Story Snippets: Son of the Shield (Mary)

 I am neck-deep in getting ready to release my epic fantasy novel, Son of the Shield, Book 1 of the Ransom Trilogy, in February, so I thought it would be fun to use that as my story snippet this month! (I wish I could share the cover art with this sample, but it's still in production so for now you'll just have to take my word for it being awesome!)

Son of the Shield features a lot of really intense and heavy scenes, but I decided to feature a more fun, lighthearted one...though I'm sure we can all empathize to some degree with the awkwardness Orienne is feeling. ; )

*

The sun was sinking in a bath of winter-golden light, casting sharp, crazy shadows through the leafless trees, and a gentle but frigid wind had drawn a thin veil of lacy clouds over the pale sky when Orienne made the walk back up the hill from the village to the fort.

She was bone-weary, but couldn’t remember when she’d last had such a pleasant afternoon. She’d spent the last several hours helping the women of the village fill their wood boxes, feed their animals, clean their barns, and finish a variety of other chores. They’d all thanked her profusely as though she’d made some great sacrifice, but in truth she almost felt as though she’d taken advantage of them, using their moment of need as an opportunity to indulge her own desires.

Their lives were so simple, so enviably perfect—of course not really perfect, as the problem of the Moorden fire and subsequent absence of the village’s men attested—but wasn’t that just the point? The primary problems in these people’s lives were an accidental fire and being short handed for afternoon chores. Not war, not tense diplomatic meetings, not absurd offers of armistice, not assassination attempts.

Just the simple, mundane problems of a simple, mundane life.

By comparison, it was perfect.

Not for the first time, Orienne contemplated resigning from her diplomatic position and leaving the capital for someplace like Sutton Village—Farindel boasted scores of such tiny, remote villages—since waiting for the war to end was proving in vain. But doing so would take her away from Allegar—Allegar, who had first committed himself as a soldier, and now dedicated his entire life to Farindel’s service as one of the Ransom. He was all the family she had left and she was loath to leave him for that reason, but it also felt so unfair, so selfish, to yearn so strongly for a life the war didn’t dictate, when he had accepted that role freely.

And now she was back in the place she had reasoned herself into so many times: that her only chance at a life free from war was to pray and hope for the war to end.

“Orienne, there you are!”

She stopped and pushed back the hood of her cloak as Allegar strode toward her across the fort’s courtyard, grinning.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Hardly!” He put one arm around her shoulders and gestured with his other hand at a second man coming towards them. “Will you look at what the wind blew through the gates while you were out?”

The approaching man was about Allegar’s age, though not quite as tall, with blond hair, blue-gray eyes, and facial features that were vaguely familiar—more and more familiar, the longer she looked at him. He wore civilian clothes, but the sword and scabbard on his belt were marked with the shield-and-wyvern insignia of the military.

His eyes widened when he looked at her. “Allegar, this cannot be Orienne.”

He knew her—but from where? Orienne wanted to study his face more closely, hoping to locate a memory of him, but was afraid to risk making eye contact lest her eyes betray the awkwardness she felt.

Allegar laughed and squeezed Orienne’s shoulders. “A bit different than last time, eh?”

“A bit?” The man laughed, blinking in disbelief. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Orienne nudged Allegar’s ribcage with her elbow, trying to signal that she had no idea who this person was, but he said nothing, so she did her best to smile politely in spite of the blush she felt crawling up her neck. No doubt her eyes were as pink as her face.

“Please, forgive me for staring—I’m just so taken aback! It is so good to see you again, Orienne!” the stranger said, extending his hand, palm-down.

Orienne rested her hand on top of his a bit uneasily. “Hello,” she said, meeting his eyes only briefly. His smile stirred something in her, something she’d felt before. Why couldn’t she remember his name?

After a moment’s pause, he withdrew his hand and chuckled. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Orienne cringed and forced herself to meet his eyes. “I know your face, but—I am so sorry—I have no name to put with it.”

The stranger glanced at Allegar, one side of his mouth tipped up in a mischievous smile. “Can I tell her now?”

Allegar leaned closer to Orienne and whispered: “Think Harrowby.”

Orienne shuffled through memories of the village where she and Allegar had grown up. Neighbors, relatives, friends… She gasped as the stranger suddenly fell into place among them. “Sorek Ronarres?”

He threw his head back. “Ha! You do remember!”

Remember? Orienne was shocked it had taken her so long to place him. She forced an uncomfortable laugh, trying in vain not to blush even more now that she realized who he was. “I—I can’t believe it, it must be…how many years?”

“Eleven, we figure,” Allegar said.

Eleven years ago Orienne was only twelve. Sorek was a lanky, awkward eighteen-year-old, Allegar’s best friend…and the sole object of Orienne’s girlish infatuation. Now, time had replaced his coltish gangliness with a mature, rugged physique and features. A healthy, well-maintained beard grew where before only thin, straggly wisps had struggled for existence, and his unbridled energy had settled into warm cheerfulness.

“You’ve…changed,” Orienne managed.

“I’ve changed?” Sorek laughed. “What about you? You were just a little girl when you two left Harrowby.”

Orienne groaned inwardly, remembering how she’d hung on everything Sorek said, the way her heart had fluttered every time he happened to glance her way…and the entire time she’d been nothing but “a little girl” in his eyes.

New Release: The King's Spell (Lizzie)

It's here! I am so excited to share the release of The King's Spell with you today! This book has been begging to meet the world for a long time. In 2013 I published my first novel (The Beast's Enchantress, later re-released as The Rose and the Wand in 2017). In that book, there is a handsome gentleman and his brother who turn out to be among the bad guys. I liked them, one in particular, too much to leave them among the villains, however, so I began a story for them, and hinted at it at the end of The Rose and the Wand. Magic Collector Lord Devryn Collins in The Rose and the Wand now gets his chance to be a hero under his true name of Devryn Ashby, in The King's Spell. 

THE KING’S SPELL, Realm and Wand, book 1

Only a king can banish sorcerers and strip enchanters of their power. Only a king is immune to spells and potions. Only a king knows the truth behind the legends. Until now.

Magic Collector Devryn Ashby may have deserved the curse that saps his magic-manipulating abilities, but it certainly won’t help him with the task King Reginald has assigned him. Instead of allowing him to continue hunting for those who stole the powerful Enchanter’s List, the king makes Devryn trainer-in-magic to the mischievous enchantress Lady Meredith Lofton.

Except for an occasional matchmaking exploit, Lady Meredith has little use for her power of enchantment—until the king asks her to train in magical warfare techniques. This both excites and terrifies her. And irks her, for she refuses to be bossed around by the critical Devryn Ashby, a man she’s not even sure she should trust. 

