The internationally best-selling romantasy series! Gwen has a destiny to fulfill, but no one will tell her what it is. She's only recently learned that she is the Ruby, the final member of the time-traveling Circle of Twelve, and since then nothing has been going right. She suspects the founder of the Circle, Count Saint-German, is up to something nefarious, but nobody will believe her. And she's just learned that her charming time-traveling partner, Gideon, has probably been using her all along. Emerald Green is the stunning conclusion to Kerstin Gier's Ruby Red Trilogy , picking up where Sapphire Blue left off, reaching new heights of intrigue and romance as Gwen finally uncovers the secrets of the time-traveling society and learns her fate. “Ruby Red series fans will not be disappointed with this surprising and romantic finale.” ― Kirkus Reviews “Gier succeeds on her own terms. . . . Will leave readers anticipating the publication of the next installment, Sapphire Blue .” ― The New York Times Book Review “Humorous, romantic and suspenseful, the plot is fast-paced and impossible to put down.” ― Justine magazine “* Adventure, humor, and mystery all have satisfying roles here.” ― Booklist, starred review “SOSOSOSOSOSO amazing. So. Amazing. Really. Unfortunately, the sequel doesn't come out in English until 2012. *sigh* But seriously. This is THE best book I have read in a VERY long time. You should definitely read it.” ― J'adore Dessiner Blog “I giggled, I sat on the edge of my seat, and I enjoyed every second of it. I will be waiting very anxiously to devour Sapphire Blue when it is released.” ― Pure Imagination Blog “I'm ready to read the next two NOW!” ― YA Lit Ramblings Blog Kerstin Gier is the bestselling author of the Ruby Red trilogy, as well as several popular novels for adults. She lives in Germany. Anthea Bell (1936–2018) was a translator of literary works from French, German, and Danish. These include The Castle by Franz Kafka, Austerlitz by W. G. Sebald, and the French Asterix comics (with cotranslator Derek Hockridge). She was appointed Officer of the Order of the British Empire. ONE THE END OF THE SWORD was pointing straight at my heart, and my murderer’s eyes were like black holes threatening to swallow up everything that came too close to them. I knew I couldn’t get away. With difficulty, I stumbled a few steps back. The man followed me. “I will wipe that which is displeasing to God off the face of the earth!” he boomed. “The ground will soak up your blood!” I had at least two smart retorts to these sinister words on the tip of my tongue. (Soak up my blood? Oh, come off it, this is a tiled floor.) But I was in such a panic that I couldn’t get a word out. The man didn’t look as if he’d appreciate my little joke at this moment anyway. In fact, he didn’t look as if he had a sense of humor at all. I took another step back and came up against a wall. The killer laughed out loud. Okay, so maybe he did have a sense of humor, but it wasn’t much like mine. “Die, demon!” he cried, plunging his sword into my breast without any more ado. I woke up, screaming. I was wet with sweat, and my heart hurt as if a blade really had pierced it. What a horrible dream! But was that really surprising? My experiences of yesterday (and the day before) weren’t exactly likely to make me nestle down comfortably in bed and sleep the sleep of the just. Unwanted thoughts were writhing around in my mind like flesh-eating plants gone crazy. Gideon was only pretending , I thought . He doesn’t really love me. “He hardly has to do anything to attract girls,” I heard Count Saint-Germain saying in his soft, deep voice, again and again. And “Nothing is easier to calculate than the reactions of a woman in love.” Oh, yes? So how does a woman in love react when she finds out that someone’s been lying to her and manipulating her? She spends hours on the phone to her best friend, that’s how, then she sits about in the dark, unable to get to sleep, asking herself why the hell she ever fell for the guy in the first place, crying her eyes out at the same time because she wants him so much … Right, so it doesn’t take a genius to calculate that. The lighted numbers on the alarm clock beside my bed said 3:10, so I must have nodded off after all. I’d even slept for more than two hours. And someone—my mum?—must have come in to cover me up, because all I could remember was huddling on the bed with my arms around my knees, listening to my heart beating much too fast. Odd that a broken heart can beat at all, come to think of it. “It feels like it’s made of red splinters with sharp edges, and they’re slicing me up from inside so that I’ll bleed to death,” I’d said, trying to describe the state of my heart to Lesley (okay, so it sounds at least as corny as the stuff the character in my dream was saying, but sometimes the truth is corny). And Lesley had said sympathetically, “I know just how you feel. When M