A Crown of Cruel Lies by Lana Pecherczyk EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Lana Pecherczyk
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
Aeron heard not a sound as the satyr circled him on the main training
field at the Order. The sparring match had only just begun, but Aeron
knew how to take down the rookie Guardian—his horns were dull
when they should have been sharpened to points. His cloven hooves were
clumsy when they should be precise and lethal like the metal sword gripped
incorrectly in his hands. His leather breeches were unevenly fastened, which
meant his fingers were probably clumsy too… or he was lazy. He would go
for the easiest way to attack Aeron.
Hand-to-hand combat was essential now that the taint on the Well warped
the outcome of mana use. Aeron might not be cleared for field work, but he
could teach these ingrates a lesson on humility and improve their chances of
survival.
Just look at him, Aeron thought as his eyes scanned the rookie. Hair all
disheveled, eyes darting, clothes filthy, and giving off a stink that would
attract animals. If they were in the wild, and Aeron was a mana-warped
monster, the rookie would be eaten before he could scream.
The satyr’s thigh twitched, telegraphing he was about to strike. Aeron
ducked and punched the thick torso with his fist. The rookie was mid-swing
and still aiming for the space Aeron’s head had vacated. Combined with
Aeron’s punch, he lost balance and stumbled. If Aeron was another fae, like
River or Cloud, he might toy with the rookie—to prove he was still one of the
Twelve and better. But he finished him off with a swift uppercut to the jaw.
The ground vibrated as the heavy fae fell in a dead weight. Aeron shook
out his smarting fist and stood over the knocked-out satyr. That was too easy.
Almost as if… he glanced at the small crowd of Guardians by the hedges
surrounding the field. They averted their gazes. A crowd wasn’t unusual
when one of the Twelve displayed his elite talents—but there was something
off about their curiosity. They had the same look about them as bystanders
did when Aeron was paraded through the Rubrum City streets as a child by
his bully tormentors—his half-siblings.
Aeron checked the satyr at his feet again and noticed he wasn’t
unconscious like Aeron had initially assumed. His chest lifted and fell too
erratically for him to be passed out, and his facial expression wasn’t lax
enough. Before Aeron’s injury, he might have missed those tiny details,
which made this situation even more infuriating. Pretending to be
unconscious was worse than if the satyr had exploited Aeron’s hearing loss.
That, Aeron could rally against.
But this… this was insulting.
Hot prickles washed over Aeron, and his elf ears burned as the truth
became clear: the satyr had thrown the match. Aeron now understood that
look in the bystanders’ eyes. He remembered why it felt so familiar. It was
pity.
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