We’d been seeing each other for almost two months when it happened. Gyll never did suspect that. He was a good kid, but clueless, and Daphne had him wrapped around her little finger. I wasn’t jealous - couldn’t be, after all I was the one bedding her while he ran made-up errands - but I think he was. Maybe that’s why he snapped so fast.

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It was a grey, dull day, but none of them minded. The weather was typical of their nation at any time of year, though it was still far too warm to snow and at least it wasn't raining, and the three apprentices had been set loose for the afternoon. They wandered through the market square, chatting amongst themselves as they browsed the wares ( Read more... )

Gyll woke as he always did, lying on his stomach next to the bed, nose pressed up against the thick carpeting. No, not nose, snout. It had happened again. Sometime during the night, as it had each time since the faerie folk had shown him how to fight the curse, his concentration had slipped and he'd reverted. He lay still a moment, the sick ( Read more... )

The ticking cat clock watched from above the stove as Gyll slammed the bucket of water down on the tiled counter. A bit sloshed out and, cursing, he reached for an embroidered dish towel to dry the spill. Aunt Myrhia wouldn't be home for another hour at least, but it wouldn't do to leave a mess.

The heavy pot was already in place on the ( Read more... )

Aunt Myrhia's apartment was small, cramped, and smelled like cats and old people. Every inch of space was filled with old, overstuffed chairs, bookshelves crammed with tomes and papers, and little tables covered in fragile knicknacks. A row of painted decorative plates ran around the upper portion of the wall, depicting small cherub children ( Read more... )