But as dangers increase and the sorcerers’ schemes unfold, Devryn and Meredith must choose whom to follow—their own desires and prejudices or their king. Only a king knows how much the kingdom depends on their choice.

With danger, wit, mystery, a hero learning to be heroic, and a mischievous enchantress, The King's Spell (book 1 of Realm and Wand) is a clean fantasy with a "Jane Austen romance meets fantasy adventure" feel. You can purchase it here. It is set in my larger Magic Collectors story world, but you don't have to have read any of the other books to enjoy this one. 

What others are saying about The King's Spell

I thoroughly enjoyed The King’s Spell. Set in a Jane Austen-esqe world with fascinating magic, mystery, and intriguing and enjoyable characters, this book is a must for readers looking for something more than the usual medieval fantasy fare. I need the next book (and a cup of tea) now!

~Morgan L. Busse, author of the award-winning Ravenwood Saga

A compelling mystery wrapped in a complex and richly detailed world.

~H.L. Burke, fantasy author and Realm Award winner

I thoroughly enjoyed this story. The unique, fully realized magic system captured my interest and the realistically developed characters held it, binding me to the unpredictable, compelling plot that kept me guessing. I didn’t want the story to end, and I may have wailed in despair when it did. 

~Lauricia Matuska, author of The Healer’s Rune

The King’s Spell draws readers more deeply into Kitchens’ unforgettable world of manners, magic, adventure, and romance. Half-magic Devryn Ashby is just as delightful a hero as anticipated, especially when paired off against the mischievous enchantress Lady Meredith Lofton. With just the right balance of wit and danger and an entertaining cast of multi-faceted characters, I can’t wait for the next installment!

~Laurie Lucking, award-winning author of The Tales of the Mystics

Weekend Reads: Melanie Dickerson and the Importance of Jellybeans (Mary)

 Pretty much everyone who knows me knows I love the Medieval era. Those who know me beyond passing acquaintance know that I'm slightly obsessed with it.

Those who know me very, very well, know that during our teens, my best friend and I actually kept journals of "our lives" that we wrote as though we were living in the Medieval era. That's how deep my obsession goes. Granted, we were wildly inaccurate historically speaking, creating instead some kind of weird, mostly fictional, Medieval/Renaissance/sheer fantasy alternate universe in which the drama ran outrageously high and we both spent the majority of our time either being kidnapped or proposed to--sometimes both, for good measure.

We spent hours every week--sometimes hours per day--pouring our dramatic little souls onto the pages of those journals, and looked forward with giddy excitement to seeing each other every Friday, when we could exchange journals, read each other's adventures and exploits from the previous week, and add to them our own adventures for the next week.

Looking back at those journals now I think "Oh my goodness, I want to die..." but at the same time, there is still an appeal to living in that world, as much as I blush to admit it. The castles and knights and gorgeous clothes and pageantry and coats of arms and tournaments...but with enough fantasy thrown in to break the historical rules whenever I need or want to, to conform to the story I'm telling.

I think that's why I love the work of Melanie Dickerson so much.

(My most recent Melanie Dickerson read)

Melanie Dickerson's books are a relaxed blend of Medieval historical fiction and fairy tale/fantasy, but in my opinion they don't fit neatly into either category. There are too many anachronisms to really call it historical, but they are too historical to really qualify as full-fledged fantasy, either.

And I think that's part of what appeals to me. Dickerson's books are fun, relaxing, easy reading, and don't require a lot of thought to follow--the kind of books that I like to call "jellybean reading."

You can't live a healthy lifestyle if all you ever eat is jellybeans--they aren't going to power you through a 5k or boost your immune system or keep you satisfied all day at work--and in the same way I don't believe that you can have a balanced, well-rounded literary diet if all you ever read is Melanie Dickerson.

But boy, jellybeans sure taste good.

 If you want a little something sweet and enjoyable (and let's be honest, jellybeans are just cute to look at), if you want something with a variety of flavors but the same basic form and format, if you're feeling down and need a sweet, colorful little pick-me-up, nothing quite hits the spot like jellybeans.

I know people who won't touch a sugary snack like jellybeans, and I know people who won't read books like Melanie Dickerson because they're "fluff." But I would argue that, just as jellybeans can have an important cheering-up effect, "fluffy" reads can be an important part of a literary diet.

Sometimes I'm just too tired to read nonfiction or heavy, "serious" literature. Sometimes I'm sad and don't want to read anything emotional or that deals with super heavy topics. And, I'll be honest, sometimes I get nostalgic about living in a Medieval fantasy world with my best friend, and just want something to remind me of that.

Literature doesn't exist only to educate and challenge us. Literature also exists to comfort, to console, to be a friend, to help us relax, to just have fun. Different books and different authors fulfill different purposes with their work, and who's to say that the jellybeans you use to cheer up and have some fun aren't as important to a balanced, varied diet and lifestyle as an 8-ounce steak or a spinach salad you use to build up your muscle and get some serious work done?

Dawn Bringer and Celebrating My Birthday and a Release with a Free Steampunk Novelette! (Lizzie)

 So today is supposed to be a Weekend Reads post, and this kinda is, but it's also a shameless self-promo and a birthday bash! In addition to my 37th birthday, today marks the release of Dusk Crier, the fifth and final book in my fun adventure-romance novelette- and novella-length steampunk collection, The Star Clock Chronicles. It's the release of the collection too and a $0.99 sale on my most popular book, Midnight for a Curse, a humorous fairytale retelling of Beauty and the Beast where Beast wants to keep his curse. In lieu of a party with banana pudding and homemade pizza and a hike, which was my childhood birthday hope, I'll just talk books and give away Dawn Bringer, the first book in The Star Clock Chronicles series.

I don't remember when I first heard about steampunk, but I quickly fell in love with the aesthetic of it. Gowns, corsets, airships, goggles, fancy guns. The look is so fun, so promising of adventure, that I couldn't help but write a steampunk series, and include a bit of fae trouble-making too. In the Star Clock Chronicles, we have a world where the sun has been hidden behind a fairy star veil. Stars, dawn, moonlight, all are lovely myths. No moving shadows tell you the time. No stars guide your path. Navigator automatons are the only way to travel more than three miles without a curse befuddling you. Clocks are forbidden. Iron is contraband. 

Into this tightly controlled world comes new hope when a brave airship captain and a clever teacher/smuggler find ancient books on navigation in an old fairy cave. If they can escape the cave and the Time Keepers after them, they and the friends they'll go to for help can change the world. Maybe even defeat the Time King and bring back the dawn.

