In this “excellent fantasy debut, with engaging world-building and a good mix between action and character” (Brandon Sanderson, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Stormlight Archive series), a story of secrets, rebellion, and murder are shattering the Hollows, where magic costs memory to use, and only the son of the kingdom’s despised traitor holds the truth. Michael is branded a traitor as a child because of the murder of the king’s nine-year-old son, by his father David Kingman. Ten years later on Michael lives a hardscrabble life, with his sister Gwen, performing crimes with his friends against minor royals in a weak attempt at striking back at the world that rejects him and his family. In a world where memory is the coin that pays for magic, Michael knows something is there in the hot white emptiness of his mind. So when the opportunity arrives to get folded back into court, via the most politically dangerous member of the kingdom’s royal council, Michael takes it, desperate to find a way back to his past. He discovers a royal family that is spiraling into a self-serving dictatorship as gun-wielding rebels clash magically trained militia. What the truth holds is a set of shocking revelations that will completely change the Hollows, if Michael and his friends and family can survive long enough to see it. In a “symphony of loyalty, greed, family, and betrayal” (Tamora Pierce, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Tempests and Slaughter ) this spellbinding novel “creates a solid foundation for (hopefully) a much longer narrative to come” ( Kirkus Reviews ). “An excellent fantasy debut, with engaging worldbuilding and a good mix between action and character. I thoroughly enjoyed the novel, and look forward to following Nick’s sure-to-be lengthy writing career.” —Brandon Sanderson, #1 New York Times best-selling author of The Stormlight Archive series “A symphony of loyalty, greed, family, and betrayal set in an innovative culture!” —Tamora Pierce, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Tempests and Slaughter "With a smartly plotted story, great world-building, flawed but fascinating characters and plenty of mystery, The Kingdom of Liars is a terrific debut." —James Islington, author of The Shadow of What Was Lost "A richly rewarding fantasy that seethes with mysteries, fuzed with a mindscrew of a magic system. This, dear readers, is the good stuff." —Jeremy Szal, author of Stormblood "Nick Martell’s debut The Kingdom of Liars lives up to its name, with so many truths and lies interwoven that nothing is as it seems and surprises lurk across every turn of the page. Michael’s tale is nothing, if not thrilling." —Ryan Van Loan, author of The Sin in the Steel “An impressive fantasy debut that creates a solid foundation for (hopefully) a much larger narrative to come…” ― Kirkus Reviews “This smart, briskly told high fantasy entertains all the way until the unexpected end.” ― Publishers Weekly Nick Martell was born in Ontario, Canada, before moving to the United States at age seven. He started writing novels regularly in fifth grade, and his debut novel, The Kingdom of Liars , sold when he was twenty-three years old. Find Nick on Twitter @MacMartell or at NickMartell.com. Chapter 1: An Audience AN AUDIENCE You will hear this story as I lived it. Count yourself lucky to hear a Kingman tell their story. There has been no other account like this. And all I ask from you, in return for the greatest story ever told, is a small favor and to let me live long enough to tell it. To learn how I earned the title of king killer, we must begin on the night before the Endless Waltz began, the last remnant of my youth. Not that I ever really had one. After my father’s execution, I spent years struggling to survive in a city that wanted to see shackles on my wrists and my head roll. It might not surprise you to hear that I spent much of my time conning the nobility, which was always easier than it should have been. Even without hiding the brand on my neck or how suspicious my intentions ever were. And my actions were as suspicious as usual that night I oversaw a duel between my friend Sirash, a former Skeleton, and his target: a rather drunk and rather obnoxious country-born Low Noble who had never been to Hollow before. The mark was so fresh to the city, he hadn’t even had time to change into something more befitting of a Hollow noble, and was still wearing layers of clothes that lacked a uniform style or color. It showed everyone how low he was, as if that wasn’t evident enough when he called Sirash a copper-skinned savage. The so-called civilized people only did that in the comfort of their own homes. The Low Noble pointed the flintlock pistol at Sirash, then showed it to his painfully sober brother before peering down the barrel himself. His finger was on the trigger the entire time. Thankfully for him, it wasn’t loaded. Not that he was privileged to that i