spoiler alert girls
mıntıkaların mevcut galipler havuzu da ne demekti?
ve bunun ne demek olduğunu anladım. En azından bunun benim için ne anlama geldiğini. 12. Mıntıka'nın
yalnızca üç galibi vardı ve bunların ikisi erkekti. diğeri ise kadın...
arenaya geri dönüyordum.
Katniss
Wow
“Do you want to do the honors, or should I?” Rowan said. Fenrys and
Gavriel had risen to their feet, blades out as they monitored from a safe
distance. Aelin held out her free hand, her palm scarred, and took the knife
from him. A quick slice had her skin stinging, warm blood heating her
seawater-sticky skin.
Rowan had the knife a heartbeat later, and the scent of his blood filled
her nose, set her senses on edge. But she extended her bloodied palm.
Her magic swirled into the world with it, crackling in her veins, her
ears. She reined in the urge to tap her foot on the ground, to roll her
shoulders.
“Slow,” Rowan repeated, as if sensing the hair-trigger that her power
was now on, “and steady.” His shackled arm slid around her waist to hold
her to him. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
She lifted her head to study his face, the harsh planes and the curving
tattoo. He leaned in to brush a kiss to her mouth. And as his lips met hers,
he joined their bleeding palms.
Magic jolted through her, ancient and wicked and cunning, and she
arched against him, knees buckling as his cataclysmic power roared into
her.
All anyone on deck saw, she knew, was two lovers embracing.
But Aelin tunneled down, down, down into her power, felt him doing
the same with his, felt every ounce of ice and wind and lightning go
slamming from him into her. And when it reached her, the core of his power
yielded to her own, melted and became embers and wildfire. Became the
molten heart of the earth, shaping the world and birthing new lands.
Deeper and deeper, she went.
Aelin had a vague sense of the ship rocking beneath them, felt the faint
bite of the iron as it rejected her magic, felt the presence of Fenrys and
Gavriel flickering around them like candles.
It had been months since she’d drawn
Reklam
It is Good To Be Rogue when there is An Assasion
“Your Highness,” one of them shouts. “Thank the gods you’re not hurt!
There’s been some sort of attack. Magical explosives. Both your quarters
and your father’s were the targets, apparently.”
“What happened to the king?” Talan’s voice echoes off the walls.
The guard shakes his head. “Luckily, he was in the library and not in his
room.”
“Any signs of the assassins?”
“Already gone, Your Highness. We’re sending trackers to hunt them
down.”
“Find them alive. I want their confession. Because they didn’t just try to
kill me. They tried to kill my wife, a mistake I will make them regret.”
Nausea rises in my gut, and I lean against the wall, head pounding and
my stomach twisted in knots.
The assassins never needed me to open the window to let them in.
The window was a signal that I was in the room with him.
“Thank the gods you’re alive,” she murmurs, her voice tight.
“Do you remember when you told me to have faith in Avalon Tower and
not to worry about the details?” I hiss. “I’m not sure I trust your judgement
at this point.”
“Obviously, I didn’t think explosives would be involved,” she snaps.
“The whole bloody point was for you to open the window for assassins to
sneak inside.”
“But what if there was a different reason they wanted me to open the
window? To let them know I was with Talan? They blew the room up right
after I opened the window. Within minutes. If they didn’t want me dead,
surely they would have waited a while longer. They were supposed to strike
when Talan was sleeping. They could see me in the window if they were
looking.”
Nivene shakes her head. “That couldn’t have been the instructions from
A Brother's Reunion with his sister
“Your brother will be here soon.” I gesture at a wooden table and chairs
in the center of the room. “Please, sit down.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll remain standing,” she says, leaning against the
wall. She’s casual, but I note how she eyes the door, her body alert. She
doesn’t trust me. She thinks this might be a trap. Of course she does. I
couldn’t expect her to fully trust me.
“Whatever you prefer.” I shrug, sitting back down.
The door swings open, and Raphael steps in, dressed in a gray cloak, his
dark hair wet with rain. It’s grown back a little from the rough job they did
on it in the dungeons.
My throat tightens when I see him, and sadness sings in my chest.
There’s the man who chose Avalon Tower over me.
But he’s not looking at me, of course. He’s looking at the sister he’s
missed and longed to see since he was a little boy.
Ysolde stares at him, frozen, then darts forward and grabs him in a
desperate hug, her body racked with sobs.
I wait patiently. Time is short, but I have to give them at least a few
minutes after all those years. How would it feel to be reunited with a sibling
that you grew up with, that you spent so many years missing? I imagine for
a moment having a brother or sister.
Raphael’s eyes are closed as he hugs Ysolde. She’s stopped sobbing and
leans her head against his chest, tears running down her cheek. Finally, they
break apart.
“What happened to you all these years?” Ysolde asks him.
“I will tell you everything,” Raphael says, his voice cracking slightly.
“Later, when we’re alone. Nia probably doesn’t have much time.” He
glances at me, his eyebrows knit together.
Ysolde sits in a chair next to me. “So, her name is Nia? She told me that
you’re a wanted man here. I mean, more than a regular demi-Fey.”
Raphael sits, too, and scrubs a hand over
Spoiler Alert
"Rhys, yoksa sen gizli bir romantik misin?"
"Bilmem." Cebime uzanıp küçük kadife kutuyu çıkardım, midemdeki düğümler iki katına çıkmıştı. Bridget tam o anda sesli bir nefes aldığında onun dışındaki her şey sustu; rüzgâr, kuşlar, uzaktaki Pasifik'in uğultusu. Sanki tüm dünya nefesini tutmuş, ne olacağını görmek için bekliyordu. "Sen söyle."
When we conform to tradition, we soon become mere copies of what we should be. This imitation of what we should be, breeds fear; and fear kills creative thinking. Fear dulls the mind and heart so that we are not alert to the whole significance of life; we become insensitive to our own sorrows, to the movement of the birds, to the smiles and miseries of others.
Reklam
Reklam