I’d been compromised, then turned against those I loved. But no one controlled me. No one took anything I didn’t willingly offer. Not for long, anyway.
If the elves wanted a war, I’d bring it. The instruments of assassination would come out to play. The dragon slayer would wreak bloody, sticky vengeance. And then I was getting freaking married — no elves invited.
Even a baker of cupcakes and a maker of trinkets occasionally had to set aside the chocolate, the spice, and everything nice to save her friends. And her city.