Read Online The Other Side of Truth (The Marked Ones Trilogy Book 3) by Alicia Kat Vancil - Free Book Online Page B
Book: The Other Side of Truth (The Marked Ones Trilogy Book 3) by Alicia Kat Vancil
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Alicia Kat Vancil
Tags: Science-Fiction, Romance, Coming of Age, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal, paranormal romance, Genetic engineering, Young Adult, new adult, futuristic, futuristic romance, science fiction romance, teen, multicultural, Paranormal & Fantasy, fantasy romance, Asian, new adult fantasy, marked ones, happa, daemons, multicultural paranormal romance, urban scifi, new adult science fiction, urban science fiction
Ads: Link
helping to stop the shaking.
Nikki wrapped her arm around me, and held me close. And in that moment I missed Draya so much it hurt. Not because she had ever held me like this growing up, but because she was gone, and she’d never be coming back.
I cried into my pillow until my throat was raw, and still Nikki never let go of me.
Viliyata
Saturday, November 3rd
NUALLA
I ran the tips of my fingers over the names etched into the cold black granite. Unable to keep my hand steady because of the pain in my chest. But also unable to stop myself from touching their names.
Arius Andraya Galathea . Emily Galathea
They were gone— really gone—and they were never coming back. The girl who had been my older sister, and the one I had idolized as if she was.
As I traced the letters, my vision became blurry, and the names on the black wall all blended together like dirty snow falling on a dark night.
The statue was beautiful despite what it represented. A fifteen-foot replica of the Daenarian fountain sculpture in the main entrance lobby of The Embassy. The water flowing from her hands into a small pool below like falling stars—or tears. But unlike the original, this one was in black granite stone with a wall behind it cut into the shape of a lotus. Black, because black was the color of death.
“Arius Nualla?” someone said in a hesitant voice from behind me.
I turned, blinking back the tears that were stinging my eyes. It was Brienne, my dad’s secondary aide-in-training. Her dark, coffee-colored skin seeming even darker against her simple matte charcoal-gray kimono. She was standing at the base of the steps that lead up to the memorial, clutching a tablet in one arm.
“It’s time,” she stated simply.
I nodded as I turned back for one last look at the names. Letters etched into stone, the only lasting proof of their existence.
TRAVIS
I leaned against the large floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of my living room, and looked down at the courtyard below. A girl was down there, standing in front of the large lotus petal walls. And I knew who it was, even from here. I’d have known her anywhere as sure as I knew my own soul.
“I can remember all of it now, you know. I couldn’t before, but I can now.”
Those words should have made me the happiest person alive. Those and the ones she had said in the hospital when I woke up—that she loved me. But they only made me feel anxious, confused, and guilty as fuck.
I had been in love with Nualla nearly my whole life. But it was like the moment we had made that pact—that moment she had offered me her life in return for my own—that I had felt things start to change. Almost as if in that moment her hold on my heart had started to loosen. And it was sickeningly frightening to realize that she was no longer the one that wandered into my dreams.
But it wasn’t just the memories of her naked form pressed up next to mine that left me feeling guilty. It was the fact that I had failed her. Her, and Emmy, and Draya, and every other person who had died that day. And there was no way to tell her how very sorry I was. That if I had worked harder— faster —I might have finished KARA before— Before they died. Before she died.
“Can we get coffee before we head over?” Patrick asked with a yawn from behind me.
I turned away from the window to look at him. He looked terrible, with dark bruise-like marks under his eyes like an ink stain.
“Coffee’s on the counter,” I pointed out as I gestured toward it with my chin. “I went and got some while you were in the shower. Should be the temp you like it by now.”
Patrick shuffled over to the counter, and picked up the coffee. Well, “shuffled” probably wasn’t the right word, since the movement was unbelievably graceful. Even groggy, sleep-deprived, and before morning coffee, every movement he made was like the flowing, perfectly-controlled beauty of a samurai warrior.
He took a large swig of
Nikki wrapped her arm around me, and held me close. And in that moment I missed Draya so much it hurt. Not because she had ever held me like this growing up, but because she was gone, and she’d never be coming back.
I cried into my pillow until my throat was raw, and still Nikki never let go of me.
Viliyata
Saturday, November 3rd
NUALLA
I ran the tips of my fingers over the names etched into the cold black granite. Unable to keep my hand steady because of the pain in my chest. But also unable to stop myself from touching their names.
Arius Andraya Galathea . Emily Galathea
They were gone— really gone—and they were never coming back. The girl who had been my older sister, and the one I had idolized as if she was.
As I traced the letters, my vision became blurry, and the names on the black wall all blended together like dirty snow falling on a dark night.
The statue was beautiful despite what it represented. A fifteen-foot replica of the Daenarian fountain sculpture in the main entrance lobby of The Embassy. The water flowing from her hands into a small pool below like falling stars—or tears. But unlike the original, this one was in black granite stone with a wall behind it cut into the shape of a lotus. Black, because black was the color of death.
“Arius Nualla?” someone said in a hesitant voice from behind me.
I turned, blinking back the tears that were stinging my eyes. It was Brienne, my dad’s secondary aide-in-training. Her dark, coffee-colored skin seeming even darker against her simple matte charcoal-gray kimono. She was standing at the base of the steps that lead up to the memorial, clutching a tablet in one arm.
“It’s time,” she stated simply.
I nodded as I turned back for one last look at the names. Letters etched into stone, the only lasting proof of their existence.
TRAVIS
I leaned against the large floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of my living room, and looked down at the courtyard below. A girl was down there, standing in front of the large lotus petal walls. And I knew who it was, even from here. I’d have known her anywhere as sure as I knew my own soul.
“I can remember all of it now, you know. I couldn’t before, but I can now.”
Those words should have made me the happiest person alive. Those and the ones she had said in the hospital when I woke up—that she loved me. But they only made me feel anxious, confused, and guilty as fuck.
I had been in love with Nualla nearly my whole life. But it was like the moment we had made that pact—that moment she had offered me her life in return for my own—that I had felt things start to change. Almost as if in that moment her hold on my heart had started to loosen. And it was sickeningly frightening to realize that she was no longer the one that wandered into my dreams.
But it wasn’t just the memories of her naked form pressed up next to mine that left me feeling guilty. It was the fact that I had failed her. Her, and Emmy, and Draya, and every other person who had died that day. And there was no way to tell her how very sorry I was. That if I had worked harder— faster —I might have finished KARA before— Before they died. Before she died.
“Can we get coffee before we head over?” Patrick asked with a yawn from behind me.
I turned away from the window to look at him. He looked terrible, with dark bruise-like marks under his eyes like an ink stain.
“Coffee’s on the counter,” I pointed out as I gestured toward it with my chin. “I went and got some while you were in the shower. Should be the temp you like it by now.”
Patrick shuffled over to the counter, and picked up the coffee. Well, “shuffled” probably wasn’t the right word, since the movement was unbelievably graceful. Even groggy, sleep-deprived, and before morning coffee, every movement he made was like the flowing, perfectly-controlled beauty of a samurai warrior.
He took a large swig of
Similar Books
