PRINCE OF SHADOWS
RACHEL CAINE
DUE FOR RELEASE - 4TH FEBRUARY 2014 |
Goodreads
This was all taken from an email with news from Rachel Caine. I was trying to find it on her web page. I found all the Morganville etc stuff so I have copied it and pasted it here. I was trying for the link but I took the news from the email in the end. So below are all Rachel Caine's words, not mine.
Yes, that is one smoking hot cover - I could not be more pleased with it! I think it perfectly reflects the lush setting and tone of the story, and it's just flat-out amazing work by artist Michael Heath.
Prince of Shadows is a real adventure for me ... I wanted to retell the story of Romeo and Juliet, be faithful to the period and the events of the play, and yet put an entirely new interpretation on the events. So this is the play you know, but trust me ... you do not know this story. Benvolio Montague is our guide through the tale, and from his unique perspective we'll learn secrets and lies, triumph and tragedy in entirely new ways.
Here's a quick sample from the novel ...
I stood in the dark corner of my enemy’s house, and thought of murder.
In his bed, Tybalt Capulet snored and drooled like a toothless old woman. I marveled as I thought of how the women of Verona -- from dewy-eyed maids to dignified ladies -- fell swooning in his wake. If they could see him like this (a drunken, undignified mess in sodden linen) they'd have run shrieking to the arms of their fathers and husbands.
It would make a good, vivid story to retell, but only among my closest and dearest.
I turned a dagger restlessly in my gloved hand, feeling that murderous tingle working its way through my veins, but I was no assassin. I was not here to kill. I'd come stealthily into his house, into his rooms, for a purpose.
Tybalt, the heir of Capulet, swaggered the streets of Verona and used wit like weapons; that was nothing new among our class of young cocks. He was never above offering insults, to low or high, when opportunity came. Today, he'd offended my house. House Montague.
The victim was a serving girl. Insults to servants didn't call for open challenges from those of my station, but still, it pricked me, seeing the self-satisfied grin on Tybalt's face as he emerged from that rank little alcove where he’d reduced her to tears; I’d seen her run from him red-faced, holding the tattered rags of her clothes together. He'd injured the girl only to prove his contempt for my house, and that required an answer.
It required revenge, and that was something that I, Benvolio Montague, would serve him – not in the streets, in open war, but here, in the dark. Tonight, I was clad head to toe in disguise, and there was nothing about me to indicate my station, or my house. Tonight, I was a thief -- the best thief in Verona. They called me the Prince of Shadows. For three years, I had stolen from my peers without being caught, and tonight … tonight would be no different.
Except that it was different. My hands felt hot and restless. So easy to drag a dagger across that hated throat, but murder spawned murder, and I didn't want to kill Tybalt. There had been enough of that between our two houses; the streets ran slick with spilled blood. No ... I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to knock him from his perch as the man of the hour.
I had the will, and the access. All that remained now was to choose how to hurt him best. Tybalt was the God-crowned heir of Capulet; he was rich, indulged, and careless. I needed to wound him where it counted -- in the eyes of his family, and preferably in the eyes of all Verona.
Ah. I spotted a gleam as something caught the light on the floor. I crossed to the corner where he'd dumped a tangle of clothing, and found the jeweled emblem pinned to his doublet -- a gaudy piece, in Capulet colors, one that would feed even a well-done-by merchant family for a year. No doubt he'd underpaid for it, as well; Tybalt was more likely to terrify honest men into bargains than pay fairly. I added the prize to my purse, and then drew Tybalt's rapier from its sheath, slowly and carefully. It came free with a soft, singing ring of steel, and I turned it in the moonlight, assessing the quality. Very fine, and engraved with his name and crest. A lovely weapon. A personal weapon.
He did not deserve such a beautiful thing.
I sheathed it and belted it on, opposite my own rapier. As the heir of Capulet snored, drunken and oblivious, I pulled off my black cap and bowed with perfect form, just the way I would have been honor-bound to greet him if we'd had the mischance to meet on the street. Under the breath-moistened black silk of my mask, I was smiling, but it felt more like a grimace.
"Good night, sweet prince, thou poxy son of a dog," I whispered. Tybalt smacked his lips, mumbled drunkenly, and rolled over. In seconds, he was snoring again, loud as a grinding-wheel against a knife.
I slipped out of the door of his apartments, past his equally dozy servant, and considered my exit from the Capulet palace. The obvious was to return the way I'd entered, but I'd come in during the height of the busy afternoon, carrying a box of supplies from a provisioner's wagon. I'd spent the day admiring the brickwork of the Capulet cellars. Going out the same way was unlikely; the kitchen door was almost certainly locked and guarded now.
