First on Friday – King’s Cage

First on Fridays is a weekly bookish meme, created and hosted by Preeti’s Panorama.

The rules are very simple:

  • Every Friday, grab a book [can be an e-read or paperback].
  • Share its first two or three paragraphs along with the book’s title and cover.
  • On the basis of the paragraphs/excerpt, just tell whether you would like to read it or not? One or two sentences will be enough.

I just request that you link back to ‘Preeti’s Panorama’ on your own ‘First on Fridays’ post. You can share your comments if you do not have a blog. 

Have fun with it and enjoy the world of books.

1

I rise to my feet when he lets me.

The chain jerks me up, pulling on the thorned collar at my throat. Its points dig in, not enough to draw blood- not yet. But I’m already bleeding from the wrists. Slow wounds, worn from days of unconscious captivity in rough, ripping manacles. The color stains my white sleeves dark crimson and bright scarlet, fading from old blood to new in a testament to my ordeal. To show Maven’s court how much I’ve suffered already.

He stands over me, his expressions unreadable. The tips of his father’s crown make him seem taller as if the iron is growing out of his skull. It gleams each point a curling flame of black metal shot with bronze and silver. I focus on the bitterly familiar thing so I don’t have to look into Maven’s eyes. Only feel.

One white hand circles around my wounded wrist, somehow gentle. In spite of myself, my eyes snap to his face, unable to stay away. His smile is anything but kind. Slim and sharp as a razor, biting at me with every tooth. And his eyes are worst of all. Her eyes, Elara’s eyes. Once I thought them cold, made of living ice. Now I know better. The hottest fires burn blue, and his eyes are no exception.

The shadow of the flame. He is certainly ablaze, but darkness eats at his edges. Bruise like splotches of black and blue surround eyes bloodshot with silver veins. He has not slept. He’s thinner than I remember, leaner, crueler. His hair, black as a void, has reached his ears, curling at the ends, and his cheeks are still smooth. Sometimes I forget how young he is. How young we both are. Beneath my shift dress, the M brand on my collarbone stings.

It is the third book of series written by Victoria Aveyard. The book starts with a defeat, a prisoner taken, fallen rebel chained. The story intrigues me, as the imprisoned and prisoner have a common past. They know each other well. With so much of animosity at the beginning of the book, I am curious to know how the story takes a turn.

What about you all? Have you read the book? If you have not, will you choose it as your First on Friday?

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