Sometimes I feel like a kid playing "Marco Polo." Don't know how many of you ever played that as a kid. One child is blindfolded and wanders around trying to catch the others. The child calls out "Marco" and the others respond "Polo" so s/he can locate them. It was rather fun.
So at the moment I'm running around blindfolded shouting "NaNo!" "Wri-mo!" "NaNo!"
I have so much fun with this it's indecent.
I hit 33,000 words last night and I'm beginning to suspect that the story (called "Infanta") will be longer than the 50k. Last year I topped out at 41k and had to start editing (i.e., writing new scenes) in order to reach the goal. I did reach it, though. That book is currently over 70k and will be coming out in December.
The main character in Infanta is Iat (the name will probably change). She is technically human, or at least she's descended from humans. I won't go into the history (the story doesn't) but her ancestors were deliberately changed as opposed to being changed by the mutagenic power of the Demons Bay. She has eight limbs (two legs, two hands, and two sets that can be either) and big blue white-less eyes. If you know about my primary world, you know that means she's descended from the Blod, the aristocrats of the world. She is also descended from the Soldier Clan, which causes some interesting tensions. Her skin is true black, iridescent. Others of her family have skin that ranges from white (for infants) to blue or green or black and in all shades of those colors.
She is the Infanta (or princess) of their race, and believes that this is only a matter of descent--she is the oldest child of the oldest child all the way back to the First-parents. Actually it's a great deal more. As she will soon learn.
For more information about the world this book is based in, use the tabs at the top of the page. Sample pages for other books are listed on the tab "In Other Worlds."
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Friday, August 29, 2014
Title Contest
I'm currently writing a book tentatively titled Let Go. Which used to be Let It Go, but now every time I hear that title I hear the Disney song. Bleh.
Let's have a contest for a new title. Let Go is a contemporary suspense, a sort-of prequel to Without A Voice. If you haven't read Without A Voice and would like to, let me know or go to your favorite retailer. Without A Voice is the story of Mae, a young woman running away from a crazy ex boyfriend. It takes place when she's in her mid twenties and is technically religious suspense. Let Go is the story of her mother, and starts when Mae runs away at the age of 14.
I know, it's not fantasy, but I felt strongly that I had to write these.
You can give me your title suggestions here, or on Facebook. I'll post the top five choices and let anyone who wants to put in their two bits.
The person who submits the winning title will get an e-copy of both books, Without A Voice immediately and the other once (eventual title here :) comes out. If you know other people who might be interested in playing, share the post or point them in this direction.
Let's have a contest for a new title. Let Go is a contemporary suspense, a sort-of prequel to Without A Voice. If you haven't read Without A Voice and would like to, let me know or go to your favorite retailer. Without A Voice is the story of Mae, a young woman running away from a crazy ex boyfriend. It takes place when she's in her mid twenties and is technically religious suspense. Let Go is the story of her mother, and starts when Mae runs away at the age of 14.
I know, it's not fantasy, but I felt strongly that I had to write these.
You can give me your title suggestions here, or on Facebook. I'll post the top five choices and let anyone who wants to put in their two bits.
The person who submits the winning title will get an e-copy of both books, Without A Voice immediately and the other once (eventual title here :) comes out. If you know other people who might be interested in playing, share the post or point them in this direction.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Welcome the Cranky Old Man!
Do you remember when you were growing up, the old man who always yelled at everybody to stay off his lawn? He appeared for maybe thirty seconds, threatened to call the police, and disappeared again.
Welcome him to the HalfWorld, please! The old cranky man as you’ve never seen him before!
*Wild applause*
Chinish peered through the crack in the curtains, waiting. The animals were playing in the street, kicking their ridiculous toys around. A little further. Just a little further. One darted after the ball, trying to catch it before it flipped past the end of the wall and into his yard.
The ball rebounded from the curb and skittered along the low wall to where his property dipped down below street level.
He sucked in a breath in anticipation of the feast.
The ball bounded through the gap. The animal hesitated, looking back at its companions, then gingerly made its way down into the yard. Chinish struck as soon as the child was within range, an arrow into the soul that sucked, sucked, sucked, pulling all that energetic power. This one had more power than most, and a new thought occurred to Chinish. His eyes widened.
