THE KING KILLERThe fire in the hearth was dying down, turning into a pile of glowing orange ribs. Esmeralda sat in the high-backed chair, her feet tucked under her. Outside, the wind was howling, a sound that usually made her feel lonely, but tonight it felt like a conversation.

She had an old book open on her lap. The pages were yellow and smelled like dust and dried flowers. It was the book of the First Seers. She had read the same four lines a thousand times since she was a girl.

“When the ...