Above a horrified New York City, genetics and ethics collide as the fallen emperor and a banished exile of the same herculean race ignite into battle over the city’s rooftops. In the streets below, a brilliant young scientist has discovered a technology that can defeat them both, yet might be more terrible than either.
Set both in modern New York City and in the technologically sophisticated yet politically savage world of Anthem, Anthem’s Fall unfurls into a plot where larger than life characters born with the prowess of gods are pitted against the shrewd brilliance of a familiar and unlikely heroine.
S.L. Dunn is the debut author of Anthem’s Fall, a novel he wrote amid the wanderings of his mid twenties. He has written while living intermittently in St. John USVI, Boston, Maine and Seattle. Raised on big screen superheroes and pop science fiction, he sought to create a novel that bridged a near-sci-fi thriller with a grand new fantasy. He currently resides in Seattle with his girlfriend Liz and their dog Lucy, and is hard at work completing the next book of the Anthem’s Fall series.
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Spawned from an ancient promise, treachery and intrigue follow the protagonists through our world and one lost to the waves. Bound by an invisible bond, they are thrust into a fantastical world of pirates and demons.
James Benedict is a just man haunted by evil. Pushed to the edge, everything stripped from him, a new man arises . . . a man whose name strikes fear into the hearts of all who hear it: "Captain Hook".
Eileen Davis was a timid woman. Through a fateful cruise she finds herself in the company of the Captain of the Mistral Thief. With his guidance, and the meddling of the local barista, she eventually finds her inner strength.
Will the two of them unite through time to fulfill the promise of their ancestors or will tempers ignite leading all to failure?
True love's magic is not to avoid changes,
But to navigate them successfully.
Second on the Right Review
There is a lot going on in this novel, which takes the story of Peter Pan and puts a sinister twist to it. As the tale unfolds it becomes clear who each character from the original Neverland story are meant to be.
In the first instance Elizabeth Los has a very original idea here and she executes it well. The book is suspenseful, the characters real, and plot tight. The aspects of time travel and fantasy are very cleverly woven into the story through the use of protagonists' dreams. I found myself applauding the author for her smart cliff-hanger type endings to chapters and her realistic handling of difficult background and time swaps in the plot.
Secondly, I found her style sometimes a little odd since she tends to switch POV in some instances quite suddenly, but overall I did not find it detracted from the flow of the novel. This is a very good and imaginative rendition of the Captain Hook saga. (I had an ARC in which it is customary to find style and grammar errors, so it is likely that the retail version will not have these issues.)
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Spawned from an ancient promise, treachery and intrigue follow the protagonists through our world and one lost to the waves. Bound by an invisible bond, they are thrust into a fantastical world of pirates and demons.
James Benedict is a just man haunted by evil. Pushed to the edge, everything stripped from him, a new man arises . . . a man whose name strikes fear into the hearts of all who hear it: "Captain Hook".
Eileen Davis was a timid woman. Through a fateful cruise she finds herself in the company of the Captain of the Mistral Thief. With his guidance, and the meddling of the local barista, she eventually finds her inner strength.
Will the two of them unite through time to fulfill the promise of their ancestors or will tempers ignite leading all to failure?
True love's magic is not to avoid changes,
But to navigate them successfully.
Biography
Elizabeth uses writing as therapy, her release from everyday stress. At night, after work and once the children are finally tucked in bed, for the fifth time, she sits at her laptop and lets her imagination flow. Typing over eighty words per minute, her stories quickly form into full length novels.
Elizabeth has produced story stories, including Sherlock Holmes fan fiction. By July 2011, her first novel, Second on the Right, had been completed. She spent several years polishing the story in order to provide a high quality product to the public. Second on the Right is her first professional novel.
Peter
Footsteps on cobblestones echoed down the alleyways of small shops and homes. Within the darkness, Robert huffed and strained from exertion. He ran as fast as his legs could move him. Once he was just outside of the small seafaring town, he stopped and collapsed onto the ground trying desperately to catch his breath.
I’ve done it! he thought excitedly.
Robert could hardly believe he had stolen the unique weapon. But now what? If he returned to the ship, he would certainly be blamed for the knife’s disappearance, especially since he had no way of hiding it. How could he avoid punishment? There was no question. He could not, would not, go back to the Swallow. While hunched over, the snap of a twig close by caused him to freeze. Had the crew caught up with him? He waited as a few seconds crept by. Eventually, a boy of about twelve years of age stepped out of the darkness.
“Hullo,” the boy said nonchalantly.
