Novel & Cerita Astrid Taran

Theon’s eyes widened in shock, mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came. Slowly, I turned to face her. Marissa. Or Tatiana, as she’d once been called. Her true name, the name that she was born with. I refused to want to see her as a Marissa, the weak woman that she has become. But then again, names were irrelevant now. She was a different woman now, a different person. She stood before me, bathed in the eerie glow of the setting sun filtering through the shattered windows, her hair cascading around her face, eyes glinting with dark amusement. My breath caught at her beauty, as perfect as the day I’d lost her, no, as perfect as the day she betrayed me. As perfect as I've seen her, and

She turned to her friends. "Girl, you look dope!" It was Tara John. Short for Omotara John. The sexiest super bikini model and actress in the city. Tara was twenty two years old. More like the youngest among her group of friends but the one with the smartest tongue and biggest gut. Tara was fearless and the kind of model who loves to live her life as she deems fit without looking at snide comments from haters.

His eyes fixed on the edge of the woods where the arbor of winding twigs and flowers created by several of the Viking villagers stood proudly, awaiting his mate to enter the sacred space. Astrid led the group, her voice raised, leading the chant being called by the other women. She wore a regal, purple woolen gown trimmed in silver. A white fur stole surrounded her shoulders and her soft leather boots made no sound as she walked down the white satin runner that had been laid over the perpetually green grass of the meadow.

“They’re saying Thalia’s disgraced. She's been locked up.” I hugged her, hiding my smirk. She didn’t know I’d spun the web that trapped Thalia. “Good riddance,” I muttered into her hair. “She won’t hurt you again.” Tara hovered, wringing her hands. “She’s not well, Vexley. Look at her. Shaking like a leaf.” “I’m not a leaf,” Astrid snapped. A spark of her old fire flared. She tried to stand but wobbled. Franka caught her elbow, steadying her.

Unable to contain himself, he stood up abruptly. “Dad, have you lost your mind? Senna is dead! How could it be her? Sit down!” Astrid, already fuming, yanked him back into his seat, her expression dark with rage. “She looks just like her! Aside from that beauty mark, they’re practically identical…” Even Astrid’s mother seemed shaken by the resemblance. Amid the roaring applause, Zara walked toward the stage with an air of grace and confidence. Just as she stepped onto the platform, Magnus made his entrance.

She almost bursts out crying. "I apologize if that offends you, but..." "No! It's a good idea." Astrid answers and James nods, leaving the tent so she can change. It takes the four of them a while as the armor is heavy and they never put one on before. But after Bella braids her hair in a style similar to that of the king, and with the cape over her head, Astrid looks like a shorter, skinnier version of the king. "It's dark." Tamara tries to sell it to James.

Magic scarred this place. A clearing opened ahead—and standing at the center, waiting like she'd known Liana would come, was Astrid. She wore a gown of midnight leather. Her eyes gleamed obsidian. Her hair had grown wild, long and silver-black. Behind her stood Ronan, arms crossed, amused. But Liana barely saw him. Only Astrid. Only her mirror. "You came," Astrid said, her voice neither warm nor cruel. Just... resigned. Liana stepped forward, ignoring the growls behind her. "You remember."

She snapped her gaze toward him so fast he stumbled backward. “Don’t say her name,” the thing hissed. “She is not here.” My heart dropped into a pit. “No,” I whispered. “No. She is here.” Her eyes flicked to mine. For one fragile second, the blackness wavered. Silver tried to push through, like drowning starlight. Her lips parted. “Sebastian…” Her voice. Her voice. I grabbed her arms, grounding both of us. “You’re stronger than him,” I breathed. “You’re Astrid Valen, heir of the First Luna—”

She was safe. But Astrid— Astrid was facing Ardan. And she was going to end him. Ardan stumbled to his feet, rage twisting his face. "You—" Astrid didn’t let him finish. She struck—fast, deadly, unstoppable. She was pure fury. For Elara. For Ryker. For all the pain he had caused. She didn’t stop. Not when he screamed. Not when the power tore through him like lightning. Not when he fell.

“But Astrid’s mother is dead… so…. It sucks that both of us are orphans.” “Eh…” Sanvika was confused. “Her mother is not dead,” Sanvika said. “She is dead,” Tariq said. “She told me.” “You lied to him?” Sanvika looked at Astrid, astonished. Astrid looked guilty. She sighed… “I did not want her to come to the wedding. So when Tariq asked me about my parents before the wedding, I lied to him that they are both dead.” “What?” Tariq jumped up.