Out through the narrow gardens, then. Once I was beyond the wall’s high stone barrier, I would be just another bravo on the moonlit streets, making for my bed.
I went up the stairs, taking them two at a time; my soft leather shoes made no sound on the polished marble. I'd worn gray to blend into the ever-present stone and brick of Verona; in the shadows, there was nothing better with which to disappear. Even here, inside the quiet house, it was a reasonably good disguise. I ghosted past murky squares of paintings upon the walls, and a candelabra with two still-burning tapers (a true sign of family wealth); the tapestry at the top of the stairs was rich and very tempting to steal, but too heavy, and I had enough trophies already.
Upstairs was women's country. Lady Capulet would have the largest and most lavish quarters, to the right -- the grand palace was almost a mirror of my own family's, in many ways. That meant the girls would have the smaller apartments to the left -- the oldest, Rosaline, said to be studious and bookish, was probably well asleep by now. She'd have the far rooms, since she was only a cousin, not the lady's own daughter. She was Tybalt's sister, arrived in Verona only a few months before, and kept shut up hard in the palace. I’d heard a rumor she was nothing like her loathsome brother, at least; that was to her credit.
There was no servant on duty at her door, and when I tried it, I found it unlocked. A trusting lot, these Capulets, at least within their own walls. I slipped the latch and stepped quietly inside, only to find that the room wasn't as dark as I'd hoped. There was a low-burning fire crackling on the hearth, and a candle flickering on the table. It scarcely mattered if the girl had left lights burning, as the bed curtains were pulled. She'd hear and see nothing through the thick coverings. I took reasonable care not to allow the floor to creak as I crossed it, and I was almost to the window when I realized that I had erred.
Badly.
Rosaline Capulet was not in bed. She was, instead, perched in a chair on the far side of the table, reading a slim book.
I saw her before she saw me. Candlelight dusted her skin with gold, and flickered in her large, dark eyes; her neck was swan-graceful, and her slender hands cupped the spine of the volume with care. She wore a simple lawn night-gown. I could make out the shadowed curves of her body beneath the white fabric. She had put her midnight-dark hair into a long braid for the night, and was thoughtfully twirling one end of it as she read.
No one had warned me she was beautiful.
The newest installment in J.R. Ward’s #1 New York Times bestselling Black Dagger Brotherhood series. Wrath and the Brotherhood are locked in an epic battle over his throne and the very future of the vampire race.
The mad Shōgun Yoritomo has been assassinated by the Stormdancer Yukiko, and the threat of civil war looms over the Shima Imperium. The Lotus Guild conspires to renew the nation’s broken dynasty and crush the growing rebellion simultaneously – by endorsing a new Shōgun who desires nothing more than to see Yukiko dead.
Kagé assassins lurk within the Shōgun’s palace, plotting to end the new dynasty before it begins. A waif from Kigen’s gutters begins a friendship that could undo the entire empire. A new enemy gathers its strength, readying to push the fracturing Shima imperium into a war it cannot hope to survive. And across raging oceans, amongst islands of black glass, Yukiko and Buruu will face foes no katana or talon can defeat.
The ghosts of a blood-stained past.
Prince of Shadows is a real adventure for me ... I wanted to retell the story of Romeo and Juliet, be faithful to the period and the events of the play, and yet put an entirely new interpretation on the events. So this is the play you know, but trust me ... you do not know this story. Benvolio Montague is our guide through the tale, and from his unique perspective we'll learn secrets and lies, triumph and tragedy in entirely new ways.
Here's a quick sample from the novel ...
I stood in the dark corner of my enemy’s house, and thought of murder.
In his bed, Tybalt Capulet snored and drooled like a toothless old woman. I marveled as I thought of how the women of Verona -- from dewy-eyed maids to dignified ladies -- fell swooning in his wake. If they could see him like this (a drunken, undignified mess in sodden linen) they'd have run shrieking to the arms of their fathers and husbands.
It would make a good, vivid story to retell, but only among my closest and dearest.
I turned a dagger restlessly in my gloved hand, feeling that murderous tingle working its way through my veins, but I was no assassin. I was not here to kill. I'd come stealthily into his house, into his rooms, for a purpose.
Tybalt, the heir of Capulet, swaggered the streets of Verona and used wit like weapons; that was nothing new among our class of young cocks. He was never above offering insults, to low or high, when opportunity came. Today, he'd offended my house. House Montague.
The victim was a serving girl. Insults to servants didn't call for open challenges from those of my station, but still, it pricked me, seeing the self-satisfied grin on Tybalt's face as he emerged from that rank little alcove where he’d reduced her to tears; I’d seen her run from him red-faced, holding the tattered rags of her clothes together. He'd injured the girl only to prove his contempt for my house, and that required an answer.
