The market is an organ pulsing with life. Beating with the hearts of hundreds, thousands of people. Beating with the laughter of happiness and friendship. Palpitating with the cries of sorrow. The exertion of merchants as they compete to sell mounds of golden turmeric, blood red paprika and earthy cinnamon. Trinkets.
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Once, long ago, an African king’s caravan stopped at a village for water. As its chief bowed before him, the bored king inquired what was notable about the place.
“Sire, here dwells Olayinka, the finest potter in the land.” The king yawned.
The chief gritted his teeth. He added, “She can make a jar…
“Ma’am, we have an issue.” My mousy assistant Anne cleared her throat, approaching my leather chair.
I waved my pen at her before I continued counting sums. “Go on, then.”
“It’s…” Anne gulped. “Scrooge.”
I peered over the edge of my pince-nez glasses. “What about Scrooge? He’s sufficiently corrupted.” I tapped his name
“S-s-sir, please!” Malcolm hunkers low in his chair, hiding behind his notebook. “We’ve talked about this! You have to remain calm—”
Fire spews through the hollow eyes of my pumpkin head as I tower over him. “I am completely calm, Malcolm!”
My butler, currently acting as my therapist, cowers deeper into his chair.
Rumors said she went mad for beauty.
And while Briar’s search had begun with a desperate desire to keep the fairy-given beauty… it had evolved into so much more.
She hadn’t gone mad for beauty.
She’d transcended it.
A red horizon lit the battlefield and illuminated the corpses of those who had tried to
Gods, I hate the overworld. It’s bad enough that everyone mistakes me for the goddess of death. I’m only the keeper of souls—and I didn’t even ask for that job.
Also, everything up here makes me sneeze.
I hold in another one as I look around this stupid hippie commune. My sister,
It’s an honor being a royal hot air balloon maker. But the conversation occurring around me makes me want to float away from my coworkers and hide.
I only have one thing in common with the other three people working in the sunshine outside Princess Amzho’s castle: a love and talent for our craft.
As King Theon looked out the castle window, he allowed hope to flutter in his chest. Perhaps today would be the day his son would return. Despite the king’s plea against it, the prince had left two years ago in the name of expanding the kingdom.
“We have all we need here,”
Deirdre stood before me, framed by the mirror, her blue eyes glistening. Typical. She always seemed to be on the verge of tears.
“Nimha,” she called, pressing her hand against the glass.
I emerged through the mirror and slithered onto her hand. “Yes, my queen?”
She stared at the glass. “Who is fairest
Detective Caspian cupped the brittle gray blossom in his hands. That it had once been a rose was hardly believable. As he handled it, the petals crumbled to ash.
The ocelot beside him nudged his elbow, and he held the mess of gray dust out to the wild cat.
“Leslie, what do you think?”
Diving for corpses was not Belyan’s ideal profession, but someone had to do it. She shivered as cold, merciless currents swept past, dragging snarls of seaweed and chipped clamshells along with them.
Before her, two gleaming shapes curled through the water, light glowing from their sleek bodies. The presence of Ursu and Laur
“Well, I’m off. You sure you’ll be all right?” Edwin paused at the door, smoothing his light blue beard. Its color reminded me of cryfina, a multifunctional, potent faerie poison that I’d been itching to get my hands on for ages. You could use it as a hair cream, a deadly weapon, or to
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