‘Mistakes,” she flinched. “Once the spirit is in the Blue Bottle, the Tu’el will forget about those.”
First, she’d fed the boy.
No ice flowed in her veins.
A body had been dragged through the door.
The crowd was a river of confusion, winding its way to the banquet hall.
“Dragons are worms. I find them sad.”
The Blood Wars would cost the lives of thousands. It began over a bird.
The flower and the effects of its scent became legendary.
Shame is a fire, burning my core.
Theodosia has been indignant all her life, mostly because she’s named Theodosia. “Why couldn’t I have been named Cynthia Jane?” she asks me. “That was Grandma’s name… Read more “Theodosia, Indignant to the Bone”