Ulrica’s gaze gradually slipped out of focus. She’d relished street festivals when she was young, whirling gracefully through the complicated choreography of a traditional dagger dance, where a misstep could end in bloodshed and humiliation. Lovely times.
—HARROW by C. J. Milbrandt
Oh, he’s sly as bodkins, thick as blood, and generous as death,” Ulrica snapped in a sarcastic collection of multi-cultural sayings.
—RAKEFANG by C. J. Milbrandt
Tupper took a deep breath of the fragrant air and decided that waking brownstone might be his favorite of all. Brand held a taper to cinnabark and star-spice while Freydolf carefully added strips of thick, dried leaves that gave off a pleasant aroma as they smoldered.
“Scented oils work as well,” the Pred remarked instructionally. “And some kinds of perfume.”
—HARROW by C. J. Milbrandt
Thrall was generally given a wide berth, but she wasn’t dangerous by daylight. Neither was she sacred. Like every other statue wrested from Morven’s rock, she stood as a testament to her creator.
—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt
The alabaster statue was no longer in his elevated niche. Phineas stood gazing up at the beautiful mermaid perched at the fountain’s pinnacle, one of her hands upraised in a graceful stretch. She looked as if she was trying to pluck a star from the sky. If his sister’s stories were true, it was probably so she could give it to her prince.
—HARROW by C. J. Milbrandt
Torio stood silently at the window, gazing out past the garden wall. Beyond the hollyhocks and runner beans, there was a dusty road leading to another world—pink and ocher plains, the striped tents of spice traders, and basking stones where golden guardians lazed.
—RAKEFANG by C. J. Milbrandt
Tupper dashed ahead, but Freydolf ambled along at a slower pace, mindful of his surroundings, for the sprawling stoneworks were ultimately his responsibility. Their familiarity grounded him, their richness inspired him, and their complexity meant there was always a decent chance of spotting something he’d never noticed before.
—HARROW by C. J. Milbrandt
Compliments came few and far between, and it was even rarer to find someone who didn’t think him ill-suited to his calling. Freydolf was unaccountably pleased to earn Tupper’s solemn approval for the one choice that had robbed him of everything, yet given him everything he now held dear.
—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt
In a baffling blend of trans-continental traditions, Aurelius touched his forehead, his lips, and his chest, then bowed low. With careless deference, he intoned, “Sprat, for your foresight, your forays, and your forbearance where this big oaf is concerned, you have earned my gratitude! I shall proclaim it in Verit, Terse, Prose, and Skrit!”
—HARROW by C. J. Milbrandt
Farley caressed the coiled snake’s gleaming scales, cool and silken as the real thing. He smiled at the little guardian’s reaction, for his magic sparked and swirled in an eager bid for attention. His guardian might be small, but he was ten times more powerful than Olexi or Rimbles.
—RAKEFANG by C. J. Milbrandt
C. J. Milbrandt 