EXCERPT 2Marrying someone I’ve never met, especially the son of the emperor, would be…
Dreadful.
Disastrous.
Deadly.
My father swallows hard, something he does when he’s pushing down his emotions, but there’s a firmness in his eyes that conveys the seriousness of the situation. “The emperor has commanded it, Aralin. This isn’t a simple proposal. It’s an order from the emperor himself.”
This is the finality of a decree.
His words settle like a heavy weight in my mind, and a rush of helplessness washes over me. The emperor’s commands are absolute and impossible to defy. The force of his power reverberates through me, leaving me feeling small and insignificant in the face of his authority.
I’m a chess piece in a game of kingdoms and empires where the greater needs of the realm outweigh personal desires. The emperor’s demand is a demonstration of his power, a forceful reminder of the duties and responsibilities that accompany my title.
Let’s not mince words. My life isn’t my own, and it never has been.
This proposed marriage isn’t a simple union between two people. It’s a strategic move in a game where I’m the pawn and the prize is what lies buried deep in the mountains of Wintriness.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Father, the emperor wants this marriage so he’ll gain access to the natural resources of Wintriness. It’s the truth, and everyone here knows it.”
I’m referring to newly discovered crystallos, a rare and powerful element found only in the frozen depths of Wintriness. Whispers about it have reached my ears, speaking of its ability to bring about the downfall of even the most formidable supernatural creatures. The mere mention of it brings goosebumps to my flesh. Rumored to possess a deadly potency, crystallos can stop the most powerful witch, vampire, werewolf, fae and other supernatural being in its tracks. Its power would be disastrous in the emperor’s hands.
My eyes scan the faces of the king’s hand and the general so I may gage their reactions.
Their expressions are neutral, yet I can’t shake the suspicion that one of them has played a part in this marital arrangement. Possibly both. Those two have always been adept at making power plays and maneuvering behind the scenes to shape the kingdom’s future to their advantage.
The weight of their gazes on me is measuring and calculating. There’s a slight shift in Balius’s eyes, but he gives nothing away. Meanwhile, Indrid maintains his composed facade with perfection.
They’re masters of the political game, and the three of us know I’ve just called out their tactics. All the more reason to get rid of me.
My refusal to accept the emperor’s command would have repercussions reaching far beyond the walls of this throne room. The balance of power, the future of Wintriness and my own fate are all intertwined in this decision.
I won’t be allowed to refuse.
“No matter the motive, I have no say in the matter.”
I hear the defeat in my father’s voice, and my frustration flares. The thought of being used as a bargaining chip in this political game stirs a fierce blaze within me. “The emperor can’t take away the only living heir to the throne of Wintriness.”
My father is composed, but I see the impact of the situation in his eyes. “Aralin, you’re well aware that the new prince of Wintriness will arrive any day now.”
His words are well-meaning and intended to point out that his line of succession will continue without me, but his words sting. Again, I’m reminded that I’m not the prince everyone longs to have.
“I can’t leave the queen, Father. She needs me. Her health is better in my presence. You said so yourself.”
The thought of abandoning my mother, especially in her fragile state, is a dagger to my heart.
“My beloved daughter, you will go to Imperia and take your place. This is a great honor, Aralin. In time, you’ll become empress.”
There it is. The king’s duty as a monarch overshadows his role as a father.
His words, intended to inspire and reassure, fall flat. The title, with all of its power and prestige, holds no allure for me.
“I have no interest in being empress.”
Life in a foreign land, bound in marriage to a stranger, ascending to a throne I don’t want… it’s a future I can’t fathom. And then there’s the added problem of being a witch within the emperor’s small circle.
There’s no way I’ll survive it.
The king’s words, while spoken with a sense of regal duty, are a reminder of the limited choices available to me. Because I’m a female.
The weight of my royal birthright is heavier than ever before. The expectations, the responsibilities, this arranged marriage––all chains that bind me to a destiny I never chose. My personal desires, dreams and hopes are secondary to the whims of these men in power.
My heart aches at the thought of leaving everything I know and love behind.
“I want to stay here in Wintriness near you and Mother,” I say, hoping somehow my words will sway his decision.
“You’ll leave for Imperia in one month when the emperor sends for you.” His tone is resolute.
It’s clear that any additional arguments would be futile. So I nod and allow a mask of acceptance to fall over my face for the sake of appearances. “As you wish, Father.”
I swear I see a flicker of a smirk on the face of the king’s hand, perhaps a slip.
After a deep curtsy, I turn and leave the throne room. Each step feels heavier than the one before as my mind races with thoughts and emotions behind the mask of compliance.
