A Cage of Crimson (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #5) Read Online K.F. Breene

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Deliciously Dark Fairytales Series by K.F. Breene
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Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
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This was great for a person in Raz’s situation. Not so great if a person was having a lovely time and was just trying to get cozy. Couldn’t be helped.

Discovering that trick had been an accident, but once I realized its usefulness—to me first, and then to others—I baked the “off” switch into any product that might need it. Like this one.

He howled again, beating at the wood.

“Go to sleep,” I called through the door. “Settle down now and go to sleep. You can’t let Granny see you like this or she’ll punish you something awful.”

“You filthy dud!” he roared. “You dud-whore, locking me in here. You won’t take me alive!”

Sometimes the product made him all kinds of awful. Then again, some people were like this to me stone sober. It was something the magicless just had to get used to, like how the fair of skin dealt with sunburns. It was part of life. There was no sense in letting it get to you.

I took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline from the sudden episode level out before turning back to the Moonfire Lily. After grabbing a large stick from the hearth and ensuring the end had a flame, I took the dish outside and set it on the ground. The moon glowed weakly above, barely a sliver. Stars speckled the vast night sky. When I got home, I might open a bottle of port and sit out for a while, taking it all in. I loved these tranquil early spring nights; the air was still crisp with winter’s chill but held the promise of warmer days to come. Flowers bloomed for the first time since the fall, and it felt like the world was getting a fresh start.

Emberflies hovered and drifted, little glowing insects that looked like fairy dust softly swaying in the air. They weren’t spooked by anyone in our village. They only scattered when strangers or danger came around, which was often one and the same.

It would’ve been better to treat the petal at the full moon, but Granny wouldn’t want to wait. She didn’t have a lot of patience where the product was concerned. There was an increasing demand, and it was my duty to keep up.

A slight breeze rustled the petal. I held it down for a moment until all was calm again. As I hunched over the dish, I applied the flame.

The petal crackled. Its glow intensified, shimmering like the stars. The color changed from pale pink to vibrant magenta and then to blazing red. The fire on the end of the stick grew, a cue to pull it away. The petal continued to burn for a moment, the middle of it pulsing like an ember in a smoldering fire. Its perfume had changed, now verdant and earthy and wild; all things that teased the senses of a wolf on the hunt, or so I’d overheard. After a moment the flame and smell died away, leaving the color and continuing the ember-like soft glow.

I picked it up; the petal felt cool against my skin. The fire never seemed to heat it, just change it.

A strange tickle started between my shoulder blades. A slight pressure fanned out, over my shoulders and then crawling down my spine. It felt like someone was watching me.

Wary, I glanced back at the work shed, wondering if Raz had found his way out and was coming for me. No thrashing of limbs, howls, or stomping— all things he’d be doing if he’d escaped—accompanied the feeling, though. Couldn’t be him.

With the Moonfire Lily petal tucked into my cupped palms, I looked out at the darkness.

Trees stood sentry beyond the field next to the shed, hiding the creek that gurgled within their depths. An old fence with awkwardly leaning posts and a gate in the middle divided the land for no discernible reason. My various tubs were placed in an organized fashion, some against the shed and others out in the night, against the fence. They were set to catch the moonlight or the sunlight, or both. I’d learned those things had an effect on the end product.

I’d learned young to pay attention to my sixth sense, keeping it fresh in my life here. The feeling of being watched grew, as though a predator were focusing hard.

The night lay quiet. Nothing made a sound. The soft breeze hardly worried my hair.

Still, it felt like someone was out there, a foreign density within the shadows. The emberflies didn’t seem troubled, though. They would scatter if a threat was within their midst; I’d seen it happen when Granny brought in a new person for the perimeter patrol.

I tipped my face down. My eyes were no good to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness like those with magic could. Continuing to stare would just alert the possible watcher that I’d sensed their presence. They might then get bold and come closer. There were a few people in this village that would, even with Granny in town, and those were the last people I’d want to do so.


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