Maize ran her fingers along the fresh scars trailing her arm as she stared at the king’s latest request. The white suit lay draped across her red-wood weaving desk. Make this suit so that its wearer is immortal, the king’s messenger had told her. Then, perhaps, will you be forgiven.
Strands of afternoon
A good neighborhood stakeout always starts with a comfy porch swing and my famous pound cake. Archie’s curled up on my lap, watching the street for any sign of Uncannies—or rabbits. Ever since he got into a scuffle with a bunny—and lost—he’s been on his guard.
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He is coughing again.
My sari sweeps behind me as I climb the steps, medicine bottle in hand. Two teaspoons if I remember correctly.
The door to my husband’s room is open. He is sprawled in bed, pillow over his face, as if smothering himself
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When the island princes crossed the Amber Sea for a visit, the day always became brighter for the mainland peoples. But this visit was even more important than usual—the princes were of age now. All of the girls whispered in the streets, planning how to snare them.
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“Scarlet!”
I wince.
“Yes, ma’am?” I turn and bow to our loud neighbor.
“Are you going to drag your grandfather home?”
I bristle at her tone. He may drink too much, but only to forget his memories of the war. Everyone understands… except Lenora Cutter. She never has grace for anyone, not even
This was the last time I’d ever let Matt drive Baby, my gorgeous poppy-red ATV.
We hit bump after bump trucking up the mountain. I hung onto Matt for dear life as we rumbled over clumps of clay rocks, spewing pebbles. Finally, he swung Baby to a stop. Around us stretched Heartbreak Woods,
Reaching the top of the steep staircase, Bayard slowed his pace. The crescent moon couldn’t brighten the shadows of the final turn leading into the roost, but determination carried him through. He purposefully scuffed his feet and sent a rock clattering over the edge
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Every predator, no matter how strong, can meet its end.
I stared into the ornate, gilded mirror. People whispered I was obsessed with my reflection, that perhaps the mirror held magic properties that caused my vanity to need constant satisfying. What a ridiculous notion.
But the truth was stranger than
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The domed turrets of the Little Palace blazed a fierce rose-red. The color of magic. The color of a curse.
Mariya had to get there.
But a line of Rusakian soldiers blocked her road, their blood-red shields reminding her of all the lives lost during their occupation of her city.
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Kabr slithered across the bloodstained cobblestones, eyeing the shadows bordering the backstreet of Veerion. The sharp twang of fresh death flared through his nostrils, stoking the fire in his chest. Beneath the foul stench, Merna’s perfume of old pages and secrets still lingered, even hours after her body
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Birds sing joyous melodies in the courtyard outside my window. A fine day for a wedding! It’s a shame our beloved king’s betrothed wants him dead.
Feet scurry through the palace hallways, and nervous voices bounce off the walls as servants rush about making preparations. If only they knew the truth.
But I know.
The carriage arrived late in the afternoon, but Sebastian didn’t get out right away. He peered through the frosted glass at the house, its cobblestone siding glowing in the sunset. Candles flickered in the snow laden windows like watchful eyes.
Sebastian glanced at the paper on the bench beside him. The dreaded “yellow slip”
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