One of my favorite things about my life right now is that I am friends with writers and authors. I am reading the words of people I know. I have held their hands in mine, touched their skin, and seen tears in their eyes as they share their hopes, their dreams, and their fears. Those things look a lot like mine. And today is one of my favorite days because I get to celebrate with a sister-writer-friend as she gets ready to release her book. This woman’s words have fed me and nourished my soul. And I can’t even tell you how excited I am to read this book, and to hold this gorgeous cover in my hands.
“My skin prickled. For a split second, everything around me hummed. I played the word back in my head, slowly, syllable by syllable: Alonthiel”
Naya knows she has heard the name before, but where? A dream, perhaps. The word itself aches of ancient origins, magical and sacred. And it’s better than Naya could have dreamed. She finds it all: magic, strength, and more answers about her lost mother, just hours from the home she’s lived in her whole life.
And the man, the one with alluring green eyes, the same man she’s been drawing in her sketch book for weeks. He’s real. And magnificent.
Better still is the realization that she isn’t an outsider in Alonthiel. Naya belongs.
When a dark force threatens to raze Naya’s paradise, she must harness her newfound fire — or watch Alonthiel fall.
The war had waged for nineteen years. Alonthiel had been overrun with the Fledgling Armies, the children of Ash and Iron. They were the sons and daughters born once to Alonthiel, now so twisted and dark that their former Fae heritage was barely a drop flowing through their veins.
There had been a treaty, but it had been broken…somehow…no one could even remember the reason anymore. They had come in the night, with their feathered manes and glowing eyes the color of boiling blood and their fingernails set with iron. They had no need for swords, save the ones that grew from the ends of their hands. They were a deadly force, led into battle by their captain Flail, the son of the Fledgling King.
The sounds of children laughing had been replaced with widow’s wailing. The smashing and splashing of men’s glasses and bar-house celebrations had turned into the sound of metal on metal, metal on flesh.
The music was gone.
King Aboras had been crowned for only six days, a rushed ceremony without much pomp or fanfare. He was the fourth King since the war had begun. There was no separation of monarch from common man in the eye of the sword. He crouched in his tent, eyes fixed on the maps splayed on the table in front of him but there was no focus or direction there.
He knew that this would be the last night. His armies were exhausted, running on little sleep and handfuls of food they gathered from the nearby woods. The supplies were sapped, and their powers were dwindling down to sparks. This was the end.
And so, in the darkness of the night with only the stars to provide light, Aboras gathered his people together, every last one that still lived. They circled around their king, loyal to the end. He could not lie to them. He told them of the losses, of the depletion of stores and the draining of magic. The end was coming; they should gather their families and run to the mountains, over the river that the Fledglings could not, would not, cross.
No one moved. Not one child tried to run, not one husband left his family. They all stood. None would leave their king.
This book will be released on December 1, 2014.
About the Author
R. L. Haas is one of the wild ones, writing Faerie stories from her little self-declared cottage surrounded by Midwestern cornfields and never enough coffee. Her nonfiction work has appeared in such online publications as SheLoves Magazine and Literary Orphans. She lives with her beloved husband and equally wild daughter, along with their oversized Great Dane. They are ruled over by two fluffy cats. She blogs about her faith, her heart and her ever-growing literary obsessions at dramaticelegance.blogspot.com.
Cover design by Megan Mahen Illustrations.
Author photo by Jennifer Upton.