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“You forget that I know your body as well as my own, Vi.” His thumb ghosts across my lips. “Your mouth is swollen, your face is flushed, and your eyes…” He skims his tongue over his lower lip. “They’re all hazy and leaning more toward green than blue. Your pulse is racing, and the way you keep shifting your weight tells me that if I were to strip these pants off you right now, I’d find you more than ready for me.”
“Initiates, asims—we’re all traceable to one another, but the great hall could fill with Sages and Mavens and I’d never know. Neither would you.”
I was reading General Cadao’s journal yesterday, and a whole section of pages is ripped out after he notes that there may have been an outside isle supporting the second Krovlan uprising.”
high-level venin—we believe Sage and Maven—can and do wield signets.”
“Exactly. Dragons mentioned with isles tells me we should look south.”
“That’s far too casual a term
“Why only me?” I ask, turning endlessly to find him. “You need to be able to find me.”
“The Amelian Citrine is a lesser-magic amplifier worn by one of the members of the first drift. If you’re willing to retrieve it, I’m willing to order Grady to change courses.” “It’s not that simple. Anca is in occupied territory.”
“Let’s get three things straight, Your Highness. First, I have remarkable hearing thanks to the shadows at your very feet. Second, I don’t control Violet. Never have. Never will. But third, and most importantly—” He lowers his voice. “She really, honestly hasn’t thought about you. At least not since the second she set eyes on me.”
connection between the uprising and the pursuit of feathertails to be both alarming and enlightening.
From Cordyn, book passage to Deverelli—you will be safe beyond the reach of magic there—and quietly seek the merchant Narelle Anselm.
my brightest light.
“I’m jealous of the armor that holds you when I can’t, the sheets on your bed that caress your skin every night, and the blades that feel your hands. So, when the prince of our realm walks into my classroom and starts talking to the woman I love with what can only be considered intense familiarity, and then has the audacity to ask her out right in front of me,
Clutching the necklace in one hand, I take the parchment in the other, noting that it’s addressed to Lightning Wielder. “It was sitting next to the necklace,” Mira says as I open it, and Xaden tenses at my side.
“Perhaps you are like Sgaeyl’s kind,”