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What Makes Patri

 


Hate You Forever

by Denver Rose
Release Date: January 31st 2022
Goodreads | Amazon

Synopsis:

I, Tara Mangal, take thee, Marnix Taylor, to have and to hold from this day forward.
For better, for worse, for richer, poorer, in sickness, and in health.
To love and to cherish, till death do us part.

Or at least that’s the story we’re spinning to the world...

My new husband is an infuriating, stubborn man with no remorse, no sense of humor, and no idea of what love or marriage is supposed to be about.

Good thing I didn’t pick him because I actually wanted to marry him.

The only reason I agreed to his ridiculous terms was to escape being married off to another man. A man my parents had chosen, not knowing he was dead set on destroying me.

I barely escaped a life with the monster of a man from my past, only to have three new ones dropped into my lap.

Marnix Taylor, my savage husband who can take anyone down with one look.
Cohutta Reilly, the sweet, playful jokester who also happens to be my husband's best friend.
And Rushton Bergman, the quiet, brooding bodyguard, determined to protect me at all costs.

The three of them may think they can control me, but they will soon learn that Tara Mangal can’t be tamed. Not even by the three hottest men in Craibridge.


Hate You Forever is book one in the Hate Series. It is a reverse harem novel with themes like marriage of convenience, enemies-to-lovers, and bodyguard romance. This series takes place in the same fictional city of Craibridge as Love in Sight and Love Triggered, and will contain some character cross over, but is a standalone series. You don't have to read the others to read this series!

TW: Book contains material only appropriate for 18+. May contain situations or talk concerning abuse, r@pe, drugs, violence.



HATE YOU FOREVER is the first book I read by Denver Rose, but after finishing and leaving me on that major cliffhanger, I am definitely reading more of her books.

Our story starts with Tara and her family restaurant on the brink of being taken away from her. She has been working hard to make her family proud, and being independent, but the restaurant is struggling. 
Marnix, one of our boys we will swoon over and want to slap from time to time, is a rich lawyer from the other side of town. He overhears a conversation Tara is having on the phone with her parents while eating at her restaurant that will trigger the events in the story.
After meeting Tara, the attraction is undeniable even though Tara is not falling head over heels for him as women normally do. That's also when he learns that in order to inherit the company his father left him, he needs to be married within 3 years and it has to be for at least 1 year before the company is legally his. Otherwise the company goes to his father's partner (who we hate, cause he is a horrible person).
That's when Marnix or Nix, decides to marry Tara and when Tara meets Rush and Reilly. One becomes her bodyguard and confidant, the other turns out to be a lover Tara had prior meeting Nix.

The chemistry, the sexual tension, banter and arguments between the characters is everything you need in a love-hate reverse harem story. I am not going to lie and say I did not find myself not wanting to shake Nix until he stopped being an idiot, but the story process was beautiful.

I didn't know how strong of a MC Tara is until we went deeper into the story. The more you read and you discover, the more you admire her and want to slap Marnix (maybe gently) for not seeing the right signs.

To add a little spice into the mix, we also get to read from different POVs. Which definitely helps to build the characters in your mind and why the do what they do. I personally find this aspect really important when we are reading a love-hate relationship. 

As always, when things are looking like they might have a happy ending, a cliffhanger is thrown into the mix, the bad guy pops out with an "aha" and we are left devastated because why would you not protect and stop the hate towards our MC? But hey, hell breaks loose and I CANNOT WAIT to see what will happen next. I hope Nix gets put in his place for being an idiot with trust issues and the bad guy gets what he deserves. I hope book 2 is Tara raising from the ashes and serving some well deserved justice.

If you love love-hate relationships, I highly recommend this book. It has the extra added hotness that it's a reverse harem. The book does contain some dark themes, so please check the trigger warnings before starting it.

Trigger warnings: This book contains abuse, rape, drugs and violence. If these topics are not appropriate for you, I would recommend to check other titles. 




