Shadow's Edge by Brent Weeks

For Kristi, for never doubting— not even when I did. For Kevin, because it’s a big brother’s job to make a little brother tough. What you taught me, I’ve needed. (But I never have been right since that dirt clod incident.) 1 We’ve got a contract for you,” Momma K said. As always, she sat like a queen, her back straight, sumptuous dress perfect, hair immaculately coifed if gray at the roots. This morning she had dark circles under her eyes. Kylar guessed that none of the Sa’kagé’s surviving leaders had slept much since the Khalidoran invasion. “Good morning to you, too,” Kylar said, settling into the wing-backed chair in the study. Momma K didn’t turn to face him, looking instead out her window. Last night’s rain had quenched most of the fires in the city, but many still smoked, bathing the city in a crimson dawn. The waters of the PlithRiver that divided rich eastern Cenaria from the Warrens looked as red as blood. Kylar wasn’t sure that was all beca
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