I never get why white men are grumpy. Like, we’re living in a patriarchy. You’re the most privileged class on the face of the earth. You’re not walking to your car with your keys through your fingers like wolverine and you’ve got bodily autonomy, why the bad mood?
They have Won
“We’re done being squashed by the House of Morgan and their goldsoaked nobles,” Brados says, “while we starve. We’re taking power for
ourselves.”
At my side, Malleus draws his sword. “Just try.”
Talan raises his hand. “Enough. Put your sword away. You look like an
idiot.”
Malleus flushes and sheathes his sword.
Talan meets Brados’s stare. “You’re right. This country shouldn’t be
ruled by the House of Morgan. In fact, the House of Morgan has never ruled
this kingdom.”
Brados stares at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Auberon lied. The throne was never his. Mordred is not his father. He
descends from Merlin.”
“Do we really need to worry about old history?” Aedan blusters.
“It’s true,” I say. “Mordred, son of Morgan, is still alive on Avalon. I am
his daughter. He told me this himself.”
“You’re lying,” Brados says coldly.
“Ask your advisor,” I say calmly. “She saw Mordred only yesterday.
They got along very well, actually.”
Brados turns to Nivene in shock. She purses her lips and gives him a
tiny nod.
“Well, then this makes it even clearer,” Brados says. “We’re not going
to let Mordred, whom none of us has seen in over a millennium, rule over
us. And we definitely won’t let a family of liars rule, either.”
“Neither will we,” Aedan says, his oily voice sharp and dangerous.
“Clearly, the strongest noble family should take charge. Farmers and
peasants don’t know how to run a kingdom.”
“The most powerful noble family?” Malleus raises his voice. “And who
would that be? My father holds the largest army—”
“Your father has the plague, boy,” Aedan spits.
“He’s already getting better—”
Bu yaz yanınızdan ayırmak istemeyeceğiniz kitapları sizin için bir araya getirdik.
💬 Siz olsanız bu listeden hangisiyle başlardınız?
A Royal Scandal
As I reach the gate, I nod at the soldiers.
One of them shouts up to me. “My lady, the prince has been looking for
you.”
I smile at him. “Well, I’m back.”
They exchange looks that make me wonder exactly what sort of mood
the prince might be in, but I ride on with feigned indifference, my heart
thrumming in my chest.
As I bring my horse to the stables, this starts to feel like a terrible
mistake. Coldness creeps over my skin.
Surely Talan has figured out the truth by now.
As I walk inside the fortress, I half expect armed guards to accost me, to
chain me and drag me to the dungeon.
But no one does. Is Talan just biding his time?
I climb the stairs to my room, dread climbing up my throat.
There’s no turning back now, though, is there? The soldiers have seen
me.
I open the door and stagger into my room, out of breath.
Talan steps out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Water slides
down his tan, muscled body.
It’s hard to believe that just days ago, I saw him riding a dragon’s back,
ready to light a city on fire.
“Where have you been?” A knife’s edge slides under his velvety tone.
“In hiding,” I say in what I hope is a breezy tone. “I left a note behind.
Arwenna wants me dead, and you were incapacitated. There was no one to
protect me from another attempt on my life.”
“I could have protected you if you’d stayed close to me, even at death’s
door.” Ferocity laces his voice. He prowls closer, and darkness slides
through the copper rings in his eyes. There’s something in his expression I
haven’t seen before, something that I can’t interpret. “Why did you not tell
me where you were going? I searched everywhere for you. Your father said
Mom???
Maybe Nivene is right. Not about the slaughter, but…
I catch sight of a person with blond, gleaming hair marching toward me
between ramshackle stone shops, and my heart sinks. Great, the only person
who could make this day worse.
His pinched nostrils flare as he grins at me. “Hello, hello,” Tarquin
croons. “None other than the illustrious Dame Nia. The Avalon Steel, or so
they say.”
“Fuck off, Tarquin, I’m not in the mood.”
He puts his palm on his chest, his expression hurt. “First of all, it’s Sir
Tarquin now. And is that any way to talk to someone who looks after the
safety of your loved ones?”
“My loved ones?” My stomach flips as I try to figure out what he
means. Is he talking about Raphael?
Behind him, a woman runs toward me, waving and smiling like a
maniac. My pounding heart registers her identity before my brain does. For
a second, I stare at the familiar face so out of place here: large lips
overdrawn with red liner, bleached blond hair growing in dark at the roots,
thin frame and gaunt cheeks.
“Nia?” Her voice is too loud, and it echoes off the stone buildings.
My jaw drops for a few seconds before I manage to find my voice.
“Mom?”
Fans
“Fans of yours.” Serana says. “Word got around about the mission.
Everyone knows that you took down the Dream Stalker.”
“I don’t have fans.” I laugh. “And unfortunately, I did not take him
down. The man is still alive and well.”
But maybe I feel a little flicker of pride as I scoop some wildflower
salad onto my plate. It’s an Avalon Tower classic of pansies, violets,
dandelion leaves and an elderflower vinaigrette. The main course is wild
mushrooms with rice, seasoned with butter and thyme. The rich scent of it
makes my stomach rumble. Already, my mouth is watering, and my mood
brightens.
At first, when I went on missions, I was treated with suspicion and
jealousy. Tarquin and the Pendragons spread around the term public bus,
then Naughty Nia and a whole host of other names. For months, others in
the academy followed the Pendragons’ lead, whispering Tarquin’s
nicknames, sometimes painting them on my door.
That changed after the last mission. Now, a different sort of rumor has
spread. I don’t know how because everything that happened was
supposedly classified. But people know enough to realize that I played an
important role in the mission.
New Faces and Lullubies
“I’m Darius.” He waves. “Nice to meet you. I’ll get out in just a
moment. I just came for a quick reading.”
“Darius is addicted to Tana’s readings,” Serana explains. “You know
drug addicts? He’s like that, but for cartomancy. He’s here every night,
asking about love. Tana, where is my soulmate? Tana, is the fella I met
today the one? Tana, does this devil on the card mean I stop following my
old lovers through the streets of Camelot, or am I destined for a gorgeous
bad boy?”
“I also ask about weightier subjects, not just my love life,” Darius
snaps.
“I don’t mind either way.” Tana is shuffling her cards. “But before we
do your reading, I promised one for Nia.”
Darius scoots to the corner of the bed and gestures at me. “Ladies first.”
“It’s not necessary,” I say warily.
“Oh, let her get on with it,” Serana says. “Or she won’t stop harping
about it.”
I sit down between Darius and Tana, and she hands me the deck of
cards. “Shuffle and think of the future.”
I shuffle the cards, but thinking of the future seems impossible. I used to
have everything planned years in advance. But now? I have no idea what’s
happening.
I finally hand the cards back to Tana, and she flips the first one. I peer
down to see what it is, and a chill sweeps over my skin. I don’t know a ton
about tarot, but this one is obviously ominous. It looks like a tower struck
by lightning, with silhouettes of bodies falling from it. Flames rise from
some of the windows, and dark storm clouds surround it.
“The Tower,” she says.
“Like…Avalon Tower?” I ask.
“Perhaps. The cards shouldn’t be taken too literally.”
She frowns and flips another card, which she places across it. This one