Elyse Thomson

She was no more capable of being a hero than a fish was of flight. The only weapons she’d ever wielded were her wits and her pen. Anyone who claimed the pen mightier than the sword had never been asked to face down the Beast of Old holding naught but a quill and a pithy remark in their defence.

The next one who so much as breathes impolitely in her direction better hope they die at the beast’s hands, and not mine.”

“I’ll tell your sisters where you hide your favourite shoes!”

Phaedra gasped, truly horrified now.

“You bitch! You know they’d steal them all on principle!” Phaedra grimaced. “No, I won’t give in. Do your worst!”

“I’ll tell her you were the one who slathered the poison oak in your ex-fiancé’s clothes!”

“He deserved it for being a mouth-breather and nothing you say will make me leave you. And if you leave me here, I’ll… I’ll mislabel all your artefacts and contaminate the dig site!”