There are only twelve of these mountains the whole world over, sprat. You’ve lived in the shadow of a legend your whole young life.”

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

No matter how many times he witnessed the miracle, he felt that when a sculptor combined stone, shape, and seal, something was born.

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

The master sculptor knew his place. Morven had called him. Morven had claimed him. Morven would keep him.”

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

This person was the embodiment of all the stories he’d ever heard about this race of foreign conquerors—skin like bronze, draped in jewels, and armed to the teeth.”

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

Easy now! Easy!” demanded an imperious voice. “This is priceless cargo, and I don’t want a single chip gone before its time!”

—Aurelius Harrow, MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

The boy looked barely old enough to blow his own nose, but the nubs of horns poked through his white-blond hair.”

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

Conquest ran hot in their blood. Ambition sharpened their fangs. Fear lent them fame.”

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

That’s the way, sprat. The more you look, the more you’ll find; the more you ask, the more answers you’ll receive. If you don’t stretch your boundaries, your world will remain quite small.”

—MEADOWSWEET by C. J. Milbrandt

Sitting on the spot, the boy tried to think of the sorts of things only he knew. Holding up one finger at a time, he silently made his list—where he liked to hide when the house was too noisy, the best place to catch fish, which tree the honeybees had chosen, his fondest wish, the promises he’d made, the things he dreamed about at night, what made him want to cry. Seven fingers already!

—MEADOWSWEET 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