Spindle, page 34
“So that’s why you kept cutting me off every time I tried to tell you about him! Luck, why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do?”
Luck flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Melissa was too quick for me. Took me by surprise. And then once the enchantment was there I couldn’t tell you anything without her learning about it, too. Good thing I’d already sorted out the spellpaper by then.”
Poly smoothed out threads in silence, stripping black from gold.
Luck said: “My head hurts.”
That wasn’t surprising, Poly thought, caressing each strand of magic back into place. Luck’s magic was in a worse state than she’d ever seen it. Some of her own magic, repurposed by Mordion, was responsible for a lot of the damage: she could see the familiar yet alien shards of it amidst Luck’s magic. “Poor darling,” she murmured.
Luck sat up, blinking, and said: “What did you call me?”
Poly froze, fingers caught in a web of magic that seemed to grip suddenly around her fingers, warm and tight.
“Poly. Poly, don’t you dare ignore me. Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to call me darling instead of the dog?”
“He’s not a dog,” she said automatically, hot and cold by turns because she’d slipped and Oh, how embarrassing! but Luck had said—what had he said?
“Well, I know that,” said Luck, in an entirely reasonable tone of voice. “But what else was I supposed to say when you were lavishing all those darlings on him instead of me?”
“How could I know that?” demanded Poly. “You were kissing Melissa and ignoring me all day!”
“I broke the curse long before that!” complained Luck. “You were supposed to understand that. I had to butcher the curse just to wake you up the first time but when I kissed you in the village the curse really broke.”
“Oh. Oh!” Poly gazed at him. “Love’s Kiss! It was in the curse!”
“That’s right,” said Luck, smiling sunnily.
“I see,” said Poly. She felt breathless and light, and as free as she had felt the moment she knew she was released from Mordion’s claim on her.
“I hope you don’t mind my not asking your parents for your hand in marriage,” said Luck. His magic was curling tighter around her fingers and coiling up her wrists. “I’m fairly certain they know, anyway.”
Poly gave a little spurt of laughter. “I’m sure they do.”
“I did want to ask you something, though,” said Luck. His hands, gilded with magic, seized her by the waist and pulled her closer. “If I kiss you, will you promise not to hit me again?”
The End
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Blackfoot
The Two Monarchies Sequence
Book Two
Bad luck is the least of their worries…
Annabel has never wanted a cat. She certainly didn’t want a secretive, sarcastic black cat who takes over her pillow and makes remarks that no one else ever seems to hear. Despite that, Blackfoot manages to slink into her life like a small, furry shadow.
Now Annabel and her friend Peter are being over-run by cats. More and more arrive each day, turning up at the old castle ruins where Annabel and Peter spend most of their time. And some of those cats aren’t as…friendly…as Blackfoot.
When someone tries to kill Annabel and a spell goes very badly wrong, they find themselves trapped in the castle ruins, which are now growing back at an alarming rate. Even more alarming is the fact that the person who tried to kill Annabel is rapidly gaining control over the magical ruins.
Worst of all, Blackfoot knows more than he’s telling, and what he’s not telling could be enough to get them all killed.
Staff & Crown
The Two Monarchies Sequence
Book Three
Three years have passed since Annabel defeated Mordion in the Royal Castle and became the Queen Heir of New Civet. That’s a good thing, since the Castle spat her out three years into the past.
Three years of statecraft, politics, and meeting important people are over. Now, before she is officially acknowledged as the Queen Heir, Annabel will face her biggest challenge: Trenthams Finishing School for Young Ladies.
To win her Staff and Crown, Annabel had to deal with a deadly foe, a self-aware castle, and a more-than-slightly-potty wizard. Now she will contend with corsets, diets, and sharp-tongued socialites; not to mention the Old Parrasian revolution that seems to be brewing in the bowels of the school itself.
In fact, Trenthams might be even more dangerous and cryptic than the Royal Castle. It’s a good thing Annabel has the staff, her cat, and her trusty advisor, Isabella…
W.R. Gingell, Spindle
