Fate's Door - J M Ney-Grimm - Bog

If she trusts her prince to the eldest Fate-the one who snips a mortal's thread short-will her beloved live or die? Nerine, a sea nymph of the ancient world, holds secrets close. Each morning in the chill before the sun's rising, Nerine and the three Fates stand beneath the mighty World Tree, gazing into the root-girdled Well of Destiny to learn the dooms they must bring to life that day. When the dawn's visions show Nerine's one-time betrothed shipwrecked and drowning, all her renounced yearning for him rises anew. Yet as handmaiden to the Fates, she must select the threads that will weave her lost love's death. Unless she subverts destiny and betrays her duty . . . The key to her prince's rescue lies hidden in Nerine's past, perhaps in the underwater ruin she explored as a child, perhaps in the horror of the Keltic ritual sacrifice she witnessed on her journey across Európi, or perhaps among all her lies by omission that keep her secrets concealed. But when Nerine finds the way to save her beloved, she faces a dire choice. Will she speak truth to the eldest Fate and doom her drowning prince? Or will she lie more foully than ever before and lose her own soul? Fate's Door is a fantasy novel for Percy Jackson fans craving a story about Poseidon's great, great granddaughter. If you enjoy deep and engaging characters, ancient mythology brought to vivid life, and can't-put-it-down adventures of the heart and psyche, then you'll love J.M. Ney-Grimm's tale of love and coming of age in a mythic Mediterranean where the gods and goddesses of old shape history. Buy Fate's Door to step from lying shadow into brilliant truth today! EXCERPT FROM FATE'S DOOR Nerine served all three norns as handmaiden. And Nerine would choose the new materials required for this day's weaving. She would need pale peach for the baby born to a king, blood red for a battle between Sparta and Athens, gold for a hero's bright deed. And if she failed to watch the images unfolding in the Well of Destiny, she would not know the other threads to choose for the day's work. She had to know. So Nerine watched, but her heart ached, and memories from her past overlaid the flowing images on the waters of the well. Altairos as a curly black-haired boy, laughing, his eyes crinkling in that way that only he had. Altairos as a gangly youth, earnest and passionate, reciting poetry to her. Altairos as a young man, strong and sure, pressing a first kiss upon her willing lips. Who but she would lay out the symbols of his death? She, the handmaiden of the fates. She couldn't bear it-to lose him so.