Etta Lund

86%
Flag icon
Her blood was a cold song, the Mask a slithering echo to it, whispering of all she might do. Home, it seemed to sigh. Home. Nesta did not refuse it. Only embraced it, letting its magic—colder than her own and as old—flow into her veins.
A Court of Thorns and Roses eBook Bundle (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #1-4)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview