The stranger stepped closer until he was face to face with Alex above the iron anvil that separated them. Two sets of bright blue eyes blazed defiantly, each refusing to break eye contact first. Two equally strong jaw lines clenched stubbornly. Alex was of a height with the stranger and found herself staring directly into eyes that looked overly familiar, eyes that looked exactly like the ones that stared back at her in the mirror every morning. Alex went numb. She heard the dull thump of her hammer hitting the packed dirt beneath her feet. Her knees threatened to fail her as well, trying to follow gravity’s path. Grasping blindly, nerveless fingers found and then clung desperately to the solidness of the heavy anvil while her world spun around her. Pain streaked through her, travelling up her arm, and lighting her body on fire. Strong emotions warred within her, simultaneously demanding attention, all wanting answers, all crippling her with the need to know. “It hurts you still, the touch of cold iron?” Of course it does, Alex thought, her teeth clenched against the discomfort. But it was real, it was solid, and it was something she understood very well. It grounded her. “My poor child, have you never wondered why you are drawn to the forge? Why you can tolerate the touch of iron, while your kinswomen cannot?” If you want to learn the answer to this riddle...take a peak at Ladysmith today. Some Fae are not all they seem to be...and that can change everything. amazon/Ladysmith-Rhavensfyre-ebook/dp/B00KI6WVUI
Posted on: Tue, 08 Jul 2014 14:02:34 +0000
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