The child started, turned toward the house instinctively for a moment, its eyes frozen wide. When no one appeared in the doorway it worked its way through weeds to where the ball had come to rest and Chinish threw the door open. “Get out of my yard, you filthy animal!”
The child was close now, close enough to see the patterns in the wide eyes. So close that the flow between them was visible.
The child’s fear was sweet, increasing the flow of power. Chinish sucked it all down, careful not to reach too far or take too much. Oh, sweet. Like a draught of cold spring water after a long walk in the desert. It filled him, chilling him from the inside out until he thought he might shatter.
The child stood, terrified, then grabbed its ball and scurried through the weeds to the street.
Chinish kept the contact, let the power soak into him. He felt the child’s exhaustion, heard through the link the complaint of a headache. I’m going home.
Chinish smiled and kept the contact. Tonight, after all memory of the incident had passed, the child would die peacefully in his sleep. Chinish had never emptied one completely before, fearing repercussions from those who might be able to sense his interference on this plane. But maybe, just perhaps the surge of power as the soul left the body would be enough to open the portal again, to send him home.
Welcome him to the HalfWorld, please! The old cranky man as you’ve never seen him before!
*Wild applause*
Chinish peered through the crack in the curtains, waiting. The animals were playing in the street, kicking their ridiculous toys around. A little further. Just a little further. One darted after the ball, trying to catch it before it flipped past the end of the wall and into his yard.
The ball rebounded from the curb and skittered along the low wall to where his property dipped down below street level.
He sucked in a breath in anticipation of the feast.
The ball bounded through the gap. The animal hesitated, looking back at its companions, then gingerly made its way down into the yard. Chinish struck as soon as the child was within range, an arrow into the soul that sucked, sucked, sucked, pulling all that energetic power. This one had more power than most, and a new thought occurred to Chinish. His eyes widened.
The child started, turned toward the house instinctively for a moment, its eyes frozen wide. When no one appeared in the doorway it worked its way through weeds to where the ball had come to rest and Chinish threw the door open. “Get out of my yard, you filthy animal!”
The child was close now, close enough to see the patterns in the wide eyes. So close that the flow between them was visible.
The child’s fear was sweet, increasing the flow of power. Chinish sucked it all down, careful not to reach too far or take too much. Oh, sweet. Like a draught of cold spring water after a long walk in the desert. It filled him, chilling him from the inside out until he thought he might shatter.
The child stood, terrified, then grabbed its ball and scurried through the weeds to the street.
Chinish kept the contact, let the power soak into him. He felt the child’s exhaustion, heard through the link the complaint of a headache. I’m going home.
Chinish smiled and kept the contact. Tonight, after all memory of the incident had passed, the child would die peacefully in his sleep. Chinish had never emptied one completely before, fearing repercussions from those who might be able to sense his interference on this plane. But maybe, just perhaps the surge of power as the soul left the body would be enough to open the portal again, to send him home.
Friday, April 18, 2014
The Princess and the Dragon (A homegrown fairy tale)
This is one of the stories in my fairy tale compilation, The Storyteller. Hope you enjoy it.
Once upon a time and a very long time ago, in a Kingdom just around the corner, there lived a very little princess in a very BIG palace. She lived there with her mom and dad, who were the King and Queen of the Kingdom just around the corner.
The palace was very big, and right at the center was a really big room. Her father the King told her that one of their Kingdom’s greatest friends lived there – a dragon!
The little princess didn’t like dragons. Her nurse had told her all about them. They were big, they were mean, and they had loud hissy voices that you couldn’t really understand.
The little princess had never seen the dragon who lived in the palace, but it scared her.
The princess played all over the palace, but she never went into the dragon’s big room.
One of her favorite games was one she called “hop,” because she had to hop all the way across a big room and only land on one color of tiles. It was hard sometimes, because the tiles were all different colors and the tiles of the same color might be far apart.
She didn’t play “hop” very often because the room with the tiles was right outside the big room where the dragon lived.
