Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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The age lines feathering from Aunt Ellena's eyes creased deeper as she squinted back, not quite understanding.
I tipped my chin toward Markel, returning from the kitchens with a large silver tray stacked with what looked like small buns.
My aunt's mouth fell open in shock. Embarrassment colored her cheeks a stark crimson, and she anxiously fussed with her hair. "I'm not sure that—"
I interrupted her and forged on. "Perhaps you two could take your motorbikes out for a ride." I knew that Markel had a Harley he rode on occasion. My eyes flared wide—I could just see it now, both of them riding up the twisting roads of the mountain that overlooked the vast city of Ascendria and its gorgeous glassy lake.
"It's hardly a motorbike," my aunt whisper-hissed leaning closer, referring to her silver Vespa.
"You can say that again," came from behind her, laughter and a challenge in Markel's voice.
Fire lit up my aunt's eyes as she spun his way. "It can get up a bit of speed."
Markel placed the tray down on the table, and the delicious smell of brioche buns filled with walnuts and sticky sweet dates had my stomach murmuring hungrily.
My aunt sniffed with indignation. "It's surprisingly good for off-roading too, perfect for dirt trails. Besides, yours is loud and obnoxious and—"
"Full of power," Markel cut in, giving me a wink.
"I haven't ridden it for years," Aunt Ellena replied, dropping her gaze to her hands as she wrung them. But even I recognized it was a weak protest. "I'm not even sure if it's going to run."
"Well, if not you can always ride on mine. You can sit on the b—"
"Don't you dare!" my aunt interrupted with a shriek, clamping her hands over my ears.
With her attempt at keeping propriety, and me adorned in my pink mittens and pompom knitted hat, I felt seven years old all over again.
Beneath her pressed hands, Markel's burst of laughter was a rich sonorous sound and only slightly muffled. It was a full belly laugh that had him rocking back on his heels with his head thrown back. He shook his silver-tipped head at her, brown cheeks pinking, then rubbed his mouth with his scarred fingers until it relaxed out of the grin. Though he'd gotten himself under control, his brown eyes sparkled with mirth. "The back of my bike is what I was going to say, Ellena."
My aunt huffed and continued to glare back at him. She slowly let go of my ears. I knew exactly what she thought he was going to say, but she had no idea that I knew that particular phrase because of the type of books I read.
Markel picked up a plate of sliced fruit, offering it to my aunt. "I'll take a look at your cute little Vespa, Ellena."
My aunt preened. "It is cute." She picked an apple slice and took a crunchy bite.
