La guerre voilée (Ebook)
La guerre voilée (Ebook)
La guerre voilée (Ebook)

La guerre voilée (Ebook)

Prix régulier$6.99
Frais d'expédition calculés lors du passage à la caisse.

Lire un échantillon

Adelma est hors de combat
Les Varanguards sont suspendus
Et Longinus va à un rendez-vous à l'aveugle
Les choses prennent une tournure inquiétante à Damsport.

Rory et Longinus ont les mains pleines. Adelma va mal et il lui faudra beaucoup de travail pour la ramener à elle-même.

En plus de cela, Longinus doit se préparer à un rendez-vous à l'aveugle. Le service de mise en relation premium auquel il a adhéré lui assure qu'elle est son âme sœur. La pression pour choisir la bonne tenue est donc immense.

Distraits et occupés, il faut un certain temps à Rory et Longinus pour se rendre compte qu'un certain nombre de changements inquiétants se produisent lentement à Damsport. De plus, la marquise refuse de voir qui que ce soit et Lady Martha est introuvable.

Que se passe-t-il dans le manoir ? Et qui ou quoi se cache derrière les étranges changements qui se produisent dans la ville ?

Rory et Longinus sont sur le point de faire face à des moments difficiles, et pas seulement parce que Longinus est déterminé à faire des chemises en avocat le prochain article de mode en vogue.

Plongez dans la guerre voilée, tome 8 d'une série complète de 9 tomes remplis d'aventures, de plaisanteries et de personnages excentriques, le tout se déroulant dans un monde tropical richement imaginé.


Ebooks are delivered instantly via Bookfunnel email to the email address provided at checkout.

Print books are printed in our facilites in the UK and in the US, this takes 3-5 days after which they are expedited. Shipping times will then depend on your location.

Ce site est protégé par reCAPTCHA, et la Politique de confidentialité et les Conditions d'utilisation de Google s'appliquent.


If not for the gruesome bloodshed required of the military, Longinus fancied he would have made an excellent soldier. Or rather, an excellent officer—he was better suited to leadership than to performing the groundwork of a regular foot soldier.

He checked himself in the mirror. He’d selected an outfit of military feel, and it suited his bearing very well. Of course, the military jacket was a little on the hot side, the fabric thicker than what was advisable for Damsian summer, but Longinus hadn’t been able to help himself.

He’d discovered so many delightful new fabrics back in Bel Stadd, the capital of the Airnian Empire, and he found it hard to go back to limiting himself to light fabrics—as wonderful and versatile as silk was.

He tugged on the jacket collar, loosening it a little. The jacket looked good enough that the discomfort was worth it. He grabbed the riding crop he’d prepared as a matching accessory and headed to the spare room. Tess was waiting for him, as per his instructions.

Having drawn in and expelled a lungful of air in a fashion that the discerning observer would have recognised as “military breathing,” Longinus headed to the guest room.

It was simply furnished but pleasant, with a focus on clean lines and understated, elegant wooden furniture. In short, he’d done a marvellous job with it.

“Now, Tess, I need you to attend me.” Longinus clasped his hands behind him, pacing slowly about the room, much like he imagined a general might when briefing his troops. “This mission will be dangerous. It will be fraught with difficulties and peril. You must be prepared to expect the unexpected at all times.” He smacked the riding crop smartly into his gloved hand and winced. The gesture might have looked good and dramatic in his head, but in reality, the stiff leather stung his palm. Best to stick to a lighter version of military speech-making.

“This will be our battleground.” He traced a wide circle with his riding crop to encompass the room, enjoying the feel of the stiff leather in his hand. “You will remove anything fragile. We must turn this room into an unassailable fortress!” He punctuated the last word by pointing his riding crop to the sky.

Truly, the riding crop is a most excellent accessory. There must be a way to incorporate it into the rest of my wardrobe. A shame I don’t like to ride horses.

Tess grabbed a nearby porcelain bowl and jug. “I think that’s it, right?”

