Radiant Shadows

Radiant Shadows
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Книга "Radiant Shadows", авторами которой являются Литагент HarperCollins}, Melissa Marr, представляет собой захватывающую работу в жанре Детская фантастика. В этом произведении автор рассказывает увлекательную историю, которая не оставит равнодушными читателей.

Автор мастерски воссоздает атмосферу напряженности и интриги, погружая читателя в мир загадок и тайн, который скрывается за хрупкой поверхностью обыденности. С прекрасным чувством языка и виртуозностью сюжетного развития, Литагент HarperCollins позволяет читателю погрузиться в сложные эмоциональные переживания героев и проникнуться их судьбами. HarperCollins настолько живо и точно передает неповторимые нюансы человеческой психологии, что каждая страница книги становится путешествием в глубины человеческой души.

"Radiant Shadows" - это не только захватывающая история, но и искусство, проникнутое глубокими мыслями и философскими размышлениями. Это произведение призвано вызвать у читателя эмоциональные отклики, задуматься о важных жизненных вопросах и открыть новые горизонты восприятия мира.

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RADIANT

SHADOWS

melissa marr


To Asia and Dylan, my amazing beasties. It’s a privilege to be your mother. (And, really? I do so love you more, most, and always. *grin* How’s that for getting the last word?)

Contents

Cover

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Also by Melissa Marr

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

LATE 1800s

Devlin stood immobile as the spectral girl approached. The plume of her hat and the dark ringlets that framed her face were motionless, despite the breeze that swept over the field. The air did not touch her; consequently, he was unsure if he could.

“I seem to be dreaming or, mayhaps, lost,” she murmured.

“Indeed.”

“I was resting over”—she gestured behind her, frowned, and gave him a shaky smile—“in the cave that seems to have vanished. Am I still resting?”

The girl presented Devlin with a dilemma. All those uninvited to Faerie were to be brought before the High Queen—or dispatched if he deemed them threats. His function was to assure order, to do what best served the good of Faerie.

“In a cave?” he prompted.

“My guardian and I had a quarrel.” She shivered and folded her arms over her chest. The dress she wore was not this season’s fashionable attire, but it wasn’t horribly outdated.

When he didn’t reply, she added, “You look like a gentleman. I don’t suppose your manor is near here? Your mother or sisters? Not that my aunt expects me to make much of a match, but she would be … displeased if I were to be found unchaperoned in the company of a gentleman.”

“I am not a gentleman.”

She blanched.

“And meeting my mother-sisters is not something I’d wish on the innocent,” he added. “You should turn back. Call this a bad dream. Go away from here.”

The girl looked around at the field; her gaze took in the landscape of Faerie—the spider-silk hammocks that hung in the trees, the pink-and-gold-tinted sky that the queen had fashioned for the day—and then settled on him.

Devlin did not move as she observed him. She did not falter at the sight of his opalescent hair or inhuman eyes; she did not flinch at his angular features or otherworldly stillness. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected: he’d never been viewed as he truly was by a mortal. Over in their world, he wore a glamour to appear like them. Here, he was known for what he was, the Queen’s Bloodied Hands. The girl’s assessment was a singular event.

Her cheeks became pink as she boldly stared at him. “You certainly look like a kind man.”

“I am not.” He stepped toward her. “I exist to keep order for the queen of Faerie. I am neither kind nor a man.”

The girl fainted.

Devlin leaped forward to catch her and knelt on the ground, arms empty—as her form settled inside of his skin. He couldn’t hold the insubstantial, but she apparently could take residence in his body as if it were her own.

Her voice was in his head. Sir?

He couldn’t move: his body wasn’t his to control. He was still inside of himself, but he was not animating his body. The girl’s spectral form had filled his skin as if it were her own body.

Can you move? he asked.

Of course! She sat up and, in doing so, left his body.

He swallowed against the burst of peculiar emotions coursing through him. He felt free and excited and a number of the things that were unlike the restraint of the High Court—and he liked it.

She lifted a hand as if to touch him, but it passed through him. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No.” He felt unexpectedly protective of her, this foundling mortal. “What is your name?”

“Katherine Rae O’Flaherty,” she whispered. “If I am awake now, that means you are an ethereal creature.

“An ethere—”

“I have three wishes!” She clapped her hands and widened her eyes. “Oh, what do I wish for? True love? Eternal life? Certainly, nothing frivolous like gowns! Oh, perhaps I just want to save my wishes!”

“Wishes?”

“You cannot force me to make my wishes now.” She squared her shoulders and looked at him. “I’ve read texts. I know there is dispute over the goodness of your kind, but I do not believe for a moment that you could be other than kind. Why, just look at you!”

Devlin frowned. He did not idle away his time with foolishness; he did only that which his queen required. Except for those stolen moments of pleasure in the mortal world. His queen knew of his indulgences, looked the other way even. What harm an indulgence here? She was a specter of a mortal girl, no threat to the queen of Faerie. Sheltering her violates no order.



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