Nethermore

Before everything she knew went to hell, Nasmé was lauded as a hero, for few devils have made so great a contribution to the subjugation of nearly every species on Erebus as she. Centuries later, they’re once again singing, “All hail the Angel Tamer, darling of the daemonic nation.” It’s the celebration to end all celebrations, yet no one wants her there any more than she wants to be. But she isn’t given much choice; refusing an heir of darkness isn’t an option for those who wish to remain among the living, not that what they wish of her promises she will. Now the empire’s most noted general will trade gauntlets for gowns when she’s persuaded to ally with an adversary who’s proven craftier than any she’s ever known. And though she’s the guest of honor, she can trust nothing and no one in the court of false smiles and hidden daggers, not even herself. For something’s left the immutable trickster unable to perceive the world as she once could: she can no longer smell the intent to do harm, bend shadow to her will, or call legions of monsters to her defense. All she has are her wits, her name, and a face that can’t be altered by any means—bad for her, because everyone on Erebus knows that face. And now there’re fewer reasons to fear its appearance. Will reputation alone be enough to keep the wolves at bay? Or will the daemonic nation’s darkest daughter need to remind them how she earned it?