January 27, 2022 No comments

Underworld Bride Trials 1: Playboy King

by Meg Xuemei X. 
Publication date: May 18th 2021
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy
Goodreads | Amazon

Synopsis:

LOKI

She walks in on me fucking another woman for sport.
Her blue eyes burn like twin suns at daybreak when they train on me.
One sniff in her direction, and I know she’s mine.
Ice to my pyre.
Scenting its fated mate, my wolf beast awakens for the first time and roars with hellfire.
Heat sears through my veins. I’ve never been so aroused by any other female.
But Tessa Morrigan can’t be my queen.
She came too late.
I’ve started the Underworld Bride Trials. All the contestants must fight to the death until the last one stands by my side to claim the crown.

MORRIGAN
Loki, the hot new boss of Hell, is hosting a bachelorette contest. He thinks it’s funny to have a troop of women fighting to the death over him.
But he doesn’t expect to attract the most lethal assassin and a rejected queen to his selection game. I didn’t come to ride the playboy king’s sexy body or be Queen of the Underworld. I promised Lucifer his son’s head on a gold platter.
I’ve been burned before and vowed never to let a handsome, powerful man touch me again. Yet when Loki and I lay eyes upon each other, sizzling chemistry scorches us. Under his ruthless bad boy exterior hides another man, one that ignites flames inside my icy heart.


“Care to join us, little bunny?” he offered with an enticing smile. “I won’t bite.”

“You expect me to believe that? With that big bad wolf smirk?” I said. “You must think you’re cute when you hide your fangs.”

“I was trying to help.” He grinned wider. “I’m a friendly guy. And I know you’re very much aroused. I know your type.”

“You know shit. That’s what you know and what you’ll get,” I sneered, my voice husky. “And you have no shame.”

He threw his head back and let out a snarky laugh. “What a mouth you have. I wonder what else it can do.”

He had the nerve to dip his eyes toward my lips.

“I can give you a list if you ask nicely next time,” I said sweetly. “This mouth can do wonders, but it’s also full of tiny fangs. I hope they catch your fancy.”

“My kind of fancy girl,” he purred again, then curiosity sparked in his heated eyes. “Why aren’t you afraid of me like the others?”

Afraid of him? I was a great assassin from another world and another time. I came to take his head! Lucifer had specific requirements.

I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Who are you?” he asked after a quiet moment. He must have sensed the surge of menace from me, though he didn’t appear alarmed.

The cocky bastard.

“Your worst nightmare, Demon King,” I said, heat and ice and hate swirling in my eyes all at once.


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Meg Xuemei X is a USA Today and Amazon Charts bestselling author of paranormal and fantasy romance. She finds it delightful to be around drop-dead gorgeous alpha males who are forever tormented by her feisty heroines, unseelie fae, dark vampires, menacing demigods, demon A-holes and fallen angels, fun shifters, and cunning witches.



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May 23, 2021 No comments

Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy #1)

by Rory Miles
Publication date: May 18th 2021
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Reverse Harem, Romance
Goodreads | Amazon

Synopsis:

One bite changed my life.

I was living life to the fullest when a wolf attacked.

Now I’ve been ripped from my home and shipped off to Bad Moon Academy, a place for changed wolves. Or so I’m told.

There’s something sinister lurking within the confines of the academy, and I’m starting to think I was brought here as a sacrifice.

This is a dark academy reverse harem with dangerously possessive shifters.


“Pack magic prevents unauthorized people from leaving. You haven’t been granted permission to leave.” He runs a finger over one of the cuts on my palm.

I hiss. “The whole stabbing part seems a bit extreme.”

He hums and sniffs my palm. “This won’t do.” Slipping his tongue past his lips, he licks my hand.

“Hey, gross. Don’t.” I try to yank away again, but his hold tightens.

Lifting his gaze to meet mine, he hovers his mouth above my skin. “Would you rather the vampires smell your blood and come for you?”

Vampires?

I wrinkle my nose and press my eyebrows together. “No.”

“Then let me finish.” Strands of dark hair fall across his forehead, and I fight the urge to brush them away from his eyes.

Am I really going to give him permission to lick me?

Do I really want to be eaten by vampires?

