To Queen Morgana
Last year, on my birthday, I was sitting at a café in the South of France
by myself, eating blackberry cake I hadn’t ordered and fielding
frantic phone calls from my mother.
A year ago today, I was running for my life from the Fey trying to
murder me. I got kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend, Raphael, and taken across
the English Channel to Avalon Tower. I spent the journey terrified,
bewildered, and totally unprepared for what came next. With no idea I’d
survive training at Avalon Tower, let alone that I’d become the Lady of the
Lake.
A year ago today, I discovered I had hidden magic, that I was half Fey.
And this year?
This year, I’m not alone. This year, I have friends who would bleed for
me, and I’d do the same for them. A family carved out of chaos. A mom
I’ve left behind in Camelot to finally learn how to look after herself.
Today, my birthday takes place on a mossy island of rambling ruins and
ancient Fey magic.
As I polish the crystal glasses, my gaze roams over the castle’s carvings
—the triple spirals above each arched doorway that hum with magic
whenever I pass beneath them. Already, musicians are setting up in the
banquet hall, a drummer, a lyre player with shimmering silver hair, and a
lutist.
Aisling bustles in over the sun-dappled floor of cowslips, violets, and
rue. She sets out a crystal tray of buttered chanterelles with apple slices.
“So, Brados said to me, like he was serious, ‘We control the kingdom now.’
A republic. Can you imagine such a thing? He ran a bloody tavern, pulling
pints of goat piss for mead, now he’s overseeing a bloody kingdom with
some backward farmers? Not that I’m judging the country types, but in my
experience, they don’t know their arses from their elbows. Of course, most
of the Fey who stayed in Brocéliande seem to be happy. My
This is more than a mission
I didn’t bring any fresh clothes into the bathroom with me, so I’m
forced to step into the room in my towel. As I walk to the dresser, I can feel
his eyes upon me, though I assume an air of nonchalance. My wet hair drips
down my back and shoulders, dampening the towel, and I yank open a
drawer and grab the first pair of underwear and nightgown I can find. As I
head back to the bathroom, I see Talan pour himself some wine. He’s
making himself at home.
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I discover that I’ve grabbed a
sheer nightgown and a pair of skimpy underwear with black lace around the
waist. The nightgown is also black and utterly transparent, revealing my
nipples through the sheer fabric.
Scanty or not, when I walk out of here, I have to look totally relaxed
and at ease with everything on display. I take a deep breath and imagine that
I’m fully dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
Opening the bathroom door, I find Talan sitting on my bed, shirtless.
I focus on keeping my shoulders relaxed, my expression serene. But it’s
not what I feel.
Here’s what they don’t teach you in Fey culture lessons when we
practice being at ease with our bodies. They don’t teach you how it will feel
to walk out half-naked in front of possibly the most powerful Fey in the
kingdom, a prince who strikes absolute terror into the hearts of everyone
around him. Or how hard it is to think straight when he’s half-naked, too,
with a body that is perfection itself. Because my brain knows that he’s a
monster, but my pulse is still reacting to the sinuous tattoos of willow
branches that stretch across his finely-cut muscles. I’ve never practiced how
it would feel to walk out like this before a heart-stoppingly beautiful man
whose eyes darken at the sight of me.
His jaw tightens, and that eerie Fey
Her çiçeğin bir mevsimi, her kitabın bir zamanı vardır. Haziranın tadını yeni hikâyelerle çıkarın.
Dikkatimizi vermeye değer gördüğümüz önceliklerimiz, kimliğimizin bir parçasıdır.
yani ex'ten next olmaz diyosun reis :)Alıntı
...Eski aşklara dönemezsin, ama eski kitaplara dönebilirsin..
Ex ten next olmaz kuzum…Alıntı
“Size dönme zayıflığını göstereceğime ve kalbimi söker atarım daha iyi.”
Sayfa 62