With adventure, banter, and romance, these standalone short stories are delightful, quick reads, even if I do say so myself. ;) If you like steampunk or have been wanting to give if a try, I hope you'll accept a free copy of Dawn Bringer, available here. 

Dawn Bringer

In a world where the sun is a myth, dawn is coming.

Bertram Orren expected trouble with both the Time Keepers and faeries if he got caught in the faerie woods. He didn’t expect to get trapped in an abandoned faerie court deep underground while trying to save airship captain Marianna Bowditch from a will-o’-the-wisp. Nor did he expect he and Marianna to discover an ancient treasure that could help free the world from the Time King’s control, one that could bring back the people’s ability to navigate for themselves in a world where sun and moon, east and west are myths hidden by the faerie queen’s Star Veil. Even if Bertram and Marianna escape the caves, they’ve no way to navigate themselves to an airship port and safety, and if the Time Keepers find them, the world will never see the dawn.

Do you read steampunk? How do you celebrate your birthday now?

Weekend Reads: The Tethered World (Heather)

Are you ready to snuggle beside the fire with your coffee/tea/cocoa and enjoy a virtual adventure? This weekend's Weekend Reads recommendation (say that 5x fast) is close to my heart because it is my very own book baby!

Before you assume I'm self-promoting to pad the ol' bank account, let me put your mind at ease. The Tethered World ebook, the first book in my fantasy trilogy, is FREE on your favorite bookish website. Of course, if you love a 'real' book, to have and to hold, The Tethered World is also available in paperback at a not-so-free price ;) 

Since it would be a little tacky to tell you to "you'll love this book" I'll leave you with the back cover copy and a few of my favorite reviews to whet your curiosity. Of course, I do hope you'll download this clean, family-friendly fantasy and save it for one of your weekend reads, soon! And if you happen to have Kindle Unlimited, the other two books in The Tethered World Chronicles can be read for free, as well. Oh, and if you like audiobooks, I just might have some codes to LISTEN for FREE, if you email me @: heather@heatherllfitzgerald.com 

So, FREE is the buzzword here!

Story Snippets: The Wolf Queen by Special Guest Tabitha Caplinger

We're thrilled to welcome Tabitha Caplinger back to Lands Uncharted! (Tabitha joined us for an interview back in 2018, and we featured her fun, intense, snarky series about demon hunters, The Chronicle of the Three, in this Book Spotlight.) Today, Tabitha is sharing a Story Snippet from her upcoming new release, The Wolf Queen, which comes out in January, 2021!

Eeeep, I can't wait! But instead of going on about it myself, here's Tabitha!

HI! I am so excited to share a snippet of The Wolf Queen with you all. Here’s the synopsis to give you a little context.

Ylva was raised by wolves. That is the story her clan tells of their Wolf Queen. The truth is far more miraculous. Her Gift, bestowed by the Light, enables her to see deep inside the hearts of men. 

Prince Rohan considers the Light mere superstition and only believes in what he can see with his own eyes. 

But a great evil is infecting the Four Realms. The battle between the Light and the Darkness is no longer bound to human hearts, and words Ylva and Rohan thought were just legend are being whispered again. The dragon is rising.

Here is Chapter Three.

*** 

“What do you mean?” Ylva asked Håkon. “Do you know what the man spoke of?”

“Aye, it is said there would come a time when the Darkness would rise and it would overcome all men. It will take the High Mountain and be the destruction of us all.” The old man spoke the words with such confidence, as though he had already seen it happen.

Ylva stood up and paced the dirt floor. “You talk of myths and legends. There is nothing on that mountain but ruins.”

“It is not what is on the mountain, but what lies beneath it,” Håkon sighed.

“You don’t really believe that to be true?” Ylva asked incredulously. She had heard him speak of the dragon who slept beneath the mountain a hundred times before. While Håkon based much of his storytelling upon their clan’s history, Ylva knew that this account was not one to be believed. Maybe the myth held the slightest thread of truth, but Ylva had assumed its main purpose came in teaching children what is right and good through means of fable. Yet now he continued rambling into the fire about the mountain and its dragon like it was more, like it was prophecy.

“Do not think me a lunatic, Ylva…” the old man began but was cut off by Erland bursting through the door.

“I am sorry, but there is someone here who says he must speak with you,” Erland said. “He claims it is urgent.”

“At this hour?” Ylva asked. She did not give time for Erland to respond but simply added, “It’s fine, I will meet him.” She turned to Håkon and asked, “Join us?” The old man nodded and they followed Erland outside.

They walked through the village toward the western gate. An Ibharüng guard stood watch at the entrance, a lit torch in hand. Erland held another—the flicker of the two lights now cast a glow upon three figures previously camouflaged by the darkness. Their steeds stood nearby, the horses’ breath visibly escaping as foggy tendrils into the frigid night air.

“I am Ylva, leader of this clan. To whom am I speaking?” she asked.

One of the figures stepped closer, coming into clearer view. His pallid skin and hair looked to be covered in ash and blood. “I am Dagr, of the Fell,” he said and then bowed his head. “We come seeking shelter.”

“You have come a very long way. Why? Shelter from what?” Ylva asked. There were at least three other clans residing in the territory between her clan and the Fell. While no current dispute existed between them, her uncle’s deceit had caused a long-lasting tension.

“Our clan came under attack two days ago,” Dagr answered. “They came at twilight with no warning and no reason except to destroy everything and kill everyone.”

“Who?” Ylva asked.

“We do not know—they bore no clan markings. We don't believe them to be from the Northlands,” Dagr replied. “We came here because we know you to be virtuous and just. We know that you can be trusted and would not simply cast us out.”

“If your village was attacked, why are you not helping the survivors? Have they sent you to find a place for them all? To ask me to bear the burden of your entire clan?” Ylva asked only a few of the questions running through her mind. It bothered her to consider that an injured people were left without help. She herself would not have left them out in the cold. At the same time, she would not extend the Ibharüng's help simply because the Fell may believe Ylva’s people owed service to them. No—her clan’s debt had been paid years ago.

“We are the survivors,” another of the Fell said as she stepped forward, a shield maiden with long hair stained with the same blood and ash as her comrade, “the only survivors.”

“This is Solveig, my sister,” Dagr said, “and this is Bjorn.” He gestured to the third Fell, a young man of ruddy appearance.

Bjorn looked terrified as blood actively dripped down his arm. “We are all that is left of the Fell. No other man, woman, or child remains alive. All that remains of our village is soot and smoke.”

