Transcendence and Rebellion by Michael G. Manning (The Riven Gates Book 3)
English | 2019 | Fantasy | ePUB | 543 Kb
Transcendence : The world is on the cusp of destruction as Mordecai’s power grows beyond the limits of his own control, yet most of the powers that rule the world are oblivious. The only hope of salvaging their civilization lies with his children, but they have been scattered and branded outlaws. Meanwhile Tyrion continues to march toward his own goals, heedless of whether they will help or harm their efforts to stop the apocalypse, as even the Queen begins to doubt the archmage’s sanity.
Mordecai is trapped by his own strength, a power too great to wield. Can his children stop the end of everything, even if it means sacrificing their father?
“Conall left, and Tyrion smirked at his back before turning to take in the Queen’s sultry attire. “It has been a while since you called for me, Your Majesty,” he said mildly.
Ariadne cast a hungry look in his direction. “Far too long,” she muttered. “Recent events have kept me busy.”
Amused, Tyrion responded, “You don’t think the boy will talk?”
She shook her head. “Conall’s a good lad. He isn’t given to gossip, though I am certain he doesn’t approve.”
Tyrion went to a sideboard and found a glass. All he needed now was wine to fill it with, but Ariadne interrupted, “How long are you going to leave me standing here, Lord Illeniel?”
He glanced up. “Does my Queen have need of me?”
“I require your service,” she replied smokily.
Tyrion put the glass down and crossed the room, his stride swift and confident. When he reached the Queen, he only slowed slightly, using his momentum to sweep her off her feet and catch her in his arms. Then he lifted her up and took her to the bed, using his power to shut and lock the door behind him as he went.
He tossed her down and then studied her with the hungry gaze of a man standing before a feast table, but Ariadne wasn’t in a mood to wait. Reaching up, she grabbed his shirt front and pulled him down until his lips met hers.
“Where’s your necklace?” he asked when she finally let him come up for air.
Ariadne waved her hand toward the dressing table. “Over there.”
Tyrion gave her a look of disapproval. “I told you to keep it on.”
She frowned. “You sound like Mordecai.”
“It’s a well-crafted protection,” observed Tyrion. “My grandson was wise to give it to you. Make sure you wear it whenever you leave. Ideally you’d never take it off.”