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448 pages, Paperback
First published October 7, 2025
Like all magic, the chant came in many languages, both fey and mortal, but the words roughly translated always meant the same: Bless the wretched, the crimes they make, the world of weeping, and the tolls they take.
Gideon’s brow furrowed, and he carefully removed the black leather glove from his left hand. Pale fingers splayed and reached forward, iridescent strings of magic lighting up briefly as he made contact before vanishing from sight again.
He stepped over the fast-decaying remnants of the spell and approached the pedestal with a clinical disposition.
“We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, I can’t abide dawdling.”
“I have two centuries’ worth of pins and needles impeding my movement,” Avery spat, but it did nothing to slow the Archfey’s pace. “Perhaps your secretary can arrange something, so my legs might have a precious second to acclimate?”
The downpour startled her into stillness.
He walked down the steps to the vehicle where his driver was already waiting, opening the door as the Archey approached.