By C. N. Crawford
"There are new ideas governing the country--namely, no magic. yet Fiona Forzese hasn't ever been stable with rules." After a ghostly military terrorized Boston, the Ranulf kinfolk say they'll support Fiona and her classmates finally end up junior 12 months. they are saying their outdated Virginia plantation is a secure haven. All Fiona and her mystery coven need to do is appear to a couple math and English sessions. it's going to be an ideal resolution. And it'd be, if the Ranulfs weren't contributors of a witch-hunting cult. As Fiona digs deeper into the Ranulf's earlier, she learns a gloomy fact that shocks her to her center. however it isn't basically the Ranulfs who're maintaining secrets and techniques, and because the witch-hunting cult closes in, Fiona is pressured to confront the demons of her personal previous.
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Extra info for A Witch's Feast (Memento Mori Series, Book 2)
Um . . ” asked Tavia. “My wife,” said Dag. The two patroller women looked at each other; the blonde rolled her eyes. The alarm in Barr’s eyes was shading over into panic. Blight it, boy, I don’t know what bur is getting under your saddle. I’m closed down as tight as that walnut. I can’t possibly be leaking any mood. Vile as that mood was growing . . Tavia glanced at Dag and addressed herself prudently to Remo. ” “It’s . . complicated,” said Remo helplessly. “A complicated problem with groundwork,” Fawn put in.
All right, now you have to say,” said Whit, leaning back. ” “Aye, give us the tale, Dag,” said Bo, a bit sleepily. ” “Well . ” Reluctantly, Dag shoved his hand down into his pocket, leaned over, and deposited a black walnut, still in its shell, on the hearthstone. The farmers around the fire all looked blankly at it, and at Dag, but Barr and Remo both sat up, which made Fawn prick her ears, too. ” asked Remo. “Its ground is all . . ” Dag touched the hard ridges with a finger, rolling the green-black sphere around on the stone, then sat back and stared glumly at it.
What I think is—” Dag looked down, brows rising at the resolve in her voice. “What I think is, you’re trying to carry a lazy man’s load. Inside your head, you’re trying to lift the whole world all by yourself, in one trip. No wonder you’re exhausted. ” “Smaller! ” Dag motioned down at the riverbank, by which Fawn guessed he meant to indicate their modest flatboat. A rhetorical reply in any case, so she paid no heed to it. “Your own ground. I know it’s true because you told me so yourself, and you never lie to me: the first thing a maker has to make is himself.
A Witch's Feast (Memento Mori Series, Book 2) by C. N. Crawford