Informationen zum Autor Renée Ahdieh Klappentext The stunning conclusion to the instant New York Times bestselling quartet that began with The Beautiful . The Sylvan Vale and the Sylvan Wyld are at war. Now that the unsteady truce between them has been broken, lines must be drawn. In an effort to protect the weakened Winter Court, Bastien rallies powerful allies and friends in New Orleans to come to their aid. Meanwhile, under protection alongside her injured mother in the Summer Court, Celine is uncertain of whom to trust. She cannot get word to Bastien, and does not understand why he has not returned. When she realizes war between the fey courts is imminent, she journeys with Ali in an effort to find the time traveling mirror and change their fate. But when Celine's rivals realize Bastien has rallied his allies in the mortal world, they decide to take the fight to him. Leseprobe PROLOGUE Death meets us in the darkness. There, in that moment, all the moments before it take shape to form the lines and contours of a life, like a vessel on a potter's wheel. For an instant, the measure of a life can be seen. Was it a life of emptiness? Was it misshapen, its cup filled from another's well? Was it cracked and leaking? Perhaps chipped from so many lessons learned? These were Suli's thoughts as he held on to Sunan's hand. He wondered what would become of them, now that his brother's magic could no longer protect what remained of the Winter Court. Their court of ice and darkness had once been great, its ramparts carved deep into the heart of a glittering mountain. The vampires and the werewolves had ruled from this lofty perch, their coffers overflowing with gemstones mined from this very fortress, its caverns veined with gold and iron ore, its alcoves spangled with rubies and diamonds. But in the end, their greed cost them everything, and the mountain had fallen still. Looters and profligates tried to tunnel their way to what remained of the riches, but the caverns collapsed on them, burying them in tombs of stony silence. The mountain faded into remembrance, its once-glittering halls empty. Now its formidable shell provided their kind with a place to call home. In recent years, Sunan had kept the creatures of the Sylvan Wyldand all those who needed itsafe. He was great indeed, and Suli was proud to call him brother. A humble goblin like Suli learned long ago to accept that he was not fated for the same kind of greatness. Standing in the shadow of his brotherthe most famed illusionist the world of the fey had ever knownhad not bothered Suli much. He'd seen the cost of Sunan's so-called gift. Better that Suli keep to his own clumsy conjurings. They had given him solace after he'd lost his family to the mirror, and they would undoubtedly do so once again. Now that he would be the only member of their family left. "Out with it," Sunan whispered in a raspy voice, his brow knotted. "You . . . have s-something you wish to say." Suli glanced at the soaked dressings pressed against the wound in Sunan's side. "Don't waste the energy to speak," he said in the language of their kind. Already his brother's injury was stinking of rot, the swelling and the charred blue flesh around Sunan's stomach preventing a healer from sewing it closed. "Should I be s-saving it for something else?" Sunan's eyes twinkled, despite his obvious pain. "Perhaps . . . a jaunt through the f-freshly fallen snow?" He snorted. "I'm dying. The l-last joy I have is to s-speak my mind." Suli sighed. "I suppose you're right." A shudder wracked through Sunan's tiny blue body. He gripped Suli's hand. "Brother, you must p-protect our kind. The mirror . . . you m-must see it d-destroyed. Promise me." "You know I cannot." "P-please." Sunan swallowed. "Promise m...

Autorentext

Renée Ahdieh

Klappentext

The stunning conclusion to the instant New York Times bestselling quartet that began with The Beautiful.

The Sylvan Vale and the Sylvan Wyld are at war. Now that the unsteady truce between them has been broken, lines must be drawn. In an effort to protect the weakened Winter Court, Bastien rallies powerful allies and friends in New Orleans to come to their aid.

Meanwhile, under protection alongside her injured mother in the Summer Court, Celine is uncertain of whom to trust. She cannot get word to Bastien, and does not understand why he has not returned. When she realizes war between the fey courts is imminent, she journeys with Ali in an effort to find the time traveling mirror and change their fate.

But when Celine’s rivals realize Bastien has rallied his allies in the mortal world, they decide to take the fight to him.

Leseprobe
PROLOGUE

Death meets us in the darkness. There, in that moment, all the moments before it take shape to form the lines and contours of a life, like a vessel on a potter's wheel.
 
For an instant, the measure of a life can be seen.

Was it a life of emptiness? Was it misshapen, its cup filled from another's well? Was it cracked and leaking? Perhaps chipped from so many lessons learned?

These were Suli's thoughts as he held on to Sunan's hand. He wondered what would become of them, now that his brother's magic could no longer protect what remained of the Winter Court.

Their court of ice and darkness had once been great, its ramparts carved deep into the heart of a glittering mountain. The vampires and the werewolves had ruled from this lofty perch, their coffers overflowing with gemstones mined from this very fortress, its caverns veined with gold and iron ore, its alcoves spangled with rubies and diamonds.

But in the end, their greed cost them everything, and the mountain had fallen still. Looters and profligates tried to tunnel their way to what remained of the riches, but the caverns collapsed on them, burying them in tombs of stony silence.

The mountain faded into remembrance, its once-glittering halls empty.

Now its formidable shell provided their kind with a place to call home. In recent years, Sunan had kept the creatures of the Sylvan Wyld—and all those who needed it—safe. He was great indeed, and Suli was proud to call him brother.

A humble goblin like Suli learned long ago to accept that he was not fated for the same kind of greatness. Standing in the shadow of his brother—the most famed illusionist the world of the fey had ever known—had not bothered Suli much. He'd seen the cost of Sunan's so-called gift. Better that Suli keep to his own clumsy conjurings. They had given him solace after he'd lost his family to the mirror, and they would undoubtedly do so once again.

Now that he would be the only member of their family left.

"Out with it," Sunan whispered in a raspy voice, his brow knotted. "You . . . have s-something you wish to say."

Suli glanced at the soaked dressings pressed against the wound in Sunan's side. "Don't waste the energy to speak," he said in the language of their kind. Already his brother's injury was stinking of rot, the swelling and the charred blue flesh around Sunan's stomach preventing a healer from sewing it closed.

"Should I be s-saving it for something else?" Sunan's eyes twinkled, despite his obvious pain. "Perhaps . . . a jaunt through the f-freshly fallen snow?" He snorted. "I'm dying. The l-last joy I have is to s-speak my mind."

Suli sighed. "I suppose you're right."

A shudder wracked through Sunan's tiny blue body. He gripped Suli's hand. "Brother, you must p-protect our kind. The mirror . . . you m-must see it d-destroyed. Promise me."

"You know I cannot."

"P-please." Sunan swallowed. "Promise me."

"I swore on my children's graves that I would never again stand close to that mirror, much less make use of its power, even to destroy it." Suli took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, brother. I cannot accept this responsibility. The mirr…