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Blood and Gold Trilogy

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. Banished to Victorian London “Auburdeen Perneila Hayle,” Sassafras hissed, the amber glow from his cat eyes growing until the front of the wicker cage shone with it, “you will do whatever you can to behave yourself, to not embarrass me or your mother and to absolutely under every circumstance maintain a firm hand on your horrid temper.” My anger simmered. Yes, I had a temper. And yes, it had taken me into situations in the past that perhaps I shouldn't have been part of, situations that usually devolved into fistfights and incoherent yelling at the offender. He should be grateful I always kept control of myself enough my magic never came into play. Except that one time. But it wasn't my fault. Not really. And the offender recovered. Eventually. Auburdeen Hayle is the sixteen-year-old daughter of the next leader of her coven. When the transition of power becomes tense, Burdie is sent from her home in America to stay with old friends in London to keep her safe. But a handsome young man chooses to hide from the police in her hansom, drawing Burdie into an underground world of magic that challenges even her sense of adventure and puts her at odds with the very people who are meant to protect her.

Patti Larsen · 奇幻
分數不夠
82 Chs

Chapter 54: Infection

No one spoke of Umber's departure the next day when the group packed up and moved on shortly after dawn. I glanced back from my seat beside Nona, amazed how completely the maji cleaned their tracks. Aside from the crushed grass and the gaping sand pit covering the old fire, it was as if no one had been there at all.

Josephine rode beside me, her hood pulled down over her face against the gray sky of early morning and I took the fact as a signal she didn't wish to talk. Nona herself looked as closed and unhappy as she had the day before when we crossed her path, the sweet woman with the lovely laugh long gone. No conversation available there either, it seemed. Which meant I spent the next several hours going over and over the happenings of the night before in my mind, thoughts spinning outward to my entire time in England and how everything had gone so horribly wrong.

The sudden halt of the wagon brought me out of my misery, a jab from Nona's rather bony elbow helping me along.