Nettle & Bone

by T. Kingfisher

It was the dogs she wanted. Perhaps she might have built a man out of bones, but she had no great love of men any longer. Dogs, though … dogs were always true.

She was fully aware of how wild she sounded. Part of her recoiled from it. Another, larger part said that she was kneeling on the edge of a pit full of bones, in a land so bloated with horrors that her feet sank into the earth as if she were walking on the surface of a gigantic blister.

Then again, few humans were truly worth the love of a living dog. Some gifts you could never deserve.

Three tasks, and then the dust-wife would give her the tools to kill a prince.

She had not realized that a nun had more power than a princess, that she could close a door.

She felt as if she had passed some test, even if it was only in her mind, and she did not know what, if anything, she had learned.

Prince Vorling had picked a tiny, vulnerable kingdom who could not fight back. He had done it deliberately. He had married their daughters, knowing that he could torment them at a whim, and they would have to take whatever he gave, to keep their people safe.

the history of the world was written in women’s wombs and women’s blood and she would never be allowed to change it.

“This gift I give you,” said Agnes. “You shall grow up fatherless.” And then, in a voice much more like the old Agnes, she added, “And healthy.”