Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog (Magic Carpet Books)

Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog (Magic Carpet Books)

Ysabeau S. Wilce

Language: English

Pages: 448

ISBN: 0152054391

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Flora knows better than to take shortcuts in her family home, Crackpot Hall--the house has eleven thousand rooms, and ever since her mother banished the magickal butler, those rooms move around at random. But Flora is late for school, so she takes the unpredictable elevator anyway. Huge mistake. Lost in her own house, she stumbles upon the long-banished butler--and into a mind-blowing muddle of intrigue and betrayal that changes her world forever.
    
Includes an interview with the author.

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was usually just Poppy and me for supper. “I never thought he’d turn out to be such a tyrant,” I said. “He’s a hundred times worse than Mamma. At least Mamma isn’t around enough to crawl down your throat. Poppy never leaves the house. He’s always here. There’s no escaping. Flynnie, get out of there.” At my gentle kick, Flynn slunk away from the garbage can, looking dejected, as though he’d never been fed before in his life. Which was, of course, false, as he’d not only already had dinner, but

and doing other rangery things. But then, after chapter 11, the headings changed. “Retroactive Enchantments.” “Sigils to Bind.” “Sigils to Break.” “The A–Z of Banishing.” “Interior Evocations.” “Exhalative Invocations.” “Fun with Charms.” The illustrations changed, too; now they showed rangers making Invoking Gestures, rangers wrestling with dæmons, rangers tossing lightning bolts, rangers turning into coyotes. I flipped to the index, and there found what I was looking for: “Restoration

lay on its side, as green as a grape and so gassy that I’m surprised the corpse didn’t float off into the sky. The sidewalk planking soon disappeared completely, and then the trash turned out to be a good thing because the only way to get through the mud without losing your boots was to hop from broken barrel to discarded box to abandoned fruit crate. When a wagon went by, its driver cursing a blue streak and snapping a whip over the struggling team, its wheels tossed up rotting garbage and

a technicality. “I am now in charge of this prisoner, and I say, you can go hang!” “The Warlord owes obedience to the Virreina’s representative,” said the Quetzal. “Ha! Lord Axacaya is hardly the Virreina’s representative in Califa! What then is the Huitzil Ambassador?” Udo said doggedly. “And where’s the order written? You cannot expect us to heed a verbal order—” “I do not need a written order from Lord Axacaya,” Captain Honeychurch said. “His servants are enough.” We were going to lose, I

was just the sidekick. Forget Boy Hansgen. What would Nini Mo do? She would look for a Way Out. So, I looked. The other two Quetzals—Minions, I suppose—stood before the gates, partially blocking that exit. Behind us, the sally port opened to the wide space of the parade yard, surrounded on all sides by three tiers of casemates, each alcove containing an extremely large gun whose barrel stuck out of an extremely small embrasure window. No exit there. If we somehow made it to the top of the

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