Born of Night (The League, Book 1) by Sherrilyn Kenyon

By Sherrilyn Kenyon

In the Ichidian Universe, The League and their ruthless assassins rule all. Expertly knowledgeable and hugely valued, the League Assassins are the spine of the govt. yet no longer even the League is resistant to corruption . . .

Command murderer Nykyrian Quikiades as soon as grew to become his again at the League—and has been hunted via them ever considering the fact that. notwithstanding many have attempted, none can kill him or cease him from finishing his present venture: to guard Kiara Zamir, a girl whose father’s political alliance has made her a target.  

As her global turns into even deadlier, Kiara needs to entrust her lifestyles to an analogous form of beast who as soon as killed her mom and left her for dead. Old enemies and new threaten them either and the single method they could live to tell the tale is to beat their suspicions and discover ways to belief within the very ones who threaten them the main: every one other.

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Then he settled himself on the wall bench opposite Kari’s bed. In front of the bench lay a bench beam, a huge ancient thing set into the floor when the farm was built. He set his feet against it and straightened his legs so he was firmly braced between the beam and the wall. And then he waited. The embers glowed then dulled then sighed into ash. Kari’s breath grew soft and slow and regular. Once, there was a rattle as a gust of wind shook the only gate still standing. Far, far away he heard the lonely howl of a wolf.

And Kari took his hand and kissed it, and laid it against her cheek. Agnar held her close but could not meet her gaze. He stood, numb and tired, while Kari wrapped him in the wolfskin and the servants brought him mead warmed by the hurriedly stirred fire, and while Hjorda ordered in a great voice that the hired men bring faggots and tallow and waste not a minute. They burned Glam right there, outside the hall. And then they burned the ashes. And when the ashes were cold they were gathered in the torn cloak and wrapped tight, and Hjorda saw to it that it was thrown into a chasm, and huge boulders hurled down on top of it.

Was the prince so desperately ill? But that did not make sense. The most ailing of royals were generally carried to the temple, where they could be nursed by the priestesses, close to the presence of Sekt. ” He shrugged. “I have not been told, your reverence. ” Meni bowed and departed, and presently a retinue of servants came padding to my garden, where they attended to my needs. They washed my hands and feet, and rubbed the palms and soles with red ochre. They applied cinnamon perfume to my wrists and throat, and veiled me in scarlet voile from head to foot.

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