“H-hello,” Robert stuttered, unsure of how to respond to this newcomer. Did he look guilty? He tried not to appear so. The boy could not possibly know what had just happened.
“Name’s Pete,” the street urchin said, scratching his face and, in the process, smudging more dirt across his cheek. Tufts of stiff and dirty blonde hair stuck out in all directions.
“Robert,” he responded with trepidation, especially since he now noticed a group of boys standing just within the edge of the darkness, their eyes shining from the moonlight.
“You alone?” the boy asked.
Robert was suspicious of the question and so lied. “No.” His lie was not convincing.
Pete smirked wickedly. “I think you are.” The tone in his voice was changing to something sweetly sinister.
Robert blinked. This stranger was threatening him. “Pete, was it?” he asked.
The young boy nodded.
“Ye best be leaving me alone.”
Pete’s laugh changed into a cackle. “Give me the bag, and I’ll consider it.”
Robert snorted in defiance as he stood up. His hand instinctively tightened its grip around the handle. The boys standing within the darkness stepped forward. The circle closed in around him. He was trapped. Despite the grim outlook, he would not give up. “Ye’ve been warned,” he said coolly. He pulled out the long knife. In one fluid movement, Robert unsheathed his weapon and pointed the tip towards Pete.
“’Ear that boys? We’ve been warned,” Pete said mockingly, staring with desire at the weapon before him. With a whistle, he commented, “That jewel looks to be worth the risk. Betcha it’ll take good care o’ me and tha boys. So be it!” he shouted as he pulled out a small dagger and lunged towards Robert, tapping the magic blade with his own.
The two weapons would have made for an impressive fight, if not for the inexperience and weak muscles of the fighters. A quiet tick of metal sounded as each barely hit the other’s blade. Eventually, both boys grew tired from the exertion.
Robert gained the advantage and the surrounding boys inched closer. Before he could do anything about it, they attacked, knocking him to the ground. The knife came to rest in front of Pete. Robert struggled to push the boys away and reclaim his prize, but Pete took advantage of the opportunity. Reaching for the knife, Pete’s hand hit the edge of the blade. It made a small cut into his palm. He pulled back for a moment, staring at the bleeding wound more from curiosity than pain.
Robert froze. His prized possession was in the hands of a stranger. “The Captain's gonna kill me,” he mumbled.
While Pete was distracted, Robert noticed the blood seemed to move along the blade and disappear into the hilt of the knife, trickling into the blue orb. His eyes widened in amazement. Had he just seen that, or was his mind playing tricks on him? Suddenly, a gust of strong wind and a chilling howl wrapped around Pete.
Robert was startled, but it was the other boy who cried out in fear and pain. His body twisted and writhed as he fell to the ground. Maniacal laughter, all too familiar, filled the air. The remaining group of boys, having scattered from fear, let go of their prisoner. Robert scrambled back, putting some distance between himself and Pete. The disembodied laugh grew stronger.
Pete’s eyes were now glowing red. He heaved in deeply, the sound akin to a death rattle. As the wind swirled around him, he stood. A wicked impish grin was on his face. He let out a crow of triumph.
Robert stepped back in an attempt to leave. It could not get much worse than this, could it? I was wrong. The Captain isn't going to kill me. Daria is definitely going to kill me, he thought.
Pete turned to Robert and smiled. “I must thank you for you have freed me.” His movements gave the impression he was stalking prey. “But I must ask for one favor more…your life.”
Eyes wide, Robert did the only thing a young boy could do when faced with a vengeful god: he ran. He did not stop. He did not look back. He needed to leave, to hide, and to forget what had happened. He would never tell Captain Davis, Daria, or anyone else, what he had done.
Released
"Peter," James said in a low growl. "Show yourself!" he shouted.
“That crow. I’ve heard that before,” Benedict commented.
Peter alighted onto the railing with such ease and grace it irritated James. He gave a slight bow, as if observing the niceties. Pulling one of two bags from his belt, he held it up in his hand. James held the sheath of his sword with his hook, struggling only momentarily to hurriedly unsheathe it.
Peter laughed and shook his bag, "Need a hand?" He howled even more, causing chills to run through James.
James advanced towards him, but stopped short. Peter had reached into the bag he had been holding and had removed a rotting hand, with fingers missing. It was all too familiar to James: his right hand. James and Benedict cringed, disgusted at the sight.
Peter tossed it at James, who jumped back in disgusted. The splat of soft, decomposing flesh hit the wood. Peter spun up in flight, and landed back down on the deck, retrieving the hand. Pieces were left behind from its initial fall.
