The Curiosities (Carolrhoda Ya) by Brenna Yovanoff Tessa Gratton Maggie Stiefvater Read Free Book Online Page A

serrated edge a bunch of archaeologists said had to be from one of the Baltic saw-mouths that died out four hundred years ago. I guess that was proof.

    He was hailed as the heir to Sigurd despite his somewhat questionable pedigree. Three war colleges gave him honorary degrees despite the fact that he was only eighteen, and he got a half-ten commercial deals. Everybody knew his face. I have to admit, it was one you’d want to know, too. Eyes as gray as smoke, that ruddy look of the Eirish, but with shockingly bright yellow hair.
    We never heard him talk, except to say carefully scripted things like “Frosted Puffs: better than dragon tears” and “Only you can prevent troll attacks.” At school the prevailing theory was that he hadn’t actually killed a dragon, and if he was interviewed live he’d be dumb enough to say so. Annie, of course, defended him as if her own life depended on it. She said he was brave and had the heart of Thor. I said Thor was brave, for sure, but not very smart, and who’d want a guy with a great heart but lacking in the brain department?
    But whatever the case, when reports of a dragon rumbling the rocks in the Adirondacks came in, not only did they send in Sean Hardy, but the Vice-Jarl of State also declared a countrywide competition for a morale-boosting public date. Because apparently Sean’s only request before risking his life for the country was a simple dinner with a pretty girl.
    Confirmed my opinion of him right then and there. But it didn’t stop me from putting my name in.

    Come on. Don’t judge. There was a scholarship attached.
    . . .
    My family’s been dedicated Children of Loki since as long as we can remember. I’d say that gave me an edge in the luck department, except that there were probably thirty thousand other girls whose families were Lokiskin with their names in the pot too.
    My mom said it was destiny. The hand of Wyrd reaching out to pluck me from the teeming masses and set me on my true path, blah blah blah. I didn’t argue, because what was the point? I’d get a gorgeous new dress, a free trip to New York, a fine meal with a guy who was at least easy to look at, and then get to attend any college I wanted, no matter what the price. And I could get into pretty much any of them.
    No sweat. I wasn’t nervous at all throughout the week of television interviews, through the very public shopping spree along Fifth Avenue with Mom, Annie, and a half-ten fashionistas who’d plaster me and my dubious fashion sense across the blogosphere. I wasn’t even nervous after they convinced me to pick a teal dress with thin straps I wasn’t sure I could wear with a bra.
    I didn’t get nervous until I knocked on the door of Sean Hardy’s penthouse suite, two cameras with their white-hot lights making sweat tingle on the back of my neck.

    . . .
    And there he was. They’d put a tie on him that complemented my dress. Little salmon-silver-and-teal swirls were the only color on him, though. Gray jacket and pants. Gray eyes. I did notice a small trefoil tattoo on his earlobe. I stared at it. Through all the interviews and photos I’d seen, I’d never noticed it. They must Photoshop it out. Or use some great cover-all makeup.
    He cleared his throat, offered his arm, and we were off.
    . . .
    Sweet Sigyn’s teeth, was dinner awful. They put us in the middle of a huge dining room where all the rest of the tables had been cleared away. Instead, there were cameras and reporters and a couple of priests, even. I guess they couldn’t stop laying magic to protect Sean in the morning when he went out to face the dragon.
    I barely tasted the whatever-it-was some celebrity chef had spent hours or days fixing up. Sean ate basically nothing too, and he kept trying to talk to me about TV shows he liked, books he’d read. Polite stuff, when all I wanted to ask him about was how he’d killed the dragon, and if he’d touched that soft spot on its nose.
    . . .
    We walked back up to his