{"id":251554,"date":"2026-07-13T01:20:35","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:20:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/all-we-hunger-for-anna-mercier\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T01:20:35","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:20:35","slug":"all-we-hunger-for-anna-mercier","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/all-we-hunger-for-anna-mercier\/","title":{"rendered":"All We Hunger For – Anna Mercier"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Worse, she\u2019d revived a longing in him, one he satisfied by sketching an outline of Caf\u00e9 Divin from memory. He knew the abandoned building. Everyone in the Restes did. It contained magie, quarter legend said. If you stood on the street after midnight and stared up into the broken windows, you would see your heart\u2019s desire. Rubbish. And the spell Elara had cast over him was too. He\u2019d shoved the sketchbook into his drawer, sent a letter to Lafontaine, and left before he could delude himself any further.<\/p>\n

Regardless of whatever feelings he had for Elara, they couldn\u2019t get in the way of their plans. Besides, she\u2019d hate him if she ever learned the truth. The only option to keep her safe and keep them on track was to tell his father about her past. They could get ahead of the story, and maybe, just maybe, Lafontaine could convince Elara to be a different symbol to the Restes Quarter.<\/p>\n

A rebel traitor. He moved to the only comforting object in the room: a painting, barely the size of a dinner plate. It hung alone on an alabaster wall near the window, where it would catch both the morning and evening light. An indigo river set beneath an ashen-sapphire city rippled with small white crests of waves. The buildings leaned toward one another, forming a dark cavern at the end of a small, lonely bridge.<\/p>\n

A singular street light burned, rippling lines of yellow and white across the layered brushstrokes. The art didn\u2019t match his father\u2019s austere office, but Nik knew why it belonged. A lone figure entered from the bottom right corner. If it weren\u2019t for the details only Nik and his father might notice, she might\u2019ve been a nameless subject, but his father was nothing if not particular: long black hair, dirt smudged upon her fingertips, a pocket full of herbs.<\/p>\n

A bundle of lavender in her basket. Nik\u2019s mother stopped on the bridge, looked left to the south, then right to the north. In the end, she chose north. She always did.<\/p>\n

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Thank you for buying this Henry Holt and Company ebook. To receive special offers, bonus content, and info on new releases and other great reads, sign up for our newsletters. Or visit us online at us.macmillan.com\/newslettersignup For email updates on the author, click here. 1kitap1.com\/en The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author\u2019s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillan.com\/piracy.<\/p>\n

1kitap1.com\/en For Stephen 1kitap1.com\/en THE SEVEN SOCI\u00c9T\u00c9S Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts Culinaires Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts Humains Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts Visuels Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts Litt\u00e9raires Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts Spectacle Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts Manufacturiers Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Arts N\u00e9cessaire THE FOUR RANKS Souverain Directeur Professionnelle Aspirant 1kitap1.com\/en 1 ELARA Elara knew better than to hope, yet there she stood within a crowd of other doe-eyed fools gawking at the same flyer. They\u2019d been pasted around the Quarter this morning, and the crowds amassed because magie like this rarely made it south across the Joyaux.<\/p>\n

Upon shiny white paper, an eerie likeness of the late Souverain of Arts Culinaires smiled and waved at her audience as if she hadn\u2019t died last week. Like all Souverains in the Counseil des Sept, she was decked entirely in white: shimmering dress, dyed hair, long eyelashes, and manicured nails. When she wasn\u2019t preening for the crowd, she recited the information at the bottom of the poster.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe time has come to host the Objet d\u2019Art Contest!\u201d she called. Children in the front row squealed, clapping their hands at the rare magie that made the painting move. \u201cWith my unfortunate passing, a successor must be chosen, and it could be you!\u201d Elara walked away. She\u2019d heard it a dozen times already that morning.<\/p>\n

The posters were everywhere, and they droned on about the same bullshit that always ended in the same useless question: Will you be one of the Favored? No. Elara would not be chosen to compete, and she knew better than to let the stubborn pang of disappointment break her focus. She had a more sensible task ahead of her.<\/p>\n

Turning a street corner manned by an Anesp\u00e9rer officer dressed in black, she thumbed the three coins in her dress pocket. Four years and Elara still couldn\u2019t walk past them without hunching her shoulders or averting her gaze. The narrow street stretched between leaning tenements and emptied out into what used to be the heart of the Restes neighborhood\u2014The Market.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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