Leaving Wintriness and entering an unknown world is terrifying. But the prospect of marrying the emperor’s son and becoming part of a court that is a world away from everything I have ever known fills me with panic.
Used as a pawn in a tyrant’s game… that will not be my story.
Monday, July 22, 2024
Release Day Blitz Realm of Dreams and Destiny by Stella Dale
Wednesday, July 17, 2024
Meet Ferdinand The Fearless Hopper from Quest for Copia by E.P. Bellows
Excerpt Unearthed:
~The Copian Mediallion is discovered after being buried for years by layers of the realm.
Come on, wings! Don't fail me!" Gusts of wind blew the little bird in all directions. Her vivid red feathers stole the sun’s beams from the sky.
This was not an ordinary bird. This was a young Empyrean wizard named Celeste. Empyrean wizards lived in an extraordinary place where fantastic creatures and magic were a part of every day. All Empyrean Wizards have a bird form appropriately coordinated with their personality. This particular Empyrean was fearless and kind. She also had a knack for finding
"Made it!" Her small but determined wings descended into the trees below. There was a peculiar tree she heard whispers about, and she was on her way to see it for herself. The tree was believed to be a passageway to the other side. Of course, she had no idea what the other side was, which only drove her curiosity. She perched on a boulder next to a single dead tree that boasted the broadest tree trunk in all of Copious Forest. The tree was surrounded by a blanket of thriving greenery. Celeste cautiously glanced around and gave her feathers a ruffle. A young girl emerged through the feathers with wild hair the same shade of vibrant red.
“Incredible!” she gasped and scuttled over to the tree. She poked her fingers out of the sleeve of her cloak and ran them along the rigid bark on the trunk. The bark chimed a soft melody as her fingers went along.
“So it is real.” Her eyes beamed. She stepped back and pulled a scroll out of her cloak. As she unraveled the scroll, the verses of an ancient spell were revealed. “The Tunnel of Light Enchantment ...
Cuniculum lucis incantationis tempus sit, electi ingrediantur. Cum tempus est, electi per cuniculum lucis relinquere possunt.
When it is time, the chosen may enter. When it is time, the chosen may leave through the tunnel of light." She gazed at the dead tree, waiting for even a small flicker of magic. The trunk looked like it had not been seen or touched in years. “Hmm ..." Celeste raised her brow.
A prickly chill traveled down her spine. She squeezed her arms across her chest to soothe her goosebumps. "Hello? Is-is someone there?" Celeste frantically glanced around.
An angry groan rumbled through trees.
“I'm not afraid of you!" she declared. “Come out and show yourself!”
Twigs and bits of forest flew past her curls. She scrambled behind the boulder. Sharp whispers buzzed through the gaps in the trees.
“The moan went from a groan to a vicious roar. A wind funnel shaped like a pair of long, wretched claws appeared.
“Oh, no—it’s the Rive.” Her body tensed.
The dark spell was strong enough to twirl her straight into the air with one dizzying burst. It plowed through trees and shot rocks in all directions. Celeste's cloak whipped around in a frenzy. She crouched behind the boulder and gripped her hands around the base. Then her body lifted off the ground. Inch by inch, her fingers slipped from the boulder. "Oh no!" Her head throbbed from intense pressure as the wind consumed her.
"Where is it? I must find it," the Rive whispered sharply, bringing a sting to Celeste's ears.
"Where is what? What are you talking about?" she shrieked.
"Where is it? I must find it!" the Rive's whisper was now at a rattling shrill.
Celeste closed her eyes and fisted her trembling hands. She felt herself drifting into a dizzying slumber. “I have to channel the élan. Come on, Celeste ... concentrate. I can do this!"
She took a deep breath. "Azra lucem tuam ostende. Azra tua industria illuminet …
Azra lucem tuam ostende. Azra tua industria illuminet."
A warm, vibrant energy burst through her cloak. The dark spell released its grip. It hissed and hurled rocks at Celeste. She stood her ground and
Celeste collapsed to the ground, breathless. “I just did that.” She examined the palm of her hand in astonishment.
She scooped up the shimmering clump and scraped the forest coating off it until all that remained was a medallion with strange markings and feathered wings carved in the center. It chimed and sparkled in her hands. Celeste stuffed it in her cloak and cautiously looked around. An excited giggle slipped out just before she morphed back into a little red bird and flew above the trees.
