A Reign of Rose

From Kate Golden, author of viral phenomenon They must save the world--but can they also save each other? Kane Ravenwood, King of Onyx Kingdom, would go to the ends of the continent for Arwen Valondale, but what if she’s beyond even that? Broken in ways he never imagined he could be, Kane must find a way to fulfill the prophecy and kill his father, Fae King Lazarus. And after what he''s endured, he’s willing to save Evendell by whatever means necessary--even if that spells his own death. Little does Kane know, he''s not the only one fighting for revenge. Arwen is no longer afraid to fight--no sacrifice is too great, no enemy too daunting. Now, nothing will stop her from destroying Lazarus and his allies, because she knows if she fails, both realms will be doomed forever.

Auteur

Kate Golden is the bestselling author of viral sensation and debut novel A Dawn of Onyx. She lives in Los Angeles, where she works in the film industry developing movies with screenwriters and filmmakers. When she isn’t telling stories, Kate is an avid book reader, film and TV fanatic, and functioning puzzle addict. She and her husband can be found hosting cozy game nights and taking hikes with their sweet pup, Milo. You can keep up with her on Instagram at @KateGoldenAuthor and on TikTok at @Kate_Golden_Author, where she is known to post both spicy and heartbreaking teasers for her upcoming books.

Texte du rabat

"From Kate Golden, author of viral phenomenon A Dawn of Onyx, comes the seductive, action-packed conclusion to her sweeping Sacred Stones trilogy. They must save the world-but can they also save each other? Kane Ravenwood, King of Onyx Kingdom, would go to the ends of the continent for Arwen Valondale, but what if she's beyond even that? Broken in ways he never imagined he could be, Kane must find a way to fulfill the prophecy and kill his father, Fae King Lazarus. And after what he's endured, he's willing to save Evendell by whatever means necessary-even if that spells his own death. Little does Kane know, he's not the only one fighting for revenge. Arwen is no longer afraid to fight--no sacrifice is too great, no enemy too daunting. Now, nothing will stop her from destroying Lazarus and his allies, because she knows if she fails, both realms will be doomed forever"--

Résumé
AN INSTANT USA TODAY BESTSELLER!

From Kate Golden, author of viral phenomenon A Dawn of Onyx, comes the unforgettable, epic conclusion to her pulse-pounding Sacred Stones trilogy.

They must save the world—but can they also save each other?
 
Kane Ravenwood, King of Onyx Kingdom, would go to the ends of the continent for Arwen Valondale, but what if she’s beyond even that? Broken in ways he never imagined he could be, Kane must survive to fulfill the prophecy and kill his father, Fae King Lazarus. After what he's endured, Kane is willing to save all of Evendell by whatever means necessary—even if that spells his own death.
 
Little does Kane know, he's not the only one desperate for revenge. Arwen is no longer afraid to fight—no sacrifice is too great, no enemy too daunting. Now, nothing will stop her from destroying Lazarus. She’s all too aware that if she fails, both realms will be doomed forever.
 
With the help of new allies and old friends, Kane and Arwen will see this battle through to the end.

Échantillon de lecture
1

kane

I knew this time it was my rib that had cracked.

Each inhale sent the mismatched shards straining from one another and pain radiating into the pummeled muscles of my back. Sitting up was marginally less painful, and I sucked in a slow, bracing breath.

The scent of pine and blood filled my nostrils.

When I blinked my eyes open, they raked down the cascading wall of solid, glinting ice that I'd plunged from-its peak still hidden behind thick white clouds, the smooth face marred only by the cracks and dents where I'd jammed my fists and feet, unsuccessfully attempting an ascent.

First you failed them. Then you failed her. Now you're failing again.

Anguish pierced my heart anew. Fresher, every fucking day.

Wasn't grief supposed to dull with time?

I stood, chest still constricting with two very different types of pain, and brushed snow and dirt from my backside. The motion aggravated deep scrapes along my palms. Whatever protective ward the White Crow had cast around his home atop that glacial mountain was inhibiting all aspects of my lighte-barring me from shifting into my dragon form, halting my accelerated Fae healing . . .

I trudged through near-blinding white back in the direction of the town at the base of the mountain. I'd only made it a few feet when the bruises, scrapes, and blisters across my body began to fade. My toe cut across the snow, demarking where the ward appeared to end.

I winced with the movement. The rib was going to take longer to heal.

If I were smart, or patient, I'd retreat down to town, get a room at the unsavory, sleet-coated inn, and lie still in devastating silence until I recovered.

But I wasn't smart.

I wasn't patient.

And I didn't mind the pain.

I was so cold these days it was almost preferable, feeling something ache inside my bones.

Pressing my palm to the radiating volleys of pain in my side, I appraised the ice-cold mountain range for the hundredth time. Beyond bare ponderosa branches thick with hoarfrost, and snow prints from hares and caribou, that towering rise of jagged hunches rose and rose and rose, gobbling up the skyline.

"You planning to become a dragon and fly at it again?" a crotchety old voice called from behind me. "That almost worked."

Gods damn it.

"No," I growled.

And that hadn't almost worked. It had only gotten me high enough into the air to spy the tiny stone cottage that topped the peak, observe the elderly sorcerer tending to a flourishing root vegetable garden, and then, as soon as I flew for him and through his wards, shift against my will midair and plummet to the ground.

That fall had yielded me one crushed kneecap, a concussion, and two dislocated shoulders. None of which had rivaled the experience of waiting days for my knocked-out teeth to grow back-nothing humbles a man quite like teething in adulthood.

My body shattering against packed snow hadn't been all bad. In some ways, I'd welcomed the pain. It allowed me to feel what Arwen had felt-that same gruesome powerlessness. Sailing through the air, instincts screaming at me to fly despite my brain's roaring that I couldn't-

"You're not going to die." That's what I had told her.

A grimace twisted my face at the memory.

So I'd tried again the next day. And the next.

The second time I fell out of my dragon form, I'd broken my back in two places, and lost the use of my legs. I'd lain there for half a day, inside the White Crow's wards, unable to heal, unable to move, until this mouth breather had stumbled across my prone form and, upon my very clear instructions, dragged me back toward town until a tingling in my calves told me I'd started to heal.

I appraised him now as he stood expectantly with that yoke across his shoulders. The wrinkly, crumpled do-gooder was named Len and had a long face and thin lips that he used to smile far more often than necessary. A dishwasher in the town's only tavern, Len climbed up the hill for fresh water from the well each morning, and once told me he was all too used to seeing sorry assholes like myself up here, trying and failing to reach the White Crow.

"Don't beat yourself up," Len said, eyes crinkling. "It's a feat when someone can even track the old nutter down."

Pressing against my aching, splintered rib, I cut a glance at him. "On your way now, Len."

The older man raised his hands in mock su…