Sovereign by Ted Dekker & Tosca Lee

Author:Ted Dekker & Tosca Lee
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Fiction
ISBN: 1599953595
Publisher: FaithWords
Published: 2013-06-02T05:00:00+00:00

THE IMMORTAL warriors under Roland’s command numbered two thousand, only three hundred of whom were called Ripper, his elite force occupying the great cave known simply as Roland’s Lair. Of those, two hundred now filled the main chamber, all adorned in black battle dress and boots. One might be tempted to think Roland had called them to witness greatness.

But Jordin knew he only wanted them all to see what happened when Sovereign blood entered an Immortal’s veins and turned them into something less.

Rislon had delivered her answer to Roland and returned to collect her within the hour. They were ready, he said. Where had she hidden the Sovereign blood? In her canteen, which she’d shoved into the hay of the open stall upon arriving. He’d given her a hard stare, then told her he’d be back.

Now she stood beside an ancient wooden table they’d set at the center of the great room, directly under one of the massive chandeliers. No fewer than a hundred candles lit the chamber, casting a wan amber glow over the ghostly Immortal faces that seemed to float above black-clad shoulders, each of them watching with those black eyes illuminated by their own golden fire. They stood in eerie stillness, some leaning on the railing along the upper level, others arrayed along both stairs, more on the main level.

Rislon and Sephan were two among many now, their faces cold. Cain stood somberly in the presence of his prince, as the queen, Talia, watched without expression from a high-backed, red-velvet chair. Kaya stood just behind and to Roland’s right—Jordin would know her wide eyes anywhere—dressed in a simple black gown that bared her pale legs to mid-thigh. If she’d given up anything to Roland, it must not have included information on the location of the Sanctuary; evidently he still needed that knowledge.

What else she might have given Roland, Jordin didn’t care to guess. A pang of jealousy spiked her heart. How had she come to feel such affection for Roland? And if she felt such a draw toward him, how much more had Kaya? The girl was unspoiled fruit, eager to love with new sensory passion. If the young woman felt any longing to recover her Sovereignty, her face showed no hint of it. She appeared fully and unabashedly Immortal, and all too aware she had been chosen to stand at Roland’s side.

In any other group so large, Jordin would expect signs of individuality—a cough here and a whisper there as curiosity got the better of onlookers. Varied dress, color, different lengths and color of hair.

But Roland’s Rippers all looked strangely similar. The cadre of their faces was white, their long hair mostly braided and unadorned. Clad in the same black as their leader with only the occasional piece of jewelry—a necklace around a warrior’s neck or a ring on a pale finger—she could find no hint of the Nomad within them, of the anarchy of color and riot of individualism that had celebrated life beneath the stars of the wilderness.

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