Monday, July 15, 2024
The Storm Breaks by Valerie Storm
Excerpt:Suddenly a hand shot out of the wall ahead of her, giving her no time to react or slow her pace as it grabbed her shoulder. Kari pulled at the fingers, tugging at their grasp, trying to hurry. She had to escape the damn water!
Lightning sparked along her claws. She raised her hand to attack again, intending to cut the fingers right off of her.
A familiar voice growled, “Do it and we’re dead.”
Kari froze long enough for the hand to pull her straight into the wall. She stumbled through and fell face-first on something hard and cool.
Groaning, she rolled onto her back and looked up into the sweat-dotted, strained, and frowning face of Guine. Above him hung a ceiling of some kind of jagged, translucent, blue rock.
“Why did you stop?” he demanded rather angrily. “I said we had to keep moving, didn’t I?”
For a moment Kari thought she was still waiting for the water to overtake her. That filthy, disgusting-smelling, murky water. Slowly she realized they had changed locations again; now they were in some sort of cavern. Completely dry and relatively safe, at least for the moment.
Kari jumped up and bared her teeth at Guine. “You didn’t say if I stopped that would happen!”
“Why would I say, ‘don’t stop’ if that wasn’t a vitally important thing to do?!”
“You’re often unclear and exaggerate!” she snapped back.
They glared at each other for a long time. He was mad, but she was madder. He had not been very upfront with her about this wretched maze, and that enraged her. She did not need the Catalyst to fuel her anger; her heart thrummed against her ribs, taking all of her breath with it, and it had not stopped since that first room.
The danger here was real, and yet intangible. She had faced so many people who wanted her dead, or worse. But this place would kill her at the slightest mistake.
Finally, Guine sighed, his face relaxing into exhaustion. He turned away from her.
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. But now…now we face a problem.”
The walls were just like the ceiling, seemingly made of something crystalline. Ahead of her, she could see an opening in the circular room.
“What problem? Besides being in this yutemi you’ve created, that is.”
Guine chose to ignore her snappy tone. “We got off-track. Things will change now. I can find the way since I did make this as an option, but now it will take us longer.”
Kari’s gaze slowly trailed back to him. He’d said…what? Two or three days? Without food.
Now it would take longer?
“Just how much longer are you talking about, Guine?” Kari hissed.
He shrugged, not quite nonchalant, but rather resigned. “Maybe tack on a week. At the very least.”
Kari’s mouth dried. Already her stomach rumbled; now that the adrenaline had passed through her system, she was hungry. She wasn’t stupid. She knew her body would be capable of going quite a long time without sustenance, but that long? And what of their water supply?
She felt for the bag, but her fingers were too numb to reach inside for the waterskin. The cavern suddenly seemed very small.
“Guine…”
“Thirst will not be a real issue,” Guine said as if he had read her mind. “When I designed this way, I made a room for myself so that I could survive if I slipped up. There will be a room ahead that provides fresh, drinkable water. Hopefully, we can store enough to last us the rest of the time if we ration it.”
“And what about food?”
He hesitated. “The room…also has a solution for that. For humans. There’s no way we could know it would work for you, or at the very least not kill you.”
Kari stared past him. The only exit out of the cavern they were in was a single tunnel that turned sharply into darkness.
“I will not die in here, Guine.”
“I don’t intend for you to,” he said wearily. “But if things were serious at all to you before, it’s worse now.” He walked to one of the walls and sat down. “We should rest before we go on. Exhaustion and stress make the mind do stupid things.”
Kari didn’t move. She thought of a time long ago when she had left behind Snow Shade. Then she had perhaps gone a day or so without a real meal. It was like torture to her, weakening her body and senses until she had come across something to eat.
She could have adjusted to the idea of three days with no food. But more than a week?
Wednesday, July 10, 2024
Author Interview- A Tale of Something New by D. S. McColgan
Excerpt:
At dinner, Liliana repeated what the stranger had said. After all, he now had a name.
Then the weather was discussed, and the whole table agreed that they were expecting another cold snap. Grandmother felt it in her bones, the farmhands and Cedric observed it in the animals’ behaviour and Father smelled it in the air. The chicken broth was well received.
Armed with a portion of said broth, Liliana ventured to the stranger’s bed after dinner. He awoke immediately and swallowed greedily, his gaze fixed on the bowl. There were so many questions swirling around in her head that she didn’t quite know where to start. If he was missing his memories, he couldn’t answer most of them, and she didn’t want to overwhelm him.
‘Do you remember me?’
He looked up briefly. ‘Yes.’
The fact that he could remember newer things was a good sign.
‘How’s the pain?’
‘Don’t ask.’
