Lightning clawed across the sky, tracing veins through the clouds and marking the pulse of the universe itself.
His voice was as easy as a summer breeze, but it carried a hint of wildfire smoke.
Do not make me knock your turban off.
This was not the behavior Lada expected from Vlad Dracul. From her father. From a dragon. A dragon did not crawl on its belly in front of its enemies, begging for their help. A dragon did not vow to rid the world of infidels, and then invite them into its home. A dragon did not flee its land in the middle of the night like a criminal. A dragon burned everything around herself until it was purified in ash.
I have found that one can either keep secrets or keep servants.
Biting into her fig, she trailed her fingers along the rough, waxy leaves of an untrimmed hedge and pretended she was in Wallachia. Radu heard it first. “Listen,” he whispered. “Someone is crying.” “And it is not you. What a wonder.
This is the tragedy of knowing my fate: I have seen how it ends, and I will walk right into it, and nothing will change.
What’s wrong? You look as though someone has died. Oh, no, someone has, haven’t they?
What exactly does a friend do?
The way his eyes widened showed that, at last, he realized her threat had not been idle.
Watchers were meant to guide Slayers – the Chosen Ones specially endowed to fight demons – but over the centuries we evolved to be more hands-on. Watchers have to make the hard decisions, and sometimes the hard decisions include weapons. Swords. Spells. Knives.
Arthur was carved from the same stuff as Camelot – regal and majestic. But Mordred belonged out here, with her.
I know it’s been rough on her – it’s been rough on everyone, having the entire world change yet again. But we do what Watchers do: We keep going.
Arthur felt as though he were being read like a book, and wondered whether this girl would like his story.
The central aspect I wanted to explore was the path a person takes to get to the point where they can justify doing terrible things in the name of good. What motivations sway them? What stones laid in childhood become the foundation legacies are built on?
Lada remembered that one. She only really cared for the old stories, the ones about battles and lions and armies. She had no use for Jesus with his parables and healing. She liked the wrathful god, the god of vengeance and war.
Bogdan screamed as Lada – Ladislav, now five, refused to answer to her full name – bit down on his thigh. He punched her. She bit harder, and he cried for help. “If she wants to eat your leg, she is allowed,” the nurse said. “Quit screaming or I will let her eat your supper, too.
Make him shut up!” Lada climbed over her father’s largest hound, grizzled and patient with age. “How should I do that?” “Smother him!
She would never be able to stop fighting. Even victories that should be hers would be taken from her by faithless men. They would forever choose each other instead of her – choose treaties and tradition over a genuine chance for change.
The more pliable the prince, the more power they had. And who could be more pliable than a simple girl, playing at the throne?