As she hopped she sang a little song to herself, and stopped, standing on one foot, when she heard someone giggle.
She looked all around. There was no one in the room. She hopped forward to the next green square but it was just a little too far so only the tips of her toes landed on it. That’s OK, she decided, and stepped onto the green tile.
“You cheated,” said a tiny voice, and again the princess looked around. “I did not cheat,” she said to the invisible voice. “If I’m the only one playing, I can make up my own rules.”
“Hm,” said the tiny voice, and it sounded grumpy. “Maybe.”
The princess hopped again, and the voice said, “Can I play?”
The princess stood on one foot, and thought about that. “Can I still make up the rules?” she asked, and the voice said, “How about we both make up the rules?”
The princess put her other foot down. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Do you promise you won’t scream and run away?” asked the little voice, and the princess promised.
Down out of the shadows on the high ceiling came something that she first thought was a small bird. It fell straight down, and she was afraid it might crash into the floor, but then its bright wings opened and it stopped. Its little wings hummed. It glittered in the light, all the colors of the tiles on the floor. But its eyes were the prettiest, all blue and green and gold and shining in the light.
“Hello,” it said.
“Hello,” said the little princess, and looked away because she knew it was rude to stare. “I’ve never seen anyone like you.”
“I haven’t either,” the flying thing said with a giggle. “Can I play?”
The princess wrinkled up her nose. “You can’t use your wings,” she said, and the flying thing nodded with a loud hiss.
“That’s OK,” it said. “I’m a good hopper.”
“And my feet are bigger than yours,” the princess said, “so I can land partially off a square.”
“Only if it’s a little square,” the flying thing giggled.
“All right.”
As they hurried back to the other end of the room after the first game, the little princess asked, “What are you?”
“I’m a dragon.”
The dragon and the princess became best friends. She showed him her games all over the palace, and her favorite places to hide and watch everything that went on.
She couldn’t play many of the dragon’s games, because most of them involved flying from high places, and she learned quickly that even with bedsheets for wings she couldn’t fly like he could. She liked to watch him, though, and often wondered what it must be like to fly.
There were lots of people who lived in the palace, but most of them were human people instead of dragon people.
The princess and the dragon often giggled together at the strange things the human people did. With the dragon’s help she found other hiding places, and the two of them found more to giggle over.
But sometimes they saw people doing things that weren’t good. They watched from their hiding place as someone crept toward the back door of the castle – the door that was supposed to be a secret – and very quietly started to push it open.
The princess stomped up to him, glaring with her angry eyes. “You’re not supposed to be doing that!” she snapped, and the person opening the door spun, staring down at her.
He started to smile, and it wasn’t a nice smile. “Well, Princess, we’ll see about that.” He grabbed for her, but the dragon dived at him from the ceiling. His claws were too soft to do more than scratch, but he startled the man and the princess was able to run.
The little dragon flew ahead, and even though she wasn’t sure where they were going through the dark halls the princess followed the bright flash of his wings.
She recognized the place where they stopped – the big room where they had once played “hop,” and where she had learned not to be afraid of dragons.
The little dragon stopped there, and hovered in the air in front of her. “Promise you won’t be scared,” he hissed, and the princess blinked.
“Why would I be scared?” She looked at the dark entrance to the dragon’s big room. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” She knew all about dragons now, and she wasn’t scared any more.
The little dragon hissed again. “I’m just a little dragon,” he said. “My mom’s a lot bigger.”
The little princess stared at him. “I didn’t know you had a Mom,” she said finally. “I thought you were the dragon at the center of the palace.”
The little dragon giggled. “Nope. Promise you won’t be scared. We need to tell someone that the back door was opened.”
The little princess followed him.
The Mom dragon was very big. The princess stared up at her, but she was all the same colors as the princess’ best friend – just like the tiles outside the big room – and her eyes glowed just like his.
She looked nice, even if she was very big. Her voice was big too, but instead of talking she listened as the children told her what had happened. She hissed, and a servant appeared. She told him everything, and then a bell sounded all through the halls of the palace, warning of an attack – warning that the hidden door had been opened by their enemies.
