Of course if I trace the details of how I got here I can come up with an explanation, but on a gut level I'm still not convinced. The me sitting here and the image of me I have are out of sync. To put it another way, I don't particularly need to be here. but nonetheless here I am. I know I'm being vague,
but you understand me, don't you?
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
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
The funny thing about archery is that you don’t usually aim at the target. Gravity decrees that if you aim straight at the blank your arrow will hit somewhere below. That’s why aim high is another archer’s term; it doesn’t mean that you’ll end up high, or it’s not meant to. You aim high and hit on the level.
DAUGHTER?!!!
The cool air bites at my skin as I work the oars.
Nimuë sacrificed her lover for her cause.
But Raphael? He did the exact opposite. He put Camelot at risk to save
me. I feel my chest cracking. The sooner I can get him out, the less likely it
is they’ll break him.
And then I hear it, the hum of a veil. It’s so foggy out here, it’s hard to
see, but it’s there—the opalescent sheen. It’s a veil, but this one feels
different. It emits a low, resonant hum that’s almost musical. It’s a different
sort of magic, beautiful and ancient. Primal magic, perhaps.
Is this where Avalon has been all this time? My breath quickens, and I
summon the red bloom of my Sentinel magic. The moment the hum goes
quiet, I start to row again, faster now, moving through the veil. What if this
is where they’re keeping Raphael? On Avalon itself?
My oars carve into the water, and the mist thins. I keep going.
I look over my shoulder at what I’m approaching and feel the world tilt
on its axis.
It’s there—a rocky, moss-covered island. Avalon. A vast, rambling
castle of stone perches on a craggy hilltop. Pale stone towers jut into the
night sky, almost glowing. At lake level, apple trees and oak trees spread
out over the island.
I can hardly breathe.
The boat touches the shoreline, and I leap onto the leafy shore, taking a
moment to catch my breath. An old stone path winds up the hill toward the
castle, and I charge up it, wheezing as I race up the uneven stairs. The air is
heavy with the scent of apples, and red and orange leaves carpet the stone
stairs.
But disappointment carves through me as I near the castle at the top.
The place looks abandoned, not a single light or torch in view. The towers
are crumbling, the gardens wildly overgrown. Bridges that go nowhere
sprout from mossy walls. Of course
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
To beat a Bully
Viviane clears her throat, and her expression looks furious. “Nia, I want
a word. You two, piss off.”
Darius grimaces at me, and he and Serana cross to the door.
Viviane glares down at me. “What was that today?”
“Tarquin lost it.”
“I don’t care about Tarquin.” Viviane narrows her eyes. “He can take
care of himself. He’s a good fighter. I’m the self-defense instructor, and it’s
my job to make sure that out in the field, you’ll be able to take care of
yourself and your allies. And right now, Nia, it doesn’t seem likely.”
“I’ve never trained for this,” I protest. “I work in a bookstore.”
“Really? And when you’re on a mission, will you ask them for mercy
because you’re just a harmless little reader of books?” She shakes her head.
“I’ve never seen such a pathetic display of survival instinct. Tarquin is a big
man. How do you beat a big man?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I need to be faster?”
“Don’t be absurd. You can’t be faster. He’s been training from a young
age, and you’re weak.”
I bite my lip “So…I should tire him out. Keep my distance until—”
“Aren’t you asthmatic? The longer the fight is, the worse your chances
are.”
“I should use his weight against him?” I ask desperately.
“How? Scare him with diet tips?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me the answer? How do I beat him?”
“With everything you’ve got!” she snarls.
“Sorry, what does that mean?”
“Why didn’t you bite his nose off?”
My jaw drops. “You want me to bite his nose off?”
“He was on top of you. Inches away. All you had to do was lunge
forward and bite his nose off. Really grip that nose with your teeth and
gnaw at it until you rip it to shreds. Or distract him, then gouge his eye out