The ruby ring on Athène’s left middle finger glistered like freshly spilled blood in the brittle winter light. Steam seeped from between her interlaced fingers, as if her soul were leaking out of her body, and the many copper bangles she wore on her arms slid down to her wrists Gemma knew from Burns what they signified-a chronicle of death. “Here,” she said, approaching with her hands outstretched. The chieftain looked younger than Gemma remembered, shorn of the authority conferred on her by the rest of the naasyoon, and her expression was serene, almost beatific. She’d been at it for about ten minutes when she saw Athène approaching. Only when her legs were on the verge of giving out did she press her back up against the trunk of a pine and begin rubbing the leather straps around her wrists against the rough bark. Still, she ran as fast and as far as she could, sundering the silence of the morning with her ragged panting and muffled footfalls, leaving prints like a trail of bread crumbs in the snow behind her, until her muscles ached with the effort and the piercing cold had become a blessing. The tribeswomen she passed watched her go with varying levels of amusement or contempt no one made a grab for her, or bothered to give chase. (And then what? Don’t worry about that now.) She said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and charged out of the tent, making for the sparse cover of the trees. Though there was no hope of getting through the campsite unseen, with luck she could lose her pursuers in the snowy woods. Any moment now, someone would look in and realize they’d forgotten to truss the new prisoner’s legs. Odd to see a man cooking for a group of women odder still to consider just why it looked so odd.īut she was wasting time. They could only be the “missives” she’d heard so much about watching them made her think about those comedic plays whose plots revolved around cross-dressing princes and mistaken identities. Not a dozen yards from Gemma, two men silently tended to the meat roasting over a large fire. Tribeswomen walked the snowy lanes between these tents, spitting and shouting, laughing their throaty, masculine laughter. The campsite was larger than she’d expected-at least thirty small tents and a couple of larger ones. If they believed her to be asleep, she might have a chance at escaping.Īfter the tears stopped coming and Gemma awkwardly wiped her cheeks with her shoulders, she crept over to the tent flap and peeked her head through. More than that, she didn’t want them to know she was awake. She allowed herself to cry, but made sure to keep it quiet she didn’t want the Wesah to know she was hurting. So it was all real: she’d been captured by the Wesah, who were taking her Daughter only knew where, and the odds were she’d never see her little sister or her grandfather ever again. Her wrists were bound behind her back with leather straps, but her legs had been left unrestrained. She lay between two fur blankets in a small, conical tent supported by three smooth wooden poles. The fantasy dissipated when Gemma opened her eyes. Any second now, he’d call out-breakfast!-and then she and Flora would race downstairs to battle it out for the first helpings of scrambled eggs and bacon. For just a moment, she imagined she was back at her grandfather’s house in the Anchor. THE MORNING AFTER HER ABDUCTION, Gemma awoke to a rumbling in her belly, a hunger whetted by the succulent aroma and homey sizzle of roasting meat. In Slow Burn, the second book in the Anchor & Sophia trilogy, these four young people will be compelled to question everything they thought they believed-and the conclusions they reach could determine the fate of an entire civilization. In Sophia, as Clover learns more and more about the city and its enigmatic director, Zeno, his faith in his mission begins to waver.Īnd Gemma embarks on a journey of self-discovery and spiritual expansion that will open her eyes…if it doesn't kill her first. In the Anchor, Clive would like nothing better than to never speak with Paz again, but when he is tapped to help with her interrogation, the two of them begin to reconcile their differences, which don’t run nearly as deep as they expected. From the New York Times bestselling author of We All Looked Up comes the second novel in the Anchor & Sophia trilogy, where the rules of humanity are called into question by two warring cities.Īfter their devastating journey from the Anchor to Sophia, Clive and Clover Hamill, Gemma Poplin, and Paz Dedios have all been separated-not only physically, but philosophically.
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