In the war room, love? What if someone comes in?” I stood and removed his shirt. “Then they’ll have a good story to tell.” “Good?” He adopted the pretense of being offended. “Prove me wrong.

Sleep? What's that? A new type of casserole?

Nothing like having a warrant for your execution to get a girl motivated.

No," I said. "I'm not safe, Belen. Who is going to tear Kerrick's arm off if he hits me again? Come on," I urged. "Stay with us".

Unfortunately, diplomacy was a dance I needed to learn.

In keeping with his cryptic nature, all your Story Weaver said was 'The horses know where to go.' It's certainly not a military strategy I would use, but I've learned that the south uses its own strategy. And, strangely enough, it works.

I did what any good rat would do. I bit down on the guard's hand until I tasted blood.