The goblin's curse

Начало книги

The Colorado night air smelled dry and spicy as Keelie Heartwood picked her way up the twisty, unlit dirt path toward Heartwood, her father’s furniture shop. It perched at the top of the hill, with a good view of the jousting field below. She felt like she was coming home.

“Ow, Cricket.” She tugged on her T-shirt to dislodge her pet goblin’s tiny claws, which were digging into her shoulders.

The quaint, medieval-looking cottages and tall, sprawling structures she passed were shuttered and quiet-the High Mountain Renaissance Faire was closed until the weekend and many shops were empty, their owners gone to buy supplies or visit friends in Fort Collins. But the shops that served as seasonal homes for the shopkeepers showed signs of life, their upstairs windows glowing golden against the starry night sky. It was lovely. And on the other side of the faire, the night was filled with flickers of light and bursts of song from the distant campground.

Читать дальше →