Aloysius, Cahir, and Iolo stood under the shade of the grape arbors in the garden, having not much more use. Boniface and Ignatius took the north side of the keep, and so far, the captain was just waiting for the mission to be over. He had something pressing left in Baric-Tref, one of those things that you couldn't take your eye off for very long. It was that important.
“The sun’s going to sleep,” yawned Cahir. “Captain? May we request retirement?”
Aloysius scoffed. “Never been on night duty, aye, Cahir?”
The boy indignantly shrugged. “Jist, tired, y’know.”

Mistake I

I am familiar with the

buzz the thrill the
hand gripping thigh
I will
regret this tomorrow

I let him with no
reaction I like the warmth

eyelids low

the bass in
his truck vibrates my
brain away the night is

alive I think
what time is it

Mistake II

I.
I just recall
the ringing in my ears and
my hands on
his chest and
the sway as I tried to
catch my balance blurry and
all I could see was his
mouth opening into a laugh
before

The leader of the Dusks knew it would be easy to cause havoc in the paradisal scene, and that finding the Al-Izz boy would take no effort. Ten thousand rubies for a job well done.
The Yīnyǐng did nothing else better than an attack.
“Toula,” the leader said, his voice a maelstrom. “Over here.”
The Yīnyǐng turned and approached and pulled back her hood. Toula’s wavy black hair tumbled down her back and she stood at attention before Tai. “Yes, Father?” she said.

Upon the first few flakes of snow—the icy, defined sort with sharp points that melted immediately against a warm palm—Jo was grabbing her Ugg boots from the hall closet. They were knockoffs, with rough piping where the brand name should have been, and extra faux fur, and a completely flat sole, no pretense of tread. She put them on anyway, since she had no idea where last year’s boots were, then tossed her hair back over her shoulder, roping it up with a seasoned twist of her hand.

There's no rest for the weary
No, no port in sight
This journey is so dreary
I travel alone
Now I'm treading on water
Can't do this for long
I have no lighthouse spotter
Down under I go

But in your arms is where I find my rest
Yeah, my cerebral port
I call on your heart to make mine steadfast
Oh, my cerebral port

a line i hoped he'd never write
a word i'd rather scratch
a turn the story didn't need
i thought so anyways.

my author wrote that stormy bit;
its darkness could be felt.
the rain sent shivers down my spine
and quiv'ring to my lips.

the tunnel dark was hard to grasp
why did it need to mar
the beauty of the written piece
that i had grown to love?

the final end, so sadly broken
but wrought by loving hands;
was mended perfect: tearful joy
finished it at last.

If there was one thing about living alone I detested, it was the silence.

It was deafening.

There were days that I would turn on the air conditioner, just to hear it run. I mean, to be honest, one needs air conditioning almost year-round in Texas. That’s if you can afford it.

Note: This chapter is for the older readers, because of the romantic relationship themes.

---

Howled again. I cupped my hands at my belly, turned my palms into a basket. The light puddled. The loon fluted. Petunias, maples, watering can.

I looked ahead: the sun rays were a staircase up the mountain. I climbed them in memory, returning to a day exactly two weeks before.

-- My last day with him, before the break-up call the next morning.

Chapter 1
Lochnan was so different from Anvard.
Rhiannon Faylinn watched the consistent scenery roll past the carriage window. Despite the fact that the young noblewoman’s convoy had passed through only three major cities on its way to Lochnan, it was hard for Rhiannon to believe that her home and destination were both within the immense kingdom of Tyrhennia.

Prologue
He had known it would come and had prepared. There was nothing truly worrisome that they could do to him. Still, it was always good to take precautions. He was glad he did, as he looked down at the chaos below. It was chilling, seeing what the Scrubs were capable of. It was so defiant of what he had always been told, of what he always knew.