House of Marionne

Informationen zum Autor J. Elle Klappentext Full of magic and intrigue, House of Marionne is the perfect escape for fans of fantasies that straddle the edge of our world and transport readers to dazzling, deceptive, and unexpected places. Stephanie Garber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Ballad of Never After From New York Times bestselling author J. Elle comes a modern-day YA romantic fantasy series opener about a glamorous magical world of social elites, forbidden love, and a dark magic that could destroy it all. A must-read for fans of Leigh Bardugo, Sarah J. Maas, and Bridgerton . RICH IS THE BLOOD OF THE CHOSEN. 17 year-old Quell has lived her entire life on the run. She and her mother have fled from city to city, in order to hide the deadly magic that flows through Quell's veins. Until someone discovers her dark secret. To hide from the assassin hunting her, and keep her mother out of harm's way, Quell reluctantly inducts into a debutante society of magical social elites called the Order that she never knew existed. If she can pass their three rites of membership, mastering their proper form of magic, she'll be able to secretly bury her forbidden magic forever. If caught, she will be killed. But becoming the perfect debutante is a lot harder than Quell imagined, especially when there's more than tutoring happening with Jordan, her brooding mentor and assassin in training. When Quell uncovers the deadly lengths the Order will go to defend its wealth and power, she's forced to choose: embrace the dark magic she's been running from her entire life or risk losing everything, and everyone, she's grown to love. Still, she fears the most formidable monster she'll have to face is the one inside. Brimming with ballgowns and betrayal, magic and mystery, decadence and darkness, House of Marionne is perfect for readers who crave morally gray characters, irresistible romance, dark academia, and a deeply intoxicating and original world. Leseprobe ONE I used to believe that magic was glittering, fanciful pretend. Then I realized magic is real. But it is dark and poisonous. And the only way to hide from it Is to not exist at all. Quell, are you listening? Mom squeezes my hand as our car jerks to a stop outside the French Market on North Peters. Yes, get my pay for the week, in and out. That's my girl. Hurry now. I'll circle. She brushes my loose curls from my cheek with a cautious smile before I slip out of our '99 Civic, a junkyard find, its blue paint dry and peeling. Before this car, it was an old yellow truck. And before that truck, it was the bus, everywhere. But Mom didn't like not having a way to get up and go run at a moment's notice. So she made sure to get really good at fixing up old finds. Really good at hiding me. Fourteen schools. Twelve years. Nine cities. Every place is the same: a backdrop I blend into. Anytime Mom gets suspicious someone might know about the poison running through my veins, she stuffs our entire life into a tiny yellow, hard-shell suitcase. It's perplexing that my entire existence can be tucked into something so small and shoved into the trunk of a car. At first, I'd stuff everything I could into my bag. Now, I just grab my tennis shoes, a phone charger, and my lucky key chain. The countless places we've moved and the blur of faces I'll say goodbye to are the white space between memories, ellipses strung between unfinished sentences. I stopped asking where we're going a long time ago. Because running's been a destination all on its own. Humid air, thanks to the roaring Mississippi nearby, assaults me, sticking to my clammy skin. The back end of our rusted hatchback blares red before disappearing around a corner. With only two weeks of ...

Autorentext

J. Elle

Klappentext

*“Full of magic and intrigue, House of Marionne is the perfect escape for fans of fantasies that straddle the edge of our world and transport readers to dazzling, deceptive, and unexpected places.” – Stephanie Garber, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Ballad of Never After*

From New York Times bestselling author J. Elle comes a modern-day YA romantic fantasy series opener about a glamorous magical world of social elites, forbidden love, and a dark magic that could destroy it all.

A must-read for fans of Leigh Bardugo, Sarah J. Maas, and Bridgerton.**

RICH IS THE BLOOD OF THE CHOSEN.

17 year-old Quell has lived her entire life on the run. She and her mother have fled from city to city, in order to hide the deadly magic that flows through Quell’s veins.

Until someone discovers her dark secret.

To hide from the assassin hunting her, and keep her mother out of harm’s way, Quell reluctantly inducts into a debutante society of magical social elites called the Order that she never knew existed. If she can pass their three rites of membership, mastering their proper form of magic, she’ll be able to secretly bury her forbidden magic forever.

If caught, she will be killed.

But becoming the perfect debutante is a lot harder than Quell imagined, especially when there’s more than tutoring happening with Jordan, her brooding mentor and— assassin in training.

When Quell uncovers the deadly lengths the Order will go to defend its wealth and power, she’s forced to choose: embrace the dark magic she’s been running from her entire life or risk losing everything, and everyone, she’s grown to love.

Still, she fears the most formidable monster she’ll have to face is the one inside.

Brimming with ballgowns and betrayal, magic and mystery, decadence and darkness, House of Marionne is perfect for readers who crave morally gray characters, irresistible romance, dark academia, and a deeply intoxicating and original world.

Leseprobe
ONE

I used to believe that magic was glittering, fanciful pretend.

Then I realized magic is real.
But it is dark and poisonous.
And the only way to hide from it
Is to not exist at all.

“Quell, are you listening?” Mom squeezes my hand as our car jerks to a stop outside the French Market on North Peters.
“Yes, get my pay for the week, in and out.”
“That’s my girl. Hurry now. I’ll circle.” She brushes my loose curls from my cheek with a cautious smile before I slip out of our ’99 Civic, a junkyard find, its blue paint dry and peeling. Before this car, it was an old yellow truck. And before that truck, it was the bus, everywhere. But Mom didn’t like not having a way to get up and go—run—at a moment’s notice. So she made sure to get really good at fixing up old finds.
Really good at hiding me.
Fourteen schools. Twelve years. Nine cities.
Every place is the same: a backdrop I blend into. Anytime Mom gets suspicious someone might know about the poison running through my veins, she stuffs our entire life into a tiny yellow, hard-shell suitcase. It’s perplexing that my entire existence can be tucked into something so small and shoved into the trunk of a car. At first, I’d stuff everything I could into my bag. Now, I just grab my tennis shoes, a phone charger, and my lucky key chain. The countless places we’ve moved and the blur of faces I’ll say goodbye to are the white space between memories, ellipses strung between unfinished sentences. I stopped asking where we’re going a long time ago.
Because running’s been a destination all on its own.
Humid air, thanks to the roaring Mississippi nearby, assaults me, sticking to my clammy skin. The back end of our rusted hatchback blares red before disappearing around a corner. With only two weeks of high school left, I’m trying to work as much as I can to save up enough for the big plans Mom and I have.
To finally move somewhere and stay. …