Cora Cartmell Novels & Stories

Emmaline had never really visited Caleb before. Today, she felt she need to go spend sometime and clear off her head from the stress she had undergone during the week. It's a beautiful Sunday morning and had tacklessly hoped to see him sooner than expected. After her everyday jogging routine, she quickly dressed up in a fine brown gown that reached her kneel showing off her perfect straight legs. She had planned on looking simple after letting her long blonde hair that shines brightly fall down to her back. She applied little make up and smiled.

She tensed when the door opened again. "Lady Ella?" Cora's voice drifted into the room. "Oh, Cora, good. I'm glad you're here. I need to dress. Then I need you to go down and ask the innkeeper where I might hire a coach, if the roads are passable." "Yes, my lady." Cora came over to her valise and sorted through the gowns inside the case. "What about this one? The taffeta day dress?" She held up an orange taffeta gown with slightly puffed demi-gigot sleeves that tapered to close-fitted wrists. It was a more modern dress than she was used to wearing, but she liked having a gown now and then that set her apart from the other ladies.

Cora at Fifteen Cora arrived in the summer of the ninth year at fifteen — taller, with the settled quality that the corridor nod had become so deeply practiced it was simply the way she moved through rooms now, reading the living frequencies as background rather than foreground, managing the ambient information the way most people managed background noise without consciously processing it.

Although I had countless women before, I had never tried a noble girl like the princess. Since Princess Martha was interested in me. I had no reason to reject her. In particular, Anya had told me that we couldn't go back together. “Coral, book me a flight ticket to D city.” He was stunned. “To D city? Mr. Carter, we have no trip to D city next week.” “I told you to book it. Why are you talking so much nonsense?” “Oh, okay!” Coral’s POV: “Mr. Carter is going to D city for no reason.”

I recognize each of her features: almond-shaped eyes and eyelash extensions, shapely brows, flawlessly straight teeth, plump, glossy lips, high cheekbones. "It’s her," I breathe. "Cora Tille," Rhea says, "graduated with an MA in journalism. It makes sense...they did their grad programs together – she did her MA while Harlan did his doctoral. Both completed writing programs. Some of their classes probably even overlapped." Cora Tille. "Good fucking God, she looks like Candice Swanepoel," I groan, suppressing the urge to stamp my foot in defeat.

Handel showed an odd expression, then replied quietly, “Cora is one of the younger killers that rose up during recent years. It is said that she’s the most talented one in this decade. “And her standing is indeed in the third place. “It’s just that Cora would usually leave no traces of her behind. Nobody knows which master or faction that she learned from. She is also extremely random with the missions that she chooses, only picking out the ones that she likes doing.” “And he can call up someone like this? “I don’t believe it one bit!” Michelle’s eyes squinted. No matter whether Harvey was lucky or merely spouting nonsense, at least he got someone’s name right.

I murmur, “mom could have given us like, a little instructions pamphlet, couldn’t she?” “Not her style,” Cora sighs, shaking her head. “But Ella…what do you think? Does it feel like you could?” “I don’t know,” I wonder, my hands pressing to my chest where I can feel the constant, steady, warm glow of it – so familiar that I frequently forget it’s there. “But maybe we should try?” “Okay!” Cora says, excited, and then she starts flipping through her paperwork, trying to think through which of the injured men might be the best candidate to get to work on.

The Neighbour Emily's POV Her name was Cora Varda. She was fortyfour years old and had served as legal representative for the Thornfield Pack , Ironblood's eastern neighbour, for six years. She had been present at two of the restructuring sessions. She had asked questions that were technically appropriate and strategically intelligent and had never once raised a flag in any of our assessments because she had presented herself as a neutral legal professional doing her job.

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER CORA'S POV I walked through the glass doors into the gym and made the way straight to my favorite exercise machine _the treadmill_ Ignoring everyone else out of habit. I focused on my workout, letting myself travel through space and time as I did. I had my long blonde hair in a messy bun and of course, I was putting on my workout suit. As you already know, I'm Cora _Cora Connor. There's just one thing I've ever really wanted in life and I think you know what that is already; To be an artist, to practice and make art.

he said warmly. “I wasn’t going to miss it,” I said. Cora turned her attention to Carrie. “So nice to finally meet you Carrie,” she said with a smile that felt genuine. “I’ve been meaning to come see you about my interior décor project. I run a small company, and everyone keeps telling me I need you.” Carrie lit up, sliding her business card from her clutch. “I’d be happy to talk. Call me anytime.” Cora took it with gratitude, and I swear she looked impressed before even seeing Carrie’s work. That was Carrie’s effect, doors opened before her, because she walked into every room like she belonged there.