We Hunt the Flame PDF Book by Hafsah Faizal


Click here to Download We Hunt the Flame PDF Book by Hafsah Faizal having PDF Size 2 MB and No of Pages 522.

People lived because she killed. And if that meant braving the Arz where even the sun was afraid to glimpse, then so be it. On the occasional good day, Zafira bint Iskandar mused that she was braver than the sun itself. Most days, she couldn’t wait until the evernight Arz was behind her and she was firmly rooted in the plains of her caliphate, daama snow and all.

We Hunt the Flame PDF Book by Hafsah Faizal

Name of Book We Hunt the Flame
Author Hafsah Faizal
PDF Size 2 MB
No of Pages 522
Language English
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Today was one of those days, despite the antlers rough against her hands. She stepped free of the cursed prison of a forest, pretending her sigh was due to her task being complete rather than a product of the tightly coiled fear unwinding in her heart. The morning sun kissed her cheeks in welcome.

She dragged the deer carcass along, a trail of steam in her wake, the sullied snow an eerie crimson. There was a promise in the air. A stillness in the earth and in the whispering trees. It’s nothing. Paranoia had a way of visiting when he was least desired. She was a bundle of emotions because of the impending wedding, that was all.

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It watched. Breathed. Its skeleton trees reached with gnarled fingers steeped in swirling shadow. Some said it devoured men like vultures on the dead. Yet Zafira returned, day after day, hunt after hunt. We Hunt the Flame PDF Book Download She was aware each venture could be her last, and though she swore she didn’t fear much, finding herself lost was her biggest fear of all. Still.

There was a pulse deep inside her that relished those visits into the depths of darkness. She hated the Arz. She hated it so much, she craved it. If there was one thing she feared more than losing herself within the Arz, it was being caught unaware by a man who could prove she was no hunter but a huntress, a girl of seventeen concealed beneath the weight of her father’s hooded cloak every time she hunted.

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Then she would be shunned, her victories derided. Her identity, viciously unraveled. The thought closed hands around her heart, the thud, thud, thud racing a little bit faster. He shook out his mane and cantered forward without protest. We Hunt the Flame PDF Book Download The air darkened as they neared the forest. Funny, Zafira was heading toward the unknown at the first sign of mortal danger.

The cold bit at her face. A blur of black sped from her right, a second blur from her left. Horses. She bit her lip and swerved Sukkar between them, ducking when something swung for her head. If Zafira had any doubts on where they were from, the timbre of his voice was enough. Her throat closed in on itself. Being tracked by gossiping Demenhune was one thing; being attacked by Sarasins was another.

She lowered her head so that her hood obscured more of her face. She braved the darkness; she slew rabbits and deer. She had never stood before a blade. She whispered sweet nothings to Sukkar. We Hunt the Flame PDF Book Download Maybe it was the men, or maybe it was the war horses, mighty and intimidating, but her loyal horse took a step back.

It was the closest he had ever gone to the Arz, and Zafira was going to torture him with much more. She gave the men a crooked smile, her lips cracked and likely colorless from the cold. She tried, tried, tried not to acknowledge the way it welcomed her, elated whispers brushing her ears. A surge in her bloodstream.

Hunger in her veins. Dark trees stood eerie and unyielding, leaves sharp and glinting. Distantly, she heard the gallop of hooves as the Sarasins shouted and followed. Vines crunched beneath Sukkar’s hooves, and Zafira’s sight fell to near blindness. Except for his panicked breathing, Sukkar was mercifully quiet as Zafira listened for the men, her own heart an echoing thud.

Despite their fear, they had followed, for pride was a dangerous thing. We Hunt the Flame PDF Book A soft hiss sounded from the east, and she and Sukkar froze. She could see little of his white coat, but years of returning again and again had sharpened her hearing better than any blade. She saw with her ears in the Arz.

Footsteps echoed, and the temperature careened downward. The silver of her cloak flashed when she turned, and then Zafira must have blinked again. Because the woman had vanished. Zafira’s heart clambered to her throat. Her name. That smile. There was no sign of the bleeding black or the silver cloak now.

The snow was pristine as the claws in her brain loosened. Then Sukkar was off before she could regain her hold on his reins. She fumbled with a shout, sitting tall to keep from tumbling to the snow. We Hunt the Flame PDF Book He continued on a mad dash until they crested the slope and stumbled to a stop. Zafira jerked back, cursing until Sukkar ducked his head with a dignified snort. Breathe. Assess.

