They are there
I am here, I am with you.
A queen had said that to him. In their secret, silent language. During
the unspeakable hours of torment, they had said that to each other.
Not alone.
He had not been alone then, and neither had she.
The veranda in Doranelle and bloodied snows outside Orynth blended
and flashed.
I am here, I am with you.
Maeve stood there. Before Aelin and Rowan, burning with power.
Before Lorcan, his dark gifts a shadow around him. Fae—so many Fae
and wolves, some riding them—pouring on to the battlefield through
holes in the air.
It had worked, then. Their mad plan, to be enacted when all went to
hell, when they had nothing left.
Yet Maeve’s power swelled.
Aelin’s eyes remained upon him, anchoring him. Pulling him from
that bloodied veranda. To a body trembling in pain. A face that burned
and throbbed.
I am here, I am with you.
And Fenrys found himself blinking back. Just once.
Yes.
And when Aelin’s eyes moved again, he understood.
Aelin looked to Rowan. Found her mate already smiling at her. Aware of
what likely awaited them. “Together,” she said quietly. Rowan’s thumb
brushed against hers. In love and farewell.
And then they erupted.
Flame, white-hot and blinding, roared toward Maeve.
But the dark queen had been waiting. Twin waves of darkness arched
and cascaded for them.
Only to be halted by a shield of black wind. Beaten aside.
BUSTED
With Nivene’s arm looped through mine, we walk into the snowy forest.
I’m wearing a cloak over my shoulders, and the sun has started to break
through the winter clouds. Still, the cold bites my skin.
Griflet stands by an oak tree and waves to us as we approach. We reach
him, and he leads us beneath a canopy of gnarled branches. Sunlight pierces
the twisted boughs, and icicles hang from the hawthorn trees like jewels.
As I walk, the ferns curling from the snow brush against my gown.
Talan stands by a wooden altar carved from an enormous oak trunk with
intricate swirls and twisting vines. It must have been here for ages because
it is clearly worn by time.
He looks perfect, as always. He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black suit
and a silver collar of order draped over his broad chest. In the center of the
collar is his ouroboros sigil. The midnight blue fabric of his garments looks
soft and seems to absorb the light.
His dark eyes find mine, and as they do, the air feels warmer, heavier.
Sometimes, when I look at him, it’s hard to remember that I’ve seen him
slit a man’s throat during dinner.
Branches arch overhead, forming a living cathedral that shielded the
ground from the snowfall. A carpet of moss leads to the altar. Glowing blue
butterflies perch on the boughs around us, and crimson berries dapple the
grove, vivid against the snowy branches.
As I step closer to Talan, he reaches for my hands. I slide mine into his.
I can’t quite read the expression in his eyes beneath those dark
eyelashes, just the faintest curve of his lips. Almost playful. I wonder how
much of this is simple rebellion, marrying a penniless peasant to piss off the
father he hates.
Griflet stands before the altar with a large book in his hands. He flips
through it, clearing his throat. “We are
Reklam
The Avalon Tower and Camelot
Tana hands me another cup of tea. “Almost there, love.”
“To Camelot?”
She nods. “It was once part of Cornwall, you know, until the king of
Wessex invaded. The rulers of Camelot used magic to hide it. Some say it
was Merlin himself, protecting Camelot from his oak tree. Some say he
doesn’t die.”
Goosebumps rise on my skin.
Around us, the river narrows. On either side, stone and timber frame
buildings crowd the riverbanks. A thin fog hangs over them, tinged by rosy
morning light. Gas lamps lend an ochre glow to the mist. This place really
feels like stepping back in time.
“How come no one knows about Camelot?” For some reason, I’m
whispering.
“It’s secret, of course.” She smiles at me. “That’s what makes it a
perfect place for spies. Only permitted ships can enter.” She sighs. “This
river is haunted, you know. I can feel it. A long time ago, the Fey used to
cut off people’s heads and throw them in the river, and now, I can hear their
spirits whispering.”
A shiver runs through me. “Oh.” I can almost hear their whispers
myself. “I didn’t know the Fey once lived close to humans.”
Tana smiles faintly. “Oh, yes, in peace for a while.” She cocks her ear at
the water, as if listening to something, then shrugs. “They named the tower
after the old Fey kingdom, Avalon.” Tana smiles wistfully. “In some parts of
Camelot, you can still find the roads and temples built by the Pendragon
kings long ago. The Pendragon walls encircle the city, hundreds of feet
high. A few hundred years ago, we stopped putting severed heads on the
city gates, you’ll be pleased to know. At least, I’m pretty sure we stopped.”
I clear my throat. “I’m glad to hear it.” That’s twice now she’s
mentioned severed heads.
“Our academy dates back to the Roman occupation of Britain. You’ll
learn all about it soon
“I know I cannot stay both as I am, and where I am, forever,” he admits. “People start to notice. And then, they start to talk. And then, it is only a matter of time before a life must be given up, or lost. But I will miss this city dearly. And all the memories it has.”
İnsan yaşla hakikate eriyor ama, onu kullanmak , ona göre yaşamak gücünü kaybettikten sonra.
It seemed my whole life was composed of these disjointed fractions of time, hanging around in one public place and then another, as if I were waiting for trains that never came. And, like one of the ghosts who are said to linger around depots late at night, asking passerby for the timetable of the Midnight Express that derailed twenty years before, I wandered from light to light until that dreaded hour when all the doors closed and, stepping from the world of warmth and people and conversation overheard, I felt the old familiar cold twist through my bones again and then it was all forgotten, the warmth, the lights; I had never been warm in my life, ever.
Reklam
Reklam