Prévu pour 2017.
Wraith King, tome 3 : The Ippos King
Serovek leaned down to rest his forearms on the balcony’s stone balustrade. A carpet of spruce treetops lay below him, so dark a green they looked almost black in the oncoming twilight. A few stood out from their brethren, their crowns dusted in a thin veil of snow that caught the last sparkle of light from the setting sun. The wind, gentler now as it glided through the mountain’s col and up its flank, whispered in his ears—mysterious words breathed by zephyrs, promising treasures beyond price and pleasures beyond imagining.
His companion stood beside him, oblivious to any seductive serenade. Her cloak swirled around her tall form, hinting at the lean, muscular body concealed by draping cloth. She raised a slender hand, her claws catching on the edge of her hood to fold it back and let it drop to her shoulders. Her head turned a fraction, just enough for Serovek to catch a glimpse of her yellow eyes edged in long, white lashes.
“Tell me again, sha-Anhuset,” he said in his most casual voice. “Why it is I must beg your forgiveness when it was you who stabbed me?”
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