Autumn of the Grimoire (Sisters Solstice, #1)
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Read between April 10 - July 4, 2023
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Eleanor laid the gown on the bed and left the room, but Agatha didn’t miss the reluctant tilt of her mouth, as if she might agree with Agatha’s
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statement of affection toward Anne.
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“Did you have a lovely time?” Gaius glared at him. When the queen turned to say something to her servant, Gaius leaned toward the prince. “She’s upset.” “With good reason.” “Grimm. You threatened her.”
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“Of Agatha. Because Agatha has accomplished more in a moon than she and I have in our entire lives.”
M.A. Mashburn
How long is that exactly
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“You took her into the very place that houses everything we’ve worked for. We don’t know how much we can trust her yet.” Grimm stabbed the grape with his fork. “Perhaps I’m finally willing to find out.”
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“Three inquiries?” “I’m not particularly in the mood for your mind games, prince.” “Nor am I. But I hardly know anything about you, Agatha from Helsvar, then Drifthollow, with three sisters.” He smirked at her scowl. “Three simple questions, to better acquaint ourselves.”
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“Are your sisters older or younger than you?” Easy enough. “I am the youngest.”
M.A. Mashburn
Why does this make the most sense out of anything ive read
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Agatha laughed outright, drawing the bewildered attention of even Eleanor. Grimm’s eyes sparked, and she
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dropped hers to the plate of tiny sandwiches. She could still feel his gaze on her as he asked his next inquiry.
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For an inexplicable reason she could not name, she wanted to tell Grimm.
M.A. Mashburn
Oh my go kill me!!
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She stumbled on the name, afraid to divulge too much, but strangely wishing to do so.
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“It’s you, Agatha.” His eyes held such intensity she had to look away again. “Dreadfully sad?” She tried to smile. “No. That moment—it’s you, in essence. Unafraid to encounter the dark. To sit there with those who are overlooked. And willing to be moved enough to fight for them.”
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All the breath rushed out of her lungs at the sight of a crescent moon and a bone,
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both encased in an unbroken circle. She stood so quickly her chair toppled and rushed to look at Grimm’s tea leaves, only to find they were nearly identical.
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his skin prickling with the feel of it. It was alarmingly similar to the way his hands sometimes felt when he touched Agatha.
M.A. Mashburn
Magic??
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in nearly all black, perched atop his own black steed. “And what is so amusing?” he inquired. “Anyone who sees us coming will think death has come to chase them.”
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Grimm laughed outright. “Right you are, but it’s not difficult to convince Anne that Eleanor needs to be distracted so one might woo his wife.” “You’re too good at this.”
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A warmth she hadn’t felt in a hundred years began to seep through her and Agatha hoped it didn’t show on her cheeks.
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“It only wears off for you?” “That we know of.” “You are rather pig-headed.” He barked a laugh. “Thank you, wife.”
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Agatha gasped as the warm light flooded the sea cave, illuminating hundreds of slumbering bats.
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She looked around with no small amount of awe as the prince’s lips bent up in a grin and he discarded his boots. Though she’d seen—and touched—more of Grimm than his bare feet, something about the gesture was intimate enough that she felt it in every inch of her body.
M.A. Mashburn
Girly pop feet of all things
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“I am not permitted to tell you anything from your former lives, but you asked me to remind you of something.”
M.A. Mashburn
Agatha will be there for his nezt life …bye
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“Grimm,” Agatha’s voice broke into his reverie. He was never going to get used to the jolt that went through him every time she said his name.
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He felt her smile next to him and he turned his head to look at her. He’d sell his soul for that smile. He was suddenly very sure of that.
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Grimm’s eyes roved over her face. He adored when that defiant look came over her.
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Their eyes locked and he knew it was definitely time to go.
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The door was ajar and she peered in, sucking in a breath when she saw Grimm at the piano, his hands gliding effortlessly over the keys.
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His dark hair was swept back neatly in place, and Agatha wanted to muss it up. It was devastatingly handsome, but unlike him. When he caught sight of Agatha and smirked, he finally looked like himself.
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Agatha gave an involuntary groan and Grimm chuckled. “Play nice, wife.”
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“You say that, and yet it is still Her Highness Princess Agatha that you cannot tear your eyes away from.” Grimm stiffened, unsure if it was a slight to him—or perhaps Agatha. “Ah yes, my wife is irresponsibly distracting.” He let his eyes rake over Agatha, partly for the show and partly because
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he relished an excuse to do so. Her responding blush sent a shiver up his spine.
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Grimm ground his teeth, watching the empress. She sounded like him when he attempted to insult Agatha and fell short.
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Goddess, she drove him blissfully mad with that sharp tongue.
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All Grimm had wanted since their afternoon in the woods was to pull her away from everything and take her back to where there were no eyes on them. No one to hide from, and no one else to be.
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Seleste insisted a dance was the only way to know if one was truly compatible with another. For the first time, Agatha wondered if she was right.
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His lips were a whisper away when the ground shook.
M.A. Mashburn
Even i think thats to cruel
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She looked around feverishly, and that was when she saw him.
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the song she’d heard him play—the song she knew—pulsating from the prince.
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looking for her? He found Agatha, and their eyes locked. The haunting music came to a jarring halt.
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She watched as his lips parted and he swiped at his forehead with bloody hands, smearing it across his face. Agatha’s breath came out in quick bursts through her nose as she walked toward him, tears blurring her vision. A hook sank deep within her heart. A string pulling taut. And she desperately needed to follow the tether. Grimm searched her face, standing eerily still in place. Agatha waded through time, her steps sluggish. His eyes were fearful and relieved all at once.
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She gasped, suddenly realising why she knew it. She’d heard it as she left King Caliban’s rooms a century prior,
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“You saw me?” “Yes,” she bit out. “As I’ve always appeared to you?” “I think I know what you look like, Grimm. What in the seven realms are you?” He let out a long breath. “I am a Marchand de Mort.” Agatha staggered back. “You’re a reaper?”
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“Agatha, no one has a deeper secret than I do, and you now hold it fully within your hands. I would like to know why.” “I put a protection spell in place around me.” Grimm stiffened, but only briefly. “You put a spell in place. As in...magic?”
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Mistake. Mistake. Her mind screamed. Stop. “I’m a Sister Solstice, actually.” Grimm gaped openly and shook his head as if he could dislodge the notion from his brain. “But the Sisters are just folklore.” “So are reapers.” He blinked. “Touché.”
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her since Grimm ran a finger down the maid’s cheek before spinning her away. “Why do you dislike Grimm so much?”
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Eleanor went very still for a moment. “I do not dislike him.” She fidgeted and Agatha rose to sit, watching her. “He was once my closest friend when we were children. Before he was forbidden to see me any longer.”
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“Good morning, reaper,” she said softly.
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he huffed a laugh, turning to look at her with the barest of humour in his tired eyes. “Good morning, witch.”
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Trauma bonding, Winnie would call it. A chance worth taking, Sorscha would call it. Let yourself find happiness, Seleste
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Alestair thought I would find the code about croissants amusing.”