Novels by Alice Precious

POV: Isolde (Izzy) ThorneI couldn't breathe. The air in the hall felt like it was made of lead. I looked at the man standing over me. He had my brother’s eyes, my brother’s messy brown hair, and my brother’s face. But he was holding a sword to the king's throat."Leo, stop!" I screamed. I tried to shield Alaric’s body with my own. "What are you doing? These men are rebels! They are the ones who started the war!"Leo laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound. It didn't sound like the brother who used to help me dye silk in our tiny hut."The war was a lie, Izzy," Leo said. He stepped closer, the purple light of his sword reflecting in his eyes. "The Valerion family stole the throne from the Weavers three hundred years ago. They turned our magic into a crime so they could stay in power. I’m not a rebel. I’m the rightful heir."The man in the bone mask stepped forward. "Your brother has been working with us for months, Isolde. While you were playing Queen, he was learning the truth. We didn't

POV: Isolde (Izzy) ThorneI backed away from the edge of the pit, my heart hammering against my ribs. The heat rising from the dark hole was so intense it singed the hem of my white dress. Everyone in the hall was frozen. Even the guards stopped moving, their spears shaking in their hands."What is that?" Morgana shrieked. She looked terrified, her face pale and her mouth hanging open. "He fell! No one survives the obsidian shards!"The glowing hand gripped the ledge harder. The stone floor began to melt. Then, another hand reached up. It wasn't black obsidian anymore. It was red, like lava cooling into rock.With a roar that shook the glass windows of the palace, the figure pulled himself up.It was Alaric. But he looked like a nightmare. The black stone that once covered his arms and face was now glowing with a dark, angry fire. His eyes were no longer solid glass; they were two burning coals. Steam rose from his skin as he stood up, towering over us."Alaric?" I whispered.He didn'

POV: Isolde (Izzy) ThorneI didn't sleep. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the pit of obsidian shards Morgana mentioned. I saw myself falling, my fake noble skin tearing apart to reveal the poor weaver underneath.Alaric stood by the window all night. He didn't move. He looked like a real statue now, a dark shape against the moonlight. The silence between us was heavy, but the "Soul-Link" in my head was screaming. I could feel his heartbeat. It was slow and heavy, like a drum buried deep in the earth.“Stop shaking,” his voice echoed in my mind."I can't help it," I whispered, hugging my arms. "You heard her. The Glass Floor. I’m a weaver, Alaric. My blood is common. The moment I step on that floor, it will shatter. Why didn't you tell them the truth?"He turned around. The moonlight hit the stone on his face. “Because if I tell them the truth, the Arch-Druid will burn you alive. And I will turn into a pillar of salt by noon. You are my only battery, Isolde. You have to

POV: Isolde (Izzy) ThorneAlaric dragged me through a massive hallway. The walls were made of black glass, and I could see my stolen face reflected in them. I looked like a queen, but I felt like a lamb in a trap. His grip on my wrist was like an iron shackle."Stop! You’re hurting me!" I cried out.He didn't stop. He didn't even turn his head. We reached a heavy stone door. He pushed it open and tossed me inside. I stumbled, my silk dress tangling around my legs. The room was huge, but it felt like a cage. There was a large desk covered in old papers and a fireplace that had no fire.Alaric turned around. He looked at me with those cold, obsidian eyes. The voice returned to my head, louder than before. It felt like a needle scratching against my brain.“Strip,” he commanded.I froze. My face went red, then pale. "What? No! I am a noble lady of House Thorne. You cannot treat me like this!"His stone face didn't move, but I felt his anger. It was like a wave of heat.“You are a liar,”

POV: Isolde (Izzy) ThorneThe royal guards did not knock. They kicked the door so hard that the wooden frame cracked."Everyone out!" a man yelled. His armor was dark and smelled like old blood. "By order of King Alaric, all men of fighting age are to report to the town square."My heart stopped. I looked at my younger brother, Leo. He was only seventeen. He was thin and pale, his hands still stained with the blue dye from our weaving loom. He wasn't a soldier. He was a creator. If they sent him to the front lines of war, he wouldn't last a week."Please," I said, stepping in front of Leo. "He is sick. He can't carry a sword."The guard didn't even look at me. He grabbed Leo by the collar of his shirt and dragged him toward the door."Izzy!" Leo cried out. His eyes were wide with terror."Let him go!" I screamed, lunging forward.The guard pushed me back. I hit the floor hard. I watched as they threw my brother into a wooden cage on the back of a wagon. There were other boys inside, a