The Magical Coin (The Magical Adventures of Sophia and Patrick Book 1)

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But it really was so warm in here.

Incredibly, luxuriantly, decadently warm. He was flipping to the next chapter when the wooden door behind him crashed open. He leapt to his feet. He knew that voice. It belonged to the younger — and most unpredictable — princess, Sofia, who had flown on dragon-back with his sister onto his riverbank in the middle of the night and disrupted his life forever.

How much money would you need to make a real difference? She waved one small, light brown hand impatiently. To help the riverbank. Was anything needed on the riverbank?


There were so many possible answers to that question, they jumbled into utter chaos. But one consideration overrode them all. And you saved my sister, too. You helped every step of the way. And I noticed everything you were doing, too. That was all Dieter remembered from that night. There was no reason to think she should care about his feelings.

But rather than drawing back or raising haughty eyebrows at his reply, she let out a short, sharp laugh. That should have been an alarming statement. His parents certainly would have been horrified by it on his behalf. She scowled. Just look at all I have! Did she mean all the books? None of those tents ever lasted for long, anyway. They were too thin, too vulnerable and impermanent. But his parents, of all impossible dreams, had actually been returned to him.

And what did he have to fear by asking for it? He licked his dry, cracked lips and forced himself onward as the princess stared at him in what looked like disbelief. So much for my impossible dream. Somehow…it just felt good to have finally asked. Straightening his shoulders, he took a step backwards in preparation to bow his way out of the room in apology.

I should have thought of that straightaway.

Because of the tents. All the practical things! That was surprisingly reassuring. He was whistling cheerfully two hours later as he crossed the snow-dusted riverbank towards the familiar family stall. The sky had cleared, and for once, Silke was actually there with their parents, all of them sitting together behind the hideously disorganized and messy sales table. They were all laughing at some fabulous story Silke was telling — but they stopped and gaped at him in unison as he came close. His shoulders felt so light and easy to move. He had support at his back and a purpose to carry him forward.

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Newsletter subscribers always get them first. Poor Sofia has been forced to travel along with two ladies-in-waiting and two guards across the continent in a carriage hanging and horribly swinging! We finally sighted Villenne forty-eight unspeakable hours later. By then, my silk gowns were hanging noticeably looser around my figure and my head was pounding an endless, throbbing beat. I only wish I could be there with you to explore the most famous human city in the world! You must tell me everything about it. They would all be unbearably humiliating. Jasper and I had formed a perfect philosophical friendship by letter — could it ever survive if he discovered how useless I was in real life?

Even Lena and Anja looked unusually subdued as we all took our places for our third day of travel. No number of washes could clear the stench from the carriage by that point, and the glass windows had been sealed for flight.

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But as the third hour of flight began that day, something nigh on miraculous occurred. High, round, colourful domes shaped like curling seashells appeared in the distance below us. A gleaming white palace rose up from the centre of the shimmering seawater beyond and the older guard, Jurgen, spoke for the first time in our whole journey.

It felt blessedly cool against my skin. The sight below felt even better.

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I took it in with a greedy gaze, absorbing every detail as we swung back and forth above it and my stomach lurched in accompaniment. Somewhere down there, in that massive cluster of islands connected by sparkling white bridges, was the university where Gert van Heidecker lectured to enraptured students in serious blue robes. Somewhere down there was a bed — a real bed, with a mattress and a deep, cosy duvet, in a room with a door that actually locked.

Soon I would be tucked underneath that duvet with my brand-new books and a steaming pot of hot chocolate in my hands. I could hardly —. Screams filled the wildly rocking carriage. I just absorbed the message of that cannonball with pure, cleansing fury. Ignoring my guards and ladies-in-waiting alike, I grabbed the door handle and flung the carriage door open in mid-air. Add on Goodreads. I finished my first rewrites of Thornbound and sent it off to my critique partners yesterday, hitting my final writing goal of the year. Amazon Music Stream millions of songs. Amazon Advertising Find, attract, and engage customers.

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East Dane Designer Men's Fashion. Shopbop Designer Fashion Brands. Deals and Shenanigans. I would not want to live in a world without love. Would a world with peace, but without love, be a better world? Not if the peace was achieved by drugging the love and hate out of us, or by suppression. Would a world with justice and freedom, but without love, be a better world? Not if it was achieved by somehow turning us all into loveless law-abiders with none of the yearnings or envies or hatreds that are wellsprings of injustice and subjugation.

It is hard to consider such hypotheticals, and I doubt if we should trust our first intuitions about them, but, for what it is worth, I surmise that we almost all want a world in which love, justice, freedom, and peace are all present, as much as possible, but if we had to give up one of these, it wouldn't — and shouldn't — be love.

But, sad to say, even if it is true that nothing could matter more than love, it wouldn't follow from this that we don't have reason to question the things that we, and others, love. Love is blind, as they say, and because love is blind, it often leads to tragedy: to conflicts in which one love is pitted against another love, and something has to give, with suffering guaranteed in any resolution.

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Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. There's nothing you can do that can't be done Nothing you can sing that can't be sung Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game It's easy.

We all been playing those mind games forever Some kinda druid dudes lifting the veil. Doing the mind guerrilla, Some call it magic — the search for the grail. Love is the answer and you know that for sure. Love is a flower, you got to let it — you got to let it grow. We have come by curious ways To the Light that holds the days; We have sought in haunts of fear For that all-enfolding sphere: And lo! Deep in every heart it lies With its untranscended skies; For what heaven should bend above Hearts that own the heaven of love?