set of stairs leading up to the patio of the villa.
โIntruder!โ the second guard shouted. โIntruder in the house!โ He charged straight at Grim, kite shield leveled, hoping to bowl the assassin over.
Grim was filled with anger and unsettling emotions from his encounter in the house with Aleigh and her father, and he channeled that now, into nothing but pure rage. Quick as a viper, the assassin sidestepped the charging guard, and brought his sword down in a powerful vertical slash that chopped the manโs shield arm off at the shoulder.
Without a momentโs hesitation, Grim grabbed the now screaming guard by the face and slammed him into the wall of the house, before shoving him into the first guard, who had recovered and was moving to join the fray. Both men fell backwards, but before the assassin could finish them, the guards from the upstairs balcony crashed through the front door, and advanced toward the intruder.
Realizing the confined balcony favored the guards with their overwhelming numbers, Grim leaped off the patio and into the courtyard, where two more guards were waiting for him. Both the guards from the balcony and the initial door guard followed him out into the courtyard. The man whose arm he had severed remained on the patio, motionless and quiet.
Five on one Grim thought. It was a fair fight. But in the silence before the ensuing clash of steel, the assassin could hear Aleighโs incoherent screams of grief coming from the inside of the house, and they wounded him more than these doomed menโs blades ever could.
Unwilling to wait for his adversaries to go on the offensive, Grim lunged toward the man on his right, launching a storm of blows the guard couldnโt hope to defeat. Overwhelmed, the man tried to fall back behind his fellows on either side of him, but the assassin was too quick. Slashing him across the knee with a crooked swing that brought his longsword above his head, Grim stepped to the side as the man fell. The assassin brought the blade back down in a clean slash decapitating the helpless guard.
Grim was being pressed from all sides now, and he had to fall back into a defensive stance to defeat the remaining four guardsโ aggressive blows. Twirling his blade, the assassin picked off the first three guardsโ sword strokes with simple deflects. On the fourth guardโs swing, he grabbed the end of his long blade with the iron gauntlet and caught the guardโs blade just above the intricate crossguard of his legion sword.
The assassin slammed the wolf headed pommel of his weapon directly into the guardโs forehead, before shoving the manโs sword down low, and thrusting his own blade back up into the manโs gut. Quickly disengaging from the dying man, Grim reset into a defensive stance where he waited for the next attack.
Realizing they were outmatched, the guards slowed the fight down and began to attack less aggressively. One man started a slow chop for the assassinโs head, but Grim saw it for what it wasโa simple feint to distract him from the dangerous thrust of the manโs sword behind him.
Without missing a beat, Grim stepped forward and kicked the man squarely in the chest, before quickly rotating back around to knock the true threat of the other guardโs thrust aside with his iron gauntlet. The now unbalanced man was an easy target for the assassin, and he made short work of him, stabbing the guard under his outstretched sword arm, and viciously ripping the blade free to parry the slash of the third guard. The man was hardly ready for the brutal counter and fell to the ground when Grim deftly kicked the manโs legs out from under him, finishing him with a powerful two-handed downwards thrust.
Now there was only one guard, and he had recovered from Grimโs kick and was running for the main gate. Suddenly it swung open and the three guards patrolling outside the villa came rushing in. The fleeing man found renewed hope and quickly turned to meet Grimโs onslaught. The sound of steel on steel rang out in the early morning air before three of the guards fell dead.
The fourth was actually quite skilled and was putting up a decent fight. Unfortunately for him, quite skilled was not nearly enough to keep him alive against Grim, much less defeat the man in one-on-one combat. After a particularly fast exchange of blows, the assassin disarmed the man with a wicked slash to the fingers and finished him with a second slash across the throat.
As that last guard toppled to the ground, Grim took a few steps back. His skin glistened with sweat in the early dawn light. He threw his head back, inhaling deeply and catching his breath. Feeling his breathing return to normal, the assassin glanced around the courtyard, taking in his handiwork. The scene before him was gruesome indeed. The nine menโs bodies lay torn and bloodied all about the entrance to the villa.
These guards didnโt have to die, Grim thought. They were soldiersโnot so different from himself. But so be it. The assassin refused to let their deaths eat at his conscienceโฆ
Grim could hear the birds beginning their morning songs, and he knew it was time to move. He had already spent far more time in Orvenโs villa than he should have, and the sun peeking over Everharthโs distant walls was another, not so subtle, reminder.
The assassin collected himself and prepared to leave, when he heard a shout from behind him, shattering the overwhelming silence of the crisp autumn morning.
Grim turned, knowing what he would see, but still hoping, praying to whatever god might be listening, that he would be wrongโthat somehow, he would see someone else, something else, anything else, standing there. There was no god, in High Hathborn or anywhere else who answered the assassinโs prayer. There stood young Aleigh, still wearing her pajamas. They were covered with, Grim could only assume, her fatherโs blood and she held one of the guardโs arming swords. The girl pointed it directly at him.
