More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
October 24 - October 29, 2024
Who would ever suspect a Shrouded Sister of thievery?
How different had the world been before the Accords? Before the humans were forced to relinquish the continent to the Fae?
His honey-brown eyes bore into hers and she could’ve sworn she saw regret flash through them. He nodded solemnly. “You’ll remember this night, tiny thief. When we see each other again, you choose whether to remind me or not.”
“Wait. What’s your name?” She angled her hood just enough to see his face. “What does it matter now?” she whisper-shouted, Temple-soft vocal inflections discarded. “I need to know what to call you when you haunt my dreams,” he said, flashing her his widest, most charming smile yet.
Mother Superior had led the Thalenn arm of the Shrouded Sisters for almost five centuries since the Accords had stipulated the order’s founding. She’d ruled for so long that none of the Sisters knew her real name, or if she even had one.
Come on, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I do bite, but rarely on a first date.” He licked his pointed canines,
Helmet in hand and wearing a sorrowful grimace, he told them what had happened. “I’m so sorry, Mistress Fortin. He did save the girl. He’ll be remembered as a hero.” Her mother scoffed, gazing up at the chief through tear-soaked eyes. “And who will save our girl?” Cassandra wanted to tell her mother that she didn’t need saving. That she could save herself. She was the bravest girl in Ethyrios, after all. But she didn’t feel capable of saying the words.
A statue of Letha herself stood in the center of the fountain. She appeared as a water-bearer, the river of Oblivion constantly flowing from the jug cradled in her arms. Cassandra never looked at the statue’s face. There was something about the Goddess’s expression that rattled her, sending shards of ice slicing down her spine. A vacancy, an absence that somehow lacked any hint of peace or tranquility. Like the face of an obliviate.
“What do you want, Tristan?” “Now how is it fair that you know my name, but I don’t know yours?” “You do know mine. It’s Sister Fortin.”
“A Shrouded Sister who likes it rough, huh? Naughty girl.” Cassandra couldn’t help the moan that slipped past her parted lips. “Fuck me, please make that noise again,” he begged, grunting softly.
“I have had enough of you today, you overgrown pterodactyl! If you don’t show this building some respect, I will throw you out on your perfectly formed ass!”
Cael whisper to Tristan, “What the fuck is a pterodactyl?”
She was fearless and fierce and…cheeky. Not at all what he would’ve expected from a Shrouded Sister.
“There are many uncomfortable realities of the continent that humans have falsely classified as myth.”
Gripping her neck, he pulled away so he could look into her eyes as he whispered, “So you do like it rough… …tiny thief.”
“You’re not a terrible person,” he finally answered
“But you are a criminal.”
“What I mean is, a criminal is a person who breaks the law. Which you must admit you did by stealing that necklace. But when the laws that govern a society are only serving a small slice of that society, sometimes it takes a little criminal activity to break the cycle.”
“A shocking admission coming from a member of law enforcement. If you think I’m a criminal, then why haven’t you arrested me?” “Because you’re less of a criminal than the individuals I work for and the individuals they work for. Ethyrios could use a shake-up.”
“And do your bosses know you feel this way?” she whispered. “Of course not. This uniform is my cage, just as much as your robes are, Sister. I have no real power or authority. People like us can only afford small acts of rebellion.”
“I’d sacrifice my fucking wings to be inside you right now,” he whispered against her cheek. “You wanna be my bad girl, Cass? Come for me.”
She’d chosen the gilded cage, sparing herself the discomfort of a life outside the grounds while cutting herself off from living.
“Did you hear what he said about the other half of the formula? They need it to implant memories into Fae minds,” Cassandra said.
“A human can be turned Fae?” she whispered. “It’s illegal, punishable by banishment and often death. We’re forbidden to speak of it in the colonies,” Tristan explained.
The wind on his breath tasted cold, ancient, powerful.
“Your mother’s final memory. The last one she sacrificed before she was obliviated. You need to see it. Go watch it with her, then come find me. She’s waiting for you.” Mother Superior gestured to a lone, dark-haired figure sitting on a bench in the middle of the sun-dappled courtyard. Cassandra made her way towards her mother. “Hi, Mama.”
“The Empire will destroy any mortal who possesses even a shred of magic,” the abbess explained. “The only reason they allow it in Shrouded Sisters is due to its impermanence. It’s why the Sisters are forced to take a vow of chastity—to keep them from bearing children like you.
“Thank you, Abbess,” Cassandra said. Mother Superior pulled Cassandra into a tight embrace, crushing her with the strength of the beast beneath her skin. “Call me Borea, but don’t tell the others.”
Once upon a time, her mother had summoned the courage to leave the order. And now, it was her daughter’s turn to say goodbye to the Temple, to the Sisters, to Mother Superior.
The wall behind the golden-winged Windrider dissolved as iridescent black feathers parted to reveal a stone-faced male who bore a striking resemblance to Tristan.
“Emperor Erabis, welcome to the colonies.”
