When I woke, I could feel each fiber of the plasticky hospital sheet covering me. But it was distant, almost like someone else was feeling it. I pulled off the sheet and stared at two human-looking legs. I dug my fingernails into my right quadricep hard enough to make it bleed but felt no pain.
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If I were the chatty type, I could share with you a great many stories. I was beautiful in my youth, rare and prized. There wasn’t a soul that did not desire to hold me. At first, it was thrilling. I held a power over others that few possessed. I could make a law-abiding man guilty, capable of committing the worst offense.
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Camden’s armor sinks into the soaked ground, but he doesn’t dare break his stance. The Lady of the Lake stands before him on the water’s surface, shrouded in moonlight, hair flowing in expansive waves. She alone holds the authority to name the next heir who will rule Killeg; should he not be named, House Visroy will fall, and the province will descend into war.
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Most high school principals looked forward to graduation night, but not Edwin. It was the one night of the year that he couldn’t ignore his psychic ability—he dared not call it a gift.
As he handed diplomas to the graduates, he would see flashes of their future, snapshots of what was to come.
“Eugenia, I can’t put a princess ballgown on a gorgon,” I squeak through the doorway of the sales office. “It won’t match her hair!”
Our immaculate, skirt-suited manager looks up from her spreadsheets. “Mary, you know our policy.”
“Make every bride feel like a daydream.” I hike up my armload of tulle-engorged plastic garment bags.
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