9780593487075: Castles in Their Bones
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593487079 ISBN 13: 9780593487075
Verlag: Delacorte Press, 2022

Inhaltsangabe

A spellbinding story of three princesses and the destiny they were born for: seduction, conquest, and the crown. Immerse yourself in the first book in a new fantasy trilogy from the author of the New York Times bestselling Ash Princess series.

Empress Margaraux has had plans for her daughters since the day they were born. Princesses Sophronia, Daphne, and Beatriz will be queens. And now, age sixteen, they each must leave their homeland and marry their princes.
 
Beautiful, smart, and demure, the triplets appear to be the perfect brides—because Margaraux knows there is one common truth: everyone underestimates a girl. Which is a grave mistake. Sophronia, Daphne, and Beatriz are no innocents. They have been trained since birth in the arts of deception, seduction, and violence with a singular goal—to bring down monarchies— and their marriages are merely the first stage of their mother’s grand vision: to one day reign over the entire continent of Vestria.
 
The princesses have spent their lives preparing, and now they are ready, each with her own secret skill, and each with a single wish, pulled from the stars. Only, the stars have their own plans—and their mother hasn’t told them all of hers.
 
Life abroad is a test. Will their loyalties stay true? Or will they learn that they can’t trust anyone—not even each other?
 

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Laura Sebastian grew up in South Florida and attended Savannah College of Art and Design. She now lives and writes in London, England. Laura is the author of Castles in Their Bones as well as the New York Times bestselling Ash Princess series: Ash Princess, Lady Smoke, and Ember Queen. To learn more about Laura and her books, follow @sebastian_lk on Twitter.

Von der hinteren Coverseite

A spellbinding story of three princesses and the destiny they were born for: seduction, conquest, and the crown. Immerse yourself in the first book in a new fantasy trilogy from the author of the New York Times bestselling Ash Princess series.

Empress Margaraux has had plans for her daughters since the day they were born. Princesses Sophronia, Daphne, and Beatriz will be queens. And now, age sixteen, they each must leave their homeland and marry their princes.

Beautiful, smart, and demure, the triplets appear to be the perfect brides―because Margaraux knows there is one common truth: everyone underestimates a girl. Which is a grave mistake. Sophronia, Daphne, and Beatriz are no innocents. They have been trained since birth in the arts of deception, seduction, and violence with a singular goal―to bring down monarchies― and their marriages are merely the first stage of their mother’s grand vision: to one day reign over the entire continent of Vesteria.

The princesses have spent their lives preparing, and now they are ready, each with her own secret skill, and each with a single wish, pulled from the stars. Only, the stars have their own plans―and their mother hasn’t told them all of hers.

Life abroad is a test. Will their loyalties stay true? Or will they learn that they can’t trust anyone―not even each other?