Absolutely not.

“Fine, but hurry.”

He smiles and tsks. “You can’t rush perfection, Little Red.”

I press my lips together and watch him lick my wounds clean. He slowly rolls his tongue over the cuts. Once the blood is gone from those, he slips my index finger inside his mouth and sucks on it. My knees knock together, heat flaring low in my belly. With a gasp, I place my hand on his shoulder to stay upright. He chuckles, and the sound vibrates against my finger as he drags his mouth to the end of it and moves to my middle one.

“Draco! Release her.” Carter doesn’t sound happy.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I say over my shoulder. He’s storming toward us and looks ready to knock Draco out. “The gate cut me, and he’s getting rid of the blood before the vampires— “

“Vampires?” Carter scoffs. “Moons, Draco, is that what you told her?”

The man in question swirls his tongue over my bloodied finger and places a chaste kiss at the tip before releasing my wrist, standing, and smirking at Carter.

“I was helping.”

Carter crosses his arms over his chest. “Fucking hell. What is your problem?”




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Rory Miles is an avid reader, consumer of chocolate, and lover of cats. Her books can best be described as snarky with a healthy amount of romance.



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May 22, 2021 No comments

Ruinsong

by Julia Ember
Published by: Farrar Straus and Giroux
Publication date: November 24th 2020
Genres: Fantasy, LGBTQ+, Romance, Young Adult
Goodreads | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Synopsis:

In Julia Ember’s dark and lush LGBTQ+ romantic fantasy Ruinsong, two young women from rival factions must work together to reunite their country, as they wrestle with their feelings for each other.

Her voice was her prison…
Now it’s her weapon.

In a world where magic is sung, a powerful mage named Cadence must choose between the two. For years, she has been forced to torture her country’s disgraced nobility at her ruthless queen’s bidding.

But when she is reunited with her childhood friend, a noblewoman with ties to the underground rebellion, she must finally make a choice: Take a stand to free their country from oppression, or follow in the queen’s footsteps and become a monster herself.



Cadence 

I allow Lacerde to dress me without turning to examine myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see how I look, how they’ve fashioned me. In my mind, I already see stains of blood on the muslin fabric of my skirt, dotting the white leather of my gloves. Lacerde adjusts my skirt and smooths my hair. Then, with a grunt, she bends down and buffs my new shoes to a gleam. 

She opens the door for me so I don’t get my gloves dirty and leads me down the dark corridor. My dressing room is the only one in use. All the others are boarded up, so that no one will use them to hide. 

I imagine what the Opera Hall must have been like years ago, when so many singers performed here together for more willing audiences. The corridors would have been filled with the sounds of laughter, rustling taffeta costumes, and a chorus of warm-up scales. Above, the audience would be straining to get inside the house, clinking glasses together at the theatre bar, speculating on the wonders to come. 

If I strain my ear, I can still hear the echo of their merriment in the walls, obscured by the more recent cacophony of despair and pain. The smell of thousands of spellsongs, layered atop one another for centuries, lingers in the musty air. It’s been eight years since this place functioned as a real theatre, but the Opera Hall remembers. 

We climb the stairs up onto the stage. Elene and Lord Durand, her newly elevated pet footman, stand together on the edge, shouting instructions down to the conductor in the orchestra pit. 

Elene glances up and nods to Lacerde, who positions me at center stage without releasing me. It’s as if they think I will run, even though there is no where to go. 

No one has dimmed the gas lamps that line the theatre’s aisles yet, so I have a full view. The theatre is much grander than our replica at the academy. The ceiling bears a centuries-old mural of Adela gifting the first mage with magic. The singer kneels beside the sacred pool, and the goddess rises from the water, her mouth open with song and her arms spread wide. Musical notes surround them, each flecked with real gold leaf. 

Portraits of the three other goddesses border the mural. Odetta, the goddess of spring and renewal, wearing a silver mask that covers her eyes and cheeks, and holding a sparrow’s skeleton in her cupped hands. Karina, goddess of justice and winter, thin and draped in a linen sheath, with her arms wide. Marena, the autumn goddess of war, chin lifted proudly, staring down with her hypnotic purple eyes, bejeweled with human teeth. 

