The Knight and the Moth Book PDF Free by Rachel Gillig

Everything went still. The gargoyle coasted over grass, then dropped down upon it. Benji and I fell in a heap, groaning. I coughed. “You all right?” “I think so.” The king’s golden hair was dark with sweat, his ruddy cheeks wan. But his blue eyes were resolute. He took my hand. “Thank you for staying….

When Rory faced me once more, he held a needle and a spool of gray thread. “I’m going to tailor that dress to your body,” he said. “Trim the excess fabric. Spread wax on it. When it hardens, it should form a delicate exoskeleton with measurements accurate enough for Maude’s blacksmith to make you a…

“You’re nervous,” I said, grinning. “Why is that?” “Don’t flatter yourself.” “But you’re blushing. Dying to fidget with that stolen coin in your pocket, maybe. Touching a Diviner must make your heretical heart truly uneasy-“ Rory came toward me until our noses were flush, speaking within an inch of my mouth. “You know what I…

“We’ve made an art of it.” I sat up straighter. Appraised her. “How old are you, Maude?” “Forty-one.” “How did you grow so close with the brute and the boy-king?” She wasn’t just older than Rory and Benji. She was more rooted. No derision, no drinking-less at war with herself. “Maybe I’ve only been around…

It was. The sprite was not as quick as the knights, who rode in expert circles, avoiding its attempts to snap at them. But the gargoyle and I were still, and the sprite had caught us in its orange gaze. It came closer, making the entire world tremble. I reached for my hammer. Felt a…

What has been done to us? I shoved the king’s notebook back at him. “I’ve been drinking that water since I was a girl. All Diviners drink it.” The king fumbled with his cup. “Y-yes.” “What’s going to happen to us?” Red in the cheeks, Benji avoided my gaze. He looked like he wanted to…

The knights were still training. Two of them. The quadrant had been diminished-it was an open square now. Dirt rubbed into my freshly washed feet as I came into the yard, standing at the lip of the square to watch the spectacle with everyone else. They were evenly fitted in body and weapon, the two…

Rory dropped his breastplate on the floor, his gauntlets-and the rest of his upper-body armor I did not know the name of-upon the floor. He wasn’t wearing chainmail, just a pale, padded shirt. “So.” I tapped my foot. “You’re going to kill the Omens.” “Happily.” Rory dragged a low footstool into the middle of the…

Castor strode into the room in a fine white tunic, a smattering of scabs across his face where the Harried Scribe’s ink had burned him. Midday light fell upon his head, and though he was not wearing a crown, his golden hair was resplendent. He carried two things. That ratty leather-bound notebook I’d seen his…

A coin. An inkwell. An oar. A chime. A loom stone. “Each object carried magic great enough that the craftsmen no longer had to choose a leader among themselves-they all had power. Heartened, they retreated to their respective hamlets and used their new objects to obliterate sprites. But also, they whispered. Tales of magic, of…