“You have been very brave,” the dragon said softly, and lifted her wings so that the children – human and dragon – could run underneath.
The little princess felt comforted and safe, just as if her own mother’s arms were around her.
“Your father asked me,” said the big hissing voice out of the darkness, “to get you to safety if the castle was ever attacked. Climb up on my shoulders, both of you.”
The two children obeyed, and the princess found that the hollow at the base of the dragon’s throat was just the right size. By holding onto the scales on either side, she was as secure as if she were riding behind her father on his big horse.
“Hold on, children!”
The big dragon’s wings thundered, and she threw herself into the air.
The princess never knew how they got out of the castle. Suddenly they were in the open air, and the dragon turned, gliding down across the wide valley where the palace rested. The army filled the valley. There were many fires, far more than the little princess could count, and around each fire were soldiers.
The princess felt the wind sweep past her, felt the sudden drop in her stomach when the dragon spun on a wingtip to avoid a fireball that the enemy had flung at her. The little princess laughed and the baby dragon giggled at the glorious flight.
“Hold on, children!” the mother dragon called again, and the little princess clutched the scales, the baby dragon’s claws clinging tightly to her dress.
The dragon flew out over the valley, and perched finally on the edge of a high cliff. “Climb down, now,” she said, as softly as something her size could speak. “Wait here. I’ll be back.” When the princess climbed down, the tiny dragon still clinging to her dress, the dragon looked down at them sternly.
“Do not follow me.”
The baby dragon huffed, as if it wanted to argue, but the princess wrapped her arms around her friend and they both sat back to wait--and watch.
Now the princess learned why the dragon was their Kingdom’s greatest friend.
The dragon flew out over the valley, and each time she dropped down fire streamed out of her mouth. Soon the enemy camp was burning, and the soldiers running into the darkness. By the time she finished, the sun was coming up. The children had fallen asleep on their ledge.
They never woke when they were gathered up in gentle arms and lifted onto the dragon’s back for the journey back to the palace. The princess dreamed about flying.
Once upon a time and a very long time ago, in a Kingdom just around the corner, there lived a very little princess in a very BIG palace. She lived there with her mom and dad, who were the King and Queen of the Kingdom just around the corner.
The palace was very big, and right at the center was a really big room. Her father the King told her that one of their Kingdom’s greatest friends lived there – a dragon!
The little princess didn’t like dragons. Her nurse had told her all about them. They were big, they were mean, and they had loud hissy voices that you couldn’t really understand.
The little princess had never seen the dragon who lived in the palace, but it scared her.
The princess played all over the palace, but she never went into the dragon’s big room.
One of her favorite games was one she called “hop,” because she had to hop all the way across a big room and only land on one color of tiles. It was hard sometimes, because the tiles were all different colors and the tiles of the same color might be far apart.
She didn’t play “hop” very often because the room with the tiles was right outside the big room where the dragon lived.
As she hopped she sang a little song to herself, and stopped, standing on one foot, when she heard someone giggle.
She looked all around. There was no one in the room. She hopped forward to the next green square but it was just a little too far so only the tips of her toes landed on it. That’s OK, she decided, and stepped onto the green tile.
“You cheated,” said a tiny voice, and again the princess looked around. “I did not cheat,” she said to the invisible voice. “If I’m the only one playing, I can make up my own rules.”
“Hm,” said the tiny voice, and it sounded grumpy. “Maybe.”
The princess hopped again, and the voice said, “Can I play?”
The princess stood on one foot, and thought about that. “Can I still make up the rules?” she asked, and the voice said, “How about we both make up the rules?”
The princess put her other foot down. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Do you promise you won’t scream and run away?” asked the little voice, and the princess promised.
Down out of the shadows on the high ceiling came something that she first thought was a small bird. It fell straight down, and she was afraid it might crash into the floor, but then its bright wings opened and it stopped. Its little wings hummed. It glittered in the light, all the colors of the tiles on the floor. But its eyes were the prettiest, all blue and green and gold and shining in the light.
“Hello,” it said.
“Hello,” said the little princess, and looked away because she knew it was rude to stare. “I’ve never seen anyone like you.”
