#tsaf

Chill

Forcing herself to descend the worn staircase, Adelaide clutched her dagger closer to her chest. The hilt radiated heat. By the time she’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Adelaide had begun to wish she’d stayed at Castle Belmont, or had gone straight to the docks to inquire about the medicine directly with Mistress Scrabs’s privateer. But it was too late to turn back now.

Adelaide did her best to tamp down the chill that crawled down her spine. The voices became more distinguishable with each step she took. She stuck to the shadows between the bouncing light cast by the flickering lanterns, hiding behind crates and barrels scattered throughout the cellar and along the walls.

Hand

“Most people who are ‘all right’ don’t wince,” Archduke Hughes said, observing her closely. “If you’re injured, say so.”

“I…well, it’s my wrist,” Adelaide finally conceded. “But I’m sure it’s just a minor sprain. Thank you for your concern, Your Grace.”

The Archduke hummed, his lips pursed. He didn’t ask as he grasped hold of her hand once more and gingerly maneuvered it to examine her wrist.

“William, don’t just stand there, bring me my bag,” he called to the other rider.

Work

As he passed by Viktor’s stall, the gray steed tried to nip at his cloak. Gavin held a finger up to his lips and hushed him. Gavin offered him a carrot, knowing Viktor had worked just as tirelessly on their journey to transport the Eye of Behelwer. The horse accepted it graciously, making Gavin shake his head. He would be so lucky if Aves greeted him the same way. Moving on to the next stall, Gavin watched as Aves turned his back to the stall door as Gavin stopped to unlatch the bolt.

No Pressure Tagging:

Shore Leave:

"No." Magistrate Wheeler cuts into his sausage and blood pudding, forking a piece into his mouth. The conversation has ended, and with guests at the table, Ellie cannot even say her piece. Her hands clench her skirts under the table, marring the fine watered silk that Cousin Maria sent down from London, a gift for Ellie's coming out ball this eve.

She thinks of the beaten bronze mirror that her dead mother, Consuela, brought back from the ruins of some palace on the shores of the Caspian Sea, and how her reflection had looked inside, rippled and strange, like a echo from an shadowy age when the world was still young. "But I just turned eighteen!" Ellie hates how high her voice has gone, like a child's.

"That is my word, Elena, and my word is final." Her father clears his throat, making eye contact with the thief taker on his right as he wipes greasy fingers on his napkin.

"I must say, Miss Wheeler, you are looking a trifle peaked." Across from Ellie, her father's former protégée, a thief taker from London by the name of Shaw, levels a smile upon her.

His eyes are so blue, her maid had giggled behind her hand as she did Ellie's hair for breakfast. He is so very handsome, Miss.

Shaw's teeth are straight and white and Ellie cannot help but feel her guts churn at the thought of her freedom from the schoolroom being ended so suddenly by the shackles of marriage.

The Stars Are Fire

Kenna shakes her head at the memory, and the comb catches on a rebellious knot, working its way free. If she closes her eyes, she can still smell the grasslands burning, all the way to the wine dark sea that roiled with red-sailed warships.

"There." Lena pats Kenna on the shoulder. "I shall send the maid in with the tongs, although it seems regrettable to waste such beauty on the Games." The mistress of the scholae gives a soft chuckle, her voice still fair and fine though her knees crack when she rises.

Kenna smiles up at Lena, placing a finger on her wrist. "Thank you. And my beauty will not be wasted. After all, the general has secured my company for this engagement." Her stomach roils at the thought of his hands on her skin, lips trailing down her stomach as she lies in the bed.

If she were still warrior queen of the tribes, he would not dare. No man would. Save one. The man she cannot think of here, the man she has put from her mind all these long, lonely years.

For the world may end tomorrow, but I would not dare face the gods for my reckoning without a taste of eternity from your lips.

One night, when the world seemed like it lay open before the two of them, boundless and breathtaking. One night, when she was yet a girl who fought to unite the tribes and avenge her mother's death. One night, before the world was torn asunder, and Kenna met her reckoning upon the grasslands, her moirāe sealed.