Beneath, row upon row of tightly packed red velvet seats stretch back to the imposing black doors at the rear of the theatre. They’re made from mageglass, a material designed by the elementals: sand spun, dyed and hardened so that not even diamond bullets could shatter it. Hundreds of people will fill the house tonight. Dame Ava, the queen’s former principal, told me that sometimes there are so many that folk have to stand along the walls. 

My knees start to shake at the sight. My mouth goes dry. 

All these seats. All these people. My unshed tears blur the rows of red seats together, like a smear of blood.


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Julia Ember is the author of The Seafarer's Kiss duology, a Norse myth inspired retelling of The Little Mermaid, published by Interlude Press (Duet Books), and Ruinsong, a standalone high fantasy reimagining of The Phantom of the Opera, forthcoming from Macmillan Kids (FSG) in November 2020. She lives with her wife and two fluffy cats in the Pacific Northwest.



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November 24, 2020 1 comments

 

Hello beautiful bookish people,

Today I have a cover to share with you all from one of my favourite authors. If you stick until the end, you will also have the opportunity to enter the author's giveaway!

The beautiful Intisar Khanani is releasing a short story prequel to her multi-starred fantasy series, Dauntless Path.

Brambles (Dauntless Path #3)

by Intisar Khanani
Release Date: December 7th 2020
Cover Designer: Jenny Zemanek
Goodreads

Synopsis:

In the kingdom of Adania, everyone knows what Princess Alyrra did to earn the court's contempt, her mother's disdain, and her brother's hatred.

She betrayed her own.

Yet, the truth hides another story, one of honor and honesty, of a princess gambling her own life for another's. It's a tale of courage and consequences, and a choice that can never be undone.

A short story prequel to her multi-starred fantasy, Thorn, Intisar Khanani's "Brambles" gives Alyrra's account of what really happened all those years ago, and how a few critical days turned her life into a daily fight for survival.




“I’ve got a secret,” Valka says, stepping up beside me. We stand at the edge of the roughly cobbled courtyard before the hall, mud sticking to our boots and our cloaks flapping in the chill spring breeze. 

The last of this morning’s departing carriages rolls toward the gates. Edlyna nods regally through the carriage window at us. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know it?” Valka presses. 

I glance helplessly around, as if someone might appear to rescue me. But of course, Valka has timed her approach perfectly: Mother has already departed with her coterie of vassals, and my brother hasn’t bothered to come at all. There are a few other nobles who have yet to leave for their lands for the summer, including Maralinde. But, along with the rest, she’s busy packing. Unlike Valka, unfortunately. 

“If it’s a secret, you shouldn’t tell anyone,” I say, shifting uneasily. “You’re such a mouse, Alyrra.” Valka gives a sweet, tinkling little laugh. The sound of it makes my skin prickle. I’ve heard that laugh enough times now to know that what she has to share will hardly be innocent.


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Intisar Khanani grew up a nomad and world traveler. Born in Wisconsin, she has lived in five different states as well as in Jeddah on the coast of the Red Sea. She first remembers seeing snow on a wintry street in Zurich, Switzerland, and vaguely recollects having breakfast with the orangutans at the Singapore Zoo when she was five. She currently resides in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her husband and two young daughters. 

Until recently, Intisar wrote grants and developed projects to address community health with the Cincinnati Health Department, which was as close as she could get to saving the world. Now she focuses her time on her two passions: raising her family and writing fantasy. Intisar’s debut novel, Thorn, was picked up by HarperTeen and will be re-released in Winter 2020. In the meantime, she’s hard at work on the remaining books of The Sunbolt Chronicles.




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October 19, 2020 No comments

 


Out of the Ashes (The Hellbound Hellion, #1)

by Tansey Morgan
Publication date: September 20th 2020
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance 

Goodreads | Amazon

Synopsis:

Fresh out of Hell and into the arms of angels. For a demon, nothing could be worse.