“Why would someone do such a thing?” Erland wondered aloud. “This goes beyond the rules of war.” Erland had fought by Ylva’s side since she was a girl. He usually spoke very little. While typically calm and steadfast, worry now wrinkled his brow.

“There was no rule to it, no law guiding it. It was pure evil wearing men’s skin.” Solveig’s voice trembled as she spoke, tears streaking her face.

“What do you mean?” Håkon asked, now stepping into the conversation to which he had just been a silent bystander up to this point.

“They were unnatural, the men who attacked us. Their eyes were the color of storm clouds, their veins black. Each possessed the strength of ten men,” Bjorn replied. His voice cracked with each word.

Dagr placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “They were inhuman. It was like they were from another world.”

Ylva sighed. “We will give you shelter. Erland will see to it. But be careful not to make monsters out of mortals. It will only incite more fear,” she said. She looked to Erland who nodded his compliance and began to lead the three Fell survivors into the village.

“Sometimes mortals become monsters,” Håkon scolded her quietly once the others left earshot. “There is more at work here than the hands of men. Do you really have such a hard time believing that?”

“I believe in the Darkness, but this…this is…” Ylva was finding it difficult to wrap her mind around such a thing.

“This is the Darkness growing stronger,” the elder interrupted. “Just as Lys can bestow gifts of power on his beloved, Myrkr can also give a form of power that is really a curse. The former acts to bless and strengthen while the latter only seeks to take. You of all people should understand there is more at play here than just the natural. Think of your own gift… your Sight.”

Håkon was right. Ylva knew it. Lys had given her a gift—one that could not be explained. Some even doubted it, but she knew it to be as real as anything she could touch with her hands. What Dagr had seen, the darkness taking over a man's heart, was what she saw every time she used her Sight. But she had never known it to break the surface of a man’s flesh to become visible by all. She couldn’t fathom a darkness growing so strong in a man’s heart that it would breech his form and will completely.

This all meant more than Ylva was prepared to accept. The dying man, the elder’s stories, and now the catastrophe upon the Fell…the Darkness must be growing. This attack perhaps marked only the beginning. “What do we do?” she asked.

“We send a falcon to the North Keep,” Håkon instructed. “The dragon is rising.” It was the second time Ylva had heard those words. It was the second time they caused her body to shiver and draw bumps across her pale skin. For most of her life, Håkon told tales of Myrkr and Lys. He spoke of imprisoning the Darkness generations ago and of a time when it would once again come to reign. He recited prognostications of The Priestess turning the hearts of men and her dragon devouring those who would not yield. Did she not believe him? It is easy to believe what we can see and experience, but it is harder to bear faith in the things unseen—the things that defy rational thought. Believing solely in her gift, what she could see, was simply not enough anymore. She must decide: embrace the stories told by the elders or find another option. She could no longer avoid thinking about from where her gift came and the implications therein. If Håkon was right, if his stories were actually coming to pass, she must broaden her belief. Ylva wanted to believe fully in Lys; that Lys could be trusted both with what can be understood and what cannot. The war between the Light and the Darkness breeched the surface of their world and so her faith must go beyond the shallows. Her heart had to be ready.

Doesn't this sound fantastic?! Here's a little more about the author:

Tabitha Caplinger gets way too emotionally invested in the lives of fictional characters, whether it’s obsessing over a book or tv show, or getting lost creating her own worlds. Tabitha is the author of The Chronicle of the Three Trilogy, a Christian urban fantasy, and a lover of good stories and helping others live chosen. When she’s not writing book words, she’s reheating her coffee, binging a new show or teaching God’s Word to students. Tabitha, her husband and two beautifully sassy daughters desire to be Jesus with skin on for those around them. They live to love others...and for Marvel movies.

You can connect with Tabitha on her website, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, and Goodreads.

Thank you so much for joining us today, Tabitha!! Congratulations on your upcoming new book!

Crucial Decisions by Special Guest Rachel Rossano (Living Sacrifice Blog Tour)

We are so excited to welcome Rachel Rossano to Lands Uncharted today to talk about her newest release, Living Sacrifice, the third and final book in her The Talented series! This finale released earlier this week and I am so excited for it. If you recall, I reviewed the first book in the series, Seventh Born, last month and gushed about the trilogy's heroine, Zezilia, being one of my favorite strong female leads. Rachel is going to share about the crucial decisions that make Zez such a strong heroine. 

The Talented series concludes on November 2, 2020 with the release of the final novel, Living Sacrifice. The fantasy trilogy centers around two seventh-born Talented, those with the abilities of telepathy and telekinesis. The heroine of the series, Zezilia, chooses to defy the expectations of her family, her society, and her gender to fill roles that many consider beyond her. The process that brought her to these positions connect back to three crucial decisions in the series.

In the first book, Seventh Born, Zezilia discovers she has potential to be a great Talent with the ability to communicate via thoughts and to move things with her mind. Not only is this unexpected in a female, but it is also undesirable. Many in her culture consider female talents not worth training. Thankfully, she is discovered by a man who does not have such a restricted view. He offers her the opportunity to train as a Talent. When she accepts this invitation, she is very aware that she is choosing to defy both societal and familial expectations. However, she longs for something more than the alternative, marriage and children.

In the second book, The Defender, Zezilia has completed the first part of her training as a Talent. Ready to begin using her new skills, she takes on the role of defender of the sept son. She sees this as an opportunity to serve, support, and make a difference in her world. However, it becomes quickly apparent that her presence is going to cause more trouble for the sept son than help. Still, she chooses to face the opposition because she feels she has a purpose, a role that only she can fill.

In the final book, Living Sacrifice, through a series of events, Zezilia finds herself unexpectedly abandoned by her mentor. Midst her struggles to find a new purpose and place as her country struggles through a prolonged civil war, she receives a summons. The sept son has disappeared and the high king wants her to fill the position. Overwhelmed by the immense responsibility, Zezilia takes up the role of leadership. She didn't choose to accept because she wanted the power or because she would be widely accepted. In fact, she says yes despite knowing that many would reject her in that role. Instead, she takes on the load for the sake of the country and the man she has grown to love. She can't walk away when people need her.

In Zezilia's journey, she never rejects her gender. Although she longs to be more useful and more helpful, she never desires to be other than what she is. Staying true to the core of who she is, she does great things because she is willing to serve, love, take risks, and sacrifice for others. She gradually grows into this strength as the story progresses. Through a series of choices, she learns the skills to stand on her own feet and support those she loves.