"No? Much happier with a hook, are we? You're welcome," he sneered. "There’s one who would appreciate a hand. Yours, in fact." He floated to the railing to glance at the waters below. "Come, take a look. I promise I won't bite," he grinned, moving away to allow James to draw near.
James and Benedict cautiously took a glimpse. What they saw was the silhouette of an enormous crocodile.
James said to him, “Impossible. They can't grow that large, can they?”
Benedict had no response. He had never seen one that large. In the water, the crocodile, nearly twenty meters long, ticked and hissed. The sounds were eerily similar to a clock.
Benedict and James peered down again at the beast. The crocodile thrashed and clawed its way partially up the side of the Mistral Thief. Sweat dampened James’ brow. Benedict looked at Peter, who was now dangling the remaining portion of what he assumed was James' right hand over the side of the ship. The crocodile leapt from the water, greatly desiring either the hand of James or James himself.
Both James and Benedict cringed, though it was James that moved away from the railing. The scratching of the crocodile's claws on the side of the ship seemed to make him tremble. Peter laughed maniacally, and tossed James’ hand to the crocodile.
“You’ve been using it for bait?” James looked at Peter, horror and disgust evident on his face. “This is all a game to you.”
Pan. He hasn’t aged. Should I tell James? Benedict thought. His eyes shifted in James’ direction. He needs to know.
James pointed his sword at Peter. "What do you want?" He shouted.
Peter unsheathed his knife, circling around the deck. James followed suit. Occasionally, Peter would tap the end of his sword. However, Benedict knew James was a man of indomitable courage. James held his sword steady, firmly in his left hand, his hook slightly hidden behind him. His eyes were cold as steel. At that moment, James appeared to be in complete control of his emotions and actions. Benedict couldn’t help but beam proudly at what he had done for James.
"What do I want?" Peter asked himself thoughtfully. He looked back at James, his eyes glowing faintly red. "I want you to pay," but he stopped. "Then again, perhaps you are suffering a bit. After all, I'm finding your son to be a delicious addition to my lost boys." He ended this with a slight hiss.
“I’ve done nothing to you,” James replied. “I believe you’re the one that will pay for taking my family.”
Benedict subtly moved closer to James. He could see how the boy was manipulating James, using the loss of Eileen and Robbie to rile him to the point of pure rage. Benedict knew all too well how easy it was to make James angry.
"Jas," he said in quiet warning, seeing James' shoulders rise and fall more frequently.
James voice wavered, “What are you?"
Benedict hesitated to offer his knowledge. What would it serve but to merely fan the flame the boy had started. Quietly he said to James, "Me thinks he's Pete, a boy I met years ago. Feeds off humans."
"Explain, please," James murmured to Benedict, not taking his eyes off Peter.
"Not quite o’ changeling. Thought ta be mere legend, but I’d seen it with me own eyes. A powerful creature, though from what world, I'm not sure. Feeds off tha young, slow and sure ta stay alive. No doubt, yer boy be one he's feedin' on," he explained.
Peter held a penetrating gaze at Benedict. "Oooohh. You're a rather smart one, aren't you? But I am at a disadvantage. You seem to know me, but I do not recognize you." The boy’s face scrunched up in contemplation until he seemed to have an epiphany, “The one who set me free! You’re so…old!”
James looked over at the captain. “You set him free?” he whispered angrily. “Why am I not surprised?”
Benedict did his best to avoid eye contact. He knew he would have to explain all of this later. Perhaps he’ll forget. Not likely though.
"It's true." Peter said with a grinned. "I did feed on her. The red hair had to go." He made a violent motion as he spoke.
"Jas," Benedict warned, seeing James tense, the muscles in his jaw tightened.
James waved him off, stepping forward.
Peter continued. "Her white skin, so soft and supple. Her screams of terror and pain, delicious. Oh, she was wonderful!" He paused for a moment, then finished, "Particularly the chewy center within." With the last sentence, his wicked eyes fell on James.
James screamed in anguish. He charged for Peter. Benedict reached out to stop him, but he was too slow. Peter flew up to the top of the mast. James, whose momentum had gotten the better of him, teetered at the rail. The crocodile waited eagerly below. James grunted in an effort to push himself back.
Peter howled in laughter, pointing, mocking and pantomiming actions as if he were James falling over the railing. James ran to the ropes, set to climb. Benedict shouted, but James didn’t hear. Not being heeded, he and a few crewmen pounced on him, holding him down.
