Tek başıma yaşadığım daireyi hıncahınç dolduran bu arşiv yığının içine sığınma ihtiyacı duyduğuma göre, neyi kaçırmış olabilirim? Yıllar geçtikçe yerden tavana doğru yükselmeyi sürdüren bütün bu kitapların, bu eski evrakın arasında sıkışıp, yaşamaktan çok düş kurmaya mı mahkum ettim kendimi? Gazete ve dergi koleksiyonları, kataloglar, açık artırmalardan ve pazarlardan satın alınmış fotoğraf albümleri, ajandalar, mektuplar, not defterleri, her dönemden Paris haritaları ve rehberleri, çoğunluğu gereksiz şeyler, sergi, sinema biletleri ve hatta kitap ayracı olarak kullandığım kahve fişleri. Bunlar benim hafızam. Hiçbir zaman hiçbir şeyi atmayı bilemedim zaten.
The Secret Weapon
“Raphael,” I say weakly. “There’s a secret—”
One of the goons hits me, a sudden punch into my stomach, and my
breath whooshes out. I feel like I’m suffocating.
I glance up. Raphael unsheathes his sword, his eyes lit with silver, but
Wrythe already has a dagger pressed to my throat. The knife edges into my
skin.
“Step any closer, and she dies,” he tells Raphael.
“This is over, Wrythe,” Raphael says evenly. “Let her go.”
Wrythe pauses for a few seconds. “I am merely doing my job,
protecting my people from a dangerous traitor.”
“Nia is an Avalon Steel Knight. She’s done more for our cause than any
of you—”
“Enough!” Wrythe raises his voice, his knife digging into my throat.
“You want to do this here? Very well. Let’s talk about your precious Avalon
Steel Knight. Where’s Tarquin?”
“Right here.” He steps up beside me and shoots me a disdainful look.
Wrythe eases the knife from my throat but presses it against my back,
just next to my spine. “You’ll have your chance to talk here, mongrel,” he
hisses in my ear, “but if you attempt to interrupt me before I have my say, I
will ram my knife through your ribs so fast, you won’t get a single syllable
out.”
Hatred roils through my veins. I’ll wait for my chance, and then I’ll tell
Raphael and the rest everything. I’ll risk a stabbing to get the truth out.
And then Tarquin turns and reaches his arm back to bring another
woman forward, and my heart sinks.
Mom.
She looks put together, for once. Her hair is dyed blonde, her makeup is
perfect. Someone’s been looking after her.
I have no idea what she’s doing here, but I know it’s not good.
“Let her go,” I blurt. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
Bu yaz yanınızdan ayırmak istemeyeceğiniz kitapları sizin için bir araya getirdik.
💬 Siz olsanız bu listeden hangisiyle başlardınız?
The Test Scores
My breath catches. They’re about to announce the torcs.
I watch as the trio of judges confer for a few minutes in a tense huddle.
Viviane is pulling out papers, pointing to them.
I swallow hard.
At last, Viviane turns to the arena, and the wind whips at her blonde
hair. “Tana Campbell,” she bellows. “Silver!”
Darius grabs my arm in a death grip, grinning. “She’s a knight! She’s a
fucking knight.”
“Serana O’Rourke,” Viviane calls out. “Silver!”
I feel the grin splitting my face from ear to ear. “Holy shit. This almost
makes up for the fact that Tarquin and Horatio got gold.”
“They’re going to be insufferable. Well, they didn’t earn theirs, did
they? Tarquin lost to you. But these torcs actually make sense.” Darius is
bouncing in his seat, and he reaches down to pick up a blue paper bag. “I
knew it. I fucking knew it. I mean, I didn’t realize it would be silver, but I
knew they’d pass. Obviously.”
Burning with rage, I pull at my magic, and it fuels the hot crimson
inside me. I don’t bother searching for a weak spot. I hurl my magic at the
veil, my teeth grinding together. To my right, the veil mage stumbles, then
falls flat on his back. The buzz of the veil sputters and dies, and silence fills
the hall. I hear only my own pounding pulse.
When the mist is completely silent and no longer buzzing over my skin,
I stride inside.
Pearly white fog wraps around me. My foot kicks something, and I hear
it spinning across the floor. I reach down for the wand and grip its gnarled
wood.
I march out of the veil and toss it at Wrythe’s feet. It clatters noisily.
“There you go,” I say. “Your wand, sir.”
The veil mist slowly dissipates, and the mage seems to be unconscious.
The Culling Test
“Wow, demi-Fey? I’ve never seen one. What did they look like?”
“Fucking weird, pardon my language. The man had pointy ears,
obviously. Dark hair. Tattoos on his arms, eerie silver eyes like metal.
