There are words which change lives...forever.
Andrei just wants a chance with the girl of his dreams, but he knows she’s keeping a secret from him—an imperial secret, a disturbing secret, and one that will not leave Andrei and his love alone.
Now he’s on the run from a murderous monster, with only one chance to save himself and those he loves: hunt down the heart of the dreadful curse that has fallen on the Czar and find a way to end it for good.
Followed by nine feet of animated stonework, a petrified exhibitionist, and his grandmother’s sullen apprentice, he must struggle through winter’s deadly chill to uncover the truth before everyone he knows is changed forever.
Related collections and offers
|File size:||409 KB|
About the Author
Deborah Makarios was raised in the space between worlds and maintains an eccentric orbit.
She found her niche at the age of six when in short succession she read The B.F.G., her first Agatha Christie (Why Didn’t They Ask Evans?) and encountered her first P.G. Wodehouse (Something Fresh – saying “Heh! Mer!” is enough to make her laugh, decades later). Her personal motto is Tolle Et Lege – pick it up and read it – regardless of whether “it” is a Bible, a book or a jar of home-made marmalade.
Being an ardent admirer of LOLs (little old ladies, though she has no objection to laughing out loud either), she is presently working on handwork, housekeepery and the consumption of tea, in the hopes of one day attaining the highest rank of little-old-ladyhood: the White Hair. So far she has advanced to Silver Thread. (More cats may be required.)
She keeps her Luddite tendencies under sufficient control to allow for regular blog posts, but nothing can quash her fondness for old technologies. Her favourite phrases are “piston-filling fountain pen” and “annotated typescript.”
Her mission is to write books, plays and blog posts like cups of tea: warm, heartening and restorative. She believes in happy endings, the ultimate triumph of good over evil, and always having a clean handkerchief. It is, however, against her religious principles to believe in “normal.”
She lives among the largely unsuspecting populace of New Zealand with only two cats, and her brilliant, albeit marginally less eccentric, husband, alias The Caped Gooseberry.