By Stephen Deas

In his "utterly interesting" (Book Smuggler) debut, The Adamantine Palace, Stephen Deas "restored [dragons] to all their scaly hearth- respiring glory" (Daily Telegraph). Now, because the nation-states teeter close to warfare, the destiny of humanity rests within the survival of 1 majestic white dragon. Prince Jehal has had his way-now his lover Zafir sits atop the geographical regions with countless numbers of dragons and their riders at her beck and phone. yet Jehal's plots are faraway from over, for he's not content material to chill and watch Zafir command the earth and sky. He wishes that glory for himself- regardless of who he needs to sacrifice to get it. the single factor Jehal fears is that the white dragon nonetheless lives-and if so, then blood will stream, on all sides...

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Sample text

And still stupid enough to think she can send them out one at a time. Well I'll thank you later for the opportunity to bloody your nose. ' Shanzir shrugged. 'No. ' Hyrkallan nodded. 'Deremis, get the scorpion ready as soon as we're in the air. Shan, watch in case there are others. ' he shouted across to the other dragon. Underneath all their dragon-scale armour, he had no idea which rider was which. Presumably the one sitting at the front was Nthandra of the Vale, if the dragon was truly hers. The riders turned.

Thinking of Deremis perhaps, but more likely of all the menfolk she'd lost. From time to time Jostan wondered where he was. He had almost no idea. They'd crossed the Great Cliff and the Silver River valley and then veered west and then south again. Somewhere near the merging of the Purple Spur and the Worldspine. That was about as close as he could guess. Somewhere in the mountains. Semian stared at the fire as well. Jostan had no idea what he was thinking at all. When the first flash of the burning was done, Hyrkallan stood up and with a simple gesture he silenced them all.

If anything, they both looked at Semian with even greater interest. 'Did you hear me? He believes it. Prophecies, end of the world, he believes the lot. ' There. 'He's crazy. ' He walked away and left them to it. Not just crazy crazy, either. Dangerous crazy, Cracked. Mad as a bag of spiders. That sort of crazy. He looked back over his shoulder at the tiny circle of light surrounded by a near-infinite darkness. The three of them were huddled together as if they hadn't even noticed him go. Nthandra had draped both arms over Semian's shoulders now.

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