Hive Queen Sinclair, Grayson (best pdf ebook reader for android txt) 📖

For a single moment, I was in the room with her as she grew ever more heated as I drank her blood, then my vision swam, and my mind fell into darkness.

It was less jarring this time around as I entered the Mnemosyne. I was suddenly standing in a small town with a great expanse of forest in the distance. I recognized the variety of trees; they were the towering trees that filled the Emerald Ocean, which housed the elven kingdom of Yllsaria. There were only a few human towns on the edge of elven territory, which made the village either Rodale or Siltfall.

It was a modest town, brightly lit by the light of the sun. No house or building was over a single story. Most of the houses were well-built log cabins, but a few of them were worn and falling apart. A young girl stood before me, carrying a heavy basket filled with carrots and potatoes. Her thin white shirt and brown canvas pants were strewn with dirt, but she held a smile on her face as she walked.

Her skin was darker, her midnight hair a little lighter in the bright sunshine, and her gray eyes had yet to be blooded, but it was still Raven.

She was younger here, not quite a woman yet. She walked carefree, her lips whistling a tune I couldn’t hear. She reached a dirt crossroad and turned left, heading to one of the older and worn houses beside the street. A man was on the porch, sitting in a chair with a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth. He was older, deeply tanned skin from years of working outside, but he had a kind face, and there was a hint of Raven in his eyes. He smiled widely when he saw Raven walking up the street. The straw slipped from his mouth as he stood and met her halfway.

When he reached her, he took the basket and knelt, smiling down at his daughter. Joy radiated from her eyes as her father praised her.

An arrow fired from somewhere beyond my sight pierced her father’s neck.

Blood splattered across Raven’s face, and her look of joy fell to horror and panic. She turned toward the direction of the arrow, and her mouth gaped. A group of bandits rose from the trees and fell upon the town like a plague.

Raven had no time to mourn her father as he crumpled to the ground and soaked the earth with his blood. She ran, ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran to a well in the center of town and clung to the rope as she slid down it. Raven stopped just before she touched the water, leaning heavily on a small rocky outcropping. Water licked at the hem of her dress, and her hands bled, soaking into the rope she clung so desperately to.

Time sped up as she hid in the well; minutes flowed to hours, which flowed into days. She stayed down there for two days, making as little noise as possible until the bandits topside had ransacked the entire village and fled.

After the two days, she weakly hauled herself back up the well, ripping open the scabs on her hands in the process. As she climbed out of the well, we both got a good look at the carnage that had been wrought by the bandits.

Bodies lined the streets, left to rot where they died while most of the buildings were broken, doors and windows splintered while a few were set ablaze, and now were nothing but smoldering blackened wrecks.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she stared blankly at the destruction.

The scene faded out as I stared at Raven crying. Her face gave way to darkness as I waited for the next memory to play.

Must’ve been the Rodale raid that happened eight years ago. Whole village was wiped out by Hal’s clan. Though from what I heard, he got what was coming to him.

Light faded in out of nowhere and brought me to the next memory.

Raven appeared in a grove surrounded by lush grass and flowers that bloomed every shade of the rainbow. Raven was a few years older here, leaner. There was a hard set to her chin, and some of the light had dimmed in her eyes. She had the stare that only came with great loss. One I saw every day in the mirror.

She stood in the center of a perfect circle of death cap mushrooms, the white capped fungus forming a faery circle. The mushrooms glowed with a soft blue light, and suddenly Raven wasn’t standing in forest anymore.

She was in a rooftop garden, atop a white stone castle. Sunlight bathed the garden in brilliance, and Raven stepped out of center of the faery circle to a smooth stone walkway that led to an archway, which held two soft, rosewood doors. Raven stepped through them and into an expansive throne room.

Raven followed the path, and in under a minute, she stood before a throne made of white marble with brilliant red cushions.

On the throne was a girl, no more than eight years old by appearance. She still wore the softness of childhood in her thin features. Her burgundy hair spilled fine wine down her back and over her translucent dragonfly wings, which cast rainbows over the stone. Her ocean-water eyes threatened to drown Raven as she knelt before the queen of the faeries.

The Alice wore a slender, white strapless dress and leaned heavily on the armrest as boredom played across her face. She gave Raven a once-over and motioned for her to speak. Raven looked up and spoke with pleading eyes. She continued for a few minutes, before she stopped. The Alice sat up straight and spoke a few words before Raven nodded once more.

With that nod, a deal