Vegard and Riston’s job today was to guard and protect me. And considering that I was in a tower room in the Guardians’ citadel, it looked like a pretty plum assignment. I mean, how much...

I decide that we could always indulge ourselves later. First, I had a soul-eating stone of power to poke with a stick.

Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum. Only now the enigma was a little less mysterious; I was a few clues closer to solving the riddle – but damn, that...

I’d heard that if you saw a Reaper, you saw what you expected to see, what you thought the agents of Death would look like. Personally, I wanted to see little, fuzzy pink bunnies, but...

I wouldn’t be comfortable, but at least I’d have marginal protection against pointy steel objects that went stab in the night.

Now what would be the sense of wearing just one? I have two thighs.

Dragons didn’t fool around when it came to protecting things that they acquired—be it gold, gems, or a monster’s body parts.

It wasn’t like I had a dagger in his ribs. ‘Hand in a vise’ is simple assault or, in my case, self-defense. ‘Dagger in the ribs’ is attempted murder. My family did teach me the...

Too much work.

Mychael Eiliesor. Guardian paladin, sacred protector, master spellsinger, fashion consultant.

None taken, Agent Fraser. During the course of my lengthy life, I have been called many things, but ‘freakin’’ has never been one of them. I’ll consider it a novelty.

That’s appropriate.

Whoever said ignorance is bliss must have died a horrible death with a really surprised look on his face.