"It is yours." No foundation garment, thought Jasmine with a wicked tingle in her belly. Of course not. It was the Middle Ages. She’d never really considered what sort of underwear a princess would wear. Some sort of flimsy shift, perhaps. She reached for the volume. Lady Maud moved it just out o...
It was like that moment in a tournament when the hangers-on realise their champion is spent and try to distance themselves from his banner — without being caught in the act of desertion. But now Ranulph was over-gripping Steelcutter. He let the four-foot blade dip and swish around the fulcrum of ...
It left Jasmine with the afterimage of the airship wedged halfway through the Holiest House’s Great Window like a malformed shell jamming a howitzer breach. Maud must have a clear idea of what the Church was using to neutralise the worst of the magic. With any luck, her scheme would require some ...
The world was no longer spinning, just gently rocking from side to side. She was propped up against the Flexiglass wall of the Control Car. Icy blue light flooded through the frost-coated windows. She shivered. "Why’s the heating off?" Somebody pressed a canteen to her lips. "Drink," barked Sir R...