A Song of Saints and Swans by C. Rochelle EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: C. Rochelle
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
“TANTHIA – FOUR MONTHS EARLIER
hia! Thank you for coming to my… what are we calling this again,
Tan?” I struggled not to laugh as a slightly flustered witch ushered
me into her hut, along with a few autumn leaves.
Vasi and I had celebrated her birthday together hundreds of times—once I
got her to actually tell me when it was—but never had it turned into a party
like this.
“It’s your va ju-bilation ju-bilee! And henceforth, October 27th will
forever be known as such!” Tan crowed, and I snorted, spying the ridiculous
Rider at the far end of the table, shirtless and already plastered.
I see the festivities have already begun.
“Happy birthday, Vasi.” I smiled warmly, handing her a wrapped package
containing her favorite dark chocolate and tea, along with some of my
favorite romance books. She eagerly tore at the paper, and I took advantage
of the distraction to slip Nox the gift I’d purchased on his behalf.
Since apparently, the big dumb one and I are friends now.
“Thank you, Anthia… fuck, I hope she likes it,” he whispered,
endearingly nervous about the entire thing.
I rolled my eyes. Of course, she’d love it. These men could shit in the
woods and Vasi would declare it a blessing on the earth.
While I was thrilled my dearest friend had found her true loves—the fated
Riders who helped her fulfill her legacy—they certainly were a handful.
It was nearly impossible to believe it had only been a few months since
Vasi saved our world. Matthew was dead, Koschei had been banished to the
Nav for Veles to torture, and Mokosh had spent every day since then bringing
life back to the forest.
Walking through the woods these days felt so incredible, I could almost
forget everything bad that had happened.
Almost.
Having watched Vasi heal from her own trauma, I knew I had a long way
to go. Besides the hazy memories of what the men at Matthew’s Facility had
done to me, I was still plagued with overwhelming feelings of guilt. Blood
taken from my veins—samples that were still missing—could possibly help
Matthew’s remaining colleagues hurt others like me.
Although there aren’t many like me.
After my mother disappeared, I’d accidentally discovered the truth of
who I was while cleaning out her Vardo wagon. I could still remember how
my hands shook as I read the incriminating letter, written in flowing script on
stationery with a royal seal. I’d burned it on the stove before my father,
Gerard, could find it and run into the woods, blinded by tears and heartbroken
by the truth.
That was when I’d tumbled into a pitfall trap and broken a wing. The
Goddess must have been watching over me, as the newly appointed Baba
Yaga—Vasi—stumbled upon me only hours later.
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