Shadowrise: Volume Three of Shadowmarch
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A year ago, the March Kingdoms were at peace, the Eddon family held the throne, and all was right in Southmarch Castle. Now the family has been shattered. King Olin Eddon is a prisoner and his heir is slain. The royal twins Barrick and Briony have done their best to hold the kingdom together, but now Barrick has been captured and Briony has been forced to flee the castle. Old magics are stirring beneath the ancient castle and behind the Shadowline, and the machinations of gods, fairies, and mortals threaten to spread devastation across the entire world.
better, because he valued their craftiness.” “You mean craftsmanship,” said Opal, puffing a little. “I mean craftiness, which means more than just the laying of chisel to stone. It has to do with knowing. The first Kellick had been one of the few kings that valued what our folk knew. He was the only king that fought against the fairy folk but didn’t treat our people like goblins escaped from behind the Shadowline.” Chert shook his head. “But you’re getting me distracted, woman. I’m trying to
asked Flint. “I don’t know,” he said. “I am touching unfamiliar things in the dark, trying to make out their shapes.” “A strange one, aren’t you, boy?” The Skimmer girl turned to Chert. “I remember now who you are—Chert of the Blue Quartz.” Chert, who had thought the long night of strange surprises was over, stared at her. “How do you know me?” “Never mind that. Better not saying. But you’re a friend of the Ulosian, Chaven, aren’t you?” Even if she had helped them in some way—and since Chert
veins beneath a man’s skin. At the far end of this courtyard stood a wall with another archway and another collapsed gate. “Let me go first and see what’s here,” Barrick said. He had taken a few steps across the greensward when something grabbed at his ankles. He cursed and yanked his boot free, but when he put it down something clutched him again. The grass itself was twining around him, its blades probing the air like the lightning tongues of serpents, wrapping him in long stalks that
thought, all these people would talk about would be his shoes. And maybe whether or not he was wearing colors appropriate to the season. Sweet Zoria, and my brother and I thought the nobles of Southmarch were shallow . . . Agnes was practically bouncing up and down. “Oh, but you should be able to guess, Highness—he is one of your countrymen!” “What?” For an instant her heart leaped impossibly to Barrick, and then to Shaso, and even Ferras Vansen, all lost in different ways, but all lost beyond
Southmarch did not taste war, at least not on our soil.” “But that is no longer true, Princess—the men of Southmarch have just fought several battles against the fairies.” “Battles that did not end well.” She allowed a hitch into her voice—it was not entirely manufactured. “Battles that took our finest men . . . and separated my beloved brother from me as well . . . perhaps forever.” She smiled bravely. “So it is good to hear of happier results, like yours. It gives me hope. Please, Prince