“I haven’t either,” the flying thing said with a giggle. “Can I play?”
The princess wrinkled up her nose. “You can’t use your wings,” she said, and the flying thing nodded with a loud hiss.
“That’s OK,” it said. “I’m a good hopper.”
“And my feet are bigger than yours,” the princess said, “so I can land partially off a square.”
“Only if it’s a little square,” the flying thing giggled.
“All right.”
As they hurried back to the other end of the room after the first game, the little princess asked, “What are you?”
“I’m a dragon.”
The dragon and the princess became best friends. She showed him her games all over the palace, and her favorite places to hide and watch everything that went on.
She couldn’t play many of the dragon’s games, because most of them involved flying from high places, and she learned quickly that even with bedsheets for wings she couldn’t fly like he could. She liked to watch him, though, and often wondered what it must be like to fly.
There were lots of people who lived in the palace, but most of them were human people instead of dragon people.
The princess and the dragon often giggled together at the strange things the human people did. With the dragon’s help she found other hiding places, and the two of them found more to giggle over.
But sometimes they saw people doing things that weren’t good. They watched from their hiding place as someone crept toward the back door of the castle – the door that was supposed to be a secret – and very quietly started to push it open.
The princess stomped up to him, glaring with her angry eyes. “You’re not supposed to be doing that!” she snapped, and the person opening the door spun, staring down at her.
He started to smile, and it wasn’t a nice smile. “Well, Princess, we’ll see about that.” He grabbed for her, but the dragon dived at him from the ceiling. His claws were too soft to do more than scratch, but he startled the man and the princess was able to run.
The little dragon flew ahead, and even though she wasn’t sure where they were going through the dark halls the princess followed the bright flash of his wings.
She recognized the place where they stopped – the big room where they had once played “hop,” and where she had learned not to be afraid of dragons.
The little dragon stopped there, and hovered in the air in front of her. “Promise you won’t be scared,” he hissed, and the princess blinked.
“Why would I be scared?” She looked at the dark entrance to the dragon’s big room. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” She knew all about dragons now, and she wasn’t scared any more.
The little dragon hissed again. “I’m just a little dragon,” he said. “My mom’s a lot bigger.”
The little princess stared at him. “I didn’t know you had a Mom,” she said finally. “I thought you were the dragon at the center of the palace.”
The little dragon giggled. “Nope. Promise you won’t be scared. We need to tell someone that the back door was opened.”
The little princess followed him.
The Mom dragon was very big. The princess stared up at her, but she was all the same colors as the princess’ best friend – just like the tiles outside the big room – and her eyes glowed just like his.
She looked nice, even if she was very big. Her voice was big too, but instead of talking she listened as the children told her what had happened. She hissed, and a servant appeared. She told him everything, and then a bell sounded all through the halls of the palace, warning of an attack – warning that the hidden door had been opened by their enemies.
“You have been very brave,” the dragon said softly, and lifted her wings so that the children – human and dragon – could run underneath.
The little princess felt comforted and safe, just as if her own mother’s arms were around her.
“Your father asked me,” said the big hissing voice out of the darkness, “to get you to safety if the castle was ever attacked. Climb up on my shoulders, both of you.”
The two children obeyed, and the princess found that the hollow at the base of the dragon’s throat was just the right size. By holding onto the scales on either side, she was as secure as if she were riding behind her father on his big horse.
“Hold on, children!”
The big dragon’s wings thundered, and she threw herself into the air.
The princess never knew how they got out of the castle. Suddenly they were in the open air, and the dragon turned, gliding down across the wide valley where the palace rested. The army filled the valley. There were many fires, far more than the little princess could count, and around each fire were soldiers.
The princess felt the wind sweep past her, felt the sudden drop in her stomach when the dragon spun on a wingtip to avoid a fireball that the enemy had flung at her. The little princess laughed and the baby dragon giggled at the glorious flight.
“Hold on, children!” the mother dragon called again, and the little princess clutched the scales, the baby dragon’s claws clinging tightly to her dress.
