By L. E. Modesitt Jr.
A brand new novel of Mykella, the younger lady brought within the Lord-Protector’s Daughter. even though a bloody coup has made Mykella ruler of her land, it has left her and her sisters bereft of kinfolk and unsure in their pals. Worse, an exam of the nation’s debts finds that their nation is nearly destitute. Plus, there are rumblings of warfare alongside the borders. with out funds and few allies, Mykella is confronted with the tough prospect of rebuilding her state whereas attempting to carry off a very likely devastating invasion.
Fortunately for Mykella, an outdated magic has woke up in her; an influence that offers her the power to learn the sentiments of others and to undercover agent at the pursuits of her enemies. however the resurgence of this energy may usher in the go back of an historic enemy, person who Mykella isn’t certain easy methods to face.
L.E. Modesitt, Jr. returns to the area of The Corean Chronicles with a unique packed with politics, experience, magic, and romance.
Read Online or Download Lady-Protector (Corean Chronicles, Book 8) PDF
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Extra resources for Lady-Protector (Corean Chronicles, Book 8)
He’d done it before. He was doing it now. Fuck him. I didn’t want to die of old age walking out of the south Gobi, but fuck him. Then the intercom crackled to life. The pilot said something fast and tonal—Cantonese, I thought, not that I could follow it. The Antonov banked hard and picked up speed as the engines coughed a bloom of black smoke. Whatever it was we were looking for, we’d found it. Hannaday just smiled. ” Ladder work? Out here? * * * And damn me if we didn’t bounce to a landing somewhere not much different from anywhere else.
He was an Agency cowboy I’d last seen on the wrong end of a Glock in Kandahar two years earlier. Whipcord thin, still wearing the same damned Armani suit. How the fuck had that spook gotten into the camp without me seeing him? My legs still ached whenever it got chilly. I briefly considered firing off my Stinger inside the ger, just punching the warhead into Hannaday’s chest, but that would have pretty much toasted us all. “Stow it,” growled Korunov. Two hundred kilos or not, that man could and did snap necks.
He was pale and sweating. ” I said. ” I went and looked. Our spaceman was a girl, not more than fifteen, eyes bloodshot from reentry gees, barely moving even as she stared at us. Blue-black skin, shaved head. A girl. Who’d dropped out of the Central Asian sky in a Russian spaceship. Kids on the International Space Station? Not fucking likely. Not in this lifetime. ” * * * The Antonov lumbered back to camp. Nichols sat in the back of the plane with his shotgun, watching the kid and cursing in an extended monotone, mostly Russian.