Carranza seized power in Mexico City and got the US government to recognize him and send him arms. With uprisings on his hands from the Left and Right, Carranza in 1916 further managed to enlist the support of the industrial workers organized in the anarcho-syndicalist Casa del Obrero Mundial (House of the World Worker). They agreed to join Carranza’s army and formed ‘Red Battalions’ to fight against the peasant armies of Villa and Zapata. Tricked by their leaders, the workers destroyed what remained of the social revolution. Carranza then repaid them by threatening strikers with the death penalty and by closing down the Casa del Obrero Mundial.
From now until the Darkness claims us.
Asterin spoke first, cutting through the silence of the coven. “We
know their every move, every weapon. And now the Crochans do, too.
The Matrons are likely in a panic.”
She’d never seen her grandmother in a panic, but Manon huffed a
dark laugh. “We shall see tomorrow, I suppose.” She surveyed her
Thirteen. “You have come with me this far, but tomorrow it will be your
own kind that we face. You may be fighting friends or lovers or family
members.” She swallowed. “I will not blame you if you cannot do it.”
“We have come this far,” Sorrel said, “because we are all prepared for
what tomorrow will bring.”
Indeed, the Thirteen nodded. Asterin said, “We are not afraid.”
No, they were not. Looking at the clear eyes around her, Manon could
see that for herself.
“I’d expected at least some,” Vesta groused, “from the Ferian Gap to
join us.”
“They don’t understand,” Ghislaine said. “What we even offered
them.”
Freedom—freedom from the Matrons who had forged them into tools
of destruction.
“A waste,” Asterin grumbled. Even the green-eyed demon twins
nodded.
Silence fell again. Despite their clear eyes, her Thirteen were well
aware of the limitations of five thousand Crochans against the Ironteeth,
and the army beneath it.
So Manon said, looking them each in the eye, “I would rather fly with
you than with ten thousand Ironteeth at my side.” She smiled slightly.
“Tomorrow, we will show them why.”
Her coven grinned, wicked and defiant, and touched two fingers to
their brows in deference.
Manon returned the gesture, bowing her head as she did. “We are the
Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
See you next book
Fight it, he willed her, sending the words down the bond—the mating
bond, which perhaps had settled into place that first moment they’d become
carranam, hidden beneath flame and ice and hope for a better future. Fight
her. I am coming for you. Even if it takes me a thousand years. I will find
you, I will find you, I will find you.
Only salt and wind and water answered him.
Rowan rose to his feet. And slowly turned to face them.
But their attention snagged on the ships now sailing out of the west—
from the battle site. His cousins’ ships, with what remained of the fleet
Ansel of Briarcliff had won for them, and Rolfe’s three ships.
But it was not those boats that made him pause.
It was the one that rounded the eastern tip of the land—a longboat. It
swept closer on a phantom wind, too fast to be natural.
Rowan braced himself. The boat’s shape didn’t belong to any of the
fleets assembled. But its style nagged at his memory.
From their own fleet, Ansel of Briarcliff and Enda were soaring over the
waves in a longboat, aiming for this beach.
But Rowan and the others watched in silence as the foreign boat crested
through the surf and slid onto the sand.
Watched the olive-skinned sailors haul it up the beach. A broadshouldered young man nimbly leaped out, his slightly curling dark hair
tossed in the sea breeze.
He did not emit a whiff of fear as he stalked for them—didn’t even go
for the comforting touch of the fine sword at his side.
“Where is Aelin Galathynius?” the stranger asked a bit breathlessly as
he scanned them.
And his accent …
“Who are you,” Rowan ground out.
But the young man was now close enough that Rowan could see the
color of his eyes. Turquoise—with a core of gold.
Aedion breathed as if in a trance, “Galan.”
A Dragon ride
“We’re winning, but I have to leave Brocéliande again for a few days.”
He studies me for a long moment. “Before I go, do you want to join me for
a ride?”
My heart sinks at the phrase we’re winning. “Okay. I’ll get Clover. I
think she’s in the stable now, right?”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yes, but I didn’t mean a ride on a horse.”
I press my hand to my chest. “Oh. Is this really how the legendary
seducer proposes sex?”
His slow, sly smile sends heat prickling down my spine. “I do love that
that’s where your mind went, but I meant on Tarasque. Do you want to ride
with me on a dragon?”
“On the dragon?” Is he out of his mind? “But only dragon riders are
allowed to ride. Also, I’d fall off.”
“I’m the best dragon rider who’s ever lived, and I will keep you on. I
know how you like to cling to me, anyway. You won’t slip.”
My heart pounds with the allure of doing something dangerous,
something that I absolutely should not be doing. And yet…when will I ever
get the chance to ride a dragon again? Probably never. “Let’s do it.”
His eyebrow rises in what I’ve learned is admiration. “Good. Meet me
on the other side of the Lost Palace. I can only get her out that way.”
My pulse races as I step outside into the biting air and wind my way
down the path around the old palace. Icicles drip from gargoyles and stone
carvings of human heads with tusks and owls with their wings spread out.
Snowy yew branches arch over me.
As I walk, I hear the creak and groan of doors opening. I follow the path
around the palace and see Tarasque lumbering through the doors and into
the garden. Talan is in front of her, completely at ease with his beast. He
radiates quiet confidence and power that makes my breath catch. “Let’s go,
Tarasque.”
The enormous dragon slithers forward, and I can feel the
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.
Telepathy
Tana takes a deep breath and holds out her hand. “What am I thinking
right now?”
I stare at her. “I’m not supposed to be using that power, Tana. I just
explained that.”
“Please,” she whispers.
Surprised at the desperation in her voice, I take her palm.
As I hold her hand, I can feel her thoughts blooming in my mind. But
Tana doesn’t think in words, like most people. She thinks in images and
feelings and emotions and—
“Darkness.” My voice is hoarse, and a cold chill settles in my bones.
“Death. It’s coming…something is coming, and it’s going to destroy
everything in its path. There’s a single drop of clear blue water, and it’s
being swallowed—” I yank my hand away, desperate to turn off the horror.
“Gods.” I somehow feel angry, though I’m not sure at what. “What was
that? Is this what you feel all the time?”
I’ve never seen her with such a grim expression before. “Yes, for the
past few days. The future is getting darker. Something terrible is coming for
us all. And I think we’re going to die.”
A cold shudder traces up my spine. Overhead, the sky seems to cloud
over.
“There was a little drop of water,” I say. “Magical, somehow.
Something that might hold off the death. Then a glassy clearness, like the
surface of a lake. Moonlight glinting off it. But the shadows are trying to
smother it, devour it.”
Tana’s stare is unwavering. “Oh, that’s you. The glassy lake.”
I blink at here. “I’m the what, now?”
“To stop the encroaching death, we need you.”
“Because of my Sentinel powers?”
“We don’t need a Sentinel. We need you. The Lady of the Lake. Do you
know there hasn’t been one in thousands of years? Not since Nimuë. And