Neusols and Noloumna
❝And that, in veracity, is how the nightfall became evil in Ayamllis.❞
Bloodshed has tormented the Sowatonia Isles for centuries, deteriorating the provinces to the bone of abysmal notions, and a far gruesome archetype of who reins with the predominant blood of combat upon their palms, whose sword glean haematic rather than gridelin, whose flesh embrace that of maimed servant. The queen of Ayamllis, a springtime adversary, has governed a decade with a withering proclamation of abhorrence, antithetical of her son, the first born arranging his own moment to clench the dominion. After having been intercepted in an enthralled garden affair, the prince and his male paramour must procure the throne through a feline's battle, magic compatible with ruination, and damnation to the heart.
As war brews deadlier three blossoming, forthcoming years onward, the sister of the incarcerated lover transforms into a soldier, encompassing wounds to defend the dawn as evening seeps nearer. She must take on a task as fatal as a blade, especially for a woman of such low status, to establish a proposal to terminate engagement glossed by the foul play of her much older counterpart, and rescue her only sibling.
Through alternating point of views, the duo, Neusols and Noloumna, tell their brutal stories, one from the past, one from the present. To whose limbs will the lacemmilas drip amongst, and to whom will the perishing envelope least expectedly?
© 2017, Miranda Lester.