House of Rising Sands by Olivia Wildenstein EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Olivia Wildenstein
- Language: English
- Genre: 90-Minute Science Fiction & Fantasy Short Reads
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
My heart hastens as the first snowflakes melt on my upturned face.
Snow.
I’ve never seen snow, never experienced its frosty kiss. I’ve only
ever known sunshine and heat.
To think our queendom’s five hundred years of isolation is over. To
think the woman who betrayed the Crows and doomed her own people, who
chucked me at my grandmother’s feet after I blew out my first candle . . . to
think she could be dead.
A chill, not born from the weather, wraps around my skin and clasps me
as tightly as our pet serpents squeeze us when we venture into the sea for a
swim.
I drag my hand through the chaotic surf, watching my three seafaring
companions. What an odd group we make—Bronwen, the blind and bald
earth-Fae with the scarred face and the power to foretell the future;
Agrippina, the young, blue-eyed, fiery-maned daughter of the loathsome
Fae general; Abrax, my dearest friend, a boy I’ve loved in many ways over
my five-centuries of life; and me, the pink-eyed, auburn-haired
granddaughter of the Shabbin queen.
A wave knocks the barge from side to side and sprinkles our dark cloaks
with chilled salt water. Although adrenaline excites my pulse, my upper lip
is dewy with a slick of fear at the task that lays ahead of me. The one that
Bronwen and Agrippina risked their lives for me to accomplish—Bronwen,
because she foresaw it, and Agrippina, because she loathes the Regio
monarchs and their totalitarian regime.
Something bumps my fingers. I curl my fingers into my palm, about to
yank my hand away when a small tusk darts through the surface, followed
by an orange head with big black eyes. I smile down at the juvenile serpent
and stroke its long nose.
Agrippina shrieks and all but scrambles onto Abrax’s lap, who calms
her with quiet reassurances and a large palm between the shoulders. He
reaches over her and pets the serpent who rattles with pleasure. Although
the general’s daughter doesn’t stick any of her limbs out of the boat to touch
the little beast, she regards it with curiosity instead of abhorrence.
The animal trails us for a while, jumping and splashing, basking in our
attention, before turning back toward Shabbe, or wherever it is he’s decided
to go. I’ve always envied our serpents’ freedom, their ability to travel
anywhere and everywhere, wards or no wards.
I dry my fingers on my wool skirt, the consciousness of my freedom
overtaking my enduring nervousness.
Free.
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