I stormed up the narrow stair toward the storm-battered castle, the biting sea wind spurring me on.
“Princess, please wait!” my guard, Alloy, called.
Hearing my preferred title only stoked the fire.
The next stair crumbled beneath my boot, and I pitched sideways into open air. The world spun. I caught sight
Since graduating high school, I’d acquired the ability to identify poisons—without dying, important detail—saved the head of the council, learned about mystical evil Knights threatening our kingdom, been killed—poison again, I’m not immune—and rescued my true love on multiple occasions. You’d think that’d be enough to ask of any eighteen-year-old.
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I’ve just finished mopping the floor of the Decimator’s control room when two Second Class Henchmen walk in. The big goons leave muddy footprints all over the—formerly—shiny floor. I glare after them, but they don’t even notice me.
Typical.
No one notices me unless they slip on a wet floor, or—
“Again.”
The voice that reached Pulsar along the communications thread was neither impressed nor impatient.
Pulsar pivoted away from the smoldering target at the edge of the training field to face the figure near the far-off arsenal. “But Master U’drec—I executed the maneuver perfectly! Why—”
“Return to start position, Squire.”
Cyra, how will you do this?
I have no answer to give myself as I trudge across this scorching desert. I only know that I must try. Shimmering columns of heat rise before my eyes. I am tempted—so tempted—to discard the armor that protects my arms, chest, and legs.
Prince Wilfred would not hold still.
This made a trying task of threading tiny, shield-shaped buttons through delicate holes, but Edvin persisted. It was his duty to properly attire the teenaged prince for the coronation ceremony, despite Wilfred’s nervous fidgeting.
Footsteps padded closer. Edvin glanced to his left to see the sleek
Surrounded by shouting hagglers, I sweep my eyes over the market as we step into an abandoned tent. Back turned to the crowd, I rummage in my pack for the scroll. Passersby will only see a traveling swordsman and his student counting their coins before visiting the blacksmith’s booth.
“You’re my best student. Like
When you plan to murder a monarch, the last creature you should ever tell is a tree.
Yes, every peasant child knows you can’t trust oaks, but I had to get the woods involved. You see, fae kings are notoriously bad at dying, and it would be unacceptable for a man of my station
“We’re more than dust,” Auntie Nadya asserted.
Eight-year-old Pevka sniffled and swiped his fist under his nose.
Without dropping her shovel, Auntie pressed her handkerchief into his hand. Then she shoved her spade into the pile of silver stardust beside her, expertly hefting it to determine its weight before tossing the load into
“Have you ever wanted to—”
“No.” Brix adjusted his brother’s tie, expression unchanged.
“But you could—”
“Don’t care.”
“What’s the point of being Captain of the Guard if you’re not going to use it to your advantage?”
When Brix didn’t answer, Moxly sighed and turned towards the mirror. His clean cut,
The Sleeping Dragon Teashop was known in Quira for its spiced apple blend. Nobles often used Ximena’s teas to help them sleep—and sometimes, they requested her to ensure their political opponents slept… longer.
One such note slipped through the letter slot just before her shop opened its doors for the day.
Jane won’t leave her infernal scarf alone. I’m trying to ignore it, as this trip is stressful enough without starting a fight. After all, we’re going to see the Charmings.
We both hate the royalty: me, because no one keeps them in check, and Jane… Well, I’m still not sure why Jane hates them
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