Grand Traitor Makeover

My free novella, Grand Traitor, has received another makeover! If you haven’t read it yet, now’s the time!

A foreigner surprises everyone in Castle Krondolee when she claims to possess the key to a room that has remained closed for centuries, its contents unknown. Arken Jeridar, descended from the god of greed, schemes to win the key for himself and the queen's love all at once. But success may come at a far greater cost than he ever expected.

A foreigner surprises everyone in Castle Krondolee when she claims to possess the key to a room that has remained closed for centuries, its contents unknown. Arken Jeridar, descended from the god of greed, schemes to win the key for himself and the queen’s love all at once. But success may come at a far greater cost than he ever expected.

 

As some of you may know, I have recently taken something of a break from writing novels to explore other forms of storytelling media. I created an animation and then became involved with game design, releasing my first visual novel October last year online and in the Google App store: “Serafina’s Saga.” Because of the positive responses the game has received, and also my own emotional attachment to the story, I have decided to go back and adapt the game script into a novel. This will give me a chance to dive deeper into the characters, spend more time with them, and release a version of the story that non-gamers can enjoy, as well.

Grand Traitor is the prequel to all forms of “Serafina’s Saga,” and the story also occurs in the same world as the “Broken Balance” Series (Ashes of DearenSands of Hanubi). Depending on how the Serafina’s Saga novel goes, I might write a third book to create a “Serafina’s Saga” trilogy, which will begin to connect the characters of “Serafina’s Saga” with those in Sands of Hanubi. But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.

So I just wanted to let you all know that I am still writing novels, albeit not as quickly as the previous few years, and give you a taste of what’s ahead. One way or another, I will return to the Sands of Hanubi story eventually; I’m certainly not done telling it. If you haven’t read Grand Traitor yet, go check it out for free. Here’s a teaser:

***

Excerpt from Grand Traitor Chapter 3

***

She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

Nadia stood in the hallway, trembling so fiercely she feared for the health of her baby. Elborn mothers rarely miscarried or suffered complications during childbirth. It was one of the many reasons people suspected they carried the blood of Demetral. But Nadia still worried that the fears and burdens she suffered might have some negative impact on her little Serafina. She could not remember the last time she felt so physically unstable. Her hands sweated uncontrollably. Her body felt weak from lack of food. And yet her one bite of breakfast continued to churn in her stomach.

Two rows of Darzian soldiers shared the hallway with the queen, prepared to give their lives to protect her. She wore a crown on her head, ensuring her that everyone on this vast and powerful continent must obey her command. And yet she felt as vulnerable as a small child alone in the wild. Any moment, Arken Jeridar would come strolling down this hallway. She had chosen this part of the castle for that very purpose, so she might intercept him. But the thought of seeing him again—of staring into those fierce golden eyes, full of anger and maybe even hatred—terrified her beyond belief.

“I, uh… I’m not feeling well,” she said aloud, even though the soldiers were trained not to speak to her. Some of them exchanged puzzled glances, as if wondering whether to respond. “I’m going back to my room!” she declared. Then she started to turn around.

But it was already too late. For at that very moment, Arken appeared at the end of the hallway.

He froze at the same time that she did. He stared at her across the stones of the hall, through the bright beams of sunlight from the windows, and she wondered how she looked to him. There she stood, fat and pregnant, her ridiculously large dress spreading out from her swollen midriff, a look of shock on her face. Crowned, bejeweled, and surrounded by soldiers, she still managed to feel pathetic and sickly.

Meanwhile, Arken looked as radiant as ever. He had traded his silk robes for leather riding boots, simple trousers, and a loose-fitting shirt that showed the softly-sculpted lines of his chest. He had pulled his yellow hair behind him, tied with a silk ribbon, though a few soft strands still fell to accentuate the squareness of his jaws and the sharp length of his nose.

He recovered before she did. He resumed walking, and his steps did not waver as he swept his long legs down the hallway. He stopped just a few feet away from her and feigned a graceful bow. Somehow, this theatrical submission felt equal to the most flagrant insult he might have thrown upon her.

At long last, she closed her gaping mouth and tried to recover her breath. But despite how many times she had rehearsed this moment while waiting for him to appear, she could not find the words to say.

He looked up at her, revealing a tiny smirk on his mouth, and found his voice before she did. “Most beautiful and gracious queen. Forgive me for interrupting you on my way through this hallway.”

