Bestselling author Mai Corland’s new fantasy-mystery novel is paving the way for a whole new genre, featuring a locked room “whodunit” murder, a detective with a dark past, and a priestess with mystic powers inspired by ancient Roman mythology.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Verity Guild by Mai Corland, which releases on May 5th 2026.
Secrets built this republic; one truth could burn it down.
High Priestess Kerasea Vestal has spent her life hiding the truth—that she’s the last surviving heir of the magical bloodline the republic slaughtered. One wrong step could be fatal. But when a senator is brutally killed and a temple blade is found at the scene, all eyes turn to her.
Praetorian Torren Morvane has made a career of dragging liars into the light, and Kerasea is the one person he’s vowed to ruin. But locked on a mountain with a murderer, scheming senators, and a prophecy of death, he’s forced to work at her side. The closer he gets, the more dangerous the truth—and their attraction—becomes.
With traitors closing in and a nation on the verge of shattering, Kerasea and Torren must risk everything to uncover the real killer…even if it means trusting their sworn enemy.
EXCERPT
Copyright © 2026 by Mai Corland. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. Edited by Liz Pelletier
Chapter 2
Torren
The roar of the crowd rises in my ears, begging for blood, and I’m happy to oblige.
My opponent sways in front of me, looking but not seeing. He fought well, but this match was over before it began. The man comes from the Southside, the rich end of the capital.
He’d tried to hide his noble status, but it was obvious from his tailoring and bearing. For all the advantages they have south of the Tiger River, they can’t fight like the Northside. It’s not really their fault—they’ve never had their lives depend on their hands.
I shift my stance, ready to issue the final blow. Another win. Another knockout. Victory in the fight ring won’t change my past, but it’s still something.
Sweat stings as it drips down my forehead into my eyes. I blink twice, and then everything slows. The wraps around my hands suddenly don’t feel as tight; my heart beats slower. I bounce on the balls of my feet, my legs nearly weightless with each movement. One. Two. I draw a breath, ready for my fist to collide with the man’s cheek. He’ll hit the mat with a thud, and I will be declared the champion—as I have dozens of times before.
Nothing can dull this moment.
“Praetorian! Praetorian,” a panicked voice shouts from the crowd. I clench my jaw.
Son of a jackal—well, almost nothing.
With stiff shoulders, I turn at my title, although I already recognized the voice. It’s Antinous, Clerk of the Senate Council, along with a cadre of armor-plated sentries. Antinous is a small man with round spectacles who has never seen the inside of a ring in his life. Judging by the nervous way he shifts around as he waits, I’m not sure he’s even been this close to one.
“The Senate is awaiting you, Praetorian. The Revelry will start within the hour.”
Which I knew. I had calculated plenty of time for a quick match, but this nobleman surprised me with his refusal to give up. I’ve knocked him to the mat twice, and he’s still fighting.
For a moment, I consider ignoring Antinous long enough to put this nobleman down one final time. But duty makes my fists too heavy to swing.
I sigh as I raise my arm to forfeit the match, even though conceding feels like pushing sand under my skin. Responsibility comes first for the Senate’s protector, as it must. The needs of the republic are greater than any one man’s pride.
The crowd in the stands gasps because I’ve never once been beaten or forfeited. They want to jeer, especially those who bet on a knockout, but they don’t dare. Not with ten sentries and the Senate Clerk standing here. And certainly not with my reputation.
The referee lifts my opponent’s hand in the air. No one applauds.
I shrug on my cotton shirt and button it. The fabric sticks to my sweat and the man’s blood speckled across my chest, but I planned to bathe and change before the Revelry anyway.
Antinous smiles up at me. He’s around average height for a man, so a head shorter than me, and maybe half my weight when he’s soaking wet. I gesture for him to go first as I catch Julian’s blond hair in the crowd. He falls in line beside me, and I knock fists with my closest friend.
“It was a good fight, Tor,” Julian says.
I glance at him and raise my eyebrows. “Was it?”
I wait for a reply, but he’s already smiling to men he knows and women he’d like to. We’re opposites, he and I. He’s a few inches shorter and less muscular, and he has blond hair where mine is ebony, but it’s our personalities that are diametrically opposed. For example, people like him.