The dragon flew out over the valley, and perched finally on the edge of a high cliff. “Climb down, now,” she said, as softly as something her size could speak. “Wait here. I’ll be back.” When the princess climbed down, the tiny dragon still clinging to her dress, the dragon looked down at them sternly.
“Do not follow me.”
The baby dragon huffed, as if it wanted to argue, but the princess wrapped her arms around her friend and they both sat back to wait--and watch.
Now the princess learned why the dragon was their Kingdom’s greatest friend.
The dragon flew out over the valley, and each time she dropped down fire streamed out of her mouth. Soon the enemy camp was burning, and the soldiers running into the darkness. By the time she finished, the sun was coming up. The children had fallen asleep on their ledge.
They never woke when they were gathered up in gentle arms and lifted onto the dragon’s back for the journey back to the palace. The princess dreamed about flying.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Writing Music :)
I've found my writing music.
Never thought I'd say that, really. I have a problem with music when I'm writing and I usually don't bother. I prefer silence. But a friend gave me a CD from Cosmo Frequency and I listened to it all the way through--more, I was able to write and the music helped.
Weird, but true.
Cosmo Frequency, Soundtrack to Life.
http://www.cosmofrequency.com/
Never thought I'd say that, really. I have a problem with music when I'm writing and I usually don't bother. I prefer silence. But a friend gave me a CD from Cosmo Frequency and I listened to it all the way through--more, I was able to write and the music helped.
Weird, but true.
Cosmo Frequency, Soundtrack to Life.
http://www.cosmofrequency.com/
Monday, April 7, 2014
Transformation--A compilation of Flash Fiction
I have something for you today.
Myself and a couple of my writer friends, including best selling author Wendy Knight, have done a book of short stories--very short.
It's called Flash Fiction. Some people set the boundary as low as 200 words (since a story of 100 words is a Drabble, I suppose they don't want to get things mixed up) but we set the boundary at 1000 words.
Every story in Transformation is under 1000 words.
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From fantasy to contemporary, from tragedy to comedy, there's something for everyone here.
And it's free!
Find it at BN
Find it at Smashwords
Find it at Scribd
Smashwords also has Kindle (mobi) available, as well as other formats.
When you've downloaded your copy, come visit us.
Wendy Knight
Laura Bastian
Rebecca Blevins
Lauren Ritz
Laura has recently published her first novel, Eye on Orion.
Wendy's next book, Warrior Everlasting, will be coming out on May 6th.
Myself and a couple of my writer friends, including best selling author Wendy Knight, have done a book of short stories--very short.
It's called Flash Fiction. Some people set the boundary as low as 200 words (since a story of 100 words is a Drabble, I suppose they don't want to get things mixed up) but we set the boundary at 1000 words.
Every story in Transformation is under 1000 words.
.jpg){kind=spacer}
From fantasy to contemporary, from tragedy to comedy, there's something for everyone here.
And it's free!
Find it at BN
Find it at Smashwords
Find it at Scribd
Smashwords also has Kindle (mobi) available, as well as other formats.
When you've downloaded your copy, come visit us.
Wendy Knight
Laura Bastian
Rebecca Blevins
Lauren Ritz
Laura has recently published her first novel, Eye on Orion.
Wendy's next book, Warrior Everlasting, will be coming out on May 6th.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Spark of a Feudling, by Wendy Knight
In November of 2012, my friend Wendy was stressing over her first book--Feudlings. It almost immediately hit the top of the Amazon charts, and I got to watch (and laugh) as she stressed over that as well, watching her baby climb through the lists.
She proceeded to write two more Fate on Fire novels and a bunch of novellas/short stories about this same group of characters, and I love every one of them!
Now she's stressing over her newest book in the Fate on Fire series, Spark of a Feudling, which comes out today. So I get to laugh some more. This one is about Ada, the ancestor who started the three hundred year feud that Ari ended.
Hate can start a war, but a shattered heart can fuel it for centuries.
Everything Ada does is wrong. She’s the daughter of a Duke but she isn’t proper or formal. She prefers the company of her servants—particularly Christian, the boy she’s loved since she was six years old, and his sister, Charity, Ada’s very best friend in the entire world.