When a bunch of cultists drag me out of Hell to be their promised, demonic slave, I don’t have a choice but to slash their throats and claw my way to freedom. But the fight leaves me weak, and wounded I fall into the hands of the only thing worse than cultists.

Angels.

An overprotective guardian without a flock to watch over. A zealous lightbringer forced to pick sides. A lusty warrior hungry for a good… fight.

Escape is impossible. Each of them alone has enough power to destroy me utterly. Except they don’t. Turns out I’ve fallen into a warzone, angels are murdering angels, and I might be the answer to their problems.

Only I’ve got problems of my own. I have a demonic overlord to hunt down and kill for selling me like cattle. But first I have to shake the angels off, if I could only resist the pull of their bodies.

Out of the Ashes is a sizzling, enemies to lovers with sharp teeth and even sharper plot twists! If you’re looking for a fast, exciting read, then look no further – scroll up and pre-order now!


 Website | Goodreads | Facebook Page | Facebook Group | Instagram


Tansey Morgan is an up and coming author of Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy novels with a twist. Having published 11 novels in less than that many months, Tansey has quickly made a name for herself in the space. If your kind of books have magic, danger, strong, powerful females, and more hot guys than you could sink your teeth into in one sitting, then you've come to the right place!

If you want to keep in touch with Tansey and find out when her new books are ready for release, join her Facebook group here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/tanseymorgan


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September 20, 2020 No comments


The Hollow Gods (The Chaos Cycle Series, #1)

A.J. Vrana
Publisher: Parliament House
Publication date: July 28th 2020
Genres: Dark Fantasy, Magical Realism, New Adult

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Synopsis:

Isolated in the forests of Western Canada, Black Hollow is a town with a dark secret. For centuries, residents have foretold the return of the Dreamwalker—an ominous figure from local folklore said to lure young women into the woods with the help of wolves, and possess them. Yet the boundary between fact and fable is blurred by a troubling statistic: every now and again, women do go missing. And after they return, they almost always end up dead. 

When Kai wakes up next to the body of a recently missing girl, his memory blank, he struggles to clear his already threadbare conscience. Miya, a floundering university student, experiences signs that she may be the Dreamwalker’s next victim and finds herself caught between a supernatural kidnapping and a senseless murder. And after the death of a young patient, crestfallen oncologist Mason embarks on a quest to debunk the town’s superstitions, only to find his sanity tested.

Yet a maelstrom of ancient grudges, forgotten traumas, and deadly secrets loom in the foggy forests of Black Hollow. Can three unlikely heroes put aside their fears, and unite to confront a centuries old evil? Will they uncover the truth behind the fable, or will the cycle repeat?




When Miya returned from the dream, her eyes were already open, but she was unable to move—paralyzed even though she was wide awake. Her heart crashed against her ribs, and her breath caught in her throat, every tendon and muscle taut with desperation. She couldn’t open her mouth, scream, or even gasp for air. All she could do was look right in front of her.

The phantom woman from the dream hovered directly above her, her face inches away as she mirrored Miya’s prostrate form. Miya could see the mask clearly now—a hard, bone shell, shaped like a raven’s beak. It extended down her face in a sharp V, past her lips and over the edge of her chin. The mask was decorated with gleaming black and purple that swirled together like oil and water, slick against the smooth, flawless ivory. Her lips—quirked at the edges—descended towards Miya’s.

Miya squeezed her eyes shut, trying to kick and thrash—whatever she could do to get away. Her skin crawled with spiders, invisible parasites burrowing their way inside her until she was unable to fight the fear any longer. Miya implored the spectre, bargaining with the only thing she felt the woman might want.

I’ll go back to the dream, Miya told her. I’ll follow you—wherever you want. I swear. Please, just let me go.

Air rushed down Miya’s throat with such force that her lungs burned when she finally managed to gasp. Her eyes shot open, beads of sweat trickling down her face as she tore over every inch of her room. The apparition was no longer there.

Miya’s hand twitched as she flexed her fingers, testing her ability to move. She breathed in again, this time slower, willing herself to stop shaking but with little success. She’s no longer here, Miya repeated. Her mind was racing, her senses screaming, but she had, somehow, regained control.

