Hope's not all I have. I also have a Van Helsing, who can slay a small army without wrinkling his shirt.
Then there's a Morpheous, who can toy with my mind in ways I never imagined. I've got a wolf, who makes it a goal to keep me human-ish. And there's a vampire, who enjoys killing and stabbing. Ancient alphas, old vendettas, super-complicated histories, mass-death threats, and a lot of personal baggage. That's become a Tuesday morning coffee break to me by now. Like I said, my life sucks sometimes.
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Brielle Winters pinned post 9 Aug at am. In case you haven't seen it yet This book is one of my most anticipated reads of this year!! Prologue The Royal Astrologer, Baphen, squinted at the star chart and tried not to flinch when it seemed sure the youngest prince of Elfhame was about to be dropped on his royal head. The previous five heirs had been seen immediately, still squalling in ruddy newness, but Lady Asha had barred the High King from visiting before she felt herself suitably restored from childbed. The baby was thin and wizened, silent, staring at Eldred with black eyes.
He lashed his little whiplike tail with such force that his swaddle threatened to come apart. Lady Asha seemed unsure how to cradle him. Indeed, she held him as though she hoped someone might take the burden from her very soon. Only a few Folk were gathered to witness the presentation of the new prince—the mortal Val Moren, who was both Court Poet and Seneschal, and two members of the Living Council: Randalin, the Minister of Keys, and Baphen.
Baphen hesitated, but he could do nothing save answer. Eldred had been favored with five children before Prince Cardan, shocking fecundity among the Folk, with their thin blood and few births. For the first time, she drew the child protectively closer.
He squirmed in her arms. Perhaps Princess Elowyn had a hand in it. Or Prince Dain. High King Eldred ran a hand over his chin.
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He often wished he saw things more clearly, but not this time. The baby was as silent as a stone, not crying or cooing, tail still lashing. He is a prince, after all, and your son. For a moment, everyone stood silent. Then Eldred nodded to Val Moren, who left the dais and returned holding a slim wooden box with a pattern of roots traced over the lid. He touched her cheek with the back of one hand. The baby clutched a stone in his little fist, staring up at his father with fathomless eyes.
This time, she yielded. Lady Asha departed with her head high, her grip on the child tighter.
Baphen felt a shiver of some premonition that had nothing to do with stars. High King Eldred did not visit Lady Asha again, nor did he call her to him. Perhaps he ought to have put his dissatisfaction aside and cultivated his son.taylor.evolt.org/nozuq-pedro-bernardo-lugares.php
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But looking upon Prince Cardan was like looking into an uncertain future, and so he avoided it. Lady Asha, as the mother of a prince, found herself much in demand with the Court, if not the High King. Given to whimsy and frivolity, she wished to return to the merry life of a courtier.
That arrangement lasted until Prince Cardan was able to crawl. She fled to the stables, abandoning him, too. And so he grew up in the palace, cherished by no one and checked by no one. His sisters and brothers only laughed, playing with him as they would with a puppy. He wore clothes only occasionally, donning garlands of flowers instead and throwing stones when the guard tried to come near him.
None but his mother exerted any hold over him, and she seldom tried to curb his excesses. Just the opposite. You have only to take it. Get it for me. They need little in the way of love. They need not be tucked in at night, but may sleep just as happily in a cold corner of a ballroom, curled up in a tablecloth.
They need not be fed; they are just as happy lapping up dew and skimming bread and cream from the kitchens. They need not be comforted, since they seldom weep. But if faerie children need little love, faerie princes require some counsel. His habits were impulsive; his manner, imperious. Better not to make the attempt than to fail.
Cardan certainly never suspected that the man was beloved of Val Moren and that the seneschal would go mad with grief if the man died. Better not to make the attempt?
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In truth, his brother intimidated him, but that only made him more scornful. Prince Dain smiled. Then if you miss, you can say that it was my arrow that went awry.
A sinking feeling came over him. He might not shoot true. He might hurt the man. But on the heels of that, angry glee sparked at the idea of doing something so horrifying that his father could no longer ignore him. Enchanted, of course. No one would stand like that willingly. That was what decided him. Cardan forced a laugh as he relaxed the bowstring, letting the arrow fall out of the notch.
It struck the mortal through the throat. He dropped with almost no sound, eyes still open, now staring at nothing. He just stared at his brother, slow, terrible understanding crashing over him. It seems your arrow went awry. Perhaps you can complain to our father about that hair in your eyes. Dain saw to that. The High King would not even allow Cardan an audience. Care of Prince Cardan was given over to Balekin, the eldest of the siblings, the cruelest, and the only one willing to take him.
He had little to do but further it. Chapter One I, Jude Duarte, High Queen of Elfhame in exile, spend most mornings dozing in front of daytime television, watching cooking competitions and cartoons and reruns of a show where people have to complete a gauntlet by stabbing boxes and bottles and cutting through a whole fish. In the afternoons, if he lets me, I train my brother, Oak.