I could hardly contain my excitement when Papa chose me for this mission. The guild’s lost treasure, a great weapon rumored to lay low scores of men in a single breath, had been found at last. The centuries-long quest was drawing to a close and I, Stasya Vorishka, would be the one to complete it.
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“You got the chicken?” Tommy asked, strutting across the outfield grass wearing nothing but boxer shorts.
“Gosh sakes, Spitfield,” I whispered. “Keep it down, will ya?”
“You found one, though?”
“Deli’s closed.”
Tommy raised upturned palms toward the moon. “You had one job, Luis. You buy rotisserie chicken. I bring the jam and jellies. And Roger…”
The knock comes late one sunny morning.
My legs tremble as I go to answer the door. Behind it is a stiff, black-coated constable. And behind him are three men with boxes and bags, ready to steal my treasures.
“Adélie Moreau?”
I twist my hands into my skirt, clear my throat, and nod.
Lora, my youngest, grinned as she lifted our dinner plates with a wispy sapphire spell. “Clean up time!” Her arms wobbled. “Ooh, heavy.”
“Papa!” Thorn, my oldest, leapt from his chair, his eyes on me. “Make her stop!”
“Lora, you know the rules.” I spoke gently, not wanting to shame my daughter for her newfound abilities.
The hero of the Hoard War was a coward. The legions of ash-stained soldiers who watched her in awe, whispered of her great feats, and saluted her every step just didn’t know it. They looked at her and saw a hero come to save them and extinguish the dark. They didn’t see
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The blizzard howled around the entrance of the cave, sending flurries of ice and snow washing over the floor. Normally that wouldn’t concern me, but it was summer.
I blinked, looking away from the white swirl and focusing on Ma, who shivered slightly and blew a steady stream of fire into the pit between us and the storm.
She’d heard of a ship in a bottle.
But a ship caught in a storm and trapped in a bottle—that one was new.
Sitting at the counter, Deidra studied the strange bottle—more of a jar, really—and the little storm thundering and pouring down rain above it. Frantic men the size of ants
“All right, Sire, the Kosimas will handle the ceremony. However, the treasury needs approval for banquet expenditures.”
Falton stared at fluttering drapes. Window’s closed though. Gelaid was literally driving him mad.
“Sire, the royal magistrate wants to discuss writs of authority, the speechwriter needs to meet. After that… Sire?
Falton fell face first on his bed.
By Rae Graham The sun blazed with the intensity only a summer drought can muster, but no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t melt Jasper’s ice. The beautiful aqua strands wove out from his palm in a glittering dance—one that drew delighted squeals from the children on the other side of the window. Jasper’s
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“Susannah Carey, did you hear a word I said?” Miss Jessup rapped a cane on her cabin’s floor. “Pay attention!”
A glowing coal skidded out of my tongs, landing back in the fireplace. Sparks flew, hot as my cheeks. Truth is, I hadn’t been listening. I was hurrying too much.
Hey, Dragonbreath. Camping this weekend. U in?
A wisp of smoke accompanied my snort as I stuck my phone back in my pocket. Camping. The only social event I’d been invited to in years. Not that I could blame them after my laugh fried Craig’s gaming system at fourteen.
The rebels had promised a quick, painless Revolution: Down with the king, up with the men living in nothing but dust.
Liars, all of them, Sabelle thought, grimacing. The rebels’ notion of freedom excluded anyone connected to the nobility, no matter how far-removed the relation.
