By Brent Weeks

From New York Times bestselling writer Brent Weeks...

Kylar Stern has rejected the assassin's lifestyles. The Godking's profitable coup has left Kylar's grasp, Durzo, and his ally, Logan, useless. he's beginning over: new city, new acquaintances, and new occupation.

But whilst he learns that Logan may truly be alive and in hiding, Kylar is confronted with an agonizing selection: will he hand over the way in which of shadows endlessly and dwell in peace along with his new relations, or will he hazard every thing by means of taking up the final word hit?

Night Angel
The approach of Shadows
Shadow's Edge
Beyond the Shadows

Night Angel: the whole Trilogy (omnibus)

Perfect Shadow: an evening Angel Novella (e-only)
The means of Shadows: The picture Novel

For extra from Brent Weeks, money out:

The Black Prism
The Blinding Knife
The damaged Eye
The Blood Mirror

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Additional info for II. Shadow's Edge (Night Angel Trilogy, Book 2)

Sample text

He sat on the bed, rubbing his temples. He was so tired of this. So tired of everything. Did she really expect him to answer? Of course she did. It was all words and wasted air. Why did women always believe that talking about a problem would fix it? Some issues were corpses. Hot air made them fester and rot and spread their disease to everything else. Better to bury it and move on. Like Durzo. Worm food. “It was my master’s sword. He gave it to me,” Kylar said, only a little late for his cue. “Your master gave you a lot of things, beatings not least among them.

No? That trip has to be what, three weeks? That’s an eternity for you youngsters. Well. This afternoon, Uly and I will go for a good long walk. ” “Please,” Kylar begged, shaking his head. Elene was mortified. “Hmmph,” Aunt Mea said, looking at Elene. “Well. ” Braen Smith worked in a shop attached to the house. He had his mother’s broad, plain features and wide shoulders. As they approached, he threw a barrel hoop he was shaping onto a stack of similar ones and removed his gloves. “Morning,” he said.

Just like that, the fight was over. ” Sniffles asked. “We could have used that meat. ” For a moment, their fury crested and Logan thought they would attack him again. He reached to his hip to pull out the knife. It was gone. On the other side of the Hole, Fin looked at him. He picked his bloody, scurvied gums with the point of the knife. Time was on his side, now. Logan had thought the Holers had no society, but he’d been wrong. There were camps down here, too. The Holers were split into the animals and the monsters, the weak and the strong.

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