Lucia Valerian woke up for the third night in a row, sweating and shaking. She bought her hands to her forehead, wiping off the beads forming at her brows. She had a nightmare. Again. Her father had given her all the remedies his counsel had thought of, potions, bitter teas, pastes. You name it, her father had suggested it. She laid down again, trying to get comfortable, but it was futile. She was scared of sleeping. Giving up, her feet hit the marble floor as she walked to her desk, rummaging through various papers before finding what she was looking for, her sketchbook. She sat down, goosebumps forming as her warm skin came into contact with the cold wood. Ironically enough, this winter had been one of the worst Invicta had seen in many years. Thankfully the people had been able to be well-fed; her father saw to that. Swiping through pages filled with notes, illustrations, and obscenities, she found a blank page. She hurriedly began to draw the face she saw in her dream. If she didn't get it right this time, she would surely down poisonous tea from the royal gardens. She racked her brain for his description, black hair that parted like a curtain to show his foxlike orange eyes, his lips drawn into a scoff that you'd be able to hear a mile away. She put it down, looking again at the book that was filled with sketches of him. The question that had plagued her more than one late night lingered in her mind. Who was he?
YOU ARE READING
The Lies of Invicta
Fantasywhen a nightmare leads her to a pickpocketer, how will lucia react, knowing that the boy would be the one to lead her to the answers that had been hidden from her for so long?
