“Help!”
The voice is desperate. Wild. It cuts through the screaming winds and lashing sheets of rain that pound you and the earth. You lift your lantern, peering into the blackness as you attempt to steady your pounding heart.
You see naught but the driven rain at first; even the ground is murky…
They said the Fairy Tale King had gone mad.
The courtiers, led by King Ludwig’s Uncle Luitpold, didn’t bother to contain their disgust anymore. They sneered when Ludwig passed, mocked him and his ideas. They whispered that his grandest creation, Neuschwanstein Castle, was nothing more than a showcase for his lunacy.
Ty watched his wife pause beneath the ferns, face tilted toward the leafy canopy above. After taking a selfie in front of Blarney Castle, Beth had been more interested in exploring the surrounding gardens than standing in line to kiss the Blarney Stone. After all, who knew how many people had kissed that rock?
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Huey, god of mischief, peeked over the floating platform’s edge. Below, the European countryside showed patches of various greenery.
“All this flying is making me sick,” Tema moaned.
He turned to his friend. Her face had grown pale.
She put her hands over her stomach. “I think you’re going to have to lead
It seemed odd that the daughter of Queen Titania considered an app her worst enemy, but throughout the centuries, this fae had never encountered a more devious opponent.
“Don’t be cross just because you don’t understand technology,” Wally, my human thrall—excuse me, he preferred the term flatmate—said. “You see—”
It was that time of year when Lancaster Manor’s garden was filled with all the colors and fragrances which have given English gardens their reputation. In the middle of the garden grew a large oak tree with branches that spread like welcoming arms. Nestled in these branches was Molly Lancaster, with her nose
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Never make a deal with a fae lord.
The old adage ran through my head as I approached the house of Lord Faron Beaugard—High Lord of the Forest Realm. The glamor—a façade—of the house rolled toward me in unending waves, but I wasn’t foolish enough to be sucked in. I scanned the sprawling mansion,
Comforting scents of spice, herbs, and fruits filled the wood-paneled room, cozy enough to distract from the cold rain—and the woeful news. Mistress Millet dipped a carved cup into the pot simmering over her fire, then shuffled over and set it in front of Ivy, who wiped away a tear she pretended
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My gaze followed the little girl as she approached the rear of the building.
Intriguing, I thought as I kept to the shadows. She wasn’t the type who normally stalked stage doors.
The girl sat on the steps twirling a dandelion puff, her eyes focused on the flower and her disheveled, curly brown hair
I don’t like Dycin.
It’s not the guide’s superior attitude that makes me dislike him either. He was raised by the Knowledge Keepers. Of course, he’s smarter than me. No. I dislike Dycin because despite his knowledge, he has no idea what he’s doing but presses on anyway. In fact, I suspect we’re lost.
They’d placed me as a grasshopper.
I hadn’t expected anything grand like a butterfly or firefly, but a grasshopper? They couldn’t even fly straight.
Sounds of festivity faded behind me as I stomped through the encampment, blood boiling and wings buzzing. The sound of festivity faded behind me; the last thing I wanted to do was
Nibbs lifted his Medula Inc. mug to his thinning mustache and sighed as the tangy notes enveloped him.
Ivy stuck her head around the cubicle wall. “I wouldn’t drink that. Puck’s been messing with the sugar again.”
Nibbs pursed his lips. He’d had it with that imp.
“I just took Madam Medula her
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