I love Zezilia's journey! And it really makes this series fun, exciting, and inspiring to read! I was also cheering on the final stages of growth (including the culmination of the slow burn romance) in this book. 💖  Thank you so much for sharing more about Zez with us, Rachel. Here's a little more about her: 

Rachel Rossano specializes in clean romantic fiction set in historical-feeling fantasy worlds. She also dabbles in straightforward historical romance and not-so-strict speculative fiction. A happily married mother of three children, she divides her time between mothering, teaching, and writing. She endeavors to enchant, thrill, entertain, and amuse through her work. A constant student, she seeks to improve her skills and loves to hear from readers.

You can connect with Rachel on her website, Facebook, and Amazon.

And now some more about Living Sacrifice which is available now!

Separated, but still joined, they strive for freedom.

Left behind at the sept son's compound, Zezilia Ilar struggles with the after effects of her prolonged commisceo-link with Hadrian. She devotes herself to caring for the wounded arriving almost daily from the battlefields. Pressed to perform procedures and make decisions far beyond her training, Zez grows in confidence and skill. All the while, she wonders if she'll see Hadrian again, fearing the worst possible news will arrive any day.

Sept Son Hadrian Aleron fights to bring peace to his home nation. Allied with the new high king, he and a small army of Talented struggle to retake the capital city. Elitists, though scattered, continue to pick off the strongest of his men. As he battles the remnants of the commisceo-link and tries to organize the campaign, he begins losing himself to exhaustion. Only a miracle will keep him alive. 

Living Sacrifice is the third in a trilogy. Reading Seventh Born and The Defender first is recommended.

Weekend Reads: Toch Island Chronicles, Finding Angel

For this Weekend Read, I'm going retro back to my first years in the writing world, and one of the series that drew me into Christian speculative fiction, The Toch Island Chronicles by Kat Heckenbach. This series is one of my all-time favorites. Finding Angel is the first book in the series. I recently listened to the Audible recording of it for the second time (my third "reading"), and it was even better this time around. Alas, it's the only book of the trilogy available in audio format, but I assure you it's every bit as good in print as are the other two books in the series.

Angel is an orphan who meets an unusual boy named Gregor who whisks her away from her foster family. He has a special Talent that allows him to travel long distances by drawing gates. He takes her to Toch Island, her homeland, which she doesn't remember. They go on a quest to find the man who tried to kill her as a small child. On Toch Island, Angel discovers her Talent, her true identity, as well as friends and family including an Elven rocker with more attitude than he has tattoos and a kindly professor with a pet dragon that prefers naps to barbecuing objects or people. There is so much to love about this series, memorable characters, an intriguing setting, and a tight, well-paced plot.

Kat Heckenbach is an artist as well as an author with a background in science, all of these details come into play in Finding Angel. Her artist's eye and creativity are apparent in her vivid descriptions of Horatio, a black and silver beetle to the metallic trees and quaint village on Toch Island. Her magic system is based on a manipulation of the laws of physics. Simplified, it's the ability for the inhabitants of Toch Island to pick up a piece of trash and drop it into a trashcan using aerodynamics like an airplane flies from New York to LA along with their special Talents. The magic system is related to faith, a subtle element that makes the story so much deeper on subsequent readings.

The entire series is clean and appropriate for a YA audience. Finding Angel would appeal to teens of all ages as well as adults. The series spans several years and romantic relationships develop; however they remain subplots and even when couples are together, their interactions are often focused on the friendship and caring aspects of their relationship instead of emphasizing the romantic and physical like many YA books.

Weekend Reads: Seventh Born by Rachel Rossano (Kimberly)

Hello Readers! I'm so excited to share one of my favorite epic Christian Fantasy series! The Talented trilogy by Rachel Rossano is perfect for the epic weekend reading binge!

Seventh Born (The Talented Book 1)

My Rating: 4.5 Stars

Imagine a world based on ancient Rome where the population is divided between the untalented and the Talented, people gifted with fantastic abilities such as telekinesis and telepathy. What's more the strength of their talent most often draws on their position as a seventh son. The seventh son of a seventh son being even more talented and powerful. There is an unofficial competition among parents to have that seventh son because he could become second only to the High King in power as the Sept Son. Daughters, on the other hand, are far less valuable and to have a daughter take the place of the much anticipated seventh son? A tragedy.

This is the world Zezilia Ilar was born into and she was the infamous disappointment. Something drilled into her every year by her father. Zez is one of my favorite characters because she is the Strong Female Character handled with the perfect balance of not being TOO hard/embittered or unreasonably naive. Zez's world tells her that the only way for a woman to please the goddess is by marrying well and to have children, preferably seven sons in a row. In fact, the requirement and expectation is for girls to be married no later than nineteen. At fifteen, Zez is being presented to the court for the first time and she is well aware of her duties to the family as the daughter of a lower king. Even though her heart isn't in the expected destiny, she wants to make her parents proud the only way she knows. However, an encounter with a somewhat eccentric Talented man sets Zez on a very different path when he discovers she is one of the Talented.

Zez's presentation at court leads to her meeting Hadrian Aleron, the man soon to become Sept Son, and results in her new life being trained by Errol Silas in the ways of the Talented. I love that Zez is a prodigy but she stays humble and sensitive, which is very true to the girl we meet in the beginning of the book. I also love her relationships with the different characters she meets during the three years of her training from Errol's daughters to Selwyn, one of Hadrian's older brothers, to Korneli. Selwyn is easily my favorite since he's the gentle giant hiding a wounded past tied to his previous job as a Defender (elite bodyguard) of the Sept Son.

Seventh Born is split between Zez and her journey through the training of the Talented and Hadrian's journey as the newly appointed Sept Son. Unfortunately, the poor man is a very beleaguered character with opposition from the high priest of the goddess. Hadrian's side of the story brings in ALL the political intrigue as he deals with everything from political resistance to a growing threat from a fringe group called the Elitists who are unscrupulous in their use of Talent as they deem themselves divinely appointed above the untalented. Intrigue not helped by the fact that Hadrian is considered a heathen and heretic for not following the goddess. 

I am EXTREMELY picky when it comes to Christian Fantasy because eight times out of ten it will be far too awkwardly sermonizing to flow naturally for a satisfying story, which is not to my reading tastes. Fortunately, no one has to worry about that with Seventh Born. In fact, this is one of my personal favorites because the Christian worldview and faith elements have been woven perfectly into the natural framework of the story including one of the most moving, character appropriate conversion scenes I've read. The world and atmosphere of The Talented is very comparable to Ancient Rome, particularly when Christianity was in its infancy and not the state religion of the empire. There's a mix of known and secret conversions among the Talented in particular. However, the characters who are the mainstream goddess worshippers are treated with respect. This is especially true in regards to Renato, Zez's brother and Hadrian's chief assistant.

