House of Striking Oaths by Olivia Wildenstein EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors:Olivia Wildenstein
- Language: English
- Genre: Fairy Tale
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I’m no bird—not yet, anyway—and yet Dante has locked me in a bloody
cage.
I cling to the golden bars of my newest lodging—a wine cellar taller than
my two-story house in Tarelexo—and scream obscenities at the top of my
aching lungs. I’m surprisingly fluent in lewd language. To think Sybille and
Phoebus consider me the prim one. My best friends’ mandibles would
unhinge at the amount of filth I’ve tossed at my jailers upon awakening from
my magic-induced slumber.
And Lore . . . how he’d growl at my use of foul language.
What I wouldn’t give to hear him complain.
What I wouldn’t give to hear him breathe.
I press my hand against my chest and knead the aching muscle within.
The pain between my ribs is so acute that it drowns out the dull throb at the
back of my scalp where my head hit rock, then bone.
Once I’ve transformed my grief into anger, I curl my fingers around the
bars of my prison and go back to raging, my shouts echoing against the glass
bottoms of dusty vintages spiraling up the sides of this obsidian cellar.
I try to remember how long I’ve been locked up for, but all that comes to
mind is the memory of Dante shoving me down the darkened tunnel toward
another obsidian wall, and Justus waiting there for us—soldiers and Aoife
nowhere to be seen.
I remember sinking my teeth into the meaty part of Dante’s hand, which
had elicited a satisfying growl from his throat, but which, unluckily, had
made his grip tighten around my neck.
I remember Justus swiping his thumb across my lids, smearing the scent
of copper in the darkened air. My stomach had heaved when my crumbling
vision had caught the scarlet streak of blood on the pad of the Faerie
general’s finger.
Just before my consciousness had faded, I remember wondering how it
was possible that a Faerie, and a man at that, could perform blood magic, a
power reserved to Shabbin females.
“Hey, Faeries,” I yell at the soldiers standing like stone figureheads
against the walls of my prison. “Where, do tell, has the cockered gopher and
his trusty mole gone? Are they digging up some more little tunnels to hide
from the Crows?”
The four uniformed wallflowers continue pretending to be one with the
stone at their back.
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