“You were warned, Aderen. You’re not wanted here. Now, are you going to leave on your own, or are we going to have to do it for you?”
Barris recognized him from his voice. “Is this what they teach about honor in Vallen House, Esten? Three of you against one? Masked?”
“This isn’t about honor!” one of the others snarled. “This is about revenge.”
Continue reading →“I mean it. Get away from him.”
“Or what? You’ll poke me with your toy sword?”
“Look again,” Neda said, stepping further into the light. “This is no toy.”
The woman tilted her head, gave the sword a second, longer look, than glanced Neda again, as if trying to see who she was behind her mask. “So I see. Who are you?”
Flustered by the question, Neda jutted her chin forward. “I… I’m Daena Falisse Duresia, Princess of Averest, Champion of the Alund, Lady of a Thousand Tears, and I want you to get away from my friend.”
She pursed her lips together thoughtfully. “I know why don’t like masks,” she said and leaned close to whisper. “It’s because you’re wearing a mask all the time.”
Continue reading →it had looked as if someone had plucked every star from the night sky and strung them across the river. Up close, it was like stepping into another world. Light from scores of magic-filled paper lanterns illuminated the ancient arcade with pools of shifting colors, rose and turquoise and violet and gold, and made the iridescent streamers and canopies of silvered linen shimmer with rainbows. Lush garlands of night-blooming flowers wrapped all the railings and arches, scenting the air with their sweet, unsubtle perfume, while fist-sized soap bubbles bobbed overhead, sprinkling showers of glitter whenever they popped onto the masked faces below.
Continue reading →“I’m a frog!” the Frog snapped back, and emphasized his point by hopping, frog-like, where he crouched on the prow. The whole boat rocked forward when he did it, alarming all the passengers, but especially the Ghost, who grabbed at the gunwale with an oath.
Continue reading →These were simple ovals of clay, painted with comic faces in shockingly bright colors. He stepped closer, and picked one of the faces at random from the rack. Bloated purple lips, spiky blue eyebrows, cheeks painted with lime-colored hearts. You’re supposed to be something you’re not, Neda had said. Well, this certainly qualified. Taking a deep breath, he slipped it on over his head.
Continue reading →She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered from the day they met. She was wearing a simple linen dress with a paint-spattered smock over it, her black hair tied up in a wispy knot on the top of her head. She kept sticking brushes in her mouth to hold them, and somehow she had gotten a dab of yellow paint on the tip of her nose. She was absolutely wonderful, and only his wayward fantasies of what might come later kept him seated and unmoving for the duration.
Continue reading →Romeric’s stomach lurched in a way that had nothing to do with food or hangovers. He understood what Neda and her father were talking about now, and why his friends were both looking so cursedly pale. “Maulath.” he said in a small voice. Literally, grief giver. There were stories about such creatures. Terrible stories. “In Jurat, it is maulith.”
Continue reading →It was a cat, Barris could see as he choked in a breath. But a cat that was the size of a large dog, and glowing. Dusky red light glinted through its bristling fur, shooting sparks and flashes of fire when it moved. Teeth bared, back arched, it whirled to face them with another wild, angry scream.
Continue reading →Head spinning, heart aching, Tierce swayed on his feet in middle of the Bridge of Blades, unable to stop the maelstrom of conflicting emotions that assaulted him. For the first time since he came to Corregal, he wished that he’d never met Sieur Eristan, because then he never would have met his beautiful daughter, who never would be, never could be, his. He wished he’d never come to Corregal at all.
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