The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-Three

Rituals

The Book of the New Moon Door cover image: A book with yellowing, wrinkled pages lies open on an old wooden desk, with a sprig of lavender lying in the center.

Table of Contents

“Why?” Berend asks in a hoarse whisper. “What is that?”

Isabel tucks the object from the coat into a pocket of her skirt. “A spell–prepared ahead of time to make casting faster. It’s a sort of binding ritual.”

That doesn’t sound good. “For Lady Breckenridge?” 

“I don’t know.”

Berend puts a hand on his sword and turns to the parlor door, but he stops himself before he goes anywhere. Nothing will be gained by revealing himself too soon, as much as he’d like to lop Geray’s head off right now, and Lady Breckenridge will never forgive him if he gets blood all over her dining room rug. 

The voice of an old commander intrudes on his thoughts. Think, Horst, think. 

Continue reading “The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-Three”

The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-Two

Magnetism

The Book of the New Moon Door cover image: A book with yellowing, wrinkled pages lies open on an old wooden desk, with a sprig of lavender lying in the center.

Table of Contents

Isabel puts her eye to the gap between the boards. Warder is seated outside of her frame of vision, seated on a chaise by the parlor door. All she can see are his shoes, well-made of fine leather but badly scuffed at the toes, perched at the edge of the rug. 

Continue reading “The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-Two”

The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-One

Sanctuary

The Book of the New Moon Door cover image: A book with yellowing, wrinkled pages lies open on an old wooden desk, with a sprig of lavender lying in the center.

Table of Contents

The temple is a flurry of activity—unusual, for any place dedicated to the god of the dead. Death, so the saying goes, always has time to wait. The clerics rush in and out of the wings, carrying ledgers and lists of names and figures. Incense hangs heavy in the air, and a pair of monks sing a thin, melancholy hymn. 

Watcher on the wall, protect us. Master of the gate, watch over us. 

Continue reading “The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-One”