Aggravain brushed her fingers over the large mirror’s ornate silver frame. If the rumors were true, it would reveal her enemies. With it under her control, she’d be unstoppable, and it’d be worth every drop of blood spilled to obtain it.
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I clung to the yardarm as wind whipped across the deck of Brume de Mer, spraying ocean mist into the captain’s face.
“With a stiff wind and a swift current, we’ll be in the West Indies in no time, lads. Where rum and our profits await!”
“A pinch of mint, a sprinkle of red clover. Three drops of deep golden honey, and the sun-kissed petals of a yellow daisy. The peel of an orange, an azure feather of a bluebird, and…” I gave the cauldron contents a slow stir.
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As I clicked the holovision remote, images cycled with lazy ease, adding unintelligible noise to my apartment. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the stagnant monotony of my life.
The micro-oven dinged and I peeled the cellophane seal from my premade dinner for one.
The wind whipped against the door to Luna’s enclosure. She sighed and snuggled deeper into her cozy bed of straw.
“Good morning, Luna.” A gangly keeper in khaki pants and a green Zoo polo peered at her through the bars. “It’s a beautiful
Ziff pushed open the squeaky doors to The Crooner’s Saloon and took a cautious step inside. A goblin hunched over the keys on an old piano, pounding out a medley filled with far too many flat notes. Two she-elves stood on stage, both dolled up in an overabundance of petticoats and ruffles,
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With a deep breath, Avery squared his shoulders and entered the fray.
The Highfaye Ball attracted every well-born high elf and faye-blood lady in the city. Each with the single-minded purpose of ensnaring the wealthiest, most eligible bachelor of the season. Half-bloods like Avery need not apply.
Roger struggled inside the sack, his head aching from the after-effects of the day’s overindulgence at the Tavern. When he’d agreed to a game of chance with an ogre, this was not what he’d envisioned.
The bag allowed in minimal light, and when he pressed
Cazria turned the box over in her hands, admiring the silver wrapping and sapphire bow. She shook it. No sound. She placed it back on the pedestal and chewed her fingernail. Jewelry. It had to be. Earrings or necklace? Her father had called
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Zoot pulled the brim of his pilfered bucket hat down to hide his scaled skin and amphibious features. The overcoat he’d procured hid his olive-green flight suit. Thankfully, the black tentacles running down the back of his head imitated the hair of the native creatures, but his disguise was hardly complete.
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Felix counted down the seconds as he adjusted his glasses and glanced at his clipboard.
Sloppy notations filled the margins: Displays bitterness and regret. Reluctant to engage. Replies with Humbug when upset. Bright red letters reading Unchangeable branded the top of the file.
A
“Too far.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I sped up to the portrait gallery.
“Nope.” Victor muttered to himself as he raised the hammer.
Bang. Bang—
I snatched the tool from his grasp.
He spun, his expression shifting from annoyance to welcome. “Jean-Luc!”
I glowered back. “Why, pray tell, are you banging holes in my walls?”
“I’m hanging a portrait!”
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