EXCERPT--The Asphodel Cycle 4: The Apostle of Asphodel

I jumped in front of Mariol, using my blade to keep the ferocious bird-women away while the mage muttered behind me. Before long, several of the Harpies deduced that I had the shortest reach of any of the attackers and converged on Mariol and I, their talons clicking together as they hefted the long spears to their shoulders.

“Any ideas?” I threw back over my shoulder, swiping at a grasping claw.

The Harpy screamed and fell back, blood dripping from her scaly leg. Another soon took her place. Mariol didn’t answer me, mumbling under his breath instead.

“An idea would be really good right about now!” I said more urgently, blocking a thrusting spear with my sword and reversing the blade, snapping the shaft in two so that the obsidian point fell to the floor at my feet.

Mariol grabbed my arm and pushed me aside. Surprised by the unexpected shove, I crashed to the floor with an indignant yell. Before I could clamber to my feet, a ripple of energy detonated over my head. With ragged screams and terrified shrieks, the Harpies tumbled across the chamber to fly against the obsidian walls, falling down heavily to the floor.    

“What did you do?” I asked in amazement.

Instead of answering me, Mariol hauled me to my feet and shoved me toward the nearest Harpy, who was struggling to rise while her wings fluttered around her shoulders. “Go...kill...Harpies!”

The effects of Mariol’s spell, whatever it was, were temporary. As the Harpies flapped around trying to regain their footing, Brial, Wilden, and I attacked them while they were on the ground and presumably weaker. I discovered that their speed of attack was undiminished, although their agility was hampered upon the ground. The first Harpy I confronted hissed at me and I barely avoided the slashing swing of one taloned foot as she lunged for me. Their handicaps lay in the fact that their wings were befouled and tangled, the feathers bent the wrong way and some missing.

But even on her back a Harpy is a formidable foe.

I was able to get close enough to the Harpy to penetrate the frenzied swipes of her claws. Watching the talons carefully and jumping over her flailing wings, I leapt upon her torso and sank my sword to the hilt in her breast. Instead of screaming like a human foe, the Harpy’s eyes dulled and she fell limply off my blade. A second later, I was knocked off my feet as a second Harpy screeched in anguish and launched herself at me.

She hit me hard in the back and I flew several feet through the air with her on me. We landed in the clearing, barely missing the stone bench. As soon as I felt the ground behind my back, I pushed up hard with my legs and the heavy body of the Harpy rolled from my feet and fell some feet away. Without stopping to think, I coiled back up to my feet and went after her.

Somehow, she’d managed to grab one of the spears, and I narrowly avoided being skewered as she thrust it at my mid-section. Sidestepping the spear, I swung the blade and it connected with the soft tissue on the inside of her upper arm. Screaming, she dropped the spear, rolling to her side and pushing herself up with her good hand. More agilely than I would have thought possible, she rose to her clawed feet, one arm dangling at her side, with her wings twisted behind her.

Another detonation sounded behind me, but I had no time to look. The Harpy leapt at me, snarling, one talon extended before her for my throat. I dove to one side, rolled up to my feet and planted my sword in her back between the crippled wings. As with the first, she slid silently to the floor, where she lay face down in the ashes.

I turned back to Mariol. He was under attack by two of the vicious creatures, who clawed ineffectually at the shield he’d erected around himself. I darted back toward him, stooping to pick up a fallen spear. Using it like a javelin, I hurled it at one of the Harpies. The spear struck her side and she screeched in pain, twisting this way and that as she tried to remove it from her flesh. Her companion swung to face me, and for a moment our eyes met.

There was nothing resembling humanity in her stare. She had the same intense glare of any other bird of prey, and it fell unblinkingly on me as I approached her, my sword held before me. I circled around the flailing body of the Harpy I’d felled, who thrashed upon the floor with the spear vibrating as she screamed.

Her attack, when it came, was swift and silent. The only warning I had was the abrupt narrowing of those emotionless golden eyes, then she launched herself into the air. Amazingly, her wings righted themselves and with a single hard flap she hovered above me. Those eyes never left me as the wings furled and she hurtled straight toward me.

A couple of feet away from my unprotected face, however, her headlong dive stopped as if she’d run into a wall. The impact jarred her head back with an audible snap, and the Harpy tumbled to the floor, where she lay dead and sightless at my feet. I turned to look at Mariol. He was pale and sweating, his hand extended toward me still resonating with the power of the shield that he’d shot between us.

Wilden dispatched the still-screeching Harpy I’d speared with an arrow to the throat. When she, too, fell silent, the room echoed with the sudden cessation of noise. I whirled around to look for Brial, and saw him wiping the blade of his sword clean on the feathers of another fallen Harpy. As he straightened, I sagged in relief. He was safe.

To my complete disgust, he grinned at me. “That was fun.”

Wilden snorted, whether in distaste or humor I couldn’t tell, but Mariol’s reaction was spectacular. “

Fun?” he repeated incredulously. “Fun! What would you have called it if we’d had to fight a dragon? Or maybe a tribe of cannibals?”

Brial shrugged. “Entertaining?”

Despite myself, and the carnage around us, I began to laugh weakly. Wilden joined in, his deep chuckle resonating against the obsidian walls with a comforting rumble. We fell against each other, laughing helplessly as we wiped tears from our streaming eyes. Mariol was hyperventilating, his nostrils flaring as he drew in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

Then, the greenish-red flames of the huge, smokeless fire sputtered and went out, and our merriment disappeared with it.

Excerpt--The Temptation of Asphodel

It's excerpt day! The Asphodel Cycle 3:The Temptation of Asphodel

Coming July 1, 2016

Book 3--The Temptation of Asphodel 

The game of the gods is speeding up, and when Tamsen and Brial find a long-lost civilization of Elves, the pattern of the gods' game starts to become clearer. After a new magic evens up the odds of the foreordained battle, Tamsen begins to feel confident—until a lethal and forbidden possibility tempts her from her path. 