"Take him ta me quarters!" he barked at the bo'sun. They held James, who thrashed violently. It took five men to drag James into the captain's quarters and slam the doors shut. Benedict addressed Peter, "Ye best be leavin' now, or ye be facin' my wrath."
Peter shrugged off the threat. "I have no quarrel with you, old man." He jumped off the mast, floating high above. "Tell him I'll be waiting, in Neverland." And he flew off.
Benedict rubbed his sore eyes. "I'm gettin' too old fer this."
At his quarters, Benedict’s hand stopped at the door. James' screams of rage could be heard from within. Benedict opted to take his time. Making a course adjustment, he continued towards El Tiburón.
Author Interview
Tell us about your latest release and how we can find out more.
I read Peter Pan and watched the Disney movie I felt Captain Hook needed more to his back story than was revealed. Fans around me cheered for Peter Pan. I thought it odd, considering this young boy had, prior to the start of the story, cut off Hook’s hand and fed it to the crocodile. That was no action of an innocent boy. My mind began to weave a story for Hook, one where he originally was the good guy, a family man. Following the events of his first encounter with Pan, perhaps he had changed not only physically but mentally as well. And that is where we see the captain when J.M. Barrie’s story begins.
Are there any themes within the novel?
I delve into a lot of psychological issues. How would a man react if the very thing he values or loves is taken from him? Would he seek revenge? In this story, he does and falls into a bitter depression, which begins to change him. I asked myself if such a man would be able to pull himself out of that pit of depression and self-loathing if he were disfigured in the process.
One female character finds herself in a situation where she makes a rash decision based on passion and later regrets it. How does she handle the guilt and shame of such a decision?
There are a lot of things going on in the book, including adventure, romance, and time travel. Did you have a favorite scene to write?
It was the fight scene between James and Robert, but since then, I think it has changed to the scene where Pan is attempting to kill Captain Benedict and Eileen interrupts him. I like that she's able to handle herself in a crisis.
What do you see as influences on your writing style?
I've read all of the Sherlock Holmes stories, over and over and over. :)
I'm also really fond of Preston/Child's Pendergast series. Ever since Relic, I've been hooked on reading any story with Special Agent Pendergast. Besides that, the writing style of Douglas Present and Lincoln Child always has me on the edge of my seat. That's something I'm striving for.
What do you see as the biggest challenge for indie authors and what have you been doing to overcome that?
Marketing! I've never much cared for it, but it is an integral part of the entire process. And, I think it is really difficult for some authors to tout their own work. We need to get of the idea that it is bragging. It isn't. You need to market not only the book, but you, the author. And that can be tough.
Once upon a time, an angel and a devil fell in love and dared to imagine a world free of bloodshed and war.
This is not that world.
Art student and monster's apprentice Karou finally has the answers she has always sought. She knows who she is—and what she is. But with this knowledge comes another truth she would give anything to undo: She loved the enemy and he betrayed her, and a world suffered for it.
In this stunning sequel to the highly acclaimed Daughter of Smoke & Bone, Karou must decide how far she'll go to avenge her people. Filled with heartbreak and beauty, secrets and impossible choices, Days of Blood & Starlight finds Karou and Akiva on opposing sides as an age-old war stirs back to life.
While Karou and her allies build a monstrous army in a land of dust and starlight, Akiva wages a different sort of battle: a battle for redemption. For hope.
But can any hope be salvaged from the ashes of their broken dream?(less)
Biography
I'm a writer of fantasy books for young people, but my books can be enjoyed by adults as well. My 'Dreamdark' books, Blackbringer (2007) and Silksinger (2009) are about faeries -- not dainty little flowery things, but warrior-faeries who battle devils. My first young adult book, Lips Touch, is a finalist for the 2009 National Book Award! It's creepy, sensual supernatural romance. . . about kissing. I am also an artist with a licensed gift product line called "Laini's Ladies."
Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.
In a dark and dusty shop, a devil’s supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.
And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.
Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real, she’s prone to disappearing on mysterious "errands", she speaks many languages - not all of them human - and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she’s about to find out.
When beautiful, haunted Akiva fixes fiery eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?(less)
Biography
Hi there! I'm a writer of fantasy books for young people, but my books can be enjoyed by adults as well. My 'Dreamdark' books, Blackbringer (2007) and Silksinger (2009) are about faeries -- not dainty little flowery things, but warrior-faeries who battle devils. My first young adult book, Lips Touch, is a finalist for the 2009 National Book Award! It's creepy, sensual supernatural romance. . . about kissing. I am also an artist with a licensed gift product line called "Laini's Ladies."