Liliana would’ve liked to know if his curt manner was part of his personality or due to the pain he was in. To wake up in a strange environment, in this agonising state and unable to recollect anything … No, she didn’t envy him.
Once the bowl was empty, she gave him the medicine, and Grandmother came to look at his wounds. She loosened the bandages in some places, careful not to damage the skin that had already healed. She rubbed on some of the ointment containing the resin Liliana had collected.
The stranger grimaced but made no sound.
‘That’s my grandmother,’ Liliana said. ‘She’s nursed many people back to health.’
Since he lay there quietly afterwards, Liliana stayed in the room. She was eager to talk to him more, but he kept his eyes closed, exhaustion on his face. So she sat down with her book, in front of the wardrobe. It was a precious, carved piece of furniture that Father had given to her mother after their wedding.
‘How did I get here?’
Astonished, she looked up. His eyes were still closed, but it seemed he felt her presence in the room. ‘I found you half-dead in the woods and brought you here.’
A pause followed, during which Liliana watched him over the edge of the book. What a peculiar way of speaking he had … Although she understood him clearly, the melody of his sentences sounded strange to her ears. His lips formed the words with precision, as if every single one of them deserved to be heard.
‘Be honest, what are my chances?’
‘The fact that you survived the first few days is amazing. If you keep going like this, I’m sure you’ll make it.’
A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at her, quietly grunting with pain. ‘What … are you reading?’
The bronze colour of his eyes still fascinated her. ‘Oh, this? A collection of fairy tales.’
Another pause followed while they studied each other.
‘You like books?’
‘I do. Would you like me to read you one of the stories?’
‘Yes, please.’
Liliana cleared her throat. ‘Most farmers struggle with reading. While I am by far the best reader in the family, it probably still sounds bungled to trained ears.’
The stranger gave her another smile to acknowledge her efforts and closed his eyes.
Liliana began to read. She hadn’t read out loud in a long time. No one here shared her enthusiasm for books. Why would they? There always seemed to be gossip to share, and after a day of hard work, most people in the village didn’t want to overexert their tired brains. For them, books were an expensive and superfluous possession. When Cedi had been younger, she’d taught him to read. As with many other activities, her little brother started on it with great zeal, only to lose interest after the first few strides. Reading to someone who may be well educated made her nervous. But she soon found her rhythm. As intended, the stranger relaxed. Distraction was a good antidote to pain.
Friday, July 5, 2024
Author Advice with LS Delorme #AuthorAdvice #WritingAdvice
I recently conducted a writing seminar at MCM
Comic Con in London. The topic was “How to Make Your Characters Your Secret
Weapon,” but during the seminar, I also touched on the differences between
“indie” publishing and “traditional” publishing. There was a lot of interest
from people about why I chose the indie path over pursuing traditional
publishing. From those conversations, I realized that there are still a lot of
misconceptions about both traditional and indie publishing. Before I get into
that, let me give you a little bit of the backstory.
I have been a writer, in some form or another, for
most of my life. I’ve been a rock musician, a scientist, a lawyer, and a travel
writer before taking on novels. In each of these arenas, I’ve been “published.”
When I decided about ten years ago to start writing a fictional series, I
didn’t realize the extent to which the publishing world was in flux. It was
only once I had finished writing all eight books, which was in 2022, that I
decided to look for a way to publish. After a few rejections from literary
agents, I got interest in my first book, “Caio,” from a romance publisher, but
I was told that I needed to change key elements of several characters. These
were changes that I couldn’t make because it would impact the arc of the
series. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that if the publishers bought the
rights to the book, they could basically do what they wanted. This was when I
really started looking into the differences between traditional and
self-publishing. So, let me break down what I discovered by element.
Author Rights: In traditional publishing, all rights are with the
publisher. They own your character, fini. Within the context of the book, they
can change things, move them around—whatever they want. They bought that right.
With self-publishing, the author keeps all intellectual property rights.
Time to Publish: For traditional publishing, it takes 18 to 24 months to get
your book out there. They have to fit it into their publishing schedule, which
includes a lot of other books they are releasing. For self-publishing, it's six
months or less.
Royalties: With traditional publishing, the author gets between 4% to
10% of the net. With self-publishing, it can be between 30% and 100% based on
what services you use.
Advances: This is where traditional publishing outweighs
self-publishing. They can offer you an advance. They don’t have to, but it's an
option. If you are self-publishing, in the beginning, all the costs are on you.
Design: For traditional publishing, they decide the design and
cover of your book, but they pay for it. For self-publishing, you design it
yourself or hire someone to design it.
