Master of Hounds 3 by R. A. Steffan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: R. A. Steffan
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy Fiction
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- Size: 2 MB
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CAIUS OPPITA, LATE of His Imperial Majesty’s armed forces, was
certain there had once been a time when his life didn’t feel like a runaway
goods wagon careening toward the edge of a cliff. He listened with a feeling
of both sinking dread and painful inevitability as a breathless street urchin
relayed the latest news from the capital, aware of the groans and winces of
the people gathered around him.
He and his lover Decian were still sheltering in one of the pagan
safehouses scattered throughout the city of Amarius. His lover… who also
happened to be the bloody heir apparent to the Alyrion Empire.
God above, how had he ended up here?
The answer, of course, was that he had done something foolish because
he’d thought it was the right thing to do. He’d saved one of the emperor’s
bastard sons from being executed for no other reason than the
circumstances of his birth. And that had all been well and good, right up
until Decian revealed that his Kulawi mother possessed an imperial signet
ring proving her lawful marriage to the Emperor Constanzus. A marriage,
mind you, that predated his union to the current empress—the mother of
Constanzus’ three so-called legitimate sons.
This would have been enough of a crisis to be going on with.
Unfortunately, the revelation had occurred against the backdrop of an
ecumenical council convened to determine the empire’s stance on pagan
heretics. Decian, his mother, and two of Caius’ closest friends were pagans.
Additionally, Decian was a shapeshifter—the worst possible kind of heretic
in the eyes of the Deimonist Church. All of them would face the prospect of
being burned at the stake if the radical wing of the church held sway.
“There’s been another attack on the council?” someone asked.
“Seriously? Are they blaming this one on pagans as well?”
The urchin nodded rapidly, as though his slightly too-large head was on
a swivel. “Yes, sir. They’re saying half a dozen churchmen died this time,
including one of the head muckety-mucks. There’s talk of closing down the
meetings for good!”
Caius resisted the urge to cover his face with his hand in utter dismay.
Someone high up in the imperial hierarchy—and he had a good idea who it
was—had already arranged an attack on the council chamber once, making
it look like the work of pagan sympathizers. After a hiatus of several days,
the council had reconvened, allegedly with tighter security.
But he’d seen the venue where the debates were taking place. The
building was a security nightmare, and no amount of overworked Amarian
guards stationed around it would be able to change that fact.
He cleared his throat. “If the Amarian Council disbands without making
a formal decision,” he said, pitching his voice to be heard over the babble of
voices, “radical deimonists will take that as an excuse to start hunting down
pagans in the streets. If that happens, all of you need to be somewhere far
away from here.
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