Beautiful blonde woman with him. You know, I don’t mind the women
demi-Fey quite as much. I’d give her one,” he says thoughtfully. “Pardon
the expression.”
I toss a horseshoe, and it clatters to the floor of his stall. A thought starts
to blossom in my mind. “Did they have anything with them?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
I open my eyes wide. “Well, like you said, they’re dangerous. And you
know the saying, if you see something, say something.”
He holds up a finger. “Do you know what, love? The fella was carrying
something. It was in a box, like a musical instrument or something. They
never brought it out again.” His eyes widen. “Do you think they could be
planning something? You don’t think it was a bomb, do you?” He scrubs a
hand over his mouth. “With all these people here? Should I call the police?”
I toss both horseshoes one after the other, so off the mark that one
nearly hits one of the prize dolls. “It’s probably nothing. I doubt demi-Fey
even know how to make a bomb. We don’t want the police shutting the
whole fair down over an empty box.”
What I know at this point is that Raphael and Vivian came in earlier and
left a package here, then left.
The Excalibur replica.
“We will obviously need to reschedule the shadow trial.” Wrythe sighs.
“Ms. Melisende can do it properly with the rest of the cadets.”
“No,” Raphael says.
Wrythe frowns at him. “Right. You think she should be expelled after
all?”
“She won’t do the shadow trial again. She’s shown her leadership by
sending cadets to call for backup,” Raphael says. “She followed an enemy
agent through the fair
The Prophecy
Raphael pulls a torch off one of the stone walls and leads me to a
large painting. I frown at the image—another one of Mordred
Kingslayer, wearing his spiked crown over dark curls and a long
black cape. In this image, he’s beheading a blonde woman who kneels at his
feet. It’s about ten feet tall and gilt framed.
“Is it true that he had diametric magic, and that’s why he murdered
everyone?” I ask.
He sighs. “Maybe, but I don’t think that’s why the massacre happened.
It’s the prophecy. The one about the House of Morgan.”
A chill skitters up my spine. “Auberon is descended from Queen
Morgan. And the Dream Stalker, too.”
“And that’s why they need to die. They were born with the same
violence running through their veins. The moment they get the chance,
they’ll break in here and slaughter everyone.”
He reaches for a book on the shelf to the left of the portrait. As he pulls
it out, the portrait pops open like a door, creaking. He turns back to me with
an arched eyebrow. “You’re not going to tell your friends about this
passageway, are you?”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Holding the torch, he leads me into a dark corridor. Light and shadow
dance over the stone walls, and the narrow hall stretches on.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“To the Tower of Nimuë.”
I breathe in sharply. Tana had mentioned her name. The Lady of the
Lake, like me, apparently. Tana had seen me in her tower. “Where is it?”
“It stands in the lake, with a bridge leading out to it. Nimuë was a
powerful water Fey, back in the days of primal magic. As Lady of the Lake,
she was an envoy between the Fey and humans. From her tower, Nimuë
gave Arthur his sword, forged from Avalon Steel. And she gave Merlin and
Arthur their torcs, too, from the same sacred metal.”
“So, her tower was a meeting point at one time?”
A Spy Academy
I tremulously smile at him, and a glow spreads through my chest.
Malo reaches out for me and touches my arm, just a soft brush of his
fingers. Then he lowers his head against Aleina.
I wipe the streams of seawater off my face and look down. My white
dress, I discover, is now virtually transparent. On most days, I’d be redfaced with mortification, but given what just happened, I don’t think anyone
is really paying attention to my nipples.
With a tight throat, I look up at the glittering stars spread out above us,
relieved that most of us survived.
I walk down the stairs and step back into the captain’s cabin, my legs
shaking. Raphael and Viviane are standing by the table. Viviane’s blonde
hair drapes over one of his broad shoulders. She doesn’t seem to notice me,
but Raphael’s eyes flick my way the moment I walk in. His jaw tightens
like he’s annoyed by the interruption, but he did just offer me a job, didn’t
he?
For a second, I think of stepping out again. Better than what I’m about
to do. I shouldn’t make such a decision so rashly.
But the emotion that washed through me when Malo touched me in
thanks doesn’t ebb away. This is real. Realer than anything I’ve ever done.
“Fine.” I drop into a leather chair, dripping seawater all over it. “I’ll be
your Sentinel.”
I can hardly believe I’m saying it.
Viviane sighs and rolls her eyes, but Raphael’s silvery gaze studies me.
Droplets of seawater cling to his long black eyelashes. For a moment, I
think he’s going to change his mind and say no. His gaze dips, and his
entire body seems to go still, the muscles tensing. I watch as his fist flexes.
Is he regretting asking someone like me to join him?
After what seems like an endless silence, he looks up at me again.
“Good. We’ll drop the fugitives at a safe house, and then we’ll