He might as well have slapped her across the face. And perhaps that was for the best, for at last, she felt her senses returning to her. “Arken,” she said. “I came here to speak with you.”

He straightened from his ridiculous bow, but continued to wear that smile on his face—a smile that, despite its charm, she knew to be fake. Whatever warmth it provided, the coldness in his eyes overwhelmed it tenfold. “Oh really? Why would the great Queen Nadia ever trouble herself with the likes of a man like me?”

He poised the question as a mockery. But she sensed a sincere curiosity behind his words, as well. “Arken, I…” She glanced around at the soldiers. “Leave us.”

The soldiers hesitated. They could not disobey. But they could not abandon her, either. They did not know what to do.

“Wait for me… over there,” she snapped, pointing to the end of the hallway.

With a great shuffle of armor and weaponry, the soldiers obeyed her. Arken watched them go with an amused expression.

“Arken, when you left here so suddenly, on that day… you never gave me a chance to explain myself.”

“What must you explain? You chose to marry another man. Quite… ‘suddenly.’” The fake smirk, the feigned amusement, vanished completely. His lips curled with a snarl. “Whatever you would say to me, I don’t wish to hear it.”

“But you must. I…” Her palms were sweating again. She rubbed them against the fabric of her dress, to no avail. “I did what I thought what was best for the kingdom. I wanted to marry you. But to do that would have been selfish, especially when I realized the repercussions. If I had abandoned the throne without warning, the castle would have fallen into chaos. Relationships between the Houses were so heated, I feared a civil war.”

“I see. Marrying me would have been selfish?” He snorted, a sound that reverberated from one end of the hall to the other. “Gods forbid you do something selfish! I don’t suppose choosing the crown over love is selfish at all? Nor the assumption that you must sit on the throne or the kingdom will fall to ruin? Naturally, you did what you had to—for the kingdom.”

“You know that it’s true, Arken! Our actions could have had dire consequences.”

“But that’s not the full truth, now is it?” His eyes narrowed on her, and she felt as if they pierced her to the core. “If you really worried so much about the consequences, you would have spoken to the Royal Duma about marrying me long before your scheduled wedding with Lord Gerald.” He stepped closer to her, his gaze crushing her as surely as a boot upon her throat. “If we had proceeded more carefully, we might have gained everyone’s approval. So if you cared so much about that, why didn’t you try? Why did you not announce our intentions sooner?”

Nadia opened her mouth, but no words came out. She realized that for better or worse, Arken sensed the truth. He knew that she had loved him. But despite her love for him, she had never believed he could rule as Grand Prince without causing trouble. She worried that he would always want more power—that his inheritance as a Jeridar would get the best of him. And that even if married to the monarch, his power would fail to satisfy the greed in his bloodstream.

“You misjudged me,” he hissed, his breath blowing the red curls from her face. “You thought I cared only about the crown. You were wrong. But not nearly so wrong as I was about you.”

He pulled back, just a little, but she still felt as if he had smashed her to powder against the floor of the hallway. She felt tiny and small, unable to argue, helpless against his accusations.

“May I pass now, my queen?” His voice dripped with derision. “Or must you explain yourself further?”

“I…” She took another deep, shuddering breath. She stared into the floor, finding that her courage increased the longer she avoided his gaze. “I think that you should not go on this ride with Vivian,” she said at last. “I think that if you obtain the key—more specifically, if your family obtains the key—then the consequences will be dire.”

“That’s not really my concern, is it?” She glimpsed a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Such concerns are for the people with crowns. So why should I worry?”

“Arken. I am begging you…”

“Beg all you’d like, Nadia.” This time, a true hint of joy rang upon his voice, and it chilled her to the bone. “But the more you beg, the more you will assure me of my purpose. For I wish you to understand what it feels like to want only one thing in this world—to want it with every fiber of your being—only to have it denied you.”

And then, without waiting for permission, he swept past her.

For a moment, the soldiers grabbed their weapons. Even from afar, they sensed the queen’s distress. But she shook her head, and they let Arken pass.

She had found the strength to deny him, once. But perhaps that strength had broken, just as surely as his devotion.

***

Read the full story

Published in: on February 12, 2014 at 11:01 am  Leave a Comment  
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That F***ing Wolven

I’ve been missing the Broken Balance series a great deal. And yes, I still intend to write Sands of Hanubi: Book 2, but somehow it keeps getting pushed back amidst a flow of other projects, and for that I apologize. Until then, here’s a vignette for those who wonder what Fayr and Sygmund have been up to ever since the events of Ashes of Dearen: Book 2. Um… spoiler alert if you haven’t read that book yet.

