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Reading a book was like meeting someone for the first time. You don’t know if you will love them or hate them enough to learn every detail, or skim the surface never to know their depths.
“You constantly forget characters’ names!”
There was a reason Star Wars wasn’t Star Peace.
Hope without tragedy was hollow. So was tragedy without hope.
Finding a favourite character was discovering a soul made of words that spoke to your own.
“Villains,” she announced. “Let’s unionize.”
“I’m calm! Others may lose the plot but I have a firm grip on it. The truth is, I have the amnesia.”
“Sorry, I’m top-heavy as a double scoop ice-cream cone over here. Where was I?”
“Okay, just Key. Like Madonna or Rihanna.” Key frowned. “Who?”
An anti-hero was just a villain with good PR. The Emperor might sympathize with Rae. She’d always sympathized with him.
Seriously, you will be powerful A.F.” The king’s brow wrinkled. “A.F.?” “As foretold,”
“I was electrified to hear Key say that when distressed, you call on the names of your lovers,” drawled the Cobra. “Jesus and Batman?” Holy sacrilegious misunderstanding. “I do not have a romantic relationship with those individuals!”
“I regret my past. I have seen the light!” “To what light do you refer?” Marius asked tightly. Did she mean the chandelier? They could all see the chandelier. It was enormous and ostentatious. The Cobra had terrible taste.
Her voice had three settings, ‘seductive’, ‘mocking’ and ‘mockingly seductive’. None were appropriate. Oh, well.
It wasn’t Rae’s job to rescue a damsel in distress. She wanted to talk to this story’s manager.
She knew how this story went. Moth, meet flame. Compass, meet true north. Cat hair, meet expensive sweater. Some girls were made to be loved.
Books often described kisses as ‘searing’ which made Rae think of salmon, but characters seemed to enjoy the seared-salmon kisses.
“Do you work out?” “What does work out mean?” Sure. She’d seen superhero movies. Those people had no time to work out. Fiction simply had abs. Marvellous, inexplicable abs. “Do you lift?” He tossed a smile gone sly over his bare shoulder. “Knives. Spoons to my mouth. A woman, once.”
She? Served Rae right for blacksmith stereotyping.
“I mostly use my fan to cover the evil twins.” She made a gesture bosomward. “I call them Cruella and Maleficent.”
“I don’t mean to shock anyone, but the king’s trying to get with me. I assume he’s not putting out a hit on it before he hits it and quits it.
“It’s the prime minister. Older politician, unmarried and mean, with vaguely sinister facial hair!”
The Cobra was never sincere about anyone. A courtier swore he’d seen the Cobra cast himself upon a chair and whisper he missed his lost love Nettix. Or possibly Netsix? Netflix? Marius had never believed it: that was not a name.
“I’m too stressed to fall in love. I got more play when I was fourteen and my wardrobe consisted almost exclusively of anime T-shirts.”
‘One’ is a number and a fan is an object. You might as well say ‘I’m a number five wooden duck.’
“All this slut-shaming. Where’s the slut-praising? Quick, someone tell me I’m wicked cute and have great time management.”
They were halfway through the tale of Lord Ross and beauteous Lady Rachel, who Lord Ross suspected of infidelity to their lovers’ vows. Emer assumed Lord Ross would soon have Lady Rachel’s head chopped off in accordance with the laws of the land.
“I certainly did not. I’m a politician,” Pio snapped. “We kill people through making laws, not breaking them.”
“So this is my noble steed, Google Maps?”
