KIKA HATZOPOULOU’s latest book Hearts That Cut is the sequel to Threads That Bind and is a heart-pounding Greek-myth-inspired romantasy.

Read on for an extract of Hearts That Cut…

ABOUT THE BOOK

The second heart-pounding Greek-myth-inspired romantasy from the author of Threads That Bind, perfect for fans of Alexandra Bracken’s Lore, Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows and Chloe Gong’s These Violent Delights.

It’s been five weeks since Io, descendant of the Fates, left the city of Alante to follow the golden threads in search of the god on the other end. Her investigation takes a turn for the worse when her only lead vanishes, but not before she gathers some crucial clues.

Now Io has a new mystery to solve – sibling disappearances across the Wastelands that seem to be connected to the murders in Alante. And all signs point to Nanzy, the Golden City, as the centre of the conspiracy.

As Io journeys to Nanzy, she makes powerful enemies, finds allies and uncovers a horrifying plot that traces back centuries. The more she learns, the more she suspects that the future of the world rests on her shoulders. But how much of the future is Io’s choice, and how much is simply her fate…?

EXTRACT

~ PROLOGUE ~

Burnt Orange

THE WORLD WOBBLED around the girl’s feet. The wooden window frames mewed like a cat before breakfast, the desk chairs tilted to the left, and all across the classroom, pencils rolled over wood and hit the floor in chimes of ting, ting, ting. The sky had deepened to a greying mauve, the lights had come on, and the mud-tide was rising beneath the floating foundation of the school, setting it adrift.

At the front of the class, the teacher let out a long exhale and announced they were free to go. At once, every seventh grader in the room burst into action, notebooks stuffed into bags, chairs screeched back, textbooks abandoned in a tower on the teacher’s desk. Within moments, the only person left in the classroom was the girl.

She was still bent over her notebook, fingers rubbing circles against her temples. She didn’t jolt when the bell rang; she stood and let the throng carry her past the school gates.

The swaying was even worse here. The streets of the slums surrounding the Golden City of Nanzy were fashioned out of mismatched chunks of wood atop makeshift floats, the oscillating exacerbated by the feet of passers-by. Every step was like deadly hopscotch – one wrong move and you might slip right into the murky tidewater peeking between the gaps.

The girl kept her eyes to the ground. She could hear her teeth grinding, the disgusting sound drilling all the way through her skull. Gods, this headache. Would it never end?

Someone bumped into her from behind. Her schoolbag slipped from her shoulder, tipping her body forward. The sudden jerk felt like someone had stabbed her between the brows. She wiped tears with the back of her hands, gathered her schoolbag in her arms, and stood—

She could only see dark orange, the colour of maple leaves in the fall. It was on some people’s skin, shimmering blazons of colour in the muted cacophony of the rest of the crowd. The marks were on their legs, on their arms and necks, on their faces, in swirls and whorls, like otherworldly tattoos of burnt orange. A few were inked from top to bottom, others only in small patches on their cheeks.

She knew instinctively what the marks meant: Crimes. Crimes in need of punishment, and her own hand to deliver justice.

A figure appeared before her. ‘There you are,’ the man said jovially, as if he recognised her. ‘I’ve been looking for you all day. Such furious eyes you’ve got.’

His hand circled her wrist; he pulled her into the crowd, practically dragging her behind him in an unknown direction. She couldn’t make out his features, only the orange twisting around his flesh, from wrist to elbow. She blinked and blinked, rubbed her lids, and kneaded her eyeballs, but the blasted colour just wouldn’t come off.

‘Who are you?’ she asked. Did he know her? Had her mothers sent him? ‘Where are we going?’

‘Just here.’ The man pulled her around a corner.

The alley swallowed the streetlight. The bustle of the busy streets quieted. The girl heard the man shuffle closer and squat down to her height. Her heart hammered in her ears.

‘You have been given a purpose.’ He rubbed her back, as though comforting her. As though he wasn’t the one causing her terror. ‘It’s time for you to fulfil it.’

The girl didn’t want a purpose. She could guess at its essence – already it was pumping through her veins with every frantic beat of her heart: punish, punish, punish. But punishment meant pain. She didn’t want to cause pain.

His fingers splayed over her chest, and something sinister tugged at her insides. It was painful – a sting on her skin, but also deeper, through the very essence of her being. A cry tore from her lips. She pulled away, her senses wild and disoriented.

‘Hush now,’ he crooned. His hand fisted in the back of her shirt, rooting her in place. The girl could just make out the outline of his face: his brow knit in concentration, his eyes twinkling a bright silver.

‘It’s over now,’ he said – then came an aching, world-shattering

SNAP!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kika Hatzopoulou writes stories for all ages, filled with lore and whimsy. Her debut YA fantasy novel was Threads That Bind. She is the author of several short stories, including anthologies such as Game On and Firsts & Lasts. She holds an MFA in writing for children from the New School and works in foreign publishing. She currently splits her time between London and her native Greece, where she enjoys urban quests and gastronomical adventures while narrating entire book and movie plots with her partner.

Visit Kika Hatzopoulou’s website