The second book is titled, 'Days of Blood and Starlight' while the third is 'Dreams of Gods and Monsters.
Featured Trilogy
I read a lot of books. Most are given to me by author's wanting to generate reviews, and although I really enjoy reading and writing about these book, I also want to choose books I feel like reading without being asked. That said, strangely enough most of the items on my 'Wish List' come in sets of three. That is to say trilogies. I've decided to feature these books their authors' in a series of posts and then, to post up the reviews to keep a record of my enjoyment factor as a ratio for each book of the series. Goodreads Reviews
It is winter 1539. King Henry VIII is galloping through the night to
Rochester to meet a young woman. Just arrived in England from Germany,
Anne of Cleves is destined to become his fourth wife. He has never met her
before. He has only seen her portrait - the portrait of a sweet, demure and
innocent young woman. The impatient and lovesick king must see her before
their marriage. But this rushed and unplanned rendezvous will shock them
and the country both. It will also lead to some completely unexpected and
fatal results.
Catherine howard
Blurb
This historical novel has it all: sex and romance, violence and war, infidelity
and intrigue.
Catherine Howard, the Duke of Norfolk's niece, is raised in the very free
atmosphere of her grandmother's palace. Here she becomes aware of her
own sexuality and the exciting effect she has on the men at court around her.
She is also an unknowing part of her uncle's devious plan to obtain more
influence with the king - he pushes her onto the newly-divorced and lovesick
King Henry VIII who is looking for a fifth wife.
Meanwhile, John Butcher has become a guard in the dreaded Tower of
London. He guards the king, witnesses the executions of Anne Boleyn and
Thomas More and takes part in the fighting in Ireland. However, when he
returns to London, his meeting with Catherine Howard, the king's fifth
queen, produces unexpected and dramatic results.
In D. Lawrence-Young's second Tudor novel we learn how Catherine
Howard's passionate nature mixed with the murky, deadly politics of the
Tudor court and a furious king produce a classic story of passionate love,
disappointment and revenge on a royal scale.
About D Lawrence Young
D. Lawrence-Young takes the often pompous and frequently silly
"Shakespeare Authorship Controversy" and turns it into a fast-paced pageturning detective story. All the nooks and crannies of rival candidates and
claims are traversed in interesting locations and often funny encounters. The
SAC has got under the Shakespeare-loving and teaching David Young's skin
and he has turned this irritant into a pleasure to read and from which there is
much to learn.
How And Why I Write Historical Novels
I have always liked learning history, even when I had to suffer three of the world's most boring history teachers in high school. Fortunately, when I went home and told my parents about what I had studied, my father would ask pointed and cynical questions about the heroes or the events we had concentrated on that day. In that way, I learned that there was more than one way in which I could relate to a specific historical hero or incident.
Another spin-off of this was, that when I became an English teacher, I would pepper grammatical examples I wrote on the board with historical events. In this way I hoped that this potentially dry subject would be more interesting. Using examples such as "If Henry VIII had not fallen in love with Anne Boleyn..." or "If the 1944 plot to assassinate Hitler had succeeded..." I hoped made learning the conditional structure more exciting.
From this use of English and history grew my desire to write complete historical novels. This desire was helped in that I feel I don't have to specialize in dealing with one particular era or country. Therefore I have been able to write about Australia in Sail Away from Botany Bay, about Israel in Six Million Accusers, about Anglo-Saxon kings in Of Plots & Passions, about Tudor queens in Anne of Cleves and Catherine Howard as well writing about the 1605 Gunpowder Plot in Gunpowder, Treason & Plot. In addition, I have also written novels about the two World Wars - Of Guns & Mules and Of Guns, Revenge & Hope. And of course I had to write about Shakespeare and Marlowe. These two Elizabethan playwrights became the subjects of four other historical novels.
When it comes to the actual writing, this and the necessary background research is the best part. In terms of writing this means selecting the most suitable vocabulary and style; not repeating the same words too often and making sure that what I write flows well and is credible and accurate. Even though I am writing fiction, I cannot allow mistakes such as 'the American Declaration of Independence of June 4th, 1777' or 'After the Confederate victory at Gettysburg...' to creep in. Therefore I work hard to ascertain that if I do include an historical fact, it is completely accurate. This means I have to check my sources very carefully. As an example of this, I once phoned a friend in England who is an expert on trees to ask him about which sort of trees grow in the New Forest, the site where King William II was accidentally (?) shot to death by an arrow.
