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Extraits du moment

  • Mais Channary était complètement folle. Une adorable folle, d’ailleurs – les pires. Sa sœur avait un délicieux teint hâlé, des cheveux châtains et des yeux en amande, juste assez inclinés pour donner l’impression qu’elle souriait même quand ce n’était pas le cas. Levana était convaincue que la beauté de sa sœur était le produit du magnétisme ; que personne d’aussi abominable à l’intérieur ne pouvait avoir une enveloppe aussi belle. Mais Channary ne l’avouerait jamais. Levana n’avait jamais décelé la moindre faille dans l’illusion. Son imbécile de sœur ne se souciait même pas des miroirs.

    Extrait de Les Chroniques Lunaires, Tome 3.5 : Levana
  • Merik swiveled his wrists slowly. At night, the temple was too dark to see the blood dripping from his arms, pooling on the granite flagstones. He felt it falling, though. Just as he felt the new, burned flesh on his hands stretching beneath torn gloves.

    Yet even as pain shivered through his body, he couldn’t help but think: Only a fool ignores Noden’s gifts. For if Merik looked at this case of mistaken identity from the just the right angle, it could in fact all be seen as boon.

    The assassin in the night. The fire on the Jana. The attack of a Waterwitch in Pin’s Keep. Each event had led Merik here, to Noden’s temple. To a fresco of the god’s left hand.

    To the Fury.

    Twice now, he’d been mistaken for that monstrous demigod, and twice now, it had worked in Merik’s favor. So why not continue using the fear invoked from that name? Was Merik not doing the Fury’s work by bringing justice to the wronged and punishment to the wicked? It was clear that Nubrevnans needed Merik’s help, and his sister Vivia…Well, she was stil out there. Alive. Wretched.

    So was it not Merik’s moral duty to keep her off the throne? And he could do that if he could just prove she had indeed tried to kill him—that it was she who’d purchased that prisoner from Vizer Linday, and she who’d sent the prisoner to kill Merik.

    Yes. This was right. This was Noden’s will. It throbbed in Merik’s wounds. It shivered across his scalp and down his raw back.

    Take the god’s gift. Become the Fury.

    Merik rose, stiff but strong, from the temple floor, and with a new purpose in his movements, he tugged his hood, his sleeves, his gloves into place. Then he turned away from the Fury’s gruesome fresco and set out to bring justice to the wronged.

    Punishment to the wicked.

    Extrait de The Witchlands, tome 2 : Windwitch
  • The aisle was too narrow for us to walk side by side, and I was shuffling along behind Benjamin with my hand on his shoulder.

    Despite this I'd managed to kick someone's food and bump elbows with someone else.

    I was doing my very best not to look blind, because I was still very nervous about someone finding some regulation, some rule that would get us thrown off. I just wasted to get as far as being in the air, I told myself and then I would relax.

    So then I knocked into someone else, a women, who said , "Why don't you take your oh-so-cool glasses off and you might be able to see where you're going? "

    Just like that

    I told her I was sorry, kept my head down, and we moved on.

    Extrait de She is not invisible
  • "Dmitri. Russian mobster? He was mad that I stole millions of dollar from him. Silly man, doesn't he know that money is imaginary " It's paper that turns into number on screens. It's there,then it's gone. I put it places, I take it out, I move it somewhere else. Imaginary. Most things are imaginary, when you think about it.

    Sometimes I think I'm imaginary.

    Extrait de Mind Games, Tome 2 : Perfect Lies
  • « Tu es un lâche ! » avait-elle dit.

    Était-il trop tard pour lui prouver qu’elle avait tort ? L’Ancêtre eut un rire amer, il ramena ses bras autour de son vieux corps.

    « C’est presque l’hiver, il fait froid, et il neigera bientôt ! »

    C’était plus confortable d’être un lâche…

    Sa main rencontra par inadvertance le pendentif en or ciselé qui pendait à sa ceinture, accroché à une fine chaîne enroulée plusieurs fois autour du cuir beige. Il avait offert ce bijou, représentant une fleur de camélia, à sa Part d’Âme le jour où ils avaient prononcé leur serment avec passion. C’était un soir d’automne, les feuilles rouges des érables commençaient à tomber, et il avait pris ses mains dans les siennes. Elle lui avait dit :

    « Je t’aimerai toujours, si toujours tu restes l’homme le plus courageux de ces terres. »

    Il avait par la suite mené bien des combats mais aucun ne l’avait préparé à la nuit où, vision infâme, il avait surpris sa bien-aimée dans les bras de cet homme ambitieux, qui ne connaissait que la trahison pour toute vérité.

    Aimer, ce n’est pas assez, dit la légende.

    Extrait de Les Héritiers de Lusilière, Tome 2 : Le Jeu de l'Âme Vouée

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