[*Author's Note: This is the sequel to a book I wrote last year entitled "The Whispering Gallery." If anyone is desperate enough to read the first book, email me at thetravelingmagpie @ gmail. com and I'll send you a PDF copy of The Whispering Gallery, with the stipulation that you have to give me a bit of a critique. :D Enjoy, and as always, any questions, suggestions, or comments are welcome!*]
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The shadows fell like rain filling the streets of a victorian London but on second glance it wasn't Earth. A boot black boy ran past, his tan cap wet with rain. His ears pointed.
It was night in the land of the Fay and the rain toumbled down. A tall dark shadow slipped threw the deserted streets. His cloak pulled tight around him obscured his face. He glanced back and forth to see if he was being followed before stepping into the shadow of a shop door.
The bell on the door jangled softly as he shut the door behind him.
Alice skampered across Darkrade's streets, grimacing at each throb her ankle made as it hit the pavement. Shadows were cast over the tip of her brown hair, making her bob look shorter than usual. Silver glinted in her eyes for a moment. She gasped as she was yanked up. Now it was all over. Alice couldn't escape and go save Sherylyn. With a faint sigh, she blacked out.
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Celzara’s power had been broken. No longer was she a force to be feared, or an enemy to be faced—now, she was just a cranky old woman confined to a sparsely furnished, windowless bedchamber with guards posted around the clock.
“She’ll have a fair trial,” Dorlan had said. “Much good it will do her. Still, she’s a woman—not to mention family. It wouldn’t be right to just kill her in cold blood.”
Jagsod, bandaged from neck to waist and with his sword arm in a sling, grunted. “She wouldn’t have shown you any such mercy, if the tables were turned.”
*(For Real, this time. Sorry folks--but you have to admit, that was a fun April Fools...lol)*