Story trope: Apprenticeship
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I decided that Orion Lake needed to die after the second time he saved my life. Everyone loves Orion Lake. Everyone else, that is. Far as I’m concerned, he can keep his flashy combat magic to himself. I’m not joining his pack of adoring fans. I don’t need help surviving the Scholomance, even if they do. Forget the hordes of monsters and cursed artifacts, I’m probably the most dangerous thing in the place. Just give me a chance and I’ll level mountains and kill untold millions, make myself the dark queen of the world. At least, that’s what the world expects. Most of the other students in here would be delighted if Orion killed me like one more evil thing that’s crawled out of the drains. Sometimes I think they want me to turn into the evil witch they assume I am. The school certainly does. But the Scholomance isn’t getting what it wants from me. And neither is Orion Lake. I may not be anyone’s idea of the shining hero, but I’m going to make it out of this place alive, and I’m not going to slaughter thousands to do it, either. Although I’m giving serious consideration to just one.
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Kessa is a half-barbarian herb-witch, arrested for crimes she didn’t quite intend. But when Iathor discovers her immunity to truth potions, he’ll do whatever he must to court her. Guilty or not, she’s his only hope of banishing his nightmare: a son enslaved to him by the loyalty potion that each Lord Alchemist’s heir must drink, and defeat. But Kessa doesn’t trust him, Iasen despises her tainted blood, and there’s still the mystery of who complicated Kessa’s little crime into the bigger one she didn’t intend. They don’t even have the benefit of lust at first sight. All they have in common is the alchemist’s immunity, and an ability to get on each other’s nerves. Will it be enough?
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Choose: a quick death… or slow poison…
As the food taster, Yelena will eat the best meals, have rooms in the palace — and risk assassination by anyone trying to kill the Commander of Ixia. To make matters worse, the chief of security deliberately feeds her Butterfly’s Dust, and only by appearing for her daily antidote will she delay an agonizing death from the poison.
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Telise and Raz’jin are both haunted by the memory of their meeting, even if such a relationship would be the ultimate taboo. Their peoples are at war, and they can’t even speak the same language. But when they meet in a bar in neutral territory, perhaps their bodies can do the talking for them.
