Nox
Chapter 48
Blaise
Chapter 49
Nox
Chapter 50
Blaise
Chapter 51
Blaise
Chapter 52
Blaise: Age Twelve
Chapter 53
Blaise
Chapter 54
Blaise
Chapter 55
Blaise
Chapter 56
Blaise
Chapter 57
Blaise
Chapter 58
Blaise
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Free Prologue Novella
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by T.A. Lawrence
Copyright © 2023 by T.A. Lawrence
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover copyright © 2023 by Karri Klawiter
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
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PREFACE
One of my favorite things about the fantasy genre (and books in general, really) is that it provides us with a safe space to experience emotions that don’t always feel so safe in real life. In writing Blaise’s story, I found her themes and struggles naturally ran darker than those of Asha’s, Ellie’s, or even Piper’s. I intentionally avoid including explicit content in any of my books, and that hasn’t changed with this story. That being said, this story addresses several sensitive topics. I understand that sometimes we read for healing, and other times we read for an escape. I’m including a content warning below for anyone who might benefit from knowing ahead of time the types of themes this book addresses.
This content warning contains spoilers.
Content warning: While I strive never to include explicit content in my books, this book includes themes of statutory rape (rape not depicted on-page), miscarriage, and brief suicidal thoughts.
PROLOGUE
If only the Mystrian Queen would slacken her self-imposed leash, she could occupy the perfect body, the most exquisite of forms.
Or so thought the parasite as, with a sly grin, she examined the queen sitting in the carriage across from her.
The parasite was familiar with this type of female—the type who fancied herself a hero.
Fae were such blind creatures, unable to behold their true reflections, even if their souls were rendered upon a canvas with the blackest and most concentrated of inks.
The female with hair so light it was almost white could have been the model after which the parasite had crafted Cinderella’s body, were the queen not so haunted by her restrictive moral code, the one that kept her spine rigid, her cheeks constantly sucked in, and her jaw set.
Even so, the parasite could not complain that the queen refused to use her beauty to her advantage; she preferred to be the only beauty worth noting in whatever room she occupied.
If the queen possessed the assets capable of turning heads and refused to utilize them appropriately—covering up not only her bosom, but the length of her neck with that hideous white collar of hers, as if she were concerned for the fate of her throat—the parasite was not about to steer her in the opposite direction.
The female queen was so austere, her chin practically jutted. She was a rather harsh-looking thing, despite her beauty. It didn’t help that the inside of her carriage was covered in black velvet. Black velvet cushions, black velvet lining, even black steel handles for the cab doors.
