K.R. Conway - True North

Conway, Kathleen R .

True North / by Kathleen R. Conway / 457 pp

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Eila Walker, last survivor of the deadly Lunaterra race, finds herself at the mercy of a power-hungry enemy as she and her band of dedicated fighters are drawn into the decadent underworld of the Mortis, where lies become truths and allies become killers. Third book in the award-winning Undertow Series .

Published in the United States of America

Created with Vellum

T rial leaned back against the rough stone of the corridor, waiting in the exact spot his fifteen-year-old master, Terro, demanded he stand. As they listened through the monstrous oak doors of the war room, the chilled air in the hall licked over his scars, fueling his hunger for freedom a taunting phantom that always whispered just out of reach .

After more than two and a half centuries of enslavement, Trial had become immune to the lack of heat within the palace, the constant cold a by-product of the cavernous bone-white walls and the heartless warriors dwelling within. Built like a fortress, the battlements and keep emanated a glorious aura in the kiss of dawn, but also hid well within the dark side of the mountain an inescapable viper pit for slaves like him .

It was Hell on earth, forged by the bloodlines of heaven .

The palace was the core of the Lunaterra a powerful breed of corrupted humans whose ability to channel the Web of Souls made them highly lethal to soul thieves like him .

And though he looked like a teenager, Terro was a most lethal adversary. He hailed from a bloodline centuries old and built from the finest assassins. He was on track to become one of Lunaterras most deadly fighters against the soul-stealing Mortis because of one simple fact: Trial had trained him well. Honed him into a killing machine, devoid of mercy. Devoid of fear .

Trial watched as Terro moved more to the right, trying to eavesdrop more effectively though the heavy doors as the voices inside rose higher in anger .

The sharp demands of the commanders could easily be heard as they argued with one another something that neither Terro nor he had ever heard before. The hive never found itself at odds, but the Lunaterra on the other side of the door were currently in the midst of a heated debate over what should be impossible: a child had wandered off .

A royal child .

According to the hysterical maid who was also in with the commanders, the child had done so deliberately. Had made a choice of free will to venture off the grounds and into the deadly surrounding forest, where the Mortis lived in rebel clans .

Trial knew she was undoubtedly dead by now, for his kind would absolutely kill her .

Behind the war room doors, the maid began sobbing .

What is that that sound? Terro asked, wide eyed. He and Terro rarely spoke to one another, even when they were training. Their relationship was that of owner and gladiator... or rather weapon and target .

Though he was a slave, Trial had seen the world before his capture and understood humanity in a way his young master never would. Terros world was set inside the confines of the palace, and his

understanding of life was crafted by those who would use him to further their cause. From the day he was born, Terros mind was genetically enslaved to that of the ruling family, and in his world no one showed weakness. Ever. Which was why the chaos in the war room seemed entirely unnatural. An aberration of the Lunaterrian world that Trial didnt even think was possible .

Shes crying, he explained to Terro, trying to hide his own shock .

Hed never heard a Lunaterra cry. Hed never heard them argue either. Terros eyes grew wide. Is it an illness, this crying you speak of? No. It is... pain. She feels pain, inside. She feels guilt, for it seems

she has lost one of the princesses .

Terro muttered in French that he was speaking nonsense that a child could not get lost because she would never leave the side of her maid. Dont be a fool, Trial, hissed Terro, glaring at him. If she was instructed to stay with her maid, she would have .

Then the maid is lying? he questioned, knowing that the Lunaterra were not capable of deceit. The girl had to have wandered, which was unheard of. Lunaterra had no free will and yet a child had disappeared .

And not just any child, but an heir .

Terro was looking aggravated as he tried to figure out the most sensible answer when several guards came crashing through the courtyard doors, dragging with them a mud-covered little girl .

She looked to be no older than five, and her dark hair was a disheveled mix of dirt and leaves, her dress ripped and stained .

But she was alive .

The guards left her just outside the war room as Terro kneeled down in front of her. Elizabeth! Where have you been? Your maid is ...

crying. The word twisted on Terros tongue, as if bitter and unsavory. The council is arguing, because of YOU. Did someone take you ?

Trial averted his eyes to the far wall, taking up a waiting stance as his young master tried to drag answers out of the girl, but she said nothing. As Terro chastised her, Trial could still hear people talking in the war room, the guards now involved as well .

Finally, Terro stood and pointed at him. Stay here, with her, he commanded. Im going to see what the council thinks of all this. Terro walked into the war room and the doors slammed shut behind him, causing the air in hallway to tremble .

Trial looked down at the girl who barely made it to his thigh. She was staring at the doors, a frown on her face, as if the whole situation was nonsense .

He recognized her immediately. She was a Lisle princess one of only a few that remained alive. The Lunaterra numbers had been in decline as the entire population was dying younger and younger. In a few more decades, the entire Lunaterra species would be ruled by teenagers. Single-minded, cult-like, fanatical teenagers, all hell-bent on eradicating the Mortis from the face of the earth .