Knights are pulling a prank on the ladies of Lady Guinevere’s
Academy for Damsels. After the ladies filled the cadets’ quivers
with honey, it’s only fair that the cadets return the favour. **Only .99 cents!!**Goodreads * Amazon
THE FIRST RULE to be a good, no, a great thief was to be patient. Hurry would get Nathair caught, and getting caught picking the lock of Lady Guinevere’s Academy for Damsels meant an immediate expulsion from Sir Lancelot Academy for Knights, a month grounded at home, and the end of his dream of becoming a knight.
But with his fellow cadets fretting around him and urging him to be fast, the noise of the night patrols roaming New Camelot’s streets, and the looming fear that a clockwork knight might discover them, he wasn’t particularly prone to follow this first rule.
Not that he was a real thief. He’d never stolen anything. So far, he’d used his pilfering skills to help his best friend, Tristan, enter the ladies’ academy to meet his girlfriend of the moment. If Sir Lancelot had been alive today, almost five hundred years after King Arthur’s death, he wouldn’t be impressed by what the young knights in training were about to do. Protecting the ladies was one of the first rules of the Knight Code. Heck, Nathair’s mother wouldn’t be impressed or amused.
He was the first dark-skinned cadet, member of the tribe of the Snake, to almost become a knight, and he might blow his career tonight. But two days ago, the girls of the Lady Guinevere had filled the cadets’ quivers with honey. So, it was only fair that the cadets returned the favour.
“Will it take long, Nathair?” Raymond asked, biting his fingernails. His gaze darted around, and his chest strained the jacket of the cadets’ uniform.
Nathair slid a thin knife into the slit between the door and the doorframe. “It’ll take the time that it’s needed.”
He paused to wipe his clammy hands over his trousers and to push back his hair. A sliver of anxiety crawled up his neck like a spider, but he ignored it. He’d picked this lock dozens of times. He knew it intimately, better than the cabbage field in his farmhouse. Yet that night the lock didn’t want to yield to his touch. The knife jammed even though the lock hadn’t been changed. He was sure of that. It was the same, rusty old lock of a few days ago.
Raymond shifted his weight and blew air on his hands. The blue cloak swished about his ankles. “Can’t you speed up?”
Tristan swatted his shoulder. “First, don’t disturb Nat while he’s working. He tends to become sloppy when you push him.”
“No, I don’t,” Nathair gritted out, sticking the second knife in the lock.
“You do.” Tristan waved a dismissive hand before returning his attention to Raymond. “And second, why did you wear the academy uniform? If someone sees us, they’ll know the Sir Lancelot’s cadets broke into the Guinevere’s Academy.”
Nathair, a knight in training, finds himself rescued by the princess
he’s supposed to save, he’s annoyed. And when the princess proves
she can fight like a knight? Well, that’s enough for a boy to think
about a career change.Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Kobo
General Baldwin took Nathair’s test and scanned it. “Let’s see why you wanted Greystone’s intervention.”
facing the biggest challenge of his life: proposing to Bryhannon.
Apparently, flowers and a three-month salary worth ring aren’t
enough because she doesn’t seem thrilled by the proposal. She has a
devastating power to control, Reapers to face, and more importantly
she has to find the courage to tell Nathair that she’s a Morrigan. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Kobo
The wild spinning into the air, the feeling of his ribs almost being crushed, and the searing pain in the skull didn’t bother Nathair much. His head throbbed, and his stomach rolled with nausea, but that was normal when he used a traveling charm.What bothered him during a trip with a traveling charm was the fear of being beheaded or losing a limb as it’d happened to a junior knight a few weeks ago. The poor lad had lost his foot and screamed so loud Nathair thought a dragon was attacking the Swan’s headquarters.Yes, a healer had reattached the missing limb, and now the lad walked with only a minor limp, yet, experiencing that type of pain wasn’t something Nathair looked forward to.He landed on the grass in the middle of the Order of the Swan’s headquarters in New Camelot and staggered onto his feet. The blue smoke produced by the charm twirled around him and dissolved in the morning air. He bent forward and sucked in a deep breath, the faint smell of sulfur, dragonwort, and something else spicy filling his nostrils. He touched his face to confirm his nose and ears were still there. His long curled, chestnut hair fell over his cheeks, and he pulled it back. Good. So even his hair seemed all right. He hadn’t turned bald. Legs? Two. Eyes? Two as well. Fingers? Ten.Nathair straightened his black Swan uniform and brushed off the dust it’d gathered during his trip from Astolat. Next time, he’d take a dragon flight. It was slower but safer. More or less. “Finally.” Tristan strode over to him, cutting through the courtyard packed with horses. His neat uniform stretched over broad shoulders, making his golden hair appear shinier. “You should’ve come back yesterday. What happened? Problems with the mission?”
that I dig in the dirt, looking for bugs. Nature and books have
always been my passion. I was a kid when I read The Lord Of The Ring
and fell in love with fantasy novels. When I discovered cozy mystery and crime novels, I fell in love with
Hercules Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Then I grew up and . . . Nah,
I’m joking. I didn’t grow up. Don’t grow up, folks! It’s a trap. PS I hate gardening. There, I said it. Sorry fellow Kiwis.Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
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