Nevernight
From New York Times bestselling author, Jay Kristoff, comes a dangerous new fantasy world and a heroine edged in darkness.WINNER OF THE THE AUREALIS AWARD FOR BEST FANTASY NOVELMia Corvere is only ten years old when she is given her first lesson in death.Destined to destroy empires, the child raised in shadows made a promise on the day she lost everything: to avenge herself on those that shattered her world.But the chance to strike against such powerful enemies will be fleeting, and Mia must become a weapon without equal. Before she seeks vengeance, she must seek training among the infamous assassins of the Red Church of Itreya.Inside the Church's halls, Mia must prove herself against the deadliest of opponents and survive the tutelage of murderers, liars and daemons at the heart of a murder cult.The Church is no ordinary school. But Mia is no ordinary student.
Читать Nevernight онлайн беплатно
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Copyright © Jay Kristoff 2016
Jay Kristoff asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008179991
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780008180010
Version: 2017-10-18
No shadow without light,
Ever day follows night,
Between black and white,
There is gray.
âANCIENT ASHKAHI PROVERB
Contents
People often shit themselves when they die.
Their muscles slack and their souls flutter free and everything else just ⦠slips out. For all their audienceâs love of death, the playwrights seldom mention it. When our hero breathes his last in his heroineâs arms, they call no attention to the stain leaking across his tights, or how the stink makes her eyes water as she leans in for her farewell kiss.
I mention this by way of warning, O, my gentlefriends, that your narrator shares no such restraint. And if the unpleasant realities of bloodshed turn your insides to water, be advised now that the pages in your hands speak of a girl who was to murder as maestros are to music. Who did to happy ever afters what a sawblade does to skin.
Sheâs dead herself, now â words both the wicked and the just would give an eyeteeth smile to hear. A republic in ashes behind her. A city of bridges and bones laid at the bottom of the sea by her hand. And yet Iâm sure sheâd still find a way to kill me if she knew I put these words to paper. Open me up and leave me for the hungry Dark. But I think someone should at least try to separate her from the lies told about her. Through her. By her.
Someone who knew her true.
A girl some called Pale Daughter. Or Kingmaker. Or Crow. But most often, nothing at all. A killer of killers, whose tally of endings only the goddess and I truly know. And was she famous or infamous for it at the end? All this death? I confess I could never see the difference. But then, Iâve never seen things the way you have.
Never truly lived in the world you call your own.
Nor did she, really.
I think thatâs why I loved her.
The boy was beautiful.
Caramel-smooth skin, honeydew-sweet smile. Black curls on the right side of unruly. Strong hands and hard muscle and his eyes, O, Daughters, his eyes. Five thousand fathoms deep. Pulling you in to laugh even as he drowned you.
His lips brushed hers, warm and curling soft. Theyâd stood entwined on the Bridge of Whispers, a purple blush pressing against the curves of the sky. His hands had roamed her back, current tingling on her skin. The feather-light brush of his tongue against hers set her shivering, heart racing, insides aching with want.
Theyâd drifted apart like dancers before the music stopped, vibration still thrumming along their strings. Sheâd opened her eyes, found him staring back in the smoky light. A canal murmured beneath them, its sluggish flow bleeding out into the ocean. Just as she wished to. Just as she must. Praying she wouldnât drown.
Her last nevernight in this city. A part of her didnât want to say goodbye. But before she left, sheâd wanted to know. She owed herself that, at least.