Ada isn’t just the daughter of a Duke. No, she’s the daughter of one of the most powerful Edren sorcerers alive, and no matter how strong she is, it isn’t strong enough. Ada will give up almost everything to earn her father’s pride.
Christian has loved Ada since the day his mother became her governess. But two societies are determined to keep them apart—the aristocracy who say a groom will never be good enough for a Duke’s beautiful daughter, and the sorcerers who say a Carules and an Edren can never be together. Christian will do anything to make Ada his—even drive himself to madness.
When Ada suspects her father of hurting Charity and Christian in his quest for knowledge, she is torn between loyalty to him, and a fierce determination to protect them. The division tears her soul and breaks her heart.
The pieces of her broken heart will start a war that can only be stopped by the death of the most powerful warrior alive by the hand of the boy who loves her.
Spark of a Feudling includes a bonus story, Feudlings in Peace. Join Ari, Shane, Ada, Christian and everyone they love as they chase their happily ever after.
****
Excerpt of Spark of a Feudling:
He sprinted down the path, into the forest, leaping over huge rocks and tree roots and through streams he couldn’t see but his magic told him were there. He had no idea where he was going, but there seemed to be a tether from his heart to hers — he always knew where Ada was. He ran straight to them, nearly colliding with her father’s guards as he raced through the thick trees.
“What happened to her?” he bellowed, jerking Ada out of Davis’s bloodstained arms.
“She was hit, saving me,” Harrison answered. “Can you help her?”
If there had been time, any time at all, Christian would have paused at that. How exactly had his tiny little Ada saved the giant Harrison? But there wasn’t time. He laid her on the thick grass, searching for the wound. But there was so much blood.
“There!” Davis snapped, jabbing the air above her stomach.
Flames roiled across Christian’s hands and he held them above her, letting the flames soothe the skin before he tried to touch it. They swirled through the air, seeping and mending the broken, charred skin.
“Does she breathe?” Harrison asked, crouching close to put his face next to her mouth.
Christian ignored him. He didn’t care if she breathed or not.
She would breathe, or he would die with her.
“She does.” Harrison sat back, relieved.
“Can you not heal at all? Stop the blood flow from her shoulder!” Christian snapped.
Harrison gaped at him. “We’re Edren. We don’t heal.”
“I’m Carules and I can throw a lirik if need be,” Christian muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t argue with them now.
She moaned.
They all froze in shock, and then redoubled their efforts. Davis jerked his shirt off and held it to her shoulder while Christian’s blue flames leaped and danced from his hands, fighting the poison eating through her body.
“Christian. I knew—” she whispered as her skin healed, leaving only pink burns behind.
“Shhh. Don’t speak. You’re still very weak.” He moved from her stomach to her shoulder, pushing Davis’ shirt out of the way. It was stiff with dried blood and she shrieked when he ripped it from the wound. “Forgive me, dear one,” he whispered, his mouth near her temple, kissing the pain away. “Forgive me.”
“I knew… you would come. I knew you… could heal me.” Her eyes fluttered open, dazed with pain, dark orbs barely reflecting the moonlight.
“Always, Ada. Forever.”
Wendy Knight is the bestselling author of the young adult series' Fate on Fire and Riders of Paradesos. She was born and raised in Utah by a wonderful family who spoiled her rotten because she was the baby. Now she spends her time driving her husband crazy with her many eccentricities (no water after five, terror when faced with a live phone call, no touching the knives…you get the idea). She also enjoys chasing her three adorable kids, playing tennis, watching football, reading, and hiking. Camping is also big—her family is slowly working toward a goal of seeing all the National Parks in the U.S.
You can usually find her with at least one Pepsi nearby, wearing ridiculously high heels for whatever the occasion. And if everything works out just right, she will also be writing.
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She proceeded to write two more Fate on Fire novels and a bunch of novellas/short stories about this same group of characters, and I love every one of them!
Now she's stressing over her newest book in the Fate on Fire series, Spark of a Feudling, which comes out today. So I get to laugh some more. This one is about Ada, the ancestor who started the three hundred year feud that Ari ended.