Miya sat up, remembering what it was like to be inside her own body. She had the distinct sense of having gone somewhere she shouldn’t have—somewhere she risked never coming back from. A bizarre thought to have about a nightmare, but Miya knew in her bones that this was more than a dream. She’d looked into Medusa’s eyes and barely evaded turning to stone.

For a brief moment, the fog lifted, and she remembered the events of her first dream—the one that came before last night’s. Not only that, her knowledge of the fable had returned. In a frantic tumble, Miya threw herself at the bedside table and reached for her journal. She couldn’t afford to forget again; she had to write it down. She needed to know what came next. But the second the tip of her pen connected with the paper, Miya had no idea what to write. She stared down at the lines, her mind as blank as the page in front of her.

The dreams and the fable were gone.


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A. J. Vrana is a Serbian-Canadian academic and writer currently residing in Toronto, Canada with her two rescue cats, Moonstone and Peanut Butter. Her doctoral research focuses on the supernatural in modern Japanese and former-Yugoslavian literature and its relationship to violence. When not toiling away at caffeine-fueled, scholarly pursuits, she enjoys jewelry-making, cupcakes, and concocting dark tales to unleash upon the world.



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July 28, 2020 No comments


The Merciful Crow (The Merciful Crow #1)

by Margaret Owen
Publisher: Henry Holt (BYR)
Release Date: July 30th 2019
Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy
 photo addtogoodreadssmall_zpsa2a6cf28.png photo B6096376-6C81-4465-8935-CE890C777EB9-1855-000001A1E900B890_zps5affbed6.jpg

Synopsis:

A future chieftain

Fie abides by one rule: look after your own. Her Crow caste of undertakers and mercy-killers takes more abuse than coin, but when they’re called to collect royal dead, she’s hoping they’ll find the payout of a lifetime.

A fugitive prince

When Crown Prince Jasimir turns out to have faked his death, Fie’s ready to cut her losses—and perhaps his throat. But he offers a wager that she can’t refuse: protect him from a ruthless queen, and he’ll protect the Crows when he reigns.

A too-cunning bodyguard

Hawk warrior Tavin has always put Jas’s life before his, magically assuming the prince’s appearance and shadowing his every step. But what happens when Tavin begins to want something to call his own?



