Writers-of-Secrecy

Jason strode across the grounds, heading straight for Tor. Brad and Thomas were right behind him. Tor looked down at her twin. "Untie the mare. She's sweet but she's in season so watch her ears." She wrapped her hand around Eric and lifted him to her face. "You, my little Princeling, need to stay in your spot. Stay low. Don't move. Understand me?" "What are you going to do?" he asked. His eyes searched her face as she lowered him to the saddle. "Don't do anything stupid." "Me? I'm not going to do a damn thing." Her violet gaze cut a searing path across to her brothers. A storm of anger and pain brewed in their depths. "But you can never tel

Tor was in dry clothes, her hair tied up in a knot at the back of her head and swaddled beneath the blankets. Eric was in dry clothes, long sleeves at Tor's insistence, and curled into the groove of her shoulder and neck. He was drowsing, lulled by the steady rhythm of her deep, even breathing. This was perhaps the first time she had fallen asleep before him, not counting their very first night together. From what little he had gleamed, she had fallen overboard and had to wait on the sandbar until the crew had thrown a rope over the side to help her get back on board. He stirred when the door to the cabin opened. He stood and looked over Tor

They were refugees, the pair of them. Fleeing war-torn countries and meeting up in the middle. He held the small, fragile human in his hand and marveled at how she filled the cup of his palm, braced herself on the protrustion of his thumb. Her metal arm, warm with life, and small hand gripped his as if her life depended on it. In truth, it did. Her sword fell away, into the chaotic fray below. She didn't need it now, she realized. If she was threatened, her companion would take care of it. Her status of remaining untouched by the battle that raged around his feet was testament to that. Her countrymen had been in danger. She had joined the f