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Sitting on the rug before the mantel, Daphne can’t help but glance at the constellations as she adjusts the skirt of her green organza dress around her like flower petals.
Babies born beneath the Thorned Rose are known to be beautiful.
Those born beneath the Hungry Hawk are ambitious.
Lonely Heart children are known to sacrifice more than others.
The Crown of Flames offers its offspring power.
And the Sisters Three bestow balance and harmony.
There are exceptions, of course—Daphne knows of plenty of people born beneath the Thorned Rose who did not grow up beautiful and many born beneath the Crown of Flames who became chimney sweeps and cabbage farmers. But still, more people believe in the omens of the stars than don’t—even Daphne, logical as she is about most things, takes the daily horoscopes laid out with her breakfast to heart.
Her eyes keep drifting to the mantel as she struggles to open the stolen bottle of champagne with her glass nail file. After some digging, the stopper comes loose with a loud pop that makes her shriek in surprise, the cork careening into the air and hitting the chandelier above, making the crystals chime together. The champagne bubbles over onto her dress and the rug, cold and wet.
“Careful!” Sophronia cries out, hurrying to the adjoining powder room for towels.
Beatriz snorts, holding three delicate crystal glasses to the mouth of the bottle, letting Daphne fill them up almost to the brim. “Or what?” she calls after Sophronia. “It isn’t as if we’re going to be here long enough to get in trouble for ruining a rug.”
Sophronia returns, towel in hand, and begins mopping up the spilled champagne anyway, her brow furrowed.
Seeing her expression, Beatriz softens. “Sorry, Sophie,” she says before taking a sip from one of the glasses and pass­ing the others to her sisters. “I didn’t mean . . .” She trails off, unsure of what, exactly, she did mean.
Sophronia doesn’t seem to know either, but she drops the sopping towel on the floor and sinks down on the sofa beside Beatriz, who drapes an arm over her shoulders, rus­tling the taffeta of her rose-pink off-the-shoulder gown in the process.
Daphne looks at them over the rim of her champagne glass, downing half of it in a single gulp before her eyes fall to the wet towel.
By the time that’s dry, she thinks, we’ll have left this place. We won’t see one another for a year.
The first part is tolerable enough—Bessemia is home, but they have always known they would leave when they came of age. Beatriz south to Cellaria, Sophronia west to Temarin, and Daphne north to Friv. They have been prepar­ing for their duties for as long as Daphne can remember, to marry the princes they’ve been betrothed to and drive their countries to war against one another, allowing their mother to sweep in and pick up the shattered pieces and add them to her domain like new jewels for her crown.
But that’s all for the future. Daphne pushes her mother’s plots aside and focuses on her sisters. The sisters she won’t see again for a year, if everything goes to plan. They haven’t spent more than a few hours apart in their entire lives. How will they manage an entire year?
Beatriz must see Daphne’s smile wobble, because she gives a dramatic roll of her eyes—her own tell for when she’s trying not to show her emotions.
“Come on,” Beatriz says, her voice cracking slightly as she pats the sofa on her other side.
Daphne stands up from the rug for an instant before fall­ing onto the sofa beside Beatriz gracelessly, letting her head drop onto Beatriz’s bare shoulder. Beatriz’s strapless sky-blue gown looks terribly uncomfortable, its corseted bod­ice digging into her skin and leaving behind red indents that peek over the top, but Beatriz doesn’t appear to feel it.
Daphne wonders if hiding her feelings is a trick Triz picked up during her training with the palace courtesans—a necessity, their mother said, to fulfill her own objective in Cellaria—or if that is simply how her sister is: only two min­utes older but always managing to seem like a woman, when Daphne still feels like a child.
“Are you worried?” Sophronia asks, taking the daintiest of sips from her glass.
Despite the fact that they are triplets, Sophronia has a lower tolerance for alcohol than her sisters. Half a glass of champagne for her is the equivalent of two full glasses for Daphne and Beatriz. Hopefully one of her attendants in Temarin knows that, Daphne thinks. Hopefully someone will keep an eye on her there, when Daphne and Beatriz can’t.
Beatriz snorts. “What on earth would I be nervous about? At this point, I feel as if I could seduce Lord Savelle in my sleep.”
Lord Savelle is the first part of the empress’s grand plan—the Temarinian ambassador in Cellaria, he has been responsible for keeping the peace between the countries for the last two decades, the longest they have gone without war in centuries. In compromising him, Beatriz will reignite that conflict and add a few extra logs to the fire.
“Cellaria alone would make me nervous,” Sophronia ad­mits, shuddering. “No empyreas, no stardust, no magic at all. I heard King Cesare had a man burned alive because he thought him responsible for a drought.”
Beatriz only shrugs. “Yes, well, I’ve been preparing for it, haven’t I?” she says. “And the king’s increasing paranoia should make it even easier to incite war. I might beat both of you back here.”
“Sophie would be my bet,” Daphne muses, sipping her champagne. “She’s the only one of us marrying a king in­stead of a mere prince, and I’m sure Leopold would declare war on Cellaria if she simply fluttered her eyelashes and asked it of him.”
Though she means the words as a joke, they’re followed by an uncomfortable silence. Sophronia looks away, her cheeks turning bright red, and Beatriz shoots Daphne a dirty look. Daphne feels as if she’s missed something, though it isn’t the first time. The three of them are close, but Beatriz and Sophronia have always been just a bit closer. Which is fine by Daphne—after all, she has always been the closest with their mother.
“Beatriz is the prettiest of you—she will have no trou­ble swinging the hearts of the Cellarians. Sophronia is the sweetest and she will win over the Temarinians with ease,” the empress said to Daphne just the day before, her voice like that of a general dispatching troops. The words deflated Daphne, until her mother leaned toward her, pressing her cool palm to Daphne’s cheek and blessing her with a rare full smile. “But you, my darling, are my sharpest weapon, so I need you in Friv. Bessemia needs you in Friv. If you’re going to take my place one day, you must prove you can fill it.”
Shame and pride go to war inside Daphne and she takes another sip of her champagne, hoping her sisters don’t no­tice. She supposes she can’t fault them for keeping things from her—she has her own share of secrets.
Logically, she knows her mother was right to ask her to keep that from them—she has never mentioned making one of them her heir, and knowing it will be Daphne will only stoke jealousies. Daphne doesn’t want that. Not tonight, es­pecially.
She lets out a sigh, slumping farther into the sofa’s cush­ioned back. “At least your princes are handsome and healthy. One of the Frivian spies says Prince Cillian has been leeched so many times, his skin is covered in...

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Verlag
Delacorte Press
Erscheinungsdatum
2022
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593487079
ISBN 13 
9780593487075
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
528
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

Friedensallee 273
Hamburg
22763
Deutschland

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