Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) by Alex Barclay

dark grey of the sky, the giant black shadows of the cliffs, and the cascades that plunged down from them. Oland took out his tinderbox and, with a few strikes of steel against flint, the char-cloth ignited and he could light the lantern that Malben had found discarded on their journey.
    One house stood by The Falls, clearly built from the stones of the cliffs beside it – grey and gold and white. Oland hadn’t expected such a humble home for a man the Scryer of Gort had predicted would destroy Villius Ren.
    The garden was overgrown, not with weeds, but with plants and flowers in bursts of bright colours. It was a curious sight beside such treacherous waters. Malben took to the trees. Oland went to the red wooden door of the house and knocked. There was no answer. He walked around the side. He shone his lantern into the small windows, but the rooms were empty. Then he heard a rattling sound coming from the back of the house. He followed it around and discovered another red door with splintered edges, held to its frame by a thick knotted coil of rope that had been loosened by the force of the wind. Oland knew that his knife was not strong enough to cut through it.
    He looked towards The Falls. Suddenly, one of the cascades seemed to stop flowing. Oland kept watching, and the water flowed again. For almost an hour, Oland watched as all the way along The Falls, parts of the cascades stopped, then restarted, like keys played on a piano. When the spectacle was over, he sat down on the front step of the house, and watched as Malben swung back and forth through the trees.
    â€œYou lead a simple life, Mr Malben,” he said.
    As he fell silent again, he saw that the cascade closest to them had stopped. Too curious to ignore it, he walked down. It was a breathtaking sight. Malben, seemingly terrified by the roaring torrents, let out a yelp and disappeared. Oland moved closer to the water, mesmerised by its force.
    He heard the sound of cracking twigs not more than six feet away.
    He waited. Again, he heard the sound.
    â€œIs… somebody there?” said Oland.
    â€œYes.” It was a girl’s voice, coming from behind a tree, where a light was glowing.
    â€œWho are you?” said Oland, walking towards the tree and trying to look around it.
    â€œWho are you ?” said the girl. “ You’re the trespasser.”
    â€œMy name is Oland Born. I’m from the Kingdom of Decresian.”
    â€œMy name is Delphi.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here in the dark?” said Oland.
    She stepped out from behind the tree holding a lantern. Her dark eyes shone in the flame. She had flawless skin and choppy coal-black hair to the nape of her neck. The girls in Derrington had hair to their waists, and wore wool dresses to their ankles. Delphi wore loose grey trousers, with a black leather belt wrapped twice around her narrow waist and a grey top that slid off one shoulder. Over that, she wore a long, hooded oilskin cape that fell to the ground and almost covered her black boots.
    â€œYou’re the girl from the arena!” said Oland. “The girl who was thrown out.”
    â€œI am,” said Delphi. “No girls allowed.”
    â€œSo what were you doing there?” said Oland.
    â€œWhat were you doing there?” said Delphi.
    Oland realised that she had not recognised him, and for that he was grateful. When he thought of what he had done, he felt nothing but shame at the ease with which he had killed. “I… well, I was there to… watch,” he said.
    â€œAs was I,” said Delphi. Her eyes seemed to grow even darker.
    â€œSo…” she said. “Why have you come to Dallen?”
    Oland hesitated. “Do you know Chancey the Gold?”
    â€œI know of him,” said Delphi. “In that he lives at one side of The Falls. I live at the other.”
    â€œHave you seen him?” said Oland.
    â€œMany times,” said Delphi.
    â€œHave you seen him