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Rae Carson

The Crown of Embers

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  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    . “He might not have me,” I admit.
    “Elisa, he wants you desperately
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    I will coldly remember that being a queen means being strategic. And I will imagine sending off the man I love to marry my sister
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    My lips tingle to remember his kiss. It was desperate and tender and wholly unexpected—and as easy as breathing
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    I nod. “If he is able to slip Belén’s careful eye, I will consider that making a move.”
    “My offer to kill him stands,” Belén says. “Just say the word
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    Tristán has such a nice presence about him. Commanding, intelligent, worthy of my trust
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    Hector is the last to arrive, and when he sees me, he freezes, then moves quickly to an empty space at the foot of decoy Elisa’s bed
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    But Hector chuckles deep in his throat, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. Softly he says, “My life has ever been yours, Elisa.”
    My limbs tingle and heat fills my cheeks as we stare at each other
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    “No, Your Majesty. Lo Chato leads us, but he is not here. I expect him to return this evening.”
    The ground beneath me sways, and I grasp for Hector’s arm to steady myself.
    I’ve heard the name once before. Lo Chato was the animagus who interrogated me when I was a prisoner in the enemy’s camp
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    Light streams through cracks in the ceiling. These sunlit crevices are lush with plants: broad-leafed creepers, a few ferns, and hundreds of hanging vines that don’t quite brush the tops of the huts.
    “It’s a whole village,” I whisper, “right beneath our feet all this time.”
    “I’ve not even heard of this place,” Hector whispers back
  • Carina Rita Hansenцитує8 років тому
    “Your Majesty, we must discuss the issue of your regency.”
    I wipe my suddenly sweating palms on my knees. “I am not the prince’s regent,” I tell him, pretending to misunderstand. “It is wholly my choice whether or not to hand the throne over to Rosario when he comes of age. The king named me his unequivocal heir and Queen Regnant.” I’m proud of my steady voice.
    “The king was on his deathbed and suffering tremendously, perhaps not in his right mind. You are so young, Your Majesty; not yet come of age yourself. And foreign. Many doubt your worthiness to rule. Add to that today’s terrifying incident, and you must consider that you need a regent
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