THESE INFINITE THREADS (THIS WOVEN KINGDOM #2) BY TAHEREH MAFI EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: TAHEREH MAFI
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy Young Adult Romance Romance Adult Fiction Mythology
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 9.3 MB
- Price: Free
“DON’T!” KAMRAN SHOUTED. “THE FIRE—”
The words died in his throat.
He watched Alizeh charge toward the thigh-high blaze with an
astonishment so complete he sank to the ground, the cold of the stone floor
seeping through the tattered silk of his trousers. Kamran had the benefit of
heavy layers and jewel harnesses at least; the fire had been unable to devour
him with any speed. But Alizeh—Alizeh wore little more than a whisper, so
fine was the fabric of her gown.
The fire will melt the flesh from her bones.
He thought it even as she crossed the blaze without care, her gossamer
dress inhaled in an instant by the fiery ring, an abomination magicked to
life by the young Tulanian king. Cyrus, the monarch in question, stood just
opposite Kamran, sword still held aloft in anticipation of a fatal blow, his
hand stayed only by the sight of Alizeh, who headed toward him now. As if
from outside himself Kamran watched as she batted away flames from her
dress with bare hands, snuffing the fire as one might a light. He stared down
at the remains of his own disintegrated garments, then at the blood dripping
between his knuckles. Slowly, he looked back up at Alizeh, possessing
clarity of mind enough to register that she’d emerged from the inferno
unscathed, even as her gown suffered. He blinked at the impossibility of it;
he was either dreaming or deluded. He could not make sense of her.
No, he could not make sense of anything.
Alizeh, who’d nearly tripped over the king’s fallen crown in her haste,
had sent the weighty heirloom spinning toward Kamran as she ran. He
stared at that crown now, stared at it as a sudden tremor seized him, shock
and cold combining, reminding him—
His grandfather was dead.
King Zaal was supine before the world, blood pooling beneath his
lifeless body in the imperfect oval of an open-mouthed scream. His
grandfather had bargained with the devil to extend his life—and in the end
Death had devoured the king swiftly and without dignity, the sovereign and
his sins withering in unison. The limp, corded muscle of twin white snakes
still soldered to the pale shoulders of a beloved king painted a scene so
grotesque it inspired in Kamran a sudden impulse to heave; he braced his
unsteady hands on the icy floor and wondered, with increasing horror, how
many street children had been sacrificed for his grandfather’s serpents.
It was an imagining too monstrous.
Kamran was ill with disillusion, with denial. He willed himself to
remain calm, to marshal his thoughts, but an unidentified agony clawed at
his consciousness, the pain seeming to emanate from his left arm. He
wished to be someone else. He wished to turn back time. Above all he
wished, without a mote of hyperbole, that Cyrus had been allowed to kill
him.
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