More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Winnie shook her white-blonde head as
the contrast of their skin bewitching.
The cinnamon and sienna leaves felt delicious beneath her bare feet, so she settled for none.
“The pair of you”—she pointed a long fingernail at her Sisters—“do know it is forbidden to be together apart from our meetings.” Agatha snorted. As if Winnie hadn’t mentioned that edict four times a year since they were wrenched apart as babes.
“Don’t look at me. I haven’t drunk a boy’s blood in at least a hundred years.” Agatha snickered. “The fact that you have to clarify the last time you drank mortal blood is unsettling.”
“Who has the Grimoire called upon to incite wars, Sister? To unleash plagues and kill kings? Is it you, or is it me?” She stabbed a fingernail into her own chest. “Because I am quite certain it is me.”
balancing the Grimoire and journals on her knee—if Winnie were to somehow discover she’d placed the Book on the ground, she’d string her up by her toes.
Her Sisters had set to making lanterns and pies, while Agatha heard her Season’s call and waddled outside. Right in front of their family’s cottage,
The herbs and spices that hung from the rafters of the kitchen, swaying gently in the night air
Lingering potion and tincture balms mixing with the ever-present scents of coffee and tea.
The milky water began to bubble while Agatha drizzled a bit of honey in it and sprinkled black salt from Mer Noir amongst the ripples.
Agatha had questioned why. But her questions had long since been beaten out of her. It was an honour. A duty. A holy burden.
“I must be going. I shall see you at the Winter Solstice when you hand over the Grimoire to Winnie with utter relief.” She reached out and caressed Agatha’s cheek. “Happiest Day of Birth, Little Sister.”
Never before had two Sisters come to visit her on the same night. And she couldn’t help but think it was a bad omen.
she would not be the same. She never was.
She and her Sisters were far beyond the need of words or tools for their magic—all they needed was a strong will, an even stronger mind, and an element at their disposal—but Agatha found comfort in the old
ways. At least those pertaining to her personal practise of magic.
but a hooded figure bowled into her,
She was the Daughter of Autumn, but who was the Son of Gem and Bone?
It wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. Why had her Order changed from Belfry’s hand to Talan’s in such a peculiar way? Talan had only ever written Orders for Wendolyn.
both looked at Mabon upon her shoulder. “And a raven shall descend upon her.”
The words had hardly left his lips when Sorscha’s raven swooped down from the clouds and landed on Agatha’s shoulder opposite Mabon.
He gestured for Agatha to sit and she did,
For, she reminded herself, that’s just what he was—a mortal man like any other.
pulsating with every anxious beat of her heart.
Her magic had a way of sneaking
out to eliminate a potent...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Which was covered in grime and with sleep-deprived eyes, evidently.
The other gentleman of around three decades, utterly breathtaking with his sepia skin and green eyes, had no expression whatsoever. Intriguing. But the last man, around the same age, was dishevelled—as if he’d been in the same expensive clothes for days.
apologising
but because she knew the sight of so many books in one place would steal her breath—as it always did, no matter the library.
“Are these kernels of corn?” He shook his head. “You’ve a habit of leaving trinkets in your wake like a child. It’s most unseemly.” She did have that tendency, though it irked her that the prince had noticed.
Agatha snorted. “Now that makes more sense.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he growled. “And I’ve had enough of those who think they do. Now, kindly move out of my way, or I will forcibly remove you, peasant.”
Everyone needs a good you dont understand me scene
His strong fingers dug into her shoulders as he moved her to one side and pushed her up against the bookshelves, the wood pressing into her back. For the space of a breath, their eyes locked,
Why do i find this finny as hell and cute--i mean strong fingers??
Every curse word he possessed, invented or otherwise, flew freely from his mouth as Grimm moved about the library to find Mila.
“His Highness has feelings for his pet, then, after all?” “Drop it. You know that isn’t it.”
He caught her wrist roughly, irritated at the image that came to his mind—it
I love cliches
He wasn’t likely to say it aloud, but Grimm thought it foolish that only women were societally allowed to enjoy flowers.
She did not think it wise or befitting of someone meant to unite royalty with the working class to laugh at the expense of one such servant, but...restraint was difficult where Eleanor was concerned.
Her beautiful Sister Spring
Sorscha
Sorscha snickered. “Fitting match for you, then, Sister Sunless.”
a Daughter of Autumn would one day join with a Son of Gem and Bone. Then, the second half was in Talan’s hand, calling me by name to marry Prince Thackery Peridot III.”
“But, once, a long time ago, my Order changed from Hissa’s hand to Talan’s.” “Truly? Perhaps it’s more than Talan just filling in for Belfry, then. Why did you not tell us?” “I—I’d rather not think about it. We’ve all had to do some dark things, Aggie. Even if they’ve not been as bloody as yours.
Well that's interesting i wonde if something is going on with the soldiers and vthe magus is really in charge
she flitted about the library only to find that every book on her list was missing.
The sunset over the waves was dazzling, its indigo and azure bruising the sky, bleeding into gold just over the water. A breeze off the sea lifted Agatha’s hair, and she inhaled deeply,
“The people must see you in love,”
Mifgt be easier w/o gaius
Agatha smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress and felt something. She patted it for a moment, digging through the folds of the fabric. Grimm stopped walking and eyed her curiously. Agatha gasped. “This gown has pockets!”
The prince snorted, shoved his hands in his own pockets, and ambled forward. “I grew tired of your embarrassing and endless trail of trinkets everywhere you go. Stones you carry, letters, filthy leaves you find pretty...morsels for the bat…” He shook his head. “I instructed Anne to ensure all your gowns have them. Now you won’t leave a mess in your wake.” He gestured to her skirts. “Pockets.”
This IS true love
