I run to the cabin, desperate to warn Zofan about our impending calamity. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen “wizard” as my occupation. I burst inside and nearly collide with my mentor. He stops me with a scowl and folded arms.
“Gwynfar, look outside. Tell me what you see.”
I peek out the window
“I’m not insane,” I mutter to myself as I pace the entrance of the tent.
I’m supposed to be helping my older brother close the tent after the biggest market of the season. Ours is situated at the outskirts of the rest.
But it’s hard to focus when you see an extinct animal running
I look like a peacock in a lion’s den. My gaudy green robes swish across the smooth marble as I eye the four armored guards escorting us. We enter the throne room. I step behind Zofan, my mentor and fellow wizard, and twiddle my fingers.
The guards clomp to either side of King Roganvel’s
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.
We have eyes on the fish. Repeat, we have eyes on the fish.” Haddie Underwood whispered into her wand. Her dark sunglasses tempered the fierce sun, and—mercy—she was sweating something awful underneath her black trench coat.
But today she was a spy and had to dress the part.
“Firstly,
Family reunions, am I right?
I stalk through the crowd, the knives strapped to my thighs jangling with every step. Wizards spot me and clutch their oak staffs. Hardened warriors stroke their swords thoughtfully.
Sharp eyes rake me from my spiky raven hair to my black leather boots. I hold my head high.
“9-1-1, state your emergency.”
“Hi, I think I’ve lost my charge,” Bethany said, shoving aside the clothes in the coat closet.
“Your charge, ma’am?”
“Yes. I was hired as an in-home caregiver to Ms. Rose Carterwood.” Bethany closed the closet door and darted back down the green carpeted hallway. “I went to the bathroom
It was a curious shop. Wedged between a formal wear boutique and an espresso bar its brick structure was weathered and chipped. Rusty chains held a wooden sign with a squiggly line running to a red X as the only clue to what one might find inside.
Well-dressed pedestrians hurried by never sparing
Trixie sighed and threw the imperfect blossom she’d just crafted. It landed in a pile of other discarded blooms.
“Why can’t I get it right?” she moaned, putting her head in her hands. The ancient wood of the table was a prime example of her great-great grandfather’s work. The aged pixie had been
Diana slipped the final crystal into position and counted to five, just in case everything exploded. She’d taken all of the proper precautions, but even the best magical crystals had temperamental days. And if her project shattered again, she’d have to restart from scratch.
Fortunately, this time, the line of glittering crystals only pulsed
Fae-burst had been banned in Anglia for over a decade, but Spencer knew for a fact he’d seen magic onstage tonight.
He peered around the shadowy backstage room. Illusionist dens like this were common in Anglia’s seediest districts, but only sleight of hand was allowed onstage. Fae-burst with its addictive qualities was strictly forbidden.
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