The patrol dragons circling the marketplace were small dots in the summer sky. Arcing and wheeling in long, lazy paths. Gareth envied them. He’d toyed with the idea of becoming a dragon rider when he was a child but two hundred bad decisions later here he was, trying to sell worthless home-made charms at the market. He didn’t even have a stall ( Read more... )

I collect the coins of the wishes that other people paid for, roll them up, and take them to the Old Bank. The wish pennies are worth more than the regular pennies. It’s Friday morning. The Old Bank is busy ( Read more... )

I’ve got a backpack full of dead fairies packed in sugar like a fisherman would pack fish in ice or like a butcher would salt beef ( Read more... )