

Beschreibung
Informationen zum Autor ROBIN BRIDGES's previous YA novel is The Gathering Storm , Volume I in the Katerina Trilogy. Klappentext Lush and opulent, romantic and sinister, The Unfailing Light, Volume II in The Katerina Trilogy, reimagines the lives of Russia's a...Informationen zum Autor ROBIN BRIDGES's previous YA novel is The Gathering Storm , Volume I in the Katerina Trilogy. Klappentext Lush and opulent, romantic and sinister, The Unfailing Light, Volume II in The Katerina Trilogy, reimagines the lives of Russia's aristocracy in a fabulously intoxicating and page-turning fantasy. Having had no choice but to use her power has a necromancer to save Russia from dark forces, Katerina Alexandrovna, Duchess of Oldenburg, now wants to forget that she ever used her special powers. She's about to set off to pursue her lifelong dream of attending medical school when she discovers that Russia's arch nemesis--who she thought she'd destroyed--is still alive. So on imperial orders, Katerina remains at her old finishing school. She'll be safe there, because the empress has cast a potent spell to protect it against the vampires and revenants who are bent on toppling the tsar and using Katerina for their own gains. But to Katerina's horror, the spell unleashes a vengeful ghost within the school, a ghost more dangerous than any creature trying to get in. "Katerina's first-person voice is smart and believable, fitting well into this atmospheric romance."-- Kirkus Reviews Leseprobe CHAPTER ONE August 1889, The Crimea, Russia I stood at the edge of the cliff, shouting into the wind and down to the waves crashing on the jagged rocks below us. "And steep in tears the mournful song, / Notes, which to the dead belong; / Dismal notes, attuned to woe, / By Pluto in the realms below." Dariya's laugh was unladylike. "Katiya, must you be so morbid?" my cousin asked as she twirled around in her makeshift toga. We had stolen the snowy white linens from our villa and carried them down to the ruins by the beach. Wrapping the linens around us over our dresses, we looked like ancient Greek goddesses. "Mais bien sur," I replied with a curtsy and a melodramatic sweep of my toga. "It's a morbid play." We were reenacting scenes from a Greek drama we had read in literature class last year, Iphigenia in Tauris. It was here at Khersones, an ancient Greek temple at the edge of the Black Sea, where the Greek priestesses had sacrificed shipwrecked sailors to the virgin goddess Diana. According to the play, of course. Our families traveled south to the Crimea every year at summer's end, along with most of the Russian court. This summer marked the end of my childhood. In a few weeks, I would be leaving Russia to attend medical school in Switzerland. I would never again attend the Smolny Institute for Young Noble Maidens, the school I had attended in St. Petersburg since I was twelve. Dariya had completed her studies at Smolny as well, and had been appointed a lady-in-waiting to Grand Duchess Miechen. Dariya was excited about her new life at the dark faerie's court, and her stepmother, Zenaida Dimetrievna, the countess of Leuchtenberg, was excited for her as well. Aunt Zina, as we called her, was an ambitious woman, always eager to further her own position in the grand duchess's court. She would be keeping a close eye on Dariya. It was a hot day in late August, cooled only by the salty spray that splashed upward as the gray and green waves churned against the sun-baked rocks. We poked around in the rubble, searching for ancient coins or pottery shards. "Mon Dieu! Katiya!" Dariya picked up something and dusted it off with her sheet. It was a skull, or part of a skull, at least. Definitely human. But the front teeth had been filed to sharp points. "What on earth?" Dariya asked with disgust. "Are those . . ." "Fangs." I couldn't help shuddering. They reminded me of someone I knew. A devilishly handsome but wicked blood-drinking prince in the faraway Black Mountains of Montenegro. My cousin laid the skull back on the ground, and I frowned as I pushed the horrid blood drinker's face from my mind. "Dariya, you girls must come ba...
Autorentext
ROBIN BRIDGES's previous YA novel is The Gathering Storm, Volume I in the Katerina Trilogy.
Klappentext
**Lush and opulent, romantic and sinister, The Unfailing Light, Volume II in The Katerina Trilogy, reimagines the lives of Russia's aristocracy in a fabulously intoxicating and page-turning fantasy.
**Having had no choice but to use her power has a necromancer to save Russia from dark forces, Katerina Alexandrovna, Duchess of Oldenburg, now wants to forget that she ever used her special powers. She's about to set off to pursue her lifelong dream of attending medical school when she discovers that Russia's arch nemesis--who she thought she'd destroyed--is still alive. So on imperial orders, Katerina remains at her old finishing school. She'll be safe there, because the empress has cast a potent spell to protect it against the vampires and revenants who are bent on toppling the tsar and using Katerina for their own gains. But to Katerina's horror, the spell unleashes a vengeful ghost within the school, a ghost more dangerous than any creature trying to get in.
"Katerina's first-person voice is smart and believable, fitting well into this atmospheric romance."--Kirkus Reviews
Leseprobe
CHAPTER ONE
August 1889, The Crimea, Russia
I stood at the edge of the cliff, shouting into the wind and down to the waves crashing on the jagged rocks below us. "And steep in tears the mournful song, / Notes, which to the dead belong; / Dismal notes, attuned to woe, / By Pluto in the realms below."
Dariya's laugh was unladylike. "Katiya, must you be so morbid?" my cousin asked as she twirled around in her makeshift toga. We had stolen the snowy white linens from our villa and carried them down to the ruins by the beach. Wrapping the linens around us over our dresses, we looked like ancient Greek goddesses.
"Mais bien sur," I replied with a curtsy and a melodramatic sweep of my toga. "It's a morbid play." We were reenacting scenes from a Greek drama we had read in literature class last year, Iphigenia in Tauris. It was here at Khersones, an ancient Greek temple at the edge of the Black Sea, where the Greek priestesses had sacrificed shipwrecked sailors to the virgin goddess Diana. According to the play, of course.
Our families traveled south to the Crimea every year at summer's end, along with most of the Russian court. This summer marked the end of my childhood. In a few weeks, I would be leaving Russia to attend medical school in Switzerland.
I would never again attend the Smolny Institute for Young Noble Maidens, the school I had attended in St. Petersburg since I was twelve. Dariya had completed her studies at Smolny as well, and had been appointed a lady-in-waiting to Grand Duchess Miechen. Dariya was excited about her new life at the dark faerie's court, and her stepmother, Zenaida Dimetrievna, the countess of Leuchtenberg, was excited for her as well. Aunt Zina, as we called her, was an ambitious woman, always eager to further her own position in the grand duchess's court. She would be keeping a close eye on Dariya.
It was a hot day in late August, cooled only by the salty spray that splashed upward as the gray and green waves churned against the sun-baked rocks.
We poked around in the rubble, searching for ancient coins or pottery shards. "Mon Dieu! Katiya!" Dariya picked up something and dusted it off with her sheet.
It was a skull, or part of a skull, at least. Definitely human. But the front teeth had been filed to sharp points.
"What on earth?" Dariya asked with disgust. "Are those . . ."
"Fangs." I couldn't help shuddering. They reminded me of someone I knew. A devilishly handsome but wicked blood-drinking prince in the faraway Black Mountains of Montenegro.
My cousin laid the skull back on the ground, and I frowned as I pushed the horrid blood drinker's face from my mind.
"Dariya, you girls must come back up here immediately!" My cousin's short, round stepmother shouted over the wind as she stood next to my mother under her parasol. My mother squin…
