A. O. Henderson

Kiris Avkonin’s Prophecies create reality, and he cannot control them. His magic is coveted, the idea of him is worshiped, and he is despised. After Prophesizing nineteen famines, a foreign empire’s invasion, and the future death of his mentor and adoptive parent, who wouldn’t hate him? He does. True Prophet—sure. Kiris is fairly certain his socks are holier than he is, and his purse half again as threadbare.

Desperate for enough coin to reach his mentor before Prophecy twists fate to kill them, he masquerades as a for-hire prince to stage a Competition of Princes—a deadly series of weapons and judgment challenges to elect a new Prince. Survive three days and he’ll even be able to afford food. Prince Nazvili, heirless and the butt of Kiris’ everything-but-deposition scheme, planned for this. Next thing Kiris knows, he’s bobbing in a bathtub in the middle of an inland sea, Prince Nazvili has exposed his magic, and she’s made him her heir by force. He can’t escape.

Kiris is dragged kicking and would-be-screaming-if-screaming-had-ever-worked-before into princely politics. His last chance to save his mentor hinges on Prince Nazvili’s commands, and Prince Nazvili commands him to represent her in the invading empire’s multi-prince Competition. The same invading empire, which invaded solely to enslave him.

Oops.

To the last prince standing goes tax-collection and delayed “assimilation.” The fastest path to victory? Gift-wrapping True Prophet Kiris Avkonin for the conquering empress herself.

One positive emerges from this deadly farce: Kiris’ mentor has entered this Competition, too. Instead of visiting them before they die, Kiris might be able to thwart his own Prophecy. To save them. To do one good thing with his life. He just… needs to outlive them, first.

Thirty-six princes. One crown. And a pinch of necromancy.

May the best prince win.