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Dreamwalker's Bride

“You are the least objectionable groom of all the ones I’ve seen,” Anaisa replied seriously. “Thank you for the glowing compliment,” Trace grinned, “but that didn’t quite answer my question.” ___ Anaisa is an orphan and a pariah. In an ultimate act of betrayal, her father, a Count of the Realm, is accused of deserting and betraying the army in a time of war. Not only is he immediately executed for the offense, but the king declares he must have been a fake all along! His two daughters are stripped of their titles and inheritance, replaced by a distant cousin and cast out of their home with nothing. Anaisa swears someday she will get her title and lands back, but in the mean time, she and her sister Katia have to figure out how to survive. Trace is an anomaly among his people; instead of revealing their son as a magic user and thrusting him into the public eye, his parents kept it a secret to allow him to choose the kind of life he wanted. Trace found himself content to rest and play in his own dream world instead of invading the nighttime visions of others. As an adult, his choice to remain unknown is thrown into jeopardy when a mysterious blackmailer forces Trace to enlist in the territorial war between nations, threatening to reveal his secret if the demand is not met. With the war now over, Trace believes he can finally go home to his farm and live the simple, unremarkable life he’s always desired. When Anaisa and Trace are thrown together by a royal edict, the sisters find themselves unwittingly tangled in the web of mystery and intrigue that surrounds the blackmailer’s escalating assignments for Trace. Anaisa begins to suspect it may be connected to the plot to replace her family in the noble court. As the scheme continues to unfold, lives, loves, marriages, and magic will be put to the test to see what forces in the world are strongest.

TheOtherNoble · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
330 Chs

Be a good patient

Healing was slow. And arduous. Ford stared at the ceiling as bitterness seeped deeper into his soul. Never had he had so much time to think.

His life had been work, and sleep. Backbreaking labor, and falling into his bed in exhaustion.

But now, for the first time, he had hours to stare and let his mind wander. He got to experience the rising and setting of the sun, the light and the natural darkness–but not total blackness–of night.

These rhythms, these patterns, were they what the rest of humanity took for granted? When he worked the night shift, he slept all day. When he worked in the day, he never saw sunlight.

He looked at his skin–it was pale. He convinced someone to move his bed next to a window, playing up his heroism to guilt them into it.

The window was too high for him to see anything other than the sky through it, but that was enough to drive a stake into his soul.