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October 24 - November 1, 2025
“Where’s my cloak? I’m off to bribe. And if Fairhrim refuses, I shall proceed with kidnap.” “A classic, sir.”
Cloaked up, gloves on, and hair attractively tousled, Osric set off to the waystone.
“I’m trained to keep a cool head in times of crisis,” said Fairhrim. “Though my subjects are usually haemorrhaging blood rather than absurdities.”
“Kidnap it is,” said Osric. He rose, poured the onions onto the floor, and flapped the empty sack at Fairhrim. “Get in.”
This is…this is a sizable portion of your fortune.” “We will, obviously, be stealing it back.” Mrs. Parson looked relieved. “Oh! Very good, sir.”
It was hard, being perfect in an imperfect world, but Aurienne managed. If she had a flaw, it was that she was the Best, and she knew she was the Best. Some called it arrogance. She called it competence untainted by performative humility.
“I use the resources at my disposal,” said Osric. “You should, too.” “Resources as blood drenched as yours cross certain ethical bounds.” “Your ethical bounds keep you so confined, it’s a wonder you can move.” “I don’t know how you move, given the weight of your sins.”
“How can anyone have less regard for the law than me?” asked Osric, offended. “To you, it’s a thing to break. To them, it simply doesn’t exist.”
“Have you no compassion?” asked Fairhrim. “I’m not burdened with it, no.” “I categorically object to torture.” “Do you, really? It had escaped my notice,” said Osric, before sauntering away.
The man had a colander on his head, which did not immediately inspire confidence.
“He hasn’t got any nipples,” noticed Osric. To Widdershins, he called, “Why haven’t you got any nipples?” “You can’t just ask people why they haven’t got nipples,” said Fairhrim.
There was such witchery in a pair of bright eyes. Pity they had to be hers.
“One day this will be a case study,” said Élodie. She drew bullet points in the air as she planned it. “Vaccine-preventable diseases. Research financing. Socioeconomic variables.”
The deofol was now attempting puppy-dog eyes, but, given that it was a creature of soul-corroding darkness, the endeavour was more perturbing than anything else.
He looked at her as one who wished to worship, and one who wished to defile.
One bandit piped up that she had better eyelashes but he had better cheekbones, and thus mortally insulted them both.
He hated that he had come to the waystone whole but left it having lost a piece of himself in two star-brilliant eyes.
(She said his name like it was a swear word and he rather liked it.)
Aurienne rolled her eyes so hard, she saw her frontal cortex.
Blood on her cheek and sharpness on her tongue, she was going to save him.
Sharing Your Tragic Backstory with Your Hot Enemy
He didn’t like that. The blurting. He preferred his words, like his murders, nice and premeditated.
you’re a common thief.” “Not common. Not common.”
He hadn’t paid attention. He had been stupid—gods, so stupid. He no longer owned his heart. The thief was unconscious of her crime. She asked, “Is something the matter?”