Finally, it is probably because I was a teacher for many years as well as being a long-suffering student, that today I work hard to choose interesting topics for books and then to write about them in the most 'page-turning' way I can. I love reading and learning about what happened in the past and I want you to do the same.
Irresponsible was one word used to describe Prince Liam. Liam preferred fun-loving. After years of pulling pranks on his fellow nobles and ruining balls, Liam’s prospects for a bride are looking dim. At his wits’ end, Liam’s father arranges a marriage between Liam and his best friend Cordelia. She is the last person in the world Liam wants to marry. When Liam confesses this to her, she transforms Liam with a curse.
Now Liam must escape her clutches while breaking her spell, but he is trapped in her castle with no way to escape. His only hope is to persuade Cordelia’s servant Gabrielle to help him. However, Gabrielle has a secret of her own, and helping Liam is something she cannot do.
Biography A.C. Harrah
A.C. Harrah has a B.A. with an Emphasis in Creative Writing and Japanese. Due to her love of writing, A.C. tends to chain herself to her computer, but when she does sneak out it's usually to frolic on the beach or see the latest super hero movie. Oh, and travel. She would happily live out of a backpack if it meant exploring the world.
One of her favorite authors is Lewis Carroll.
Excerpt
The rain misted. Gabrielle held out her hand, letting the water kiss her palm. She looked up at the night sky and closed her eyes. The soft touch of the rain against her skin was refreshing. For a few moments there was nothing but Gabrielle and the cool night. She smiled then dropped to her knees. She buried in her hands in the moist earth as she hunted worms.
Something pink wiggled between her fingers, and she pinched it. The worm squirmed. She dropped it into her blue jar. She corked it as she continued to search for more. Liam hadn’t jumped higher than the ball, but after his collision and Cordelia’s temper, he deserved a little treat. She just wished the fireflies were out tonight. He never said it, but she had a feeling that he liked those best.
She found two more worms and pocketed the jar. She stood and looked around. Her eyes rested on the stable.
Liam’s words echoed in her head.
She knew she shouldn’t…but she couldn’t resist.
She hurriedly tiptoed toward the stables. She unlatched the front doors and pushed them aside. A horse neighed. Her shoulders pressed together. When no one jumped out to stop her, she went inside. She searched a wall for a sack and found one for feeding. She snatched it then entered one horse’s stall.
The horse shook its head, causing its mane swipe the air. It snorted and edged away as Gabrielle ventured into the back of the stall. The stall was clean, so she went to another. It wasn’t until her fourth try that she found a horse with a fresh deposit.
She pinched her nose and turned the sack inside out. She stuffed her hand into the bag and dove into the feces. A lump of disgust formed in her throat. Even through the sack she could feel that the waste was still warm. It broke apart easily in her hands. She shoved down her nausea and turned the sack inside out again, trapping the dung inside while keeping her hands clean. She tied a knot at the top of the bag and erased any sign that she had been in the stables before she left.
She entered the castle and took the left stairs to the servants’ quarters. Laughter escaped the common room where the servants went after work to relax and have fun. They shared stories and tips for cooking and cleaning with the occasional gossip. Excitement raced through her; she couldn’t wait to join them.
She went a little farther down the corridor to Lucinda’s room. There was nothing remarkable the door, so Gabrielle had to count off the plain, wooden doors to make sure she had the right one. She opened the door to Lucinda’s room; she knew the woman would either be cleaning up after supper or would be eating her own meal.
Lucinda’s room wasn’t very different from Gabrielle’s. Every servant had a small room with a cot. Some servants bought dressers, but others kept their things in baskets; she had learned the basket owners were the ones who didn’t stay long. Lucinda had a dresser with a straw doll and a bible on top.
Gabrielle picked up the doll. She would have never guessed Lucinda had such a toy. She returned it to the dresser.
She grabbed Lucinda’s pillowcase. With two vigorous shake pillow flopped out. She opened the bag of feces and gagged on the putrid smell. Lucinda would probably smell it before her head touched the fluffy head cushion. Even so, Gabrielle was certain Lucinda wouldn’t check the pillow; no one ever suspects the pillow. She shook the excrement into the pillowcase then stuffed the cushion inside.
She dashed out the bedroom and into the common room. The fireplace burned, casting shadows against the walls. Ronan, Albert, and Daniel laughed boisterously in front of the fire. Melinda and Warren chatted in the corner—lovebirds. Fiona, Isabella, and Mackenzie huddled together, drank ale, and sang a song about a man shipped off for a murder he did not commit. Thomas sat in a rickety, old chair, teaching Samuel how to read. Marina danced with Eric, and Oliver played a jaunty tune on his flute.
