Of Exile and Song

OF EXILE AND SONG WANDERERS OF RUIN BOOK ONE TIFFANY HUNT WILD INK PUBLISHING Copyright © 2023 by Tiffany Hunt All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Design by Claire Holt with Luminescence Covers www.luminescencecovers.com Editing by M. Garzon Map by Fictive Designs Chapter and break illustrations by Etheric Tales For those who dream. ABOUT OF EXILE AND SONG I’ve been hunted my whole life. I am part siren, a hated half-breed. Forced to live in hiding, I use magic to steal and avoid the mages who would punish me for what I am. In a land ravaged by war, it’s the only way to survive. The only way to feed my family. I can change my destiny. But when tragedy happens and the mages catch up with me, I am badly outnumbered, and if it weren’t for the appearance of a stranger, I might have found myself sold to the nearest freak show, or worse. But this mysterious man doesn’t help me out of the kindness of his heart. He’s after something that could change my family’s life forever. And I would be a fool not to help him while I try to steal it for myself. If only my heart doesn’t get in the way. We form a tentative alliance, and suddenly, my hopes and dreams are within reach. I’ll do anything to save my family, and that includes betraying a perfect stranger. So I shouldn’t like when Col brushes his hand against mine, or when his voice encourages me to obey. These are only distractions, and I can’t afford to forget what’s at stake. But Col has a secret, one that will upend our quest and plunge us into harrowing danger. And I must choose between duty to my family… and duty to my heart. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS Of Exile and Song is set in a medieval style dark fantasy world ruled by a blood-thirsty tyrant, where anyone who is deemed “different” is reviled and subjected to torture, slavery, or death. As a result, the main female character begins the story with ongoing emotional trauma. Certain other elements might be difficult for some readers, including graphic (consensual) sexual content; graphic violence; references to sexual violence and an attempted sexual assault; past family trauma; death of a friend/person who is disabled; and starvation. CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Thank You Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Tiffany Hunt CHAPTER ONE “Samara,” the voice hissed. I turned over in bed. Cold air whistled through a gap in the slats of the wall, the same hole that had brought the voice. “I’m awake,” I whispered back. Nothing else needed to be said, and I quickly stuffed the hole with a rag to ward off the chill. The bed was pushed up against the wall and took up the entire room, with a sliver of space near the open doorway for a shelf with our clothes. Careful not to wake my sleeping sister, I eased over her. She stirred, and I froze. When her breathing evened out once more, I got out of our shared bed. Immediately, I missed the warm blankets and hurried to dress. Baggy pants cinched up with a belt, long woolen shirt, and my worn leather boots. I laced the boots tightly so I wouldn’t lose one. They were a bit big for my feet, having once belonged to my brother, but they worked well enough. “What are you doing?” I turned to see Laney sitting up in bed, her dark eyes reflecting the dim glow of the fire in the next room. Her hair was dark brown like mine, but her eyes were larger than a normal child’s, taking up more of her face than they should have. It was just enough to be off-putting for most people. I adored her eyes, though. “Go back to sleep.” She yawned and stretched. “Why are you sneaking out again?” “What do you mean, ‘sneaking out again’?” I asked sternly. She pouted. “I’m seven years old now. I know things.” I stifled a laugh. Ever since her birthday, Laney had been making similar pronouncements. “What sort of things?” I whispered as I slung my satchel over my shoulder and looked for my knife. “I know that you sneak out sometimes, and I heard Flint’s voice.” She pronounced his name as “Vlint” because of her missing front teeth. “Gods, Laney, I’m not sneaking out with Flint.” I was sneaking out with Flint, but just for some wholesome thieving. “Go back to sleep. You know too much for a seven-year-old.” “How much are seven-year-olds supposed to know?” She swung her legs out of bed as if she were going with me, and talked so loudly I thought she’d wake our father in the next room. Quickly, I tucked her back into the blankets, making them tight around her body. “I guess seven-year-olds know what they know,” I sighed. “But you don’t need to know what I’m doing, and I need you to stay here and go back to sleep. Keep an eye on Da when you wake up, though.” “I wanna go.” “Not this time. Besides, I’ll be back sometime in the morning, and I’ll have walked a long way. Too far for your little legs.” “They’re not little,” she said petulantly. “Okay then. They’re not little, but they are shorter than mine, and that’s what I meant.” “But I don’t want to look after Da,” she whined, switching tactics. “He just sleeps all the time.” “And that’s why he needs someone to look after him. Because sleeping people need someone to