Sydney Sage is an Alchemist, one of a group of humans who dabble in magic and serve to bridge the worlds of humans and vampires. They protect vampire secrets—and human lives.

In the aftermath of a forbidden moment that rocked Sydney to her core, she finds herself struggling to draw the line between her Alchemist teachings and what her heart is urging her to do. Then she meets alluring, rebellious Marcus Finch—a former Alchemist who escaped against all odds, and is now on the run.

Marcus wants to teach Sydney the secrets he claims the Alchemists are hiding from her. But as he pushes her to rebel against the people who raised her, Sydney finds that breaking free is harder than she thought.

There is an old and mysterious magic rooted deeply within her. And as she searches for an evil magic user targeting powerful young witches, she realizes that her only hope is to embrace her magical blood—or else she might be next.

I swear to God I want to know Richelle Mead’s secret formula to make books so good, that keep us drawn to them until we’re done reading—and then leave us craving for more. I fell like that every time I pick up one of her books, and it wasn’t different with the highly antecipated The Indigo Spell.

Sydney’s struggle to not let herself go straight to Adrian’s arms is hilarious. She’s so, so blind, she can’t admit what’s right in front of her eyes. And Adrian… Well, he’s Adrian: charming and funny and makes us go “aaaaw” everytime he says something cute. And he gets jealous! One of my favorite parts of this book is when he flips and deffends Sydney. I also loved the little dragon and won’t ever eat pie again without thinking about it.

The Indigo Spell has action and romance, although the action can be found mostly at the end. We see the story develop and how much Sydney’s grown since the beginning of this series. Unlike a lot of books out there, we can easily see Sydney’s changes through the books and they’re consistent with what’s going on, it’s not like she wakes up one day feeling like doing stuff she never would.

I can totally see now how this book is more like a bridge between The Golden Lily and The Fiery Heart. And I loved to see Abe again—even though it was just for a little bit. For Rose and Dimitri fans, they appear briefly in this book, as well as Lissa and Christian. Eddie, Angelina and Jill were sort of in the background, appearing once in a while, but they had their moments too.

Now I can only start marking days off of my calendar until the next book. Is it November yet?

Bloodlines #3

Author: Richelle Mead
Country: United States
Language: English
Genre(s): Young Adult
Publisher: Razorbill
Publication date: February 12, 2013
Pages: 432
Purchase:

Rating:

My favorite quotes on this book are bellow. Beware, there are tons!

This wasn’t the first time I’d been pulled out of bed for a crucial mission. It was, however, the first time I’d been subjected to such a personal line of questioning.
“Are you a virgin?”

Wow, I didn’t know you actually faced down things that scared you. I thought your normal response was to run kicking and screaming from them and pretend they don’t exist.

“I’m done with the pouting,” he said. “Done with being moody— well, I mean, I’m always a little moody. That’s what Adrian Ivashkov’s all about.

You’re not as much of a lost cause as she was. I mean, with her, I had to overcome her deep, epic love with a Russian warlord. You and I just have to overcome hundreds of years’ worth of deeply ingrained prejudice and taboo between our two races. Easy.

“You can think whatever you want, do whatever you want,” Adrian continued, unaware of my traitorous thoughts. There was a remarkable calm about him. “I’m going to just go on loving you, even if it’s hopeless.”

“You’re wasting your time with me.”
He remained firm. “It’s my time to waste.”

If I keep loving you, maybe you’ll eventually crack and love me too. Hell, I’m pretty sure you’re already half in love with me.

You can think what you want, so long as you remember— no matter how ordinary things seem between us— I’m still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy, evil or otherwise, ever will.

It was a rare and sweet look for him, reminding me of the tortured artist that lived beneath the sarcasm. I liked that about Adrian— not the tortured part, but the way he could feel so deeply and then transform those emotions into art.

His face was the picture of perfect politeness and restraint, meaning something disastrous was probably about to happen.

“That’s… wow… that’s not a bad idea…”
“I know,” he said. “I’m kind of amazed myself.”

“It was nice seeing a human and a Moroi look like they belong together.”
Belong together.
Why did she keep saying things like that? Her words were messing with the cool, logical demeanor I tried to maintain. I knew she was speaking in that friendly, diplomatic way that everyone was pushing so hard for. But as progressive as Rose and Dimitri were, I knew even they would be shocked if they knew the truth about Adrian’s feelings and that monumental kiss.

And to think, Angeline said I was too pretty to be useful. Looks like I might have something to offer to the world after all.

“You’re free to run wild.”
Eddie, sitting nearby, overheard and scoffed. “To the library?”

It was yet another surprising—yet fascinating— side of the enigma that was Adrian Ivashkov.

“What the hell? Who are you?”
“The guy that’s going to kick your ass for hurting her.”

I knew some girls thought it was sexy to have men fight over them. Not me.

How much styling did you have to do to get your hair like that?”
“At least I brush my hair.”

The next time I had nothing to do, I’d have to get a book on testosterone-driven behavior. This was out of my league.