โYou killed my father and all of his guardโs, but you wonโt kill me!โ Aleighโs eyes were red, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. Despite that she stood defiantly across the courtyard from the assassin, unafraid.ย โFight me, you murderer,โ the young girl shrieked. โFight me!โ
Grim just shook his head and turned to walk away. He had killed this little girlโs father for money, and he had killed all his guards in self-defense. Men who had families of their ownโlittle sons and daughters who would grow up never knowing their fathers. He had killed countless innocents to make it as far as he had in life, and he was content being that monster. But to kill this little girl? For some reason, that was a monster he could not beโdenied being.
โIโve seen your face,โ Aleigh desperately screamed. โYou have to kill me, or Iโll turn you in to the legions!โ
Grim paused. She was right. She had seen his face, and it was because he had been sloppy. Maybe he already killed this girl when his arrogance allowed him to charge through this villa like a foreign invaderโฆ
Suddenly, Aleigh rushed forward, her eyes burning with hatred, as she leveled her sword for Grimโs gut. Hardly thinking, the assassin caught the swordโs short blade with his gauntleted left hand and knocked the weapon down and out of Aleighโs grasp. Without slowing at all, the young girl pulled out a kitchen knife she had been concealing in her sleeve and stabbed it directly into the side of Grimโs leg.
Cursing in surprise and pain, the assassin reflexively backhanded Aleigh away from him and grabbed the knife, yanking it out of his leg and dropping it to the ground. Consumed by a fury he could not suppress, Grim readied his sword to finish off the little girl and end both of their suffering. The moment he raised his weapon, the assassin instantly regretted it, and he hesitated as he looked upon Aleigh, lying on the ground with a fresh nosebleed. She looked back up at him with such intense loathing, that he thought he could almost feel the pain she wished so dearly to inflict on him.
โIโve seen your face,โ she quietly said, for a second time.
Grim wouldnโt do it. He wouldnโt kill her, even if thatโs what she truly wanted now. He would not grant her that wish. The assassinโs sword was still raised when he heard a horn sound out from the gateway to the villa. That was a legion horn!
โFuck,โ Grim muttered under his breath.
โFire!โ came the cry from an officer standing just outside the main gate.
Grim heard the clicks of crossbows and he reflexively spun, grabbing his heavy riding cloak, and flaring it out behind him as he turned. Three bolts were stopped, catching, and hanging in his cloak. A fourth managed to punch through the thick leather and nail him in the shoulder. A fifth flew past him, dangerously close to his wounded leg and hit Aleigh square in the chest, drawing a pained shriek from the young girl. Grim looked down at the child, likely mortally wounded, and then back up at the advancing legion of men, marching into the villa five abreast, silver armor adorned with embossed eagles.
The assassin fled. Sprinting to the back of the complex before the crossbows could be reloaded and clambering up the wall, to drop painfully to the other side. Grim knew his way around the Water District well, and quickly lost any pursuit by taking back alleys, rushing through peopleโs yards, and eventually taking to the rooftops, where he finally slowed to evaluate his wounds.
The kitchen knife had been fairly dull and not ideal for stabbing, and the crossbow bolt had barely managed to pierce the hardened leather cuirass, probably thanks to his little cloak trick. Grimacing, the assassin ripped the bolt out and smelled the tip. Not poisoned, as he had suspected. Poison, for the most part, wasnโt really the legionโs style after all. Which brought him to his second questionโwhat was the legion doing here? There was always at least one Harthian legion in the capital, but very rarely did they patrol the Water District, and in such force!
Normally each district of the city, five in total, was protected and laws were enforced by their own garrison of soldiers. A much smaller and far less trained group of men than a legion, but effective, nonetheless. The regalia worn by the soldiers at the Ogleโs villa indicated that they were a part of the Legion of the Eagle. A legion that was supposed to be camped out to the north of the city, defending from naval raids led by the Oval Islands.
This turn of events disturbed the assassin greatly, but even more so, he couldnโt shake the image of Aleigh, pinned to the ground by a crossbow bolt. The missile hadnโt been slowed by his cloak at all, and Aleigh wore no armor to deflect the shot. She was likely dead. The thought should have comforted him. It was the fate she had wanted. The fate he had been too weak to give her. Her death conveniently tied up his only loose endโฆ
Grim was far from comforted by the thought. Instead, he felt guilty. A guilt he was all too familiar with. The childโs death rested heavy on the assassinโs shoulders, and he dwelled on it for many hours that morning. He waited for the bustling crowds of Everharth to take to the streets, so he could slip away to collect his payment from Father Bezind...
Cole was born in Tennessee in 1996. His love for fantasy started at a very young age, fueled by the many movies, video games, and of course books he enjoyed all throughout his youth and still to this day. He loves chess, cars, and soccer-- the latter of which is a passion he shares with his wife, Lindsey. Together the two recently welcomed their daughter Cecilia into the world. The three now live happily in Northern Kentucky, along with their two Black Labs, Ziggy and Eevee.
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