Hate can start a war, but a shattered heart can fuel it for centuries.
Everything Ada does is wrong. She’s the daughter of a Duke but she isn’t proper or formal. She prefers the company of her servants—particularly Christian, the boy she’s loved since she was six years old, and his sister, Charity, Ada’s very best friend in the entire world.
Ada isn’t just the daughter of a Duke. No, she’s the daughter of one of the most powerful Edren sorcerers alive, and no matter how strong she is, it isn’t strong enough. Ada will give up almost everything to earn her father’s pride.
Christian has loved Ada since the day his mother became her governess. But two societies are determined to keep them apart—the aristocracy who say a groom will never be good enough for a Duke’s beautiful daughter, and the sorcerers who say a Carules and an Edren can never be together. Christian will do anything to make Ada his—even drive himself to madness.
When Ada suspects her father of hurting Charity and Christian in his quest for knowledge, she is torn between loyalty to him, and a fierce determination to protect them. The division tears her soul and breaks her heart.
The pieces of her broken heart will start a war that can only be stopped by the death of the most powerful warrior alive by the hand of the boy who loves her.
Spark of a Feudling includes a bonus story, Feudlings in Peace. Join Ari, Shane, Ada, Christian and everyone they love as they chase their happily ever after.
****
Excerpt of Spark of a Feudling:
He sprinted down the path, into the forest, leaping over huge rocks and tree roots and through streams he couldn’t see but his magic told him were there. He had no idea where he was going, but there seemed to be a tether from his heart to hers — he always knew where Ada was. He ran straight to them, nearly colliding with her father’s guards as he raced through the thick trees.
“What happened to her?” he bellowed, jerking Ada out of Davis’s bloodstained arms.
“She was hit, saving me,” Harrison answered. “Can you help her?”
If there had been time, any time at all, Christian would have paused at that. How exactly had his tiny little Ada saved the giant Harrison? But there wasn’t time. He laid her on the thick grass, searching for the wound. But there was so much blood.
“There!” Davis snapped, jabbing the air above her stomach.
Flames roiled across Christian’s hands and he held them above her, letting the flames soothe the skin before he tried to touch it. They swirled through the air, seeping and mending the broken, charred skin.
“Does she breathe?” Harrison asked, crouching close to put his face next to her mouth.
Christian ignored him. He didn’t care if she breathed or not.
She would breathe, or he would die with her.
“She does.” Harrison sat back, relieved.
“Can you not heal at all? Stop the blood flow from her shoulder!” Christian snapped.
Harrison gaped at him. “We’re Edren. We don’t heal.”
“I’m Carules and I can throw a lirik if need be,” Christian muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t argue with them now.
She moaned.
They all froze in shock, and then redoubled their efforts. Davis jerked his shirt off and held it to her shoulder while Christian’s blue flames leaped and danced from his hands, fighting the poison eating through her body.
“Christian. I knew—” she whispered as her skin healed, leaving only pink burns behind.
“Shhh. Don’t speak. You’re still very weak.” He moved from her stomach to her shoulder, pushing Davis’ shirt out of the way. It was stiff with dried blood and she shrieked when he ripped it from the wound. “Forgive me, dear one,” he whispered, his mouth near her temple, kissing the pain away. “Forgive me.”
“I knew… you would come. I knew you… could heal me.” Her eyes fluttered open, dazed with pain, dark orbs barely reflecting the moonlight.
“Always, Ada. Forever.”
Wendy Knight is the bestselling author of the young adult series' Fate on Fire and Riders of Paradesos. She was born and raised in Utah by a wonderful family who spoiled her rotten because she was the baby. Now she spends her time driving her husband crazy with her many eccentricities (no water after five, terror when faced with a live phone call, no touching the knives…you get the idea). She also enjoys chasing her three adorable kids, playing tennis, watching football, reading, and hiking. Camping is also big—her family is slowly working toward a goal of seeing all the National Parks in the U.S.
You can usually find her with at least one Pepsi nearby, wearing ridiculously high heels for whatever the occasion. And if everything works out just right, she will also be writing.
Social Media Links:
Blog
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