“My dear girl, you are failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation. Look at this little side table—beautiful lacquered makore wood. Why, it could be smashed to splinters! It must be removed. Put it in my bedroom for now. And the bedding, here.” He touched the fabric with his fingers, even though he was wearing gloves. “It is of delicate linen and will need to be replaced with coarse cotton—probably best for now to get something second-hand. Everything will need to be burnt once we’re done. I have workmen arriving imminently to install bars on the windows and on the door. You can also have them remove that nice sideboard there, in case something chips the varnish.” Longinus tucked the riding crop under his arm.

Tess looked confused and a little worried. “What’s going to happen in this room?”

“You will find out soon enough. On second thought, have the workmen remove all wooden furniture from the room. No wood left behind. I will not have such a noble material damaged—unless it’s pine. Pine I don’t care for,” he sniffed. “A wrought iron bed will be delivered this afternoon. Then you will stock up the pantry so that we can withstand a siege.”

“A siege?” Tess looked worried.

“A siege! I leave the choice of food to you. However, no alcohol may enter the house from this point forward. You will also purchase a padlock and key—my laboratory will need to be kept locked at all times. The barred door I’m having installed in this room will come with its own lock.”
Tess licked her lips. “Sir? What are we preparing for?” She looked around the room.

“Stop scaring her,” Rory said, entering.

She wore her old fighting leathers with more cuts and lashes on them than a whipped back. Her mass of ropelike hair was loose, dwarfing her small frame. Little polished copper rings winked out from her hair, giving her a slightly piratical air.

“Ain’t nothing to be afraid of,” she told Tess. “We’re just bringing Adelma here, that’s all. She’s gonna stay with us for a little while. Problem is she ain’t likely to wanna come, so we’re going to have to force her, which might mean a bit of a scrap. And then once she’s here, we’re gonna have to force her to stay—and she might, um, break some things and try to escape.”

Tess paled visibly.

“Now who’s scaring her?” Longinus asked smugly. “You’d have been better off telling her that we’ll be wrestling a wild bear into the room. And she’s quite right to be worried, too—the gravity of the situation cannot be underestimated.”

“We’re going to force Adelma to stay here?” Tess whispered.

Rory nodded grimly. “We’d take any other option if there was one, but it’s the only way for now.” She frowned and looked back at Longinus. “Although them bars at the windows might be a bit much, no?”

“Actually, the bars were my idea,” Cruikshank said, walking in. Her footsteps made an odd, uneven metallic sound. She’d designed a leg brace for herself, which helped remove the limp she’d acquired following the injury to her toe in Azyr. She’d stopped wearing it in Bel Stadd, but now that they were home, she wore it everywhere, and it helped her quite a bit. These days, it looked as much a part of her as the complicated cog tattoo that sleeved her right arm.

And for once, Cruikshank looked clean—no soot marred her face, and only a faint, residual grime rimmed her nails. She hadn’t been at her workshop for the last few days, in preparation for this moment.

“I let myself in downstairs.” Cruikshank gestured with the key Longinus had had cut for her. “I had to deal with the same thing with my father, Rory. If we leave the windows unprotected, it will be too easy for Adelma to smash one and climb out. Same for the door. It’s hard enough keeping your average raging alcoholic from drinking. With Adelma, it’s going to be near impossible…”

“I guess I better get to work,” Tess said, hurrying off as the workmen knocked on the door downstairs.

Rory looked worried. “I really hope this works.”

“Me too,” Cruikshank replied. “Because otherwise I’m all out of ideas as to how we can help her.”

You may also like

Hi! I'm Celine

I write different flavours of fantasy with a twist, but always with one uniting thread: quirky, flawed characters and heart-warming found families.

My books span the sub-genres of steampunk (but set in a secondary, tropical world) urban fantasy (set in Asia and London) and gothic gaslamp fantasy.

I'm French, grew up in the UK, and for the last few years I've been living a life of nomadic adventure, exploring the world with my laptop as my constant companion. My adventures have been a great source of inspiration for my stories.

These days I'm trying to figure out where in the world I might stop and setup some bookshelves.

I love to hear from readers, so feel free to contact me at

Vu récemment