Tracing the Shadow (The Alchymist's Legacy)
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Sarah Ash’s acclaimed trilogy, the Tears of Artamon, was a stunning blend of sorcery and intrigue, politics and breathtaking imagery. Now she returns with the tale of a siege between kingdoms, and a battle between heretics and believers—each with their own truths, their own lies, and their own soul-shattering discoveries waiting to be made.
The kingdom of Francia has purged its magi. But when a young Guerrier rescues an orphaned street waif, little does he know that she is the daughter of a magus who met his end on their pyres—or that she is guarded by an aethyric spirit and driven by the name of the traitor who condemned her father to flames. With the gift of song infused within her, her voice will bring her before the most powerful heads of state. And she will craft herself into a weapon—aimed at the heart of the man she despises.
Celestine turned page after page, she realized that, should the name “Kaspar Linnaius” appear in the Tielen contingent, she had not even formulated the beginning of a plan. There were plenty of Rosecoeur Guerriers on hand that she could call on to arrest him, but a powerful magus must surely be well prepared to counter such eventualities. Besides, if he was attending as a member of Prince Eugene’s household, arresting him could spark an unfortunate international incident. Yet there it was. Some
five or six years in age. “Come, little one.” He caught her up in his arms and settled her on Tinidor’s back, placing her little hands on the pommel. “Cling tight or you’ll fall off.” He climbed up behind her, taking Tinidor’s reins in one hand and gripping the drooping child firmly with the other. What am I doing? I have duties to attend to at the Forteresse. But wasn’t this a part of his calling? He had chosen to become a warrior in God’s cause, and that must surely involve defending the
sugars, and golden sablés were being shared out in the Skylarks’ dormitory in a midnight feast. Celestine was so sleepy she kept nodding off, her head against Rozenne’s shoulder, as the older girls chattered. “So Angelique is really going to join the sisters in Lutèce?” “Well, I wouldn’t want to go,” declared Katell. “They make you shave your head.” She tossed her dark plaits defiantly. Celestine looked at her in horror. “But Angelique has such pretty hair…” The thought of Angelique’s
froth of tender green had appeared on the bare branches, as the first leaves began to unfurl. “I can see the tree,” Jagu said as the Abbé searched through a pile of papers. “The tree where he was waiting.” “What?” The headmaster looked up. “Oh, this has nothing to do with our intruder. I received a letter from Lutèce today. An eminent musician who once studied here in Kemper is visiting the city. You’ll be pleased to learn that he is going to honor his old school with a recital.” Jagu forgot
need to find someone older to get the stones. Someone stronger.” Jagu could not sleep. A trickle of moonlight leaked in through the high dormitory window, illuminating Paol’s empty bed. Paol should have been back by now. It was only chapel duty, after all. And it was odd that neither Père Albin nor the senior monitor patrolling on dormitory duty had noticed his absence. Had they caught Paol trying to sneak back in and hauled him down to the headmaster’s study to be punished? Jagu felt guilty