“Your fights never are.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you still manage to con the upper crust out of money and into the ring.”
I shrug. There’s never a shortage of overconfident men.
Julian is also one of those upper-crust nobles from a storied family in the Southside, but I like him in spite of all that. In spite of myself, I suppose.
I run my hands through my short hair as we walk the paved stone streets past the noisy hawkers in the sprawling market and the quiet, empty arena.
“Are the men ready?” I ask.
He nods, but he’s delayed a moment, distracted by a pair of pretty brown eyes and a green sash. I groan. I swear women will be the death of him.
I idle, and two small, dirty children pull at my pants leg. One look and I know they’re from the Northside. Beggar children cross over the Palatine Bridge to reach the deeper pockets here. It’s a punishable offense, seeking alms across the river, but they appear to be no more than four and six years old. I toss them a few coppers, pretending they fell from my pocket.
Julian catches me, glowing with happiness as he adds silver coins to their little hands. With his money, they’ll be fed for a month. There were days I could only wish for that kind of blessing. Memories of hunger pangs stir in my stomach, and I shake them off.
I clear my throat and look away from the children. “Your report, Commander.”
“Yes, of course,” he says. “All sentries are on duty, Praetorian.”
The Capital Commander smirks as he inclines his head at me. He uses my title because he knows the formality annoys me—at least when it’s from him. Julian is one of the few who still views me as a person, not just the Senate’s fearsome watchdog and brutal investigator.
I keep walking.
“You seem particularly surly today,” he says. “Which is no small feat for you.”
I stare straight ahead at the towering white marble buildings of the Forum in the distance, each a marvel of civilization, from the towers to the hanging gardens to the shimmering spire. “I am but a ray of sunshine in the dusk.”
The corner of his mouth lifts as I quote one of my favorite poets, then he taps his chin. “Let’s see, what’s bothering you…lately? I know you don’t exactly appreciate the upcoming night of sin because to you, it’s just more paperwork.”
He’s right—the Revelry is a headache.
I shake my head and continue on. “Nothing is bothering me.”
“You’re the republic’s worst liar,” Julian says.
I draw a breath and turn to stare daggers at him without breaking stride.
“Oh, those blue pools the ladies love,” he says, chuckling.
I roll my eyes. He really is the worst best friend I could have. Sometimes, like right now, I regret protecting him the day we met, but he’s also my only real friend. I assume this is what it’s like to have a younger brother—to love someone as much as you’re irritated by them. The gods blessed me with being an only child. Well, aside from my half sisters, but they’re far younger than I am, and we’ve lived entirely different lives.
“But you hate the Revelry and all of this every year,” he continues. “So why grumpier about tonight— Oh.” He smiles like a cat cornering a broken-winged bird. “Never mind.”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his hazel eyes innocent. He’s not innocent at all.
“Do you have something to tell me or are you just here to torment me?” I ask.
Julian’s smile fades. “Actually, I do.”
The change in tone catches my attention as we step into the tiled hall. I stop. We don’t have to go far—my rooms are first off the entrance. But Julian avoids being serious at all costs. This must be important.
I unlock the door, and we enter my apartment. My quarters are the most luxurious and spacious in the barracks, which isn’t saying much. Jules calls it a “grand hovel.” But I have a living space, a bedroom, and a private bath, which is all I need. I’ve lived with far less.
“There’s a rumor that the temple of truth received a mal omen today, and we have reports of a potential Arthagian incursion. I’m sure there won’t be a war—the Senate will roll over as per usual. Still, some in command are calling for the Revelry to be canceled.”
“Oh, well, if the bird livers say it, it has to be true,” I mutter, flipping the lock.
“Go get bathed or you’ll be late,” Julian says. “Yes, you wouldn’t want to keep the lady waiting.”
I swallow and look down at the ground before answering. “A thousand curses upon your soul.”
I stride out of the room and just barely resist slamming the door to the bath. Julian laughs because he’s goaded me into a temper. He’s right—about all of it—but there’s no need to tell him that. I don’t enjoy the Revelry and, for the first time, Kerasea Vestal will be on the dais next to me. Sharing the space with her father was bad enough. She’s worse.
Without waiting for the hot water, I plunge myself into the cold shower.
It’s going to be a long night.