“Marcus thought I was there to abduct him.”
(…) “If someone like you showed up to abduct me, I’d let you.”

“I was defending your honor.” Adrian gave me that devil-may-care smile that always managed to both infuriate and captivate me. “Pretty manly, huh?”
“Very,” I said dryly. I didn’t like violence, but him doing something so out of character for me actually was kind of incredible. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

I’ve said over and over, I’d do anything for you. I just keep hoping it’ll be something like, ‘Adrian, let’s go hot tubbing’ or ‘Adrian, take me out for fondue.’

“But each time you use spirit, you’re more likely to go crazy.”
“Already crazy about you, Sage.”

“Why can’t you do it? You’re smart. You’re good at math.”
Why couldn’t I? Well, first I had to stop an evil sorceress from sucking the youth and power from innocent girls. Then I had to crack the secrets and lies that the organization I’d been born into was telling me.

“Do you really think I’m going to sign on for a job that makes her do work she doesn’t want to do? What if she gets frustrated at what I’m telling her? How do I know she won’t stab me with a compass?”
“You don’t,” I admitted. “But I think it’s unlikely. Probably.”

Hey, some of us like to have a little fun now and then. You should give it a shot sometime.

“Your cousin’s a little unstable,” he said. But he didn’t say no, so I thought that was a good sign.
“You used to think she was hot,” I reminded him.

Do you really want him to get over you?

“You named your car after coffee. That’s a sign of respect?”
“The highest respect,” I said.

“Do you want me to call you celery stick instead?” he asked. “It just doesn’t inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings.”

Caffeine and magic didn’t mix, which was another good reason for staying away from the arcane.

“God, I’m an idiot,” I said, once we’d almost reached our destination.
“That’s never a term I’d use to describe you,” he said promptly. “Articulate. Well dressed. Smart. Organized. Beautiful. I’d use those terms, but never ‘idiot.’”
I nearly asked why “beautiful” had come after “organized” and then remembered the actual concern.

“I’m not dangerous,” I breathed. He brought his face toward mine.
“You are to me.”

What had I been thinking? That was a question I’d asked myself a hundred times, and every answer I came up with sounded fake.

I’d bought and downloaded the “bad boy” book online, but it had been completely useless in advising me.

“Take out the fireball kindling,” she instructed.
Adrian’s eyes went wide. “Did you just say ‘fireball’? That’s badass.”
“You see fire all the time,” I reminded him. “From Moroi who can wield it.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen a human do anything like that. I’ve never seen you do anything like that.”

“I’m not a warrior or a goddess,” I managed at last.
Adrian leaned closer. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re both.”

“Look, Sage. I don’t know much about chemistry or computer hacking or photosynthery, but this is something I’ve got a lot of experience with.” I think he meant photosynthesis, but I didn’t correct him.

“Wish me luck,” I said.
“You make your own luck,” he replied.

“What the hell is that?” Adrian demanded.
“Do you really think I know?”
“You made it! Do something.”

“Now we feed it.” I made a decision. “We take it to Pies and Stuff.”
I didn’t know if dragons ate pie, but that was the closest food source we had.

“And yet you’d run off with some guy you just met.”
“It’s not like that! We wouldn’t be ‘running off’ together. I’d be coming back! And we’d be going for a specific reason.”
“Beaches and margaritas?”

We’re too close, too connected. I wasn’t that crazy on spirit when I said you’re my flame in the dark. We chase away the shadows around each other. Our backgrounds don’t matter. What we have is bigger than that. I love you, and beneath all that logic, calculation, and superstition, I know you love me too.

Toys for a demon? Isn’t it enough that I give him pie?

When Adrian had told me I’d look healthier if I gained a little weight, he’d added that it would improve my bra size. I couldn’t even imagine what that would do for this dress.

Once again, I had been lied to.

“I’m the expert in insanity, and this is nothing. And as for who you are, you’re the same beautiful, brave, and ridiculously smart caffeinated fighter you’ve been since the day I met you.”
Finally, he put “beautiful” at the top of his list of adjectives. Not that I should have cared.

“A piece of heaven?” I managed to ask.
He slowly shook his head. “No. The other place. The one I’m going to burn in for thinking what I’m thinking.”

Metaphors. This was the cost of making out with an artist.

“Can you come over to Amberwood? I need you to help me break curfew and escape my dorm.”
There were a few moments of silence. “Sage, I’ve been waiting two months to hear you say those words. You want me to bring a ladder?”

He gave me a sidelong glance as he drove us away. “No black catsuit?”
“It’s in the laundry.”
He smiled. “Of course it is.”

“I know I’m not supposed to say this,” he said. “But I think I love you more than ever.”

Kissing him was as mind-blowing as ever, full of that same passion and need I had never believed I’d feel. But today, there was even more to it.

Let me get this straight. The future of our relationship hinged on advice from a fifteen-year-old girl, a probably untrue story from a one-eyed Chihuahua trainer, and me unromantically—yet skillfully—kissing you on top of silverware and china?

He was too perfect, despite being one of the most imperfect people I knew.