“Gabrielle!” Marina gasped and twirled out of Eric’s hold.
“Come join us.” She took Gabrielle’s hand and spun her into Eric.
Gabrielle laughed, laid her hands on Eric’s chest, and pushed away. She hiked up her skirts and jigged to the upbeat tune. Marina mimicked her.
“Now that isn’t very nice,” Eric chuckled, his cheeks flushed from dancing. “I thought you and I were having a wonderful time.”
“You’re being too sensitive, Eric,” Marina said as she pranced toward him, taking his hand in hers. He spun her around then latched their elbows together. They bounced and twirled.
Gabrielle hopped on the balls of her feet. She jumped into the air with a kick and clapped her hands. She spun, and Thomas was suddenly there. He linked his elbow wither hers. More of the servants joined, and she passed between them. The older ones lined the room and clapped out the beat. They laughed whenever someone fumbled, but then were quick to cheer the person on.
Gabrielle was breathless and hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead and armpits, but she loved the thrill of the dance too much to care. She brushed her bangs out her face as she was passed to Ronan.
A scream pierced the air.
Everyone stopped.
Lucinda burst into the room. Her plump cheeks were ruby with fury, and her brown strands whipped around her face like snakes. The thin, blue veins on her neck throbbed. She thrust her pillow up for all to see and pinched her nose.
“Who did this?” she shrieked.
“Did what?” asked Albert. He walked up to her and stopped two steps short of her. He covered his nose and waved his hand. “What is that stench?”
“Shit!” Lucinda screeched.
A few of the younger servants snickered, including Gabrielle.
“It’s not funny.” Lucinda stormed up to Eric and pinched his ear. “How would you like it if you just finished working, wanted to go to bed, and then found shit in your pillow?”
More snickers.
Eric yanked free of her and rubbed his ear. “Use your spare clothes as a pillow. You can wash it tomorrow.”
“I want it washed now!” Lucinda stomped her foot. “Now who did it?”
No one answered.
Lucinda scanned the room. She looked at them as if they were all murderers. Her gaze landed on Gabrielle and narrowed. She shoved her way to Gabrielle. She shook the putrid pillowcase in Gabrielle’s face. “You.” She seized Gabrielle’s arm. Sharp nails dug into Gabrielle’s skin.
Gabrielle winced.
Lucinda tugged her forward. “You clean this up now.”
“Stop it, Lucinda,” Marina pushed her way out of the crowd. “You’ve been picking on Gabrielle, and you are just using this as an excuse to do it again.”
“She’s the one who did this.”
Warren pulled himself away from Melinda. “What’s your evidence?”
“Who else would do it?”
“That’s not evidence,” Marina rebuked.
Lucinda looked between Gabrielle and the crowd of angry faces. She released Gabrielle. “Fine.” She spun, slamming the door behind her as she left.
Gabrielle rubbed her abused arm.
Murmurs about Lucinda’s pillowcase floated in the air. The older servants looked at her suspiciously. Some of the younger ones also eyed her with curiosity, but most chattered amicably with one another.
Marina approached Gabrielle. “Are you all right?” She reached to touch Gabrielle’s arm. Gabrielle jerked away.
Gabrielle forced a smile. “It’s a little sore, but should be fine by tomorrow.”
Marina frowned. “Are you sure?”
Gabrielle nodded.
Marina lowered her hand and tossed a glance at the servants eyeing Gabrielle. She stepped closer to Gabrielle and whispered, “If it was you, you should avoid doing anything else to Lucinda. She is not the most well liked, but some people are a little too high on their moral horse. You might get in trouble.”
Gabrielle nodded. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”
Marina stepped away. “Goodnight then.”
Gabrielle smiled and waved. “Goodnight to you too.” She ignored the stares of others and gently closed the door behind her as she left. Once outside, her knees felt weak. She gripped the doorknob for support. She collapsed against the door and raised her head to the ceiling. Giddiness danced through her veins. She grinned like a fool. Lucinda would make her life miserable for the next few days, but the look of absolute horror and disgust on her face had given Gabrielle a high she hadn’t felt in months. The rush and thrill was worth it.
She pranced down the hall and twirled.
She had to do it again.
Excerpt
"Those don't look like riding clothes." Lord Kenneth examined his horse's saddle and patted his steed's side.
