The Liar’s Crown by Abigail Owen EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Authors: Abigail Owen
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Coming of Age Fantasy eBooks
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Pages:
- Price: Free
- Publish Date: August 30, 2022
A Hovel and a Hag
Now…
Time is measured by a single star creeping across the sky outside my tiny,
glassless window. I watch it, waiting.
I’m always waiting. Waiting to sneak out. Waiting to be called upon to
fulfill my duties. Waiting for Omma, who has raised me since birth, to tell
me what to do. Waiting to be anything but who and what I am.
Mereneith Evangeline XII of Aryd.
A second-born princess in a long line of royal twins—one to rule, the
other to serve as nothing more than a secret body double in dangerous
circumstances.
Which means, of all the waiting I do, I’m basically just waiting to die.
I pull my knees to my chest, watching the night sky. Not much longer
now.
I’ve been sneaking out since I was a child. Foolish and reckless? Maybe,
but the desert is the only place where I get to be Meren. Where Cain lives.
Cain is a Wanderer, part of the nomadic people who travel the deserts,
stopping by the city periodically to trade their wares. Between his travels
and Omma’s sharp eye keeping me in place, it’s been ages since I’ve
escaped this house.
My blood thrums with excitement at the thought of seeing him again, not
just because he’s my only real friend, but also because Cain teaches me
things that Omma would never allow. Things that might give me a chance
to survive if the king of Tyndra ever comes for us.
Eidolon: the goddess-damned reason I’m so stuck.
The stories Omma and Grandmother have told us are terrifying. The
immortal king has been stealing and murdering queens of Aryd for
centuries. Only a handful of generations have been spared, which is how
our grandmother retains her throne and Omma her life.
He is always coming for us—we just don’t know when or why. And that
unpredictability is what scares me most.
I sit up straighter. No. I refuse to think about the cruel fate the mother
goddess and her six daughters have woven for me. Not tonight. Tonight is
mine.
Or it will be, if I can get out of this damn house without getting caught.
The instant my star disappears from view, I’m on my feet, adjusting my
disguise. A black body-hugging top, breeches, and worn calfskin boots, all
threadbare, as would be for a poor city waif and not a princess in hiding.
Some days, I wonder which is the disguise.
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