Wicked Girls Saving Each Other

By Ennis Rook Bashe

Two high fantasy short stories about lesbians, set in the same world. 

In "Firebird's Child" a flame-haired warrior who dreams of meeting cute girls outside her reclusive clan pulls a mysterious amnesiac noblewoman from the river. Where did she come from, and who wanted her dead?

In "My Story Is Not Done" a woman held prisoner in her own castle has almost given up hope... until the knight to whom she was once betrothed rides home to rescue her. 

If you are angry about Game of Thrones, and also gay, you will like these stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ennis Rook Bashe
• Release date: Aug 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393030577

Ennis Rook Bashe

Ennis Rook Bashe is a nonbinary disabled romance novelist and future mental health professional. Follow them for information about free books and new releases! Newsletter: https://tinyletter.com/rookthebird TikTok: @rookthebird

Book preview

Also by Ennis Rook Bashe

California Skies

Courier's Run

The Gift of Your Love

The Prince and her Dreamer

Wicked Girls Saving Each Other

Dragons Past Dawn

Watch for more at Ennis Rook Bashe’s site.

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Also By Ennis Rook Bashe

Wicked Girls Saving Each Other | a lesbian high fantasy zine/mini-collection by Ennis Rook Bashe

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Further Reading: The Prince and her Dreamer

Also By Ennis Rook Bashe

About the Author

Wicked Girls Saving Each Other

a lesbian high fantasy zine/mini-collection by Ennis Rook Bashe

Firebird’s Child

The Outbeyond people, except for those whose ancestors had been exiled from the lands of cities, all had red hair and freckles. Moiraith was no exception. She wore her long red waves in tightly pinned-up braids and had freckles on every part of her body.

Alert of senses, though sore of feet, she walked with a graceful and confident stride. However, she was a little distracted from her task. Recently, one of the traveling traders who swapped good knives and arrowheads for rare healing plants had brought some very strange news. Even after thinking about it and trying to envision it for weeks, it still boggled the mind.

Apparently, a few months ago, everything had changed for the city-dwellers and those who supported them from farms. Some woman in a gown of blue-white fire had ridden in on the back of a jet-black horse, a firebird perched on her wrist, and abolished the system by which the rich exploited the poor. No more indentured servitude, no more homeless women forced into brothels to feed the children they'd borne too young. No more beggars in the streets. Everyone had a safe place to sleep at night, healers to look after them, and three meals a day, and the remaining nobles had to pay something called taxes to pay for all that. Those who refused to give up a fair share of their wealth had been roasted and fed to the people of the city at a spectacular banquet.

The Outbeyond people, though, had never bothered with any of that nonsense called rich and poor, elevating some people beyond others, asserting superiority by possessing more material goods. Everyone worked as hard as they could for the good of the whole.

And so, on this day just like any other, Moraith was checking her snares by the river for rabbits and squirrels- and trying not to wonder what a firebird looked like, because she'd never see one, anyway- when she tripped over the corpse.

The corpse had been lying on the riverbank, eyes closed and limbs akimbo; it was the body of a woman.

What was a dead city-dweller doing here? She was a naturally inquisitive person, and that soon overcame her nerves.

She looked impossibly fragile, a bruise the vivid purple of a morning glory painted over her high cheekbones. Long brown hair drying gossamer in loose ripples under her petite frame.

Moraith reflexively touched her own face, the complex blue woad designs painted there: for luck, for protection, for the favor of the Bear. Poor wee lassie. Whoever you were, you didn't deserve to die here.

She checked the body. A fine blue dress, too thin to provide much warmth; waterlogged, but perhaps the silken fabric could be useful for rags or trim. After