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“Saints, what is that noise?” Nina had whispered. “I think it’s ‘Be Still, Little Bumble Bee,” said Wylan from behind the mask and horns of his Gray Imp ensemble. “But it’s hard to tell.” When they’d entered the music room, the silky-haired terrier at her feet had the sense to growl, but poor, pretty, pregnant Alys had just looked up from her sheet music and said, “Is this a play?” “Yes, love,” said Jesper gently, “and you’re the star.” — Leigh Bardugo
Saints, what is that noise?” Nina had whispered.
“I think it’s ‘Be Still, Little Bumble Bee,” said Wylan from behind the mask and horns of his Gray Imp ensemble. “But it’s hard to tell.”
When they’d entered the music room, the silky-haired terrier at her feet had the sense to growl, but poor, pretty, pregnant Alys had just looked up from her sheet music and said, “Is this a play?”
“Yes, love,” said Jesper gently, “and you’re the star.