She looked back at the evernight forest once more, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as if Zafira had imagined the entire encounter. Perhaps she had. Zafira knew the Arz better than most, which was to say she understood that no one could ever know its secrets. To trust in its wickedness was to court a tortured death.

People died because he lived. And if that was the only way to carry forward in this life, then so be it. There had been a particularly strong blizzard in the neighboring caliphate of Demenhur three nights ago, and Sarasin was chillier because of it. The combination of desert heat and the wayward cold rattled Nasir’s bones, yet here he was, far from his home in Sultan’s Keep, the small portion of land from which the sultan ruled Arawiya’s five caliphates.

Nasir’s missions to Sarasin always gave him a sense of nostalgia he never could understand. We Hunt the Flame PDF Book Though he had never lived here, it was the caliphate of his lineage, and it felt familiar and strange at once. He came here for one act alone: murder. Leil, the capital of Sarasin, was crawling with armed men in turbans of azure.

Three stood guard at the entrance to the walled city. Billowing sirwal, instead of tighter-fitting pants, hung low across their hips, vain muscled arms glistened bronze. A gust of desert air carried the musky odor of hot sands, along with the chatter of children and their scolding elders.

He climbed a stack of aging crates and leaped from awning to awning of the surrounding structures, balancing on jutting stones, his ears still ringing with orders from the Sultan of Arawiya. He likened the sultan’s voice to a snake, softly creeping into his veins and penetrating his heart with venom.

He scaled the wall and leaped onto the nearest rooftop with practiced ease, sidestepping the ornate rug sprawled in its center, jewel-toned cushions strewn to one side. We Hunt the Flame PDF Sarasin’s open skies were as bleak as his thoughts and forever downcast in gray, brightened only by the expectant hum of the upcoming camel race.

He had little interest in the race itself—he was here for the cover it provided and the man it promised. He vaulted to the next rooftop and swayed when a blade arced down a mere fraction from his face. A girl of about thirteen leaped back with a gasp, dropping one of her twin scimitars to the dusty limestone, her concentrated drill broken.

Nasir’s gauntlet blade thrummed, but the last thing he needed was to kill unnecessarily. As if your kills are ever necessary. He lifted a finger to his lips, but the girl stared slack jawed at his hooded attire. We Hunt the Flame PDF An assassin’s garb of layered robes in black, etched with fine silver. His fitted sleeves ended in the supple leather of his gauntlets, blades tucked beneath the folds.

The traditional gray sash across his middle was shrouded by a broad leather belt housing smaller blades and the sheath of his scimitar. The ensemble had been engineered in Pelusia, the caliphate as advanced in mechanics as in farming, so there was nothing finer. But that was long before Nasir’s time. He didn’t live. He existed.

And no one understood the difference between the two until they ceased to live. The girl grinned. She was too fair for Sarasin standards, with white hair stark against her brow, but it wasn’t uncommon for the snow-brained Demenhune to turn up here, particularly womenfolk. Demenhur’s caliph was a biased crow who would blame women for old age, if he could.

She picked up her scimitar, continuing with praiseworthy maneuvers that would guarantee her a sought-after place in a house of assassins, but Nasir didn’t comment. Fewer words worked best in his world, where a person encountered today could be a maggot’s feast tomorrow. He swept past her and leaped to the next rooftop, which overlooked houses of tan stone.

The streets below were empty, except for the rare camel being pulled along. Dusty lanterns hung from eaves, the glass long ago shattered into the desert. We Hunt the Flame PDF The rooftops ended and Nasir dropped down to Leil’s sooq. Stalls with rickety legs spread across the expanse, tattered cloth in an array of colors shading goods from the meager sun.

Bare-chested urchins ducked beneath tables and between swaths of fabric as a good-size crowd meandered the stands. It would be even busier at noon, when the sharp scents of nutmeg and sumac would entwine with meat-filled mutabaq as merchants catered to the workers who mined for coal and minerals in one of the worst places of Arawiya: the Leil Caves.

Now vendors extolled other wares—bolts of fabric in bright colors muted by the dull skies; spices in enough hues to paint papyrus; carved stone platters with designs so intricate, Nasir did not see the point. Here, the ghostly landscape was alive. The stench of sweat and heat stirred the air.

He shoved past a gaggle of women and nearly stepped on a salt merchant cross-legged on a rug, sacks of the precious commodity perched around him and a sharp-eyed falcon on his shoulder. The weathered man looked up with a toothy smile, excited at the prospect of a new customer.

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