Threadneedle (The Language of Magic, #1)

by Cari Thomas

The book she’d been reading when she eventually fell asleep was still perched on top of her quilt – her only escape in the empty hours of the night.

fairy tales are not always kind or pleasant but neither is life and we must live it anyway.

‘Why would you want to be like other people? I hate other people. We belong to legend, to fairy tale and storybook, to the blood-red paintings on cave walls.

The more beautiful the rose, the sharper the thorns.

She turned the handle gently – it was locked. There was no lock on her door but it was locked nonetheless.

Perhaps because there’s nothing really there, just shapes in mist, patterns that don’t exist.

‘How big is this place?’ Effie and Attis looked at each other with infuriating, knowing smiles. ‘Just bring breadcrumbs so you can find a way out.’ He winked.

Effie arrived late. ‘Vivienne, so good to see you again.’ She smiled, stepping through the doorway. Aunt smiled in return. ‘A pleasure to see you too.’ If looks could kill they’d both be dead.