***

Sygmund struggled to step quietly as he entered Fayr’s tent, bringing a draft of frosty air with him. His entire body was stiff with cold, and his legs ached from riding a snow-bear all day. The huge, lumbering creatures scared him half to death, and he considered himself a brave warrior. But unfortunately, he understood why the northern clans had undergone the task of taming such ferocious beasts. Traversing the steep, icy crags of Buffridge was impossible without them.

As he crouched by the low embers of the fire and peeled off his frosty clothes, he wondered—not for the first time—how he had ended up on such a gods-forsaken corner of the world as this one. Many years ago, he served the prosperous nation of Dearen as an honorable knight. Even after the disappearance of safra, he had continued to lead a privileged life in the Dearen palace, where the walls still shimmered with beauty and the sun sent warm beams through the hallways. He had never gone hungry, and even when he suffered from the wounds of swordplay, he did so for an honorable cause.

Not anymore. His exhaustion and soreness came from riding a fucking snow-bear, and he had only done that in order to fish and hunt. For his efforts, he’d killed one hare and snagged two copper-back fish. Somehow he did not feel triumphant.

Then he looked over at Fayr sleeping in a thick bundle of blankets, and a fresh wave of warmth flowed through his limbs. Even now, despite great tragedy and loss, she looked as beautiful as the first day he ever encountered her in the Garden of Delights. He crept closer, not yet wishing to wake her, and watched the golden fire-light flicker across her skin. She still looked so young, as if in her early twenties, despite the fact she neared forty years of age. Most remarkable about the youth in her face was its ability to counteract her long gray hair. Once, when she ruled as Queen of Dearen, it had shone a deep, lustrous purple—an inherited trait from the goddess of joy. When Friva awakened and inherited a new body, the bond between her previous descendents shattered, leaving Fayr’s eyes and hair gray and ashen.

Sygmund lifted the blanket, allowing his gaze to rove her sleeping body as he slid into bed behind her. He pressed his chest to her back and felt her warmth spread through him. He wrapped an arm around her, ever so gently, so he could brush the gray hair from her face. He watched her eyelashes flutter as she swam in her dreams. His hand continued down the curve of her neck to the top of her chest, which pushed and pulled at his palm as she breathed. He tilted his head so his lips could caress her cheek while he breathed the soft, sweet scent of her body. Then his fingers wrapped around her breast.

Fayr inhaled sharply, then let out a sleepy whisper. “Sean…”

Sygmund recoiled as if slapped in the face. He would have moved more carefully if he could have controlled his reaction, but instead he flailed and flung the blankets off both of them as he shot to his feet.

When Fayr finally pulled herself from whatever ridiculous dream entertained her darkest fantasies, she opened her eyes to see Sygmund pacing shirtless next to the fire. She pulled the blankets back over her body with a murmur of complaint. “Sygmund. What’s wrong? Come back to bed.”

What’s wrong, she asked? He hardly knew where to begin. Everything was wrong. Everything was fucking wrong, and had been for years, but he endured it all because he loved Fayr dearly, and he wanted to make her happy. Yet in a single breath released while she slept, Fayr had dashed any remaining illusions that she had come to care for Sygmund more than her former husband: Sean Wolven, a man who had lied to her from the moment he met her, an assassin who killed her own brother, a mortal whose own sister embodied the god of wrath, Belazar. Fayr had barely been married to the son of a bitch for all of one year. Her relationship with Sygmund had lasted nearly ten years in its place. And yet she murmured Sean’s name while she slept.

He nearly said these thoughts aloud. He wanted to yell and scream at her, to kick at the fire and burn the whole tent down. After all, that’s what Sean would have done. Maybe a display of pure, frothing rage would arouse her dormant passion.

But he wasn’t Sean. And as he stared into the flames, contemplating his response, he thought of a different way to channel his anger. Something that would heal his own wounded pride, and wipe Sean from Fayr’s mind forever.

“I thought there was a… bug in the blankets,” he said at last. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Oh. Well, now that I’m awake, we might as well make the most of it.” Even her sleepy smile managed to drip with sensuality. She pulled back the blanket once more, then lifted her gown and opened her legs…

Knowing the true source of her interest made Sygmund’s stomach churn. “Maybe… we should talk first. How was your trip to town?”