But that possibility is actually the opening gambit of an ancient, dangerous deity--a gambit that signals the emergence of a new foe into the game. 

When Tamsen is drawn into conflict with immortal enemies, she discovers that the line between obedience and temptation is much narrower than she thought.

Obedience is dangerous; temptation can kill.

Love Romances and More Best Novel of 2008 Nominee

Preditors & Editors Top Ten Best Sci Fi/Fantasy Novel  2008

***

A soft knock sounded at the red door. Tergen sped to it and I sat up, all of my sleepiness gone. A tall shape entered, muffled in a long, green cloak. It crossed to the center of the room and paused.

The figure fell to its knees, pushing the cowl back with a slim hand. Elven features emerged from the shadows: dark hair fell around sharply-pointed ears and green, slanted eyes stared keenly at me. He bowed his head but not before I caught a flash in those eyes that disturbed me.

The flash of a zealot.

“Regina Ka’antira, sancte me viam.” The Elf had a low, strongly-accented voice. He pulled a longbow from his side. Brial and Wilden both leaped to their feet in dismay, but the stranger laid the bow crossways on the floor at my feet.

“My Queen!” he said, a thrill rushing through his voice. “I beg you to accept the service of my bow and may the gods grant my arm the strength to defend you.”

I stared at him, stunned. The involved intricacies of etiquette came back to me and I lifted the weapon from the floor. I kissed the bow and rose to my feet. “May the gods grant you their blessings and glory in battle. Rise, revered Elder, so that I can greet you.”

The Elf rose to his feet. “I am Nige, of the house of Ka’merila, Tamsen Ka’antira. I am the Elder of our tribe, and I greet you in the name of our people.”

I was thinking quickly; I’d never heard of the Ka’merila. “I welcome the greeting of the Ka’merila. May I introduce my family and friends to you?”

Tergen brought Nige a glass of mulled wine and disappeared into the door behind the bar. Brial looked at our guest and I was surprised to note the black glitter of his eyes. For some reason, our guest had put my husband on his guard.

Brial’s voice was cool. “I was unaware that Elves lived in these mountains.”

“There were not many of us when we arrived,” Nige replied, unable to stop staring at me.

“How did you come here?” I asked, growing a little uncomfortable at his unceasing regard.

“When the Elfwars started,” the Elf began, sipping at his wine, “most of the Elves fled to Leselle. Several families who lived south of the great lake, however, found the path to the Elven forest blocked by great human armies. We built small boats and came to the feet of this mountain range. Our Elders decided to hide within them until such a time as the world was safe for the Elves once more. So, we came through the high passes and found a deep, secret place in the forests there. We have remained there ever since.”

“Why?” Brial asked. “The Elfwars were more than two hundred years ago.”

“The priestesses of the Huntress came to the Council one day and told us that we were to stay here. That is how we know your name, my Queen. The goddess told us to abide against the coming of the argent one, a scion of the house of Ka’antira, who carried the bow of the Huntress at her side. When she passed into the heart of the mountains, we were to guard her from pursuit and make ourselves known to her when she reached our tribe.”

“What did she say then, my friend?” Mariol asked, his eyes intent.

“That the coming of the Ka’antira Queen would lead the Elves once more to glory in the eyes of the goddess. She told us that the Queen would take us back to the tall trees of sacred Leselle and that our children would walk in the golden city again.” Nige’s eyes were lit with that strange fervor as he said this and I glanced uneasily at Brial.

 “Things are rather different from what you might expect, Nige. I am passing through the mountains, true, and I thank you for your protection along the way. I am bound for an unknown destination, at the far end of Tartarus.”

“We know of the purpose you follow,” Nige replied. “The goddess’s hand lies upon your journey and she catches you up in her will. Your coming is a sign to our people that our long exile is almost over.”

“Exactly how many of you are there?”

“Our tribe numbers more than thirty thousand now, my Queen. We have warded these forests in your name since we arrived.”

“Thirty thousand?” I repeated. “How did you stay hidden from us for so long?”

“The deep passes of the mountains are impossible for humans to traverse, save with our assistance.”

I took a drink of wine, in order to give myself time to think. Brial spoke up, his face set in those impassive lines that irritated me so. “Is there a path we can take that will lead us to the northern sea?”

Nige frowned. “There is such a path, but it is dangerous and difficult. Dark things lie hidden in the valleys of these mountains, and there are some places that even we do not venture.”

“If it is so dangerous, then humans would not use it. We could travel across Tartarus undetected.”

Nige shook his head. “You still would have to travel across the plateau near the great human city in order to reach the arm of the mountains that runs to the north,” he disagreed. “There is no other way to reach it.”

“How long will it take?”

“No more than a month, if the weather permits it,” Nige replied. “The season changes swiftly this year and it will not be long before blizzards block the highest passes with snow. The Council has sent me to bring you to our tribe. It is on your way and when you leave I will guide you through the passes myself. I am the eldest of the scouts and know trails through the mountains no others of our kind have found.”

“Very well,” I decided. “We’ll accompany you to the Elves of the mountains and continue our journey from there. I think it only fair to warn you that I do not have the time to delay with your people; I must be on my way quickly.”

“On the morrow, then, it will be my privilege to escort you to our people, my Queen.” When I nodded, he fell to his knees once more and kissed my hand. Then Nige rose and departed through the red-painted door of the inn.

*** 

“I don’t like him,” Brial announced less than a minute after we’d retired to our room.

“Why not? I thought he was very nice.”

Brial stared down at the burning logs with a creased