Seventh Born is a perfect setup for the rest of the trilogy. While the foundation work is laid for a slow burn romance between Hadrian and Zez (he had to promise she'd receive a suitable betrothal to get her father to agree to her training even though he wasn't enthused by this requirement), there really isn't much of anything to it in this book because they are on separate paths for most of the story and Zez is not truly interested in romance at the moment. Something that completely makes sense for the character arcs. I also love the unique aspects of Rossano's worldbuilding from the use of the Seventh Son mythos with her own distinct twist to the way she managed to give telepathy the unique hallmark of a person having a flavor/taste whenever they projected a thought. There's a lot of groundwork laid for the challenges facing Zez and Hadrian in the remaining two books. You can't help but look forward to what happens next as they head into Defender and Living Sacrifice, which is currently on preorder for November 2nd.

I highly recommend this book and series to fans of Morgan L Busse and Tricia Mingerink. 

Have you explored the world of the Talented?

Happy Reading!

Kimberly

Story Snippet: The Secret of Stardust (Heather)

Ahoy, uncharted adventurers! 

I'm excited to share this week's Story Snippet with each of you. It is the first-ever peek at the fourth book in my Tethered World Chronicles series, tentatively titled The Secret of Stardust. In fact, there's a lot of tentativeness in this post, so be warned :) Today, I'm sharing the rough draft of my unedited, first chapter from this unfinished novel. Yikes! How's that for tentative? 

It has been a challenging time to write, as I'm sure many of you writer-friends can attest to. Add to Covid-19 my sweet mother who had a stroke in February and is requiring around the clock care, and it has made for a lot of setbacks to my work schedule. 

Thankfully, I have the best publishing house ever, headed by the best woman in the business! Miralee Ferrell owns Mountain Brook Fire (an imprint of Mountain Brook Ink), and she's been extremely understanding and gracious during this time. This will be HER first peek at this novel as well, so I hope you guys will leave your feedback (good or bad) in the comments!

This fourth book takes place twenty years after the end of the last book, The Genesis Tree. Books four and five are meant to stand apart (as a duology), story-wise, although many of the characters are from the original trilogy. That said, new readers won't be lost if they jump into the Tethered World Chronicles beginning with The Secret of Stardust. But fans of the series will also get to revisit many of their favorite characters along the way.

If you like what you read here, I hope you'll hop on over to your favorite online book retailer and snag my first book, The Tethered World, for FREE! The Tethered World and The Flaming Sword (Books 1 and 2) are also available as audiobooks, if that's your jam, and the third audiobook is being worked on right now!

Without further adieu, welcome to the Tethered World! A realm of creatures who once roamed the Garden of Eden. Land of Leprechauns, Dwarves, Dragons, and Gnomes. Home to Nephilim and humans, Trolls and Gargoyles.Yes...the rumors are true, the creatures exist!

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(Please forgive my lack of relatable photos. I haven't had time to scour the internet for the right fit).

The Secret of Stardust

Chapter One

The acrid odor of incense would always be a harbinger of death for Alex. He detested the odor only slightly less than he hated the inevitable loss to follow. From the shadow of the king’s bedchamber, he watched the muted display of prayers and tears being offered on King Aviel’s behalf. The emotions and the rituals somehow clung to the pungent incense, probing Alex’s mind until it awakened memories of other futile forays into unanswered hope. It recounted to him the swell of prayers and tears from past grievances, neither finding adequate answers with any outcome.

Though King Aviel was his grandfather, Alex mourned the man distantly. As much from the king’s coolness toward him as from the callousness born of repeated loss. If anything, Alex ached more for his father, Xander, and how hard he was taking the impending death of his own father, the king. 

Now, with King Aviel weakening, Alex watched as those prayers and tears grew in intensity. He found he was happy to leave such fruitless work in the hands of others. 

When summoned to the bedchamber hours earlier, Alex had settled himself on a tufted chair in the furtherest corner of the room—out of the reach of candlelight, and out of the way from attendants, physicians, Father Juniper the presbyter, and his parents. Though it was his princely duty to be present as his grandfather passed from his life as the ruler of Calamus, Realm of the Nephilim, in the order of Tuatha de Nuada, to life everlasting, Alex could only tolerate the oppressive observance by arriving in the final hours of his grandfather’s seventy-first year of life.

“Earth to Alex.”

Alex snapped out of his stupefaction to find his little sister Ellynn perched on the arm of his chair. 

“Huh?” He took in her unruly curls and wrinkled linen pajamas. Despite the gloomy corner, he noticed that his sister's frosty blue eyes—a hand-me-down from grandfather, to father, to daughter—were pink and brimming with tears.

“I said, can I sit with you?” Her voice sounded strong, despite the tear that suddenly slipped down her olive-skinned cheek. 

Alex scooted his seven foot frame to one side knowing this would never work if the two of them weren’t narrow as a couple of sword blades. Twelve year old Ellynn wiggled into the space beside him, and he put his arm around her, pulling her snug against his side. 

He kissed the top of her messy, sepia curls. “How’s my Elly-belly?”

She sniffed and gave him a little nudge. “I told you not to call me that. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Oh, right.” He resisted the urge to poke at her notion of ‘little’. “But, are you okay? You probably don’t remember Aunt Jules’s passing away, so this is all new to you.”

She gave a noisy exhale and Alex felt her nod against his side. “I keep thinking I should be running out of tears…but every time Grandfather has one of those fever-dreams it scares me so bad I start crying all over again.”

“I thought Mom told you to leave when those dreams come on,” Alex whispered. He could hear the familiar zip-zip sound of Ellynn toggling the tiny, silver book charm she wore on a chain about her neck.

Her shoulder shrugged against his ribcage. “I did a few times. But…I mean, I already watched a few of his episodes before Mom sent me out of the room. It’s not like I can unsee it now. Mom and Dad have been too wrapped up in comforting him to notice that I’m still here.”

Alex’s gaze drifted to his parents, Xander and Sadie. They shared a bearskin bench on one side of the king’s extravagantly carved four post bed. The kept their backs to the stone fireplace which was alternately stoked or doused, depending on Aviel’s temperature. 

The two sat close, fingers entwined, their contrasting skin tones reminding Alex of black and white piano keys. His father’s wings looked limp, silvery feathers drooping off the bench and onto the floor like flower petals in need of water. His mother, so petite in comparison, leaned into him, as if she hadn’t the strength to support herself. Though the two were opposite in many ways, Alex noticed matching purple crescents beneath their eyes, and the way one would yawn on the heels of the other. 

