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A Thorne in Time: Eva Thorne, #0
A Thorne in Time: Eva Thorne, #0
A Thorne in Time: Eva Thorne, #0
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A Thorne in Time: Eva Thorne, #0

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Before Eva Thorne can accept her destiny, she must learn to accept herself. Eva leaves her family behind for boarding school (that's a good thing when your family includes necromancers and crime lords), but the foreign city of Gernwold has its own dangers. An intruder, a teacher injured, a stolen necklace left in her room… Either someone is trying to frame her, or they know what Eva really is. 

In this prequel novella to the Eva Thorne series, enjoy mystery and magic melded with technology, as you explore the Three Kingdoms and meet all the friends who will one day help Eva become the famous (or notorious) detective we know and love her to be.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherLC Books
Release dateDec 29, 2017
ISBN9780994229045
A Thorne in Time: Eva Thorne, #0
Author

Lorel Clayton

ABOUT THE AUTHORS Lorel and Clayton were teen sweethearts. Clayton has severe dyslexia, but from the moment Lorel read ‘Magician’ aloud to him at age thirteen, they began to share magical worlds and dream of writing novels together one day. Hundreds of books later, and a wedding as well, those shared hours of reading, discussing and laughing, as they embellished their favorite stories, culminated in the completion of their first manuscript in 1996. After many more years of honing their craft, the Eva Thorne series was born. After the main four book series of Eva is complete, they are planning a new series of mysteries, as well as a science fiction series and a young adult fantasy. Stay tuned! Connect with Lorel Clayton Website: lorelclayton.com Twitter: @lorelclayton Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLorelClayton/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lorelclayton/

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    Book preview

    A Thorne in Time - Lorel Clayton

    A Thorne in Time

    Eva Thorne Prequel Novella

    Lorel Clayton

    Copyright © 2017 by Lorel Clayton.

    All rights reserved.

    ISBN: 978-0-9942290-4-5

    No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the authors at the address below.

    Lorel and Clayton Colgin

    [email protected]

    www.lorelclayton.com

    Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

    A THORNE IN TIME/ LOREL Clayton. — 2019 Edition

    ISBN 978-0-9942290-4-5

    Table of Contents

    A Thorne in Time

    1│ Goodbyes

    2│ Far From Here

    3│ Trouble

    4│ Found Out

    5│ Time to Die

    1│ Goodbyes

    Ihated the red, which came out looking like rust rather than the blood I was going for. I washed hair dye from my hands and stained a good towel cleaning up. I didn’t need a mirror to know the new shade made me unnaturally pale.

    I am unnatural, I told my reflection.

    I shoved clothes into my bags. Punched them in more like. It felt good to vent. Morgan would chastise me for not folding anything, but he wouldn’t be coming. He’d never know what a wreck I made of things.

    Get up you lazy, pathetic excuse for a Thorne! Nanny’s screech carried through the house. I wouldn’t miss that. I didn’t know if she was talking about me or Ilsa, probably me, as the Dark One she avoided with superstitious dread. Eva! So, she did mean me.

    I’m coming, I screeched back. I added an elvish brassiere to my suitcase—wishful thinking, as I was thirteen and still flat as a board, but I might ‘bloom’ soon as Karo put it—and dashed out the door and down the stairs to the entry hall.

    The suitcase was new, the type with wheels that could move about on their own if there was magic to fuel it. Of course, no one had bought any of the green goo to run it, so it was extra heavy with dormant motors. Useless thing. I hefted it in two hands and tossed it at Morgan, proud of my athleticism. He was twice my height and built of muscle, so he hardly noticed the extra weight.

    I’m not leaving yet. I’ll meet you at the gate. I tossed the knapsack at him too, along with the other bag I’d dragged down the steps behind me.

    Eva? He raised an eyebrow, but Morgan was good. Not ‘good’ in the sense he never hurt a fly, as he hurt more than a few of them being the house steward, and he also hurt more than flies, being my uncle’s bodyguard. He was ‘good’ in that he would trust me and not tattle to Uncle Ulric. Nanny on the other hand....

    Where are you off to? Her voice hadn’t lowered a decibel. I stuck my fingers in my ears, but she didn’t get the hint, not even when Morgan dropped all the bags on the marble floor and stoppered his ears too.

    You have an education to get, little missy, she continued. Learn to be a proper lady, leave the nest, stop being a burden upon your poor uncle and me with all your constant complaints, your judging and sniping. Wish it were a proper Solhan school. They’d teach you a lesson. Solhan schools were the kind where three out of ten students survived, so it could be worse. Barely.

    I don’t want to be a lady! I dashed out the front door before Uncle came to investigate the commotion.

    I didn’t want to leave Highcrowne, but I knew when I’d lost. With Uncle, the only option was losing. One silent look from him, and I froze. He didn’t need a bodyguard like Morgan when he had a look like that.

    There was one person I had to see before I went away. Okay, two, and they were always together.

    My boots skittered over icy stones, and I slipped in a few spots, going with it, letting my feet glide a bit before I regained my balance and picked them up again. It was sort of a running skate action as I made my way across the Outskirts.

    We lived in the best section of the dung heap, but it was still a dung heap. Literally. Piles of horse manure, human and other offal were shoved into the corners or waiting in the middle of the road for you to step in, or for the goblin street cleaners to come, but it usually got stepped in before they showed.

    No one cared about refugees like us. Bad as Uncle was, he and other members of the local council had built a civilization out of nothing—real houses and temples, businesses and schools, although none good enough for a Thorne—with no help from the kings who ruled the city. Our monarchs were dwarf, elf, and Avian,

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