Heir of Uncertain Magic (Whimbrel House, #2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

He was trapped, and his bones were the bars of his prison.

“Goodness, Hulda. There’s a lot of sugar in this.” She shrugged. “Sugar makes sad things better.”

He paused. Perhaps he should have thought through the wording beforehand. That was a nice thing about writing—when someone read it, they had no idea how long the author had taken to compose it, or how many times he’d discarded something terrible and replaced it with the right phrase. They only saw the finished, polished product.

sometimes knowing the future ruined the present,