Editing: For traditional publishing, they have final control over
all changes and edits, but they pay for these services. Self-publishing means
that you need to hire an editor. Good editors aren’t cheap, but they are
absolutely a requirement, no matter how good you think you are.
Minimum Purchase Requirement: In traditional publishing, authors may be asked to buy
copies of their own book. This can be as much as 5,000+ copies at about half
the retail price. The idea behind this is that the author has “skin in the
game.” If you self-publish, this doesn’t apply.
PR: This is one of the things that really got me. There is
usually no requirement for PR when a traditional publisher takes your book. If
it's your first book, you won’t get any PR. Even later, you are unlikely to get
it if you aren’t one of the top 5% of their authors in terms of revenue. If you
self-publish, you can hire your own PR firm.
After discovering all of the above, I realized
that the one thing traditional publishing provides is money up front. If you
can do that yourself, then you have a lot more control and freedom than you do
with traditional publishers. I also think you are more likely to actually make
money in the long run if you self-publish. For me, the idea of giving control
of my characters over to someone else was anathema. I’m also impatient, and the
idea of waiting around for some literary agent to decide to take a chance on me
seemed like a waste of time, effort, and a detriment to my feelings of
self-worth. They want all of the benefit with none of the risk. So, my whole
family and I opted to self-publish. We created our own publishing company and
found people in editing, marketing, design, and PR who were willing and happy
to work with us. We have a team. We have the freedom to try anything and
everything. Are we making millions? No. Will we ever? Who can tell. Are we
having fun? Tons of it. We have only been doing this for a year, and we’ve
published, made video book trailers, appeared at events, and even been on the
Gaby Roslyn show in the UK. If you are self-publishing, you are a startup, and
that’s the mentality that works best.
I’m not saying that traditional publishing is bad.
Clearly, it works for some people. What I am saying is that you aren’t a better
author simply because you get a traditional publishing deal. That’s a bit of an
antiquated myth that some people would like everyone to still believe. You will
also still have to do a lot of your own marketing and PR.
Excerpt:
“Everyone, could you pass your weekly journals forward,” Ms. Pryll announced. “And I think, perhaps, today I will pick a few of you to read your entries to the rest of the class. Ms. McCormick, you always have such interesting entries. How about we begin with you?”
Ms. Pryll motioned her forward. Ah, her eye rolling had been noticed. Amelie really wasn’t off to a good start today. On top of her intestinal grumbling, she was feeling the beginnings of a tension headache creeping up the back of her neck.
Just as she was standing up to assume the position at the front of the classroom, someone stumbled through the door. It was Hudson. He was slumping, holding on to the doorframe. Hudson wouldn’t be drawing attention to himself in normal circumstances. Something was wrong. Ms. Pryll was finally pulled from her flirting by the fact that the rest of the class was staring at the doorway. As they watched, Hudson slid down the doorframe into a huddled position.
“Now Mr. Crowe, please come in and sit down,” said Ms. Pryll, with exasperation.
Hudson managed to hold up a small blue object, before slumping forward.“Dude’s been drinking?” Ryan laughed from the back.
Hudson tried one more time to raise his head and lift the thing in his hands. Everyone in the class just stared at him. The front of Amelie’s forehead suddenly exploded with images, and the lighted words from the cereal box this morning made sense.
Low. Sugar. Bad.
“He’s not drunk,” Amelie snapped. “That’s a glucose meter. He’s diabetic.”
Amelie dropped her notebook and ran to the door, falling to her knees beside Hudson. She had a vague notion that this hurt and she would be bruised later, before she grabbed Hudson’s head. She didn’t know if people in insulin shock had seizures or not, but that didn’t matter. She knew what to do. She had been told by something more reliable than memory. Low blood sugar was bad.
What to do? Okay, Elodie had her phone. What else? Jack, he always ate breakfast at his desk. Today it was a bottle of orange juice. Thank god.
“Elodie, call 911—now! Jack, throw me your OJ,” Amelie snapped.
Jack just smirked at her, completely disengaged in the fact that another human being was in crisis. A wave of fury replaced the images in Amelie’s head, making everything around her look shiny, sharp, and red. The world began to move in slow motion. She turned, her eyes met Jack’s, and she let her well-constructed shields drop … just… drop. The energy that flowed out of her felt glorious.
“Jack, throw me your OJ, now,” she said, softly this time. She saw the shocked look on Jack’s face, but he immediately grabbed the OJ and tossed it to her. The chemical wave that seemed to be her birthright rolled over him, through him, past him and across the class … person by person, face by face.