[

Aethyr

|

angry

]

They have found my copy of Tom Swift. And all of the HG Wells.

Of course they have taken them away. And Mother has switched me again, for hiding mundane novels in the house and for saying I can't marry Alec. But I won't, no matter what they say. Not even if I have to cut off all my hair and run away, dressed as a boy.

I could do that. I'm just as fierce as Dejah Thoris or Jirel of Joiry. And I have real magic.

I wish I could live with either Uncle Howard or Uncle Luce...but Uncle Luce is at war, and Uncle Howard is always building things for the war, and when he's not, he's drunk or he's off with some woman whose name he won't know in a week. Why does he have to be such a lush?

[

Aethyr

|

terrified

]

Alec is a whole year older, surprise, but he’s still barking mad. And our parents are talking about a marriage contract. Talking seriously.

Even Claudia Warrington with her arse covered in buttercream doesn’t make up for that. Even though it was chocolate.

What do I have to do to get out of this?