In the cursed city of Var Eldore, perched on a mountaintop surrounded by a frigid swamp, the rain never stops. Former pleasure slave Myr lives in hiding, trying to stay a step ahead of his captor. But there’s more to Myr than he realizes, and destiny has other plans for him. Soon, he counts soldiers, spies, nobles, and wizards among his allies. Their goal is to oppose the king and those who perpetuate slavery, and fight for the freedom of their land. As they uncover secrets and conspiracies, each more tangled than the last, Myr also discovers he has unique abilities to aid their cause—the Redeemers.
As the strength of the Redeemers grows, so does the number of enemies they must face. Each member of their alliance has his or her own demons to battle, and Myr must confront the truth about himself and become the leader they need. Alongside his lover Ryall and the people who have become his family—as well as some unlikely friends—Myr and the Redeemers must prepare for war. If they fall, the city in the rain will follow.
IT ALWAYS rains.
Myr sighed at the sight of moisture beading on the window. He hated the rain. Hated that it made everything stink of ozone and mold. Myr was a slight fellow, with the pale blond hair of a native Eldoran. He was dressed neatly, a dark apron over his linen shirt, black tie knotted simply, and trousers tucked into the top of his calf-high boots. His hazel eyes, uncommon among the usually blue-eyed Eldorans, held a deeper pain than his outward posture would suggest, and there was an unusual grace about the way he held himself.
“Myr! We have a customer!” Jole, the proprietor of the shop called from the front.
Myr rolled his eyes and pushed away from the window, his melancholy air shifting as he rearranged his apron and slipped a smile on his face. It was a mask so complete it erased the pain from his eyes—but it was a mask. “I’ll be right there, sir,” he called back. He’d been ostensibly organizing the backroom, though in reality he’d simply been looking for a reason to get away from a particularly annoying customer. He peered out to make sure she had left before heading into the front.
The shop was kept very clean to compete with the damp. The floors were glossy red tile and the walls lacquered wood. Oil lanterns hung from long chains to light up the bolts of fabric and lengths of ribbon, lace, and bobbles. Tall jars of buttons, needles, and spools of thread and yarn stood in neat rows. Large books filled with prints of the latest fashions sat on the countertop.
Myr wasn’t sure who the trendsetters were, but he was starting to question their taste. Goring had made a recent, most unwelcome comeback in jackets and bodices. He’d very much hoped he’d seen the last of it three seasons ago.
Missouri was raised mainly in transit, slowed down to finish school in one place and was then determined to be as nomadic as possible, if only because that’s how things just worked out. She uses writing as an escape from her own neurosi and currently lives with her dear friend Sophia.