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Leithen nodded, sending Shistra-Phail and Holter alike scurrying off. Alone with her, he leaned in, his presence a threat.What happened? You will tell me, Elayne. Everyone turned, facing the throne on its raised dais. With a flurry of activity servants scurried around, opening the door to the private chambers beyond. A fanfare rang out, the music that heralded the arrival of the Scion of Jern himself. So many times Jeren had proceeded her father on such an occasion, stepping out with a smile, the perfect daughter. Gilliad would follow her, then her mother. And finally her father, the Scion of Jern, ruler of River Holt. Not a king, but as good as such. A True Blood Lord with Felans Sword at his side. 1 Right. For her? What did that matter? He snarls at the memory– at the unfairness of the cards that Fate had dealt him not so long ago. As hed dug around for a new story, Rowan had been thrown another seemingly golden opportunity when a production company in Manchester approached him to present the pilot episode of a new true crime series on a digital channel. Rowan had given the role his all, convinced this was going to be a permanent gig and a truly life-altering moment. Three months after they finished shooting, Rowan was replaced by a former soap actress. She was going to present, to film the links, to be credited as star. Rowan was reduced to a talking head, a named onlooker offering a journalist’s perspective, filmed in front of a wall of old books. Rowan had told them to shove it. None of his old contacts took him back. Nobody wanted to give meagre freelance budgets to somebody who had left on a megabucks publishing deal.And his book publishers were starting to ask for updates. For some pages or an outline at least. If he failed to deliver a manuscript before December 31, he would be in breach of contract. He would have to give a great chunk of money back. And he didn’t have the money any more. He’d drunk it and smoked it and snorted it benevolently from bellies both fleshy and taut. He’d had a wonderful time. Now it was gone. He found himself having to do late night subbing shifts at right-wing tabloids; missing from his girlfriend’s London flat for such long periods that she presumed they’d brokenup. In her distress, she’d turned to a handsome gym-bunny called Donnie for emotional support. Now she understood how. So easy, so marvellous. She could take it, make it her own, control it. Make it part of her. Better than wine or the finest food, better than rest after the longest journey, better even than the peak of sex or falling into Shans arms after— Eve shoots her a look that is entirely at odds with all that has gone before.To be healed? Im actually counting on that. Ill make sure to call him Salyer every time I speak to them. He spent a year forcing me to call him Christian. The more I piss him off, the more likely he is to show himself. I stood again and stuck out my hand. Do we have a deal, Detective Browne? If youre so very powerful, Fethan sneered, reach out and take the strength you need. Use his energy against him. Fight him, Holtlands bitch. Fight him or die. You cant do it, can you? You cant control your own magic, stolen and unnatural as it is. In the shelter of the cave, Shan slumped against the rock wall, fighting the bone-deep weariness of constant pain. As a member of the Shistra-Phail—the elite warriors of the Feyna—he possessed unearthly powers of recovery, but no one was invulnerable. Shan had seen his kindred die of wounds like this. Only their Seers healed the Shistra-Phail. It had always been that way. Now it seemed a deeply stupid tradition. Jerens hands moved faster than he could see, slapping his arms away with unnatural strength. When she spoke, her voice was all Scion of Jern. Nothing of his wife remained in the tones. He gave her hand the gentlest squeeze and caught Devyns eye. The boy seemed less a boy again. There was a light in those eyes, determined and all too adult. He would do exactly what Shan said, and protect the little ones, no matter what. For that Shan was grateful. pantyhose fetish dating It nearly destroyed you, she whispered, her hands trembling as she reached out to him. Hunting Gilliad. And yes, I know, you would kill him. You still want to kill him. I know that. But I cant let you do it, Shan. Its my responsibility. Three lives ended yesterday because of me, because he hates me. Three lives, two of whom had barely begun, and Indarins magic was wiped from his body. Because of me. Because of him. The Fellna have joined him. The monsters we stirred up— But he didnt want to put him down. He wanted to wring the life out of this petty, over-ambitious fool. He wanted— She opened her eyes and captured his, saw the studied concentration there. His smile brought her to ecstasy. Her soul took wing again, flying with Shan as she had with the owl, high into the sky and beyond. [ i_001.jpg].