Fayr’s face darkened immediately. She folded her legs and stared into the fire, its coppery flames reflecting a lost splash of color against her diamond-like irises. “Fruitless. It took me nearly all day to find a translator. By the time I started asking people if they had ever seen a young girl with white hair, they were all preparing to go home for the night.”

He nodded slowly, not surprised. Wherever they went, the story repeated itself. They struggled for a few months to get acclimated to a new setting and community. They began to search for Fayr’s lost daughter. And they found absolutely nothing.

“How was your hunt?” she asked weakly, as if that subject would be more cheerful.

“Fayr.” His voice was sharp, full of sudden resolve.

Fayr sat up straighter. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking. We’ve been looking all this time for your daughter. But we know so little about her. You only knew Kaylen as a newborn baby.”

Fayr stiffened. His words hurt her. But she needed to hear them.

“We have no way of guessing her current lifestyle, her personal motives, even her appearance—other than her white hair. She might even keep that covered, to pass as normal.”

“Are you saying we should give up?” she snapped. “Because if that’s how you feel, I won’t drag you along unwillingly.”

“No,” he said, though the fact she would cast him aside with so little hesitation threw salt into his wounded heart. “I’m saying we need to change our tactics.”

“You mean look for Er’Mekan?” Fayr shook her head. “Looking for a god would be even harder, I think. At least Kaylen is my flesh and blood.”

“I mean that we should look for Sean Wolven.”

This time Fayr jolted as if stricken by lightning. For some reason, he enjoyed seeing her react that way. For years now, they had stopped speaking of Sean, pretending that he never existed. At least if Sygmund forced Fayr to acknowledge the man who haunted her, she would remember how terrible he had been, and consider how any prospect of encountering him again was altogether horrifying.

“S… S… Sean.” The name that had drifted so effortlessly from her lips in sleep now struggled to roll off her tongue.

“Yes,” said Sygmund firmly. “He’s looking for Kaylen, too, isn’t he? He started the search long before we did. With all his Wolven prowess, perhaps he’s had some success. And something tells me he’ll be easier to find. He’s really quite… predictable.”

“He’s… he’s… he’s not the man he used to be,” gasped Fayr. “He gouged out his own eyes. He’s a wandering blind man now. Who knows where he might be?”

“Something tells me he will act as he always has—lying, killing, or doing whatever he must to get what he wants.” Sygmund felt a sneer pulling at his lips—one he wanted to hide, but failed to restrain. “Besides, maybe finding him would give you some amount of… closure.”

She blinked at him with surprise. He hated the hope he saw in her eyes, even though he sensed its reflection in his own gaze.

He planned to get closure from the reunion, as well. For if they truly managed to find Sean Wolven again, Sygmund would kill that fucking Wolven, once and for all.

 ***

Ashes of Dearen: Book 1

A red-eyed assassin, an unready princess, a sadistic politician, and an adulterous queen all desire the secret behind a magical dust known as safra. Safra is said to bring happiness, but these characters’ desperate attempts to obtain it will cost them all dearly. Their salacious and violent deeds bring three great nations to the brink of warfare. And little do they know, their scrambling efforts are being carefully watched by a much greater power: the gods behind the beguiling drug that ensnares them all.

Published in: on October 29, 2013 at 9:40 am  Leave a Comment  
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The King and the Killer

In celebration of the release of the “Serafina’s Saga” animation and visual novel, this week’s vignette shows King Kallias and Xavier Wolven meeting for the first time. People have been requesting to see more Kallias and Xavier–so here you go! 🙂

This scene would take place in the time after the novella Grand Traitor and before the start of Serafina’s Saga.

*

A wiry young man sat alone in large room of stone next to a table piled with gold. He was sixteen years old, and the bejeweled crown upon his head had been so recently placed that his mop of short, candy yellow hair still struggled to hold it upright.

Kallias tapped his fingers upon the table, causing the gold coins on top of it to jingle incessantly. He didn’t mind the sound. In fact, he found it reassuring, and he needed all the reassurance he could get right now. He liked every physical indication of the gold piled in front of him, especially the bright golden glow it cast throughout the dull room of stone, or the sparkles that ignited where beams of sunlight from the window struck the coins directly. He formed a rhythm with the tapping of his fingers and the jingle of the coins, then started to hum a little melody with it.

When the door of his room opened, the melody died in Kallias’s throat with a whimper. His fingers stopped tapping and his body stiffened like a block of stone. His big amber eyes stared at the swinging entrance until the pupils widened into gaping black holes. He watched and waited, his tense body unable to move except to tremble, as a dark figure slipped through the opening.