Sadie was not especially close to King Aviel—or hadn’t been until her father-in-law’s health took a downward turn a month prior. Because she was a Topsider—as in, from the topside of the earth instead of one of the pockets within the earth like Calamus—the king had never truly accepted his daughter-in-law. But the fever-dreams had worn down his mercurial attitude, and the king had actually shown a pinch of appreciation for her presence when his condition required around-the-clock care. Didn’t hurt that Sadie’s mother Amy was a nurse who had taught her daughter much about keeping a patient comfortable 

Now, Alex guessed that his mom stayed close for the sake of comforting his father Xander, as there appeared to be little comfort to offer the king in his final hours. 

His grandfather’s health may have taken a turn for the worse in the last year, but also had the positive side-effect of improving his parents’ relationship. The two hadn’t been truly happy in a long time. Not since…

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, willing the dark thoughts away. He couldn’t go there right now. 

He sensed his mother’s steely strength as she slipped an arm around Xander, whose head was bowed in grief. She might be an average-sized Topsider but her inner-toughness rivaled her husband’s hulking Nephilim body. Whenever Alex stopped to count the many relatives his mother had lost in her lifetime he felt ashamed of his hard-bitten attitude toward the few he had endured in his seventeen years. 

“Death is as much a part of life as birth,” Sadie had explained when he had cried inconsolably at the passing of his Great Great-aunt Jules. He remembered wondering why, if what his mother said were true, everyone rejoiced about birth but cried over death.

Now, Alex watched his mother pull the curtain of slender, lengthy braids away from Xander’s face. She smoothed them across his winged back before kissing his cheek. Maybe this loss would help his parents find each other once again. That was a good thing.

Ellynn sniffled. 

Alex rubbed her arm reassuringly. “This is the hardest part. Watching and waiting. Feels endless.”

“Grandfather looks so frail and unlike himself since they shaved his dreads. I don’t want to remember him like this. It’s almost as bad as the fever dreams themselves,” she said with a shudder. “Except when he wakes up screaming for Uncle Magnus, I really hate that. He gets so upset, I think his heart is just going to give out on him.”

Alex felt a flash of anger at the mention of their Uncle Magnus. If that impulsive imbecile hadn’t cursed King Aviel and ran off a few months earlier, it would have made the king’s last days much more peaceable. Instead, the king dreamt of his son in fever-dreams, and hallucinated conversations with him when he awoke. 

Not that things were wrinkle-free when Magnus was about. As Xander’s much younger half-brother, he was jealous of Xander’s heir-to-the-throne status. But Magnus always turned his impotent frustration onto someone closer to his own age: Alex. The jerk made it his mission to belittle everything about Alex, who was only two years younger. Aided and abetted by his equally awful mother—King Aviel’s second wife Zeta—Uncle Magnus had few fans among royals or servants alike. 

Alex had been thrilled to be Magnus-free the past months, but he could understand his grandfather’s wish to have his entire family near in his final hours. 

“Where do you think Grandmama Zeta could be?” Ellynn asked. “I haven’t seen her since last night at dinner. Shouldn’t she be here?”

“Apparently, she stayed by his side most of the night.” Alex stretched his cramped legs straight and crossed them at the ankles. “Gouldor told her to get some sleep and he would wake her when, y’know, things moved to the final stages.”

“I feel like Grandfather has been in his ‘final stage’ for the past three days,” she said. 

Alex stifled a yawn. “Right? Guess we get to look forward to things getting worse.”

A soft tap on the door to the outer chamber signaled Merrik, the king’s bodyguard, to step aside. Two female servants entered the room. The first, a Dwarf named Joanie, was Sadie’s personal attendant, carried a tray laden with food. The other, a shy, mousey-haired Nephilim whose name Alex couldn’t recall, carried a tray of medicine. 

Joanie headed for Sadie and Xander, offering them tea and scones. The shy girl crossed to the opposite side of the bed where Aviel’s personal physician stood holding the king’s wrist, timing his pulse.

If Alex had to choose his least favorite person in Calamus, it would be a toss up between Magnus and the king’s physician Gouldor. The stooped over, bug-eyed Nephilim gave Alex the creeps. He had leathery, putty-colored skin, and the longest, scrawniest beard that Alex had ever seen. The man probably hadn’t shaved since puberty. He wore thick wool robes like some throwback Friar Tuck circa Robin Hood and he always smelled of herbs and incense—which only added to the reasons why Alex disliked both Gouldor and, of course, incense.  

“Noooo. I will not condone that. I’ve had enough of your underhanded—ugh!” King Aviel’s body arched beneath his embroidered burgundy quilt. With rapid jerks, he shook his recently shaved head which glistened slick and sweaty in the candlelight. “Stop it, Magnus. When will you learn? Noooo.”  

Joanie jumped in surprise at the outburst, spilling the tea she had been pouring. It sloshed across Sadie’s arm and the bearskin bench.

Sadie yelped in pain even as Xander stretched himself across his father’s writhing form. Xander clamped onto Aviel’s arms, trying to still the king’s anxious, straining body. 

Alex hugged his sister to himself, her head buried in his chest. 

“Wake up, Father! It’s okay. You’re alright,” Xander whispered. “C’mon, now. Wake up. You’ll see. Everything’s fine.”

Gouldor attempted to apply a cool cloth to Aviel’s forehead but mostly chased the king’s writhing dome across the pillow as he continued to shake, though with increasingly less force. Sadie stepped away, holding her arm as Joanie buzzed about, apologizing over the din. She grabbed a clean cloth from Gouldor’s supply, then helped herself to the basin of water, dunking the cloth then swathing Sadie’s left forearm with it. 

A great booming, “No!” from Aviel instantly quieted the room. 

It also surprised Xander, who relaxed his grip enough for King Aviel to sit up, shoving Xander so that he stumbled to avoid landing on his father’s legs.

Aviel’s eyes were wide, round, and bright as frosty marbles, which somehow emphasized the roundness of his head sans its mass of dreadlocks. His damp, mahogany skin shone in dark patches against the white linen dressing gown he wore. Salt-and-pepper feathers jutted at odd angles from his wings, thanks to days of thrashing about in bed.

The king looked at the contingent of faces who looked back at him. He took deep, gasping breaths and blinked, as if coming to his senses. Alex noticed a film of white froth on either side of his grandfather’s full lips. 

“Xander.” Aviel patted the bed, indicating for Xander to sit. “I have something to tell you.”

Xander slowly sank down onto the bed beside his father. The king immediately took hold of his son’s collar, pulling Xander close so that the two were eye-to-eye. No one else moved or spoke.

“Listen to me, Xander.” Aviel gave Xander a little shake. “Listen! You must promise me something.”

