A Curse of Blood & Stone – Fate & Flame Read Online K.A. Tucker

Categories Genre: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

A Curse of Blood & Stone - Fate & Flame

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

K.A. Tucker

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B09GMRGKCD
Book Information:

“I do not know how to love you and be a good king to my people.”
From jewelry thief to interloper to queen-in-waiting, Romeria flees Cirilea a traitor to all. But the yawning distance between her and Zander troubles her more than any king’s bounty on her head. While Zander may have escaped by her side, he seeks to regain his throne, and no immortal will ever welcome her as Islor’s queen. She fears it won’t be long before Zander abandons her as everyone else she’s ever loved has.
Zander sacrificed his crown to save Romeria’s life, yet he dreads what her existence means for the future of his realm. As Ybaris’s plan to destroy Islor unfurls, a more insidious threat, orchestrated by rival fates, lurks beneath the surface. He can offer his allies no honest explanation for why he protects the Ybarisan princess and takes counsel from Queen Neilina’s caster, leading those closest to doubt his wisdom—and his allegiance.
As their company aims for the Venhorn Mountains, steered by prophecy, Romeria is desperate to wield her newfound abilities to undo Princess Romeria’s treachery before the kingdom tears itself apart. But with the mortal rebellion swelling, bolstered by the gift of Ybaris’s poison, it may already be too late.
From internationally bestselling author K.A. Tucker comes the second novel in her Fate and Flame series, an adult fantasy story that should be read in series order.
Books by Author:

K.A. Tucker



Pronunciations:

Romeria—row-mair-ee-a

Romy—row-me

Sofie—so-fee

Elijah—uh-lie-jah

Zander—zan-der

Wendeline—wen-de-line

Annika—an-i-ka

Corrin—kor-in

Elisaf—el-i-saf

Boaz—bow-az

Dagny—dag-knee

Bexley—bex-lee

Saoirse—sur-sha

Kaders—kay-ders

Malachi—ma-la-kai

Aoife—ee-fuh

Aminadav—Ami-na-dav

Vin’nyla—vin-ny-la

Ratheus—ra-tay-us

Islor—I-lor

Ybaris—yi-bar-is

Ybarisan—yi-bar-is-an

Cirilea—sir-il-ee-a

Seacadore—see-ka-dor

Skatrana—ska-tran-a

Kier—key-er

Mordain—mor-day-n

Azo’dem—az-oo-dem

Za’hala—za-ha-la

Caster—kas-ter

daaknar—day-knar

caco claws—kay-ko claws

Zorya—zor-eye-a

Jarek—yar-ek

Bodil—bow-dil

Horik—hor-ik

Sapling—sap-ling

Danthrin—dan-thrin

Ambrose Villier—Am-brose Vil-lier

Eden—ee-dun

Drakon—dray-kon

Brawley—bra-lee

Mika—mee-kuh

Iago—ee-aa-gow

Brynn—brin

Theon Rengard—thee-on ren-gard

Sheyda—shay-da

Ocher—ow-kr

Ianca— I-an-kuh

Ulysede—You-li-seed

Tyree—ty-ree

Oswald—oz-wald

Orme—aw-r-m

Fearghal—fer-gull

Golbikc—goal-bik

Isembert—I-sem-bert

Bregen—bre-gun

Eros—eh-rows

1

Romeria

My eyes water from the stench of sewage. If not for the endless adrenaline surging through my veins, I might have already spilled the delectable Seacadorian grapes churning in my stomach.

“I will go first—”

“No.” Zander seizes Elisaf by the shoulder, stopping his loyal friend from climbing the ladder. Even in the shadows of the underground tunnel, there’s no missing the stiffness in his jaw, the resolution in his stare. “If this is a trap set by Mordain, I am the better match for what awaits us.”

Because Zander can raze a person to ash where they stand. I’ve seen it firsthand, as has everyone who witnessed the horrifying spectacle in the arena tonight.

I sneak a glance at Gesine. The high priestess may be bothered by Zander’s blatant distrust of her people, but she hides it behind an emotionless mask, offering me a smile when she notices my attention.

I can’t bring myself to return it. There won’t be any comfort found tonight, not as the four of us slink through Cirilea’s culvert system, running from a king’s army.

“Wait for my signal and bring up the rear. Romeria, you will follow directly behind me.” Zander pauses. Under different circumstances, I might have a quip for his demand, an admiring gaze for his handsome face as he awaits my answer. Now, all I have is a solemn nod.

He ascends the wooden ladder with lithe steps and disappears into the night.

And I hold my breath. Our torch flames cast ominous forms over the jagged stone walls; the foul sludge soaks into the hide of our boots. I wish I could say it’s the first time I’ve crept through a gutter, but years of surviving the streets and then Korsakov’s criminal world has exposed me to plenty of predicaments that would draw shudders and nose curls. This smell will trail us long after we’ve fled. But bodies can be washed, clothes can be replaced. Cleanliness is the least of our worries.

Somewhere unseen, water trickles and waves lap faintly. “Where does this end?” I ask.

“At the seawall.” Elisaf’s attention is hyperfocused on the exit above. “A grate fortified with merth closes it off to invaders. Nothing short of direct cannon fire or a powerful caster will break through that.” His fist clutches a gleaming merth-forged dagger at his side, its blade primed for plunging into flesh. I want to think that flesh won’t be mine, but nothing is guaranteed now that my secret is out.

Will there come a point when the nights Zander and I shared, our heads nestled in pillows, our words laced with heady promises, mean nothing? When the fleeing king puts his kingdom and crown before his heart and accepts the ruin a key caster—one with poison flowing through her veins—could bring to Islor is far too great?

Will I see the resolve in those beautiful hazel eyes when he makes that decision?

My chest tightens with the thought of Zander becoming my enemy again. But that needs to be a worry for another day too.

I push out all concerns but the most pressing one—is there any hope in hell of me escaping death tonight?

Each second that passes without any sign of Zander swells my dread.

“This must all have been so confusing for you,” Gesine says. “From the moment you woke.”

“I thought I was losing my mind,” I admit. Just like my father had. Only now I know the truth about that too.

A whistle calls.

“Climb.” Elisaf nudges me forward, urgency in his lyrical Seacadorian accent.

I don’t waste a second, scaling the ladder far less gracefully than Zander, the rungs creaking beneath my weight. I wince against a splinter that slides beneath my skin as I emerge into a pitch-black space.

“Let me help you.” Zander’s voice is a whisper in my ear.

I can’t make out anything, yet I know he can see clearly, and I sense his hand waiting inches from mine, palm up.

This is where we part ways, Romeria Watts of New York City.

His resolute words from earlier are a deafening bell toll. Zander wants to leave me. An army led by his treasonous brother is building a pyre for me, every immortal in Islor will want me dead for the poison in my veins, and the most powerful spellcasters in Mordain will hunt me down should they discover I’m a key caster …

Zander finally knows that I do not belong in this world, and he is searching for an excuse to abandon me to it.

I ignore his offer of help, testing the floor with my toes for clear footing before stepping off the ladder. The tunnel is supposed to lead us to the Rookery, but all I sense are walls. I occupy my hands with my cloak, praying for my eyes to adjust.

Zander sighs with resignation. “You are angry with me.”


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