King of dead things

The first time Eli had tried taking magic that wasn’t his, it had wrapped around his palms like razor wire, tight enough that he’d needed stitches. Since then, Eli had bled magic from a soul enough times that he knew the rhythm of it. He knew what kinds of magic to stay away from and which he could upsell, which would get stuck beneath his fingernails and which would crumble and turn to ash if he held on too tightly. Eli doesn’t know who he is or where he came from. What he does know is that he can pluck the magic from a soul like a petal from a flower. And he knows there is nothing he wouldn’t borrow, steal or destroy in order to discover his past.

Peek Inside