A Tailored Trap

By Helen Savore

Is it harder to hide from others? Or yourself?

Clika prefers the title commander to princess, more at ease magicking earth than leading diplomatic discussions.

 

But when the castle is overrun she bolts, leaving behind more than the corpses of her soldiers. Until she receives a mysterious package.
A coat, fit for a princess.
Her coat.
And a debt to pay for the unasked mending.

 

Cilka must figure out how to put the past to rest, if she is ever to navigate a city unraveling in the throes of rebellion.

 

You'll love this fantasy escape because everyone enjoys the birth of a hero.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oberon's Forge Press llc
• Release date: Oct 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201523053

Helen Savore

Helen Savore writes fantastical worlds filled with a mixture of modern and medieval settings. She explores stories loosely based on Arthurian legends, secretly wishing that King Arthur would return to pull the world from the brink of darkness. An engineer by day, and a gamer when time allows, this paper ninja writes, reads, plays with pen-and-paper RPGs and folds origami. It’s not surprising that her stories are filled with unexpected folds and twists that blend seamlessly with reality. Learn more about Helen’s stories at right here. You can also follow her on Twitter @ImaPaperNinja.

Book preview

A Tailored Trap

A Tailored Trap

Helen Savore

Oberon’s Forge Press llc

Thank you Dean for all your lessons.

This is what happens when I write into the dark.

A Tailored Trap

Cilka sat on the lip of her cot, staring at the soles of her boots as if she could find answers within the porous surfaces. She had been careful the past couple days to not clean them and track through a good puddle or two without getting her trousers too badly soaked. Her feet tingled from the water that seeped through, since there would be no hot bath to offset the discomfort at the end of her day.

No hot bath. No pheasant with currant sauce or honey to sweeten her bread. No valet to press her clothes, either formal dresses for diplomatic affairs, or the coat she used to command the earth she tread upon.

Foot ware was hard to fit. Cilka wasn't sure she could afford to grab a more utilitarian pair while in hiding.

Should she scuff them up on the wall more? The western wall was entirely stone and fit the cellar too well to be natural, but too jagged to have been melded into place. Carved from an outcropping that continued to hug the stone through its several cellars, Stoneburrow Inn was an oddity before, but now it was a gem amid the chaos overtaking Anchaiv. Cilka's escort negotiated a deal to guard its doors, promising to keep out the looters while others of the artisans and merchants weathered the crashing tides of Anchaiv's citizenry.

How someone outside the royal warlocks constructed Stoneburrow was a conundrum that Cilka did not want to solve. She could appreciate it though and breathed in the exposed bedrock. It was a conduit to the deepest stone that bound them all to this world, and that grounded her more than anything else.

Cilka! The pounds were so hard the door shook in its frame. Time.

It seemed early for dinner, but Ferenc knew Cilka wouldn't want to miss a meal before her shift. Their leader shared a watch with her, and having led soldiers before she understood the need to mind the newest recruits. Better thinking she was green than realize her background.

She was on night watch, which meant first crack at dinner; maybe she'd even get some meat this time. In her opinion, hunger was not the best spice, unlike her companions who were familiar with it. Still, Cilka knew better than to turn her nose up at the inn's stringy stew or lumpy bread.

She had her boots on, pants tucked in,