It was nigh midnight before they set foot on the League-High Bridge over the Hem. The great river thundered only a few hundred paces below, but for murder’s purpose, it worked near good as a league. Fie minded her step during the ten minutes it took to cross.
The moment her nail-studded soles touched gravel instead of cobblestone, Fie held her breath. If the royals meant to claw back their teeth, this was where the Hunting Castes would strike.
All of them strained to catch any hint of company. The long, terrible silence stretched thin and treacherous as young ice while Fie scoured every flicker of leaves for an ambush.
None came.
Maybe—just maybe—they’d done it.
Someone inhaled sharp. Then a deafening cry broke out:
“OH, I ONCE KNEW A LAD FROM ACROSS THE SEA, WITH A MOST PARTICULAR SPECIALTY—”
Madcap’s voice split the night like an axe, swinging into the bawdiest walking song Pa’d let them sing in Fie’s presence. The rest of the band broke into wheezing laughter, near weeping with relief.
“Twelve hells, Fie!” Wretch clung to the cart for dear life, slapping a knee. She had near as many years as Pa and twice as quick a temper, one of the few who’d known Pa when he was still called Cur, not yet Chief. She took the cat from Fie and scratched its brow. “I thought you’d ask the queen to throw in a crown for all that trouble!”
“What good’s a crown?” Swain drawled from behind Wretch. A flash of mirth leavened his perpetually dour voice. “She could have just asked to slap the king. Probably would’ve gone over better with Her Majesty.”
Madcap, a Crow allergic to dignity, snatched up Fie’s hands and wheeled her about the road in a giddy whirl, belting yet another lewd and anatomically improbable verse of “The Lad from Across the Sea.” Fie couldn’t help but throw back her head and laugh. Aye, they still had leagues to walk and bodies to burn, but—but she’d done it.
For once, she’d made the palace pay.
“Stop, stop,” Madcap wheezed, laughing as they clutched their stomach. “I’m like to barf!”
The two of them slowed to a drunken tilt near Pa. By all rights, he ought to be reeling with glee like the rest of the band.
He hadn’t even taken off his mask, staring straight back at Dumosa.
“Come on, chief—” Madcap started, but Pa cut them off.
“It’s not done yet. Save your dance for when the bodies burn.” Pa fired off the whistle-order to march.
Wretch passed the cat back to Fie, shaking her head at Pa’s back. An unease draped over the Crows once more. Madcap still hummed under their breath, and Swain muttered along after a few steps, but otherwise silence clung to the cart as they dragged it on.
The scattering of huts and god-grave shrines by the road eventually yielded to the twist-trunked, lichen-shawled forest. “The Lad from Across the Sea” wound down, another song rising in its wake, louder and steadier. Soon the only marks of Dumosa were glimpses of a gilded crust over dark hills, sometimes sparking through the trees.
“Here.”
Pa’s voice cut through the night, snipping off the walking song’s last verse. He thrust his torch into the soft dirt by the roadside. The cart creaked to a halt as Pa shucked his mask and nodded at Fie and the tabby.
“No strays we can’t eat, girl.”
“Not a stray, she’s mine,” Fie returned. “My share of the viatik.”
Pa huffed a short chuckle. “Covenant’s crap she is, Fie, but we’ll talk your share later. What’s her name, then?”
She thought of the steward’s queasy face and Madcap’s dance and grinned. “Barf.”
“That’s proper.” Pa ran a hand over his bald crown. All his hair had migrated south to his short salt-and-pepper beard long years past. “Now let’s see about these boys, eh?”
Fie leaned on the edge of the cart and studied the two shrouds lying among splits of kindling. “Big,” she said. The prince had been near a year her elder, and clearly both boys had been better fed. “Dunno if we have enough firewood for both.”
“Will if we douse ’em in flashburn,” Hangdog suggested, lounging over the cart’s other side.
Fie’s beak was only in the way now. She set Barf down in the cart and pushed back her hood to loosen the mask’s straps, letting it hang about her neck as she ran a hand through her chin-cropped tangle of black hair. It was a blessing to breathe clean night air and not the palace’s incense or her mask’s stale mint.
She had naught to fear of contagion. It was said that every Crow had fouled up something grand in their past lives, bad enough for the Covenant to strike them down with plague and boot them directly to a life of atonement in containing the disease. That Crows were born already in debt to the Covenant’s measures of sin. That it would not take them to their next life before that debt was paid.
So it was said, at least. Fie didn’t know how much of that rang true to her ear. But it was truth hard as iron that the Sinner’s Plague left only Crows untouched.
Death-stink hadn’t settled on the boys yet, but she still flinched at the crimson stains on their shrouds. Of all a chief’s duties, cutting throats was the one she dreaded most.
She reached into the cart, prodding what seemed like the nobler of the bloody heaps. “They really royals, Pa?”
“Just the one. Other was his body double.”

Fie tugged back the linen until torchlight landed on a boy’s rust-flecked face, looking for all the world like he was sleeping. Maybe a little afraid. Maybe he’d been awake when Pa’s blade touched his throat.
She pursed her lips. “So that’s what a sinner prince looks like.”
The dead boy sat up.
“Well, no,” he said, “but I’ve been told I’m fairly close.”







Born and raised at the end of the Oregon Trail, Margaret Owen spent her childhood haunting the halls of Powell’s Books. After earning her degree in Japanese, her love of espresso called her north to Seattle, where she worked in everything from thrift stores to presidential campaigns. The common thread between every job can be summed up as: lessons were learned.

She now spends her days wrestling disgruntled characters onto the page, and negotiating a long-term hostage situation with her two monstrous cats. (There is surprisingly little difference between the two.)





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July 30, 2019 No comments
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