It required revenge, and that was something that I, Benvolio Montague, would serve him – not in the streets, in open war, but here, in the dark. Tonight, I was clad head to toe in disguise, and there was nothing about me to indicate my station, or my house. Tonight, I was a thief -- the best thief in Verona. They called me the Prince of Shadows. For three years, I had stolen from my peers without being caught, and tonight … tonight would be no different.
Except that it was different. My hands felt hot and restless. So easy to drag a dagger across that hated throat, but murder spawned murder, and I didn't want to kill Tybalt. There had been enough of that between our two houses; the streets ran slick with spilled blood. No ... I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to knock him from his perch as the man of the hour.
I had the will, and the access. All that remained now was to choose how to hurt him best. Tybalt was the God-crowned heir of Capulet; he was rich, indulged, and careless. I needed to wound him where it counted -- in the eyes of his family, and preferably in the eyes of all Verona.
Ah. I spotted a gleam as something caught the light on the floor. I crossed to the corner where he'd dumped a tangle of clothing, and found the jeweled emblem pinned to his doublet -- a gaudy piece, in Capulet colors, one that would feed even a well-done-by merchant family for a year. No doubt he'd underpaid for it, as well; Tybalt was more likely to terrify honest men into bargains than pay fairly. I added the prize to my purse, and then drew Tybalt's rapier from its sheath, slowly and carefully. It came free with a soft, singing ring of steel, and I turned it in the moonlight, assessing the quality. Very fine, and engraved with his name and crest. A lovely weapon. A personal weapon.
He did not deserve such a beautiful thing.
I sheathed it and belted it on, opposite my own rapier. As the heir of Capulet snored, drunken and oblivious, I pulled off my black cap and bowed with perfect form, just the way I would have been honor-bound to greet him if we'd had the mischance to meet on the street. Under the breath-moistened black silk of my mask, I was smiling, but it felt more like a grimace.
"Good night, sweet prince, thou poxy son of a dog," I whispered. Tybalt smacked his lips, mumbled drunkenly, and rolled over. In seconds, he was snoring again, loud as a grinding-wheel against a knife.
I slipped out of the door of his apartments, past his equally dozy servant, and considered my exit from the Capulet palace. The obvious was to return the way I'd entered, but I'd come in during the height of the busy afternoon, carrying a box of supplies from a provisioner's wagon. I'd spent the day admiring the brickwork of the Capulet cellars. Going out the same way was unlikely; the kitchen door was almost certainly locked and guarded now.
Out through the narrow gardens, then. Once I was beyond the wall’s high stone barrier, I would be just another bravo on the moonlit streets, making for my bed.
I went up the stairs, taking them two at a time; my soft leather shoes made no sound on the polished marble. I'd worn gray to blend into the ever-present stone and brick of Verona; in the shadows, there was nothing better with which to disappear. Even here, inside the quiet house, it was a reasonably good disguise. I ghosted past murky squares of paintings upon the walls, and a candelabra with two still-burning tapers (a true sign of family wealth); the tapestry at the top of the stairs was rich and very tempting to steal, but too heavy, and I had enough trophies already.
Upstairs was women's country. Lady Capulet would have the largest and most lavish quarters, to the right -- the grand palace was almost a mirror of my own family's, in many ways. That meant the girls would have the smaller apartments to the left -- the oldest, Rosaline, said to be studious and bookish, was probably well asleep by now. She'd have the far rooms, since she was only a cousin, not the lady's own daughter. She was Tybalt's sister, arrived in Verona only a few months before, and kept shut up hard in the palace. I’d heard a rumor she was nothing like her loathsome brother, at least; that was to her credit.
There was no servant on duty at her door, and when I tried it, I found it unlocked. A trusting lot, these Capulets, at least within their own walls. I slipped the latch and stepped quietly inside, only to find that the room wasn't as dark as I'd hoped. There was a low-burning fire crackling on the hearth, and a candle flickering on the table. It scarcely mattered if the girl had left lights burning, as the bed curtains were pulled. She'd hear and see nothing through the thick coverings. I took reasonable care not to allow the floor to creak as I crossed it, and I was almost to the window when I realized that I had erred.
Badly.
Rosaline Capulet was not in bed. She was, instead, perched in a chair on the far side of the table, reading a slim book.
I saw her before she saw me. Candlelight dusted her skin with gold, and flickered in her large, dark eyes; her neck was swan-graceful, and her slender hands cupped the spine of the volume with care. She wore a simple lawn night-gown. I could make out the shadowed curves of her body beneath the white fabric. She had put her midnight-dark hair into a long braid for the night, and was thoughtfully twirling one end of it as she read.
No one had warned me she was beautiful.