Cordelia hadn't changed out of her simple blue gown from breakfast. Her father would have preferred her to switch into a more regal dress, but even he acknowledged what a terrible idea that would be. She forced a smile on her face and giggled like a fairy, just as she had been instructed to do once she became eligible for marriage." I hope you don't mind, I wanted to look my best for you."
Lord Kenneth leered at her. His lips curved up. He stepped toward her. "I'm honored that you would try so hard to impress me."
"Who said it was difficult?" She grinned but then mentally kicked herself. It was comments like that one that had gotten her in trouble before.
Lord Kenneth blinked then shook his head. He was probably brushing aside her comment as the result of nerves.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
He held out his hand, and she took it. He led her to her horse. "I noticed your family's orchard as I rode in today. I thought we could explore it."
She nodded and kept her teeth pressed against her bottom lip. If she didn't speak then she couldn't insult him. He helped her onto her horse. She internally groaned at the prospect of riding sidesaddle. She was certain her father had specifically told the stable hands to put the sidesaddle on. She waited for him to climb onto his steed. He did so with ease.
He clicked his teeth and moved the reigns. The horse trotted away. Cordelia rubbed the neck of her horse and gave the reigns a tug; it pranced after its brethren. She rode up beside Lord Kenneth. He glanced at her and smiled. "I've heard that you are the adventurous sort. How about a race to the orchard?"
A race? Warm glee tickled Cordelia's insides like a feather. Other suitors had scoffed at the notion of racing against her. They became furious when she took off and left them behind. It was one of the first things her father had told her not do. Even the few who were willing to race got offended when she won. Lord Kenneth, however,
Perhaps it was his face that still had its baby fat, or maybe it was his soft blue eyes, or even his brilliant grin, but something about him radiated the same aura that Liam gave off right before they raced. He didn't seem to care who won or lost; he just wanted to have fun.
She nodded and whipped her reigns.
Lord Kenneth mimicked her action.
They blasted around the corner toward the front gates. Guards rushed and stumbled to open the gate. They barely parted the doors in time for Cordelia and Lord Kenneth. The two were neck and neck.
<
Cordelia pressed herself closer to her horse and kicked its side. She gritted her teeth as the horse rocked beneath her. She felt like she was sliding off her horse; this was why she hated sidesaddle.
They charged down the dirt path toward the orchards. An old man with a cane flung himself off the road as they rounded a corner near him.
<
Cordelia peeked at Lord Kenneth. He kept his gaze focused on the orchard. It made Cordelia grin; it would have been upsetting if Lord Kenneth turned out to be one of those overly sensitive types that would stop their race just because they startled someone.
The wind slapped her hair in her face as they rounded the last bend. She shook her head and gave her horse one firm kick.
The horse jumped and flew over the orchard gate. It landed with a thump and ran a few more paces until she pulled on the reigns. Cordelia made soothing sounds and rubbed her horse's neck. "That's a good horse."
Lord Kenneth's horse snorted behind her.
Cordelia beamed and turned to face Lord Kenneth. Her smile toppled.
She could see it in his squinted eyes, his white-knuckle grip, and his clenched jaw: he was furious. Her heartstrings knotted, and her stomach churned. Was there any way to recover from this?
A strained smile formed on Lord Kenneth's lips. He chuckled drily. "Well, it seems you won. I should have expected your stable hands to give you the best of your horses."
"Actually, your horse is the better of ours." Internal cringe. She'd said too much again.
His smile looked so forced that it made her cheeks ache in sympathy. She sighed and shook her head. There was no making the situation better.
"Ah, well then, good for you. If my steed hadn't needed rest, I'm sure I would have won this match."
Cordelia's skin itched with irritation, and the hair on her arms bristled. "I'm sorry, but do you realize how silly you sound?" There was no point in playing the docile female anymore. She was ecstatic to rip off the uncomfortable facade. "If your horse didn't need rest? Ignoring the fact that every animal has its limitations, and that you're basing your assumption on a possibility that does not exist --and that you have no evidence to back up your assumption --the fact is, you lost. Nothing you say or do changes that."
"The fact is," he stressed his words, "I could have won."
"The fact is, you're an ass."
"How dare you? Do you know who I am?"
"Of course." She raised her head high. "You're a lord, and I am a princess."
His cheeks reddened then turned purple. His tongue tripped over half-formed words. He looked every which way, as if he could find a witty retort on the ground.
She snapped her reigns. The horse dashed toward the orchard's fence and jumped over it. She eased the horse into a trot and went home.
She hoped her father could forgive her.