Xander nodded. “Of course. Anything.”

“You must promise me that you’ll watch over your brother Magnus. When you become king, deal gently with him. He-he is troubled. I know he is. But he looks up to you. Mag—” he gasped again, then swallowed—“Magnus respects you. Deep down, I know he does. He needs help. Give him that.”

A fit of coughing interrupted his diatribe. Hard, gut-deep coughs that made the others look at one another in alarm. Ellynn renewed her efforts to burrow into her brother’s embrace. Still, the king did not relax his grip on Xander, who could only look away to avoid the wheezing hacks of his father.

“Promise me,” Aviel said at last. He paused to take a few more breaths then said, “Promise, Xander. Magnus needs mercy.”

Xander nodded. “Yes, okay.” He patted his father awkwardly on the shoulders.

The king pulled his son even closer, so their foreheads touched. “We-we all need mercy,” he sputtered.

King Aviel released Xander and flopped back onto his pillow. 

Xander reflexively stood, eyes wide, fingers knotted, as he looked down at the king’s still form. Alex noticed his father’s heaving chest, could hear his ragged breathes. His father was crying. 

Xander’s mountainous body began to quake. He slipped to his knees, burying his face against his father’s shoulder. “Nooo.” His voice was an eery echo of the king’s fever-dreams.

In an instant, Sadie was behind her husband, arms encircling his expansive back. Gouldor felt for a pulse, then reached arthritic fingers to close Aviel’s eyes for the final time. With soft spatters, like rain, the onlookers in the room began to cry. Even the stoic bodyguard, Merrik, covered his mouth and closed his eyes.

“Is he d-dead?” asked Ellynn, muffled against Alex’s chest.

“Yes.” Alex looked about, feeling strangely disconnected—shock superseding any emotion. 

One moment, the room had resonated with his grandfather’s baritone. With the authoritative words of a king—impassioned, yet pleading. The next, all that life and power and energy had been sucked away, like some invisible vacuum had gobbled it up in an instant. 

Behind Merrik, the door swung open. He stepped aside as Zeta, the king’s wife, swept in, two attendants and her own bodyguard in tow. She stopped in the middle of the room taking in her husband’s still form and moving to the tears and sobs around her.

Alex heard her gasp. Saw her hands fly to her face. Beneath her navy cloak, turquoise-dyed feathers gave an indignant shudder.

“What is this?” Her voice sounded incredulous, as though she understood perfectly. She stepped closer to the bed, hands lowering into fists.  

Alex studied her profile from where he sat. Her coffee colored skin looked pale, despite being bathed in golden candlelight. Like a fish, her mouth opened then closed several times, nostrils flaring with each sharp inhale. 

“I told you people to come get me. I was supposed to be by his side in the end.” She turned a slow circle, her fiery gaze scorching each individual that was bold enough to look her in the eye. “How dare you let this happen. I…am…the queen. I…gave…an order. You disobeyed my order.” She continued her penetrating pirouette until she faced the physician. Her long pointy-nailed finger jabbed in Gouldor’s direction. “You are dismissed!”

Gouldor blinked his bug-eyes and gave a gasp. “Dismissed? Your Majesty…please! It happened so quickly. So unexpectedly. There was no time to—”

“I’ll have none of your excuses,” Zeta hissed. “Leave.” She pointed to the door. 

“But—”

“Leave.” Her finger trembled as it continued to point. 

Zeta’s bodyguard, a blocky bulldog of a man, took a step toward the physician.

“Okay! Okay.” Gouldor held his hands in a gesture of surrender, then grasped his robe and made a beeline for the door, scrawny beard trailing like a weak wisp of smoke. Alex almost felt bad for the man. 

Zeta strode to where Xander stood, arms crossed, watching his stepmother’s outburst. She stopped a few feet in front of him and gave Sadie a sidelong glance of disdain. Sadie stared back, unmoved.

Though Zeta and Xander stood eye-to-eye—both just under seven feet tall—Zeta had a habit of tilting her head back so she could look down her long swooping nose at him, which she did now. “Are you happy, Xander? Pleased with yourself?”

Xander’s heavy jaw flexed, contempt etched into the flex of his jaw. He shook his head with tight little jerks, setting his long braids shifting like restless, black snakes. 

“Well?”

“My father just died. Suddenly, I might add. Why would I be pleased?” 

Ellynn slipped from Alex’s lap and moved closer, standing behind Joanie. Alex joined his sister, placing an arm around her shoulders to keep her from edging any nearer the potential fireworks.

“Because, you got to be with him while I, obviously, did not.” Zeta placed her pointy-nailed finger on his chest. “You had your father all to yourself, which is how you like it, don’t you, Xander? You ran Magnus off months ago, which I’m sure made that-that blemished son of yours—” she pointed to where Alex had been sitting—“as happy as a meat maggot. And now, in Aviel’s final hours, you were able to keep my husband from me as well. What a well-played move.”

“Look, Zeta.” His hand snatched her wrist and shoved it away from his chest. He took a few, cleansing breaths. “I’ve been very considerate of your feelings in all of this. I’ve tried to be sensitive to your needs, giving you space. Offering relief when you’d been up all night. Keeping you updated. You have no right to barge in with these accusations. No right to dismiss Gouldor. No right to look at my wife like you did, no right to call Alex rude names, and no right to speak to me like you’re now doing. I will choose to overlook your indiscretion considering the circumstances.”

She opened her mouth to reply but Xander cut in again. “And I won’t deign to comment on your ridiculous accusation concerning Magnus—your uncontrollable excuse of an offspring.”

Zeta stiffened, arms shooting to her sides like pistons. Her long neck rigid and unyielding.

Ellyn looked up at her brother, a hint of a grin playing on her mouth. He gave a subtle shake of his head, discouraging the triumph he saw in her face. His own face felt hot from Zeta’s lowbrow comment about the large, brownish birthmark that encircled his right eye. 

“I have no right?” Zeta gave a mocking laugh. “I am Queen, which gives me every right. End of story.”

Xander offered a sardonic smile. “Indeed, this really is the ‘end of the story’. The end of your story.” He took a step closer. “The end of your reign. I am the first born son, as you know. Heir to the throne.”

She matched his smile in insincerity. “Bu not until your coronation.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh yes! I clarified this point with Aviel before his unfortunate turn for the worst.” She cocked her head. “I am the current ruler of Calamus, dear stepson.” She stepped back, hands on hips, looking from Xander to Sadie. “I might not have long to rule the Calamus roost, but be assured that I will take full advantage of the current pecking order. And I have plans—big plans—to make the most of it.”