A Conjuring of Light (Shades of Magic, #3)
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Read between March 6 - November 20, 2025
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It was cowardice, he knew, but cowardice came so much easier than hope.
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He’d done everything he could, given up everything he had, to keep it safe. But it still was not enough.
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Kell looked up, then. “You’re going to be a good king, if you don’t get yourself killed first.”
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Then it shattered. Someone was screaming. The priests were pushing forward. The guards were pulling him back. Alucard stared down at the prince. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. And then Rhy’s hand slipped from his, and fell back to the bed. Lifeless. The last silver threads were losing their hold, sliding off his skin like sheets in summer. And then he was screaming. Alucard didn’t remember anything after that.
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“My name is Lila Bard,” she answered, drawing her favorite knife, “and I don’t give a damn.”
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Kell cut her off, taking her face in his stained hands and kissing her once, deeply, desperately. A kiss laced with blood and panic, pain and fear and relief. He didn’t ask her how she’d found him. Didn’t berate her for doing it, only said, “You are mad.”
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“Only fools are certain.”
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“Life isn’t made of choices,” said Holland. “It’s made of trades. Some are good, some are bad, but they all have a cost.”
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His fingers curled in the sheets, his sleep growing shallow, restless. A word escaped his lips, little more than an exhale, but she recognized the sound and shape of Kell’s name, before, at last, her son woke up.
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Hastra handed him a blanket. “Shouldn’t you take off her knives?” “There’s not enough tonic in the world to risk it,” said Kell.
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“You told me once,” said Kell, “that you were either magic’s master or its slave. So which are you now?” The screaming died in Holland’s head, smothered by the hollow quiet he’d trained to take its place. “That’s what you don’t understand,” said Holland, letting the emptiness fold over him. “I have only ever been its slave.”
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But that was the difference between magic and men—the latter made mistakes.
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Her hands were bandaged, a deep scratch ran along her jaw, and Rhy watched his brother move toward her as naturally as if the world had simply tipped. For Kell, apparently, it had.
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The queen stared blankly at the strange girl. And Rhy, despite everything, smiled.
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Caring didn’t break you clean. It was a bone that didn’t set, a cut that wouldn’t close.
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“Death comes for us all,” said Holland evenly. “I would simply have mine mean something.”
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Vosijk, he almost said. My name is Holland Vosijk.
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“I was distracted by everything about you, Lila. I still am. You’re maddening, infuriating, incredible.” She’d been teasing, but he clearly wasn’t. Everything about him—the set of his mouth, the crease in his brow, the intensity in that blue eye—was dead serious. “I have never known what to make of you. Not since the day we met. And it terrifies me. You terrify me.” He cupped her face in both hands. “And the idea of you walking away again, vanishing from my life, that terrifies me most of all.”
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“Do you ever get tired of running, Bard?” She cocked her head. “No.” Alucard’s gaze went to the horizon. “Then you haven’t left enough behind.”
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“It’s nice,” said Kell, “to meet someone like me.” Holland frowned. “I am not like you,” he said, and walked away.
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“Love and loss,” he said, “are like a ship and the sea. They rise together. The more we love, the more we have to lose. But the only way to avoid loss is to avoid love. And what a sad world that would be.”
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“Fucking Copper Thieves,” said a third voice. “Should have killed them months ago, and stop pacing, Kell, you’re making me dizzy.”
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And then the door burst open. Alucard stood in the doorway, soaking wet, as if he’d just been dumped in the sea, or the sea had been dumped over him. “Stop fucking with the ship.” Kell and Lila stared at him in stunned silence, and then burst into laughter as the door slammed shut.
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Holland smiled, wrapped his fingers around the ropes, and pulled—not on the cords themselves, but on the other Antari’s spell.
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One moment Jasta’s hands were empty, and the next, her last, hidden piece of steel was free and flying toward Kell’s heart. His mind caught up before his limbs, and his hands rose, too slow, too late. He would wonder for weeks, months, years, if he could have stopped it.
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No, it wasn’t fair. For once, he’d been fast enough. For once, he’d been strong enough. For once—
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He wrapped his hand around hers, pinning them to the bars of the cell. “I am alive because my brother is strong,” he said coldly. “You are alive only because yours is dead.”
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People spoke of love as if it were an arrow. A thing that flew quick, and always found its mark. They spoke of it as if it were a pleasant thing, but Maxim had taken an arrow once, and knew it for what it was: excruciating.
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Those who thought death looked like sleep had never seen it.
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Memory often bends a thing, makes it even more marvelous.
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“A king,” said his father, “belongs with his people.”
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“And the prince,” he said proudly, “belongs with his king.”
ela
Im fully sobbing
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Rhy held the woman’s gaze. “Haven’t you heard?” he said, pushing open the door. “I am already dead.”
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Lila looked to Kell. “You didn’t teach me this one.” His jaw was slack. “I … I didn’t know it.” Holland gave them both a bland look. “Amazing,” he said dryly. “There are still things you haven’t learned.”
ela
Im sorry i love holland
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Was something truly alive if it couldn’t be killed?
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“May the best Antari win.”
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And there, behind him, in a halo of silver light, stood Holland.
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And Holland’s body folded to the floor.
ela
NOOOOOOOO
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A myth without a voice is like a dandelion without a breath of wind. No way to spread the seeds.
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“Lila,” said a familiar—and exasperated—voice.
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His eyes, both of which were now a vivid, almost leafy green.
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“You’re welcome, Holland,” said Kell, dragging himself free.
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Kell lingered, digging in the pockets of his many-sided coat, and when at last he turned to go, he set a single red lin on a tree stump. A reminder, an invitation, a parting gift, for a man Kell would never see again.
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“But ask me in the afternoon,” cut in Rhy, “when I’ve felt the sun cutting through the cold, or the warmth of Alucard’s smile, or the steady weight of your arm around my shoulders, and I would tell you it was worth it. It is worth it.”