The man before Kallias was tall and slender, and he seemed to move more gracefully than his own shadow. A long hooded cloak hung from his shoulders, covering most of his body in undulating swaths of black fabric. His soft leather boots barely whispered as he walked across the stones, and as his cloak billowed around him like wings unfolding, Kallias wondered if the stranger secretly flew. Then, just as quietly, he came to a stop in the middle of the room. His hands reached up—two appendages of pale, skeletal white flesh against the dark clothing—and grabbed the edge of his hood.

Kallias struggled to keep breathing as he watched the hood fall back. The shadows retreated to reveal a long, gaunt face with an ashy white complexion. Most startling against his pale skin was his deep black hair which flowed past his shoulders, and eye sockets so dark that Kallias suspected the use of powder to accentuate their sunken appearance. Little emphasis needed to be added to such eyes, however, the irises of which peered forward with sizzling red brilliance.

Just as Kallias began to wonder if he would ever overcome his awe in time to welcome his guest, the Wolven flinched and recoiled, reaching up to cover his eyes.

“Belazar’s blazes,” hissed the stranger. The god of wrath’s name, when spoken aloud, sent chills down Kallias’s body. “That gold is going to blind me.”

“Oh… you don’t like gold?” Kallias’s heart fell to his stomach. Goldons were his only leverage with a man like this. If the Wolven did not want them…

“I like goldons well enough,” grumbled the assassin. “But I prefer them in storage.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” At long last, Kallias found the strength to rise from his seat. He rushed to a window and grabbed the curtains, yanking them across the aperture. Darkness poured over the gold, extinguishing the lustrous glow from the room. Kallias sighed at the loss. But when he saw the Wolven relax, he decided the gesture had been worth it.

“So… you’re Xavier?” asked Kallias at last. “A Wolven assassin?”

The Wolven answered with a nod, so small it was almost imperceptible. But then he tilted his head and narrowed his red eyes at Kallias. “And you’re the new king?”

Kallias puffed up a little, feeling a surge of pride feed his confidence. In this Wolven’s presence, he had almost forgotten his own authority. When he lifted his head, the weight of his golden crown seemed to increase. “Obviously.”

Xavier should have bowed before him—but he did not. “How old are you?”

Kallias’s chest deflated again. “Sixteen.”

“I thought monarchs had to be seventeen years of age in this country.”

“Usually, yes. But Father’s death…” His throat constricted and his breath faltered. Then he planted his fists on his hips, glowering with all the strength of his thin golden eyes. “No matter. I am special enough to be an exception. One way or another I am the king, and you are in no place to question that.”

Xavier grew very still. Then the edges of his thin lips pulled up with a smirk. “You’re very brave to summon me in this fashion, with no guards to protect you. You must want me to kill someone quite important, yes?”

Kallias forced a swallow down his throat. “I don’t need you to kill anyone… at present.”

The Wolven’s smile quickly turned downward. His red eyes narrowed until Kallias thought he felt heat emanating from them. He moved forward ever so slightly, just one foot shifting while his body started to lean, yet Kallias fought the urge to turn and flee the room. “Then why am I here?”

“To… to… establish our friendship.”

Xavier’s eyes blinked and opened wide again. He drew back and studied the young king in silence for a short while. At long last he said, “Friendship?” and his tongue seemed to struggle with the word.

“Naturally.” Kallias didn’t know whether to feel better or worse about the fact he had caught the Wolven off guard. “I understand who and what you are. I know that you’ve killed monarchs before. I know that for the right price, you’ll kill anyone. And though most people around here are happy with me on the throne because I keep the treasury overrunning, I suspect there are those who might tire of me anyway, or become so greedy they want the throne regardless.”

Xavier’s face contorted, and then he began to chuckle. A genuine smile looked strange on the Wolven’s face, as if his muscles were not accustomed to moving in such directions.

“What’s so funny?” asked Kallias, purely curious.

“Only a Jeridar would be so greedy, and you’re the only left in Castle Krondolee. Isn’t that so?”

The words struck Kallias like a bucket of icy water. He bristled and turned away, hoping to hide his pain and discomfort.

He could still feel Xavier’s hot red eyes crawling over him. “I’ve upset you. I didn’t expect to. I thought Jeridars liked being on their own. Less competition that way.”

