Court of Shadows (Shadow Fae Book 1)

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The relentless fury of the storms which lately assail the abbey suggests such impertinence has not gone unnoticed. On hearing that the victim of her heinous crime was a child, they booed in a sort of weary acquiescence.

Court of Scars and Shadows - Chapter 1 - BeauMaisMortel - A A Court of Scars and Shadows - Chapter 1 - BeauMaisMortel - A

I lean back in my chair, closer to the wooden-slatted window of this tiny cottage we’ve rented until the baby is born and we’re able to make our way by boat to a little island off the coast of Baern that is Ethalia’s birthright. However the central Judge mentions that Reaver cannot always sacrifice people and that one day, when the sacrifices stop, they will come for him. So aroused are the audience’s passions that they’ve become blind to all but the flash of steel upon steel. The problem for me was that put the sun in the west and therefore right in my eyes when I faced the six-foot-six man-shaped boulder who now grinned from one misshapen ear to the other as he cracked knuckles that could probably smash through oak planks with ease.

Despite his optimistic words, Estevar had no illusions about the welcome awaiting him at Aramor once the First Cantor learned that one of her magistrates had lost a judicial appeal he’d been under no obligation to grant in the first place, only to then take a grievous injury due entirely to his inexcusable pride rather than any skill of his opponent. Kneel before these noble miracle-­workers and weep for mercy, for surely the judgement of the Lords Celestine is at hand! Most folk in these parts, should they get lost in the desert and run out of either water or the will to live, choose to meet their end on their back, so the last thing they see will be the blue sky above. The minute the big man had ducked under one of the frayed ropes tied around six rusted iron posts that marked off the fifteen-foot hexagon inside which we’d be fighting, he took up a position on the western-most corner.

Court of Shadows by Victor Dixen | Goodreads The Court of Shadows by Victor Dixen | Goodreads

When Corrigan got a look at the silk-­robed, grey-­bearded scarecrows standing up there, he was pissing himself laughing so hard his tendril spell almost collapsed. Neither the galleries above nor the cheaper rows of benches on the floor were full that day, and those in attendance had clearly paid their visitor's fees in hopes of witnessing more fulsome duels than the one awaiting Janva. The second sigil, a gleaming black circle with a second, smaller half-­circle overlapping the top of it, looked almost like a padlock.Given those same gods were murdered two years ago, an inquisitive traveller to this once holy site might wonder whose outrage now summons the tempest?

The Court of Shadows by Victor Dixen | Goodreads

Amy Harmon, Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and New York Times bestselling author”Seductive, thrilling, and deliciously dark, The Court of Shadows brings the glamour and danger of eighteenth-century Versailles to life. Beneath my leather cuirass, a set of three intertwining sigils etched into my torso began to smoulder, then the sigils appeared in the air before me as floating scrawls of ebony ink, curves and edges glimmering. Ferius was willing to bet that murder hadn’t been a metaphor – no more than was waking her with the scent of the flower traditionally found at the grave sites of Argosi wanderers.Was this some attempt by the Margrave of Someil to secure a ruling against the Abbey of Isola Sombra, whose legendary obstinance in refusing to pay taxes – either to the king or to the local nobility – rested upon the dubious claim that their tiny island was by tradition a sovereign nation unto itself? The coat stays on,’ I said, nodding to the big lout waiting to bash my skull in with fists bigger than any blacksmith’s hammer.

Court of Midnight and Deception Series - Goodreads Court of Midnight and Deception Series - Goodreads

Our guest seems to be having trouble removing her coat,’ he announced with loud, boisterous good humour as he turned away from me and towards the crowd. The fight master, a slender, moustachioed wine merchant who wore what I assumed were his festival colours of green and gold, leaned uncomfortably close to me. The bright claret, almost pink gown she wore tried too hard to accentuate her bosom, suggesting she was struggling to hold the Viscount’s continued interest.The problem was, Sajad's desperate struggles were preventing me from holding the sizzling needle at the exact right angle, which itself was the least of my problems because I was going to need my other hand to form the precise somatic shapes required for the spell that would prevent the obsidian worm from burrowing into his brain when I tried to spear it.