THE KING - BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD # 12
J.R. WARD
DUE FOR RELEASE : 25TH MARCH 2014 |
THE DREAM THIEVES - THE RAVEN CYCLE # 2
MAGGIE STIEFVATER
A SHATTERED EMPIRE
A DARK LEGACY
Yukiko and the mighty thunder tiger Buruu have been cast in the role of heroes by the Kagé rebellion. But Yukiko herself is blinded by rage over her father’s death, and her ability to hear the thoughts of beasts is swelling beyond her power to control. Along with Buruu, Yukiko’s anchor is Kin, the rebel Guildsman who helped her escape from Yoritomo’s clutches. But Kin has his own secrets, and is haunted by visions of a future he’d rather die than see realized.
A GATHERING STORM
The ghosts of a blood-stained past.
ALLEGIANT - DIVERGENT # 3
VERONICA ROTH
DUE FOR RELEASE - 22ND OCTOBER 2013 |
What if your whole world was a lie?
What if a single revelation—like a single choice—changed everything?
What if love and loyalty made you do things you never expected?
The explosive conclusion to Veronica Roth’s #1 New York Times bestselling Divergent trilogy reveals the secrets of the dystopian world that has captivated millions of readers in Divergent and Insurgent.
DARKNESS SPLINTERED - DARK ANGELS # 6
KERI ARTHUR
DUE FOR RELEASE - 5TH NOVEMBER 2013 |
When Risa loses the second key to hell, she angers several powerful people, and she’s starting to feel the pressure from all sides. She gets a visit from her father, who gives her an ultimatum: Get back the key or he will kill her friends.
Risa also finds herself under the scrutiny of the vampire council, some of whom consider her a monster who should be destroyed. But they offer her a bloody bargain: Take on the lethal head of the council, Madeline Hunter, and others will support her.
As the search for the keys to hell heats up, Risa realizes that she has no choice. For the sake of the people she loves, she must find the keys — and get rid of Hunter — before the second gate is opened and brings the world closer to all hell breaking loose...
THE FIERY HEART - BLOODLINES # 4
RICHELLE MEAD
In The Indigo Spell, Sydney was torn between the Alchemist way of life and what her heart and gut were telling her to do. And in one breathtaking moment that Richelle Mead fans will never forget, she made a decision that shocked even her. . . .
But the struggle isn't over for Sydney. As she navigates the aftermath of her life-changing decision, she still finds herself pulled in too many directions at once. Her sister Zoe has arrived, and while Sydney longs to grow closer to her, there's still so much she must keep secret. Working with Marcus has changed the way she views the Alchemists, and Sydney must tread a careful path as she harnesses her profound magical ability to undermine the way of life she was raised to defend. Consumed by passion and vengeance, Sydney struggles to keep her secret life under wraps as the threat of exposure—and re-education—looms larger than ever.
Pulses will race throughout this thrilling fourth installment in the New York Times bestselling Bloodlines series, where no secret is safe.
But the struggle isn't over for Sydney. As she navigates the aftermath of her life-changing decision, she still finds herself pulled in too many directions at once. Her sister Zoe has arrived, and while Sydney longs to grow closer to her, there's still so much she must keep secret. Working with Marcus has changed the way she views the Alchemists, and Sydney must tread a careful path as she harnesses her profound magical ability to undermine the way of life she was raised to defend. Consumed by passion and vengeance, Sydney struggles to keep her secret life under wraps as the threat of exposure—and re-education—looms larger than ever.
Pulses will race throughout this thrilling fourth installment in the New York Times bestselling Bloodlines series, where no secret is safe.
VAMPIRE SEEKER - SAMMY CARTER # 1
TIM O'ROURKE
The next book in #1 New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning's Fever series featuring beloved characters Mac and Dani O'Malley. Iced, the latest in the series, ended with a BANG and Burned will pick up right where that left off, delivering another shockingly suspenseful adventure set in the Fever world.
Story Locale: Ireland
Series Overview: Moning's new urban paranormal trilogy is connected to the world of her blockbuster Fever series that fans have grown to know and love, picking up right where Shadowfever (1/11) left off. Featuring beloved characters from the Fever novels, including Christian MacKelter, Ryodan, Mac and Barron and others, this seductive series hinges upon a powerful, tough-talking teen sidhe seer as she battles dark forces to bring justice to light.
Story Locale: Ireland
Series Overview: Moning's new urban paranormal trilogy is connected to the world of her blockbuster Fever series that fans have grown to know and love, picking up right where Shadowfever (1/11) left off. Featuring beloved characters from the Fever novels, including Christian MacKelter, Ryodan, Mac and Barron and others, this seductive series hinges upon a powerful, tough-talking teen sidhe seer as she battles dark forces to bring justice to light.
Michelle
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