Kallias remained silent, his heart a frustrating lump in his chest that ached with every beat.

After another long silence, Xavier sighed. “Just tell me what you what you want from me. I didn’t mean to… prattle on. I haven’t talked this much in awhile, so I’m out of practice. Let’s just get to business.”

For one small moment, Kallias sensed something in Xavier that he had not expected from a Wolven, either. Something that no one else might have noticed, but Kallias saw it as pure as golden daylight, for he knew the emotion all too well. Loneliness.

The revelation finally gave Kallias the strength to straighten back up and look at the Wolven once more. This time, Xavier was the one who avoided his gaze. “Right: business. I summoned you here to give you this gold.”

The Wolven shifted uncomfortably. “Payment to a Wolven should only be given upon a job’s completion. And if you don’t want anyone dead, you have nothing to pay me for, anyway. My services are quite… limited.”

“I understand that. This gold is to ensure my own safety. If anyone else tries to hire you to kill me, then you can refuse them, because I’ve already paid you more. And if by Mallion’s miracles they can pay you more than I’m offering now—then I’ll pay you the difference.”

Xavier did not move or speak for a while. Kallias tried to read the Wolven’s face, but failed. Perhaps the Wolven himself did not know how to feel about this.

“I can’t accept it,” said Xavier at last. “It is not the Wolven way.”

Panic fluttered through Kallias’s stomach. “But… but… it seems like it should be. If someone can pay you for death, shouldn’t someone also be able to pay you for life?”

Once again Xavier blinked and stared at the king with wide open eyes. Then even his mouth started to gape open. “I… that’s…”

Seeing the Wolven so taken aback made Kallias hopeful. “Perhaps I can pay you to make an oath to Belazar? One ensuring my safety?”

Xavier bristled. His face twisted, his lips pulling back into a snarl. “Out of the question. Belazar barters in blood, and blood only.”

Kallias considered this. He reached up and twiddled his fingers against his chin as his mind raced for a solution. “Ah, I have it!” he cried out, face beaming with a smile. “I’ll hire you with this money to kill anyone who ever asks you to kill me.”

Xavier’s scowl dissipated. His red eyes flicked from Kallias, to the money, and back to Kallias again. Finally, a smile wound back up his face. “Now that… I can work with.”

 *

Novella prequel to "Serafina's Saga"

Novella prequel to “Serafina’s Saga”

The animated Episode 1 of Serafina’s Saga is now released on Youtube:

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The Key to Castle Krondolee

Greetings everyone! I bring both good news and bad.

First the good news: releasing much earlier than expected is my stand-alone novella, “The Key to Castle Krondolee.” This story takes place in the world of the Broken Balance series (“Ashes of Dearen,” “Sands of Hanubi”) and introduces some of the characters of the upcoming animation, “Serafina’s Saga.” In any case, it should be a good romp of fun on its own, with some action and romance packed into a book about a fourth the size of my usual fare. Also, it’s free!

You can download it now in just about any ebook format (including .pdf for computer) from Smashwords. Soon it will appear in other retail outlets, as well.

A foreigner surprises everyone in the Castle of Krondolee when she claims to possess the key to a room that has remained closed for centuries, its contents unknown. Arken Jeridar, descended from the god of greed, schemes to win the key for himself and the queen's love all at once. But success may come at a far greater cost than he ever expected.

A foreigner surprises everyone in the Castle of Krondolee when she claims to possess the key to a room that has remained closed for centuries, its contents unknown. Arken Jeridar, descended from the god of greed, schemes to win the key for himself and the queen’s love all at once. But success may come at a far greater cost than he ever expected.

Now for the not so great news… my historical romance, “The Prince and the Pretender,” is going to be releasing a little later than previously expected, probably not until fall. I have been too busy with other projects+life to start promoting it as planned. However, I am looking once more into whether any big publishers want to pick it up. So we shall see what happens.

In the meantime, I really hope you enjoy “The Key to Castle Krondolee.” I had a blast writing it. And please let me know what you think when you’re done. Reviews or direct comments/emails are very much appreciated. Please remember that unless you give me such feedback, I never have any idea that my writing has impacted you in some way. I don’t know that you liked this or that character, or you really loved one scene, but hated another. I’m not psychic. I have no way of knowing these things you specifically tell me. And knowing that people are enjoying my work is what keeps me going (especially when I give work away for free)! So if you enjoy all the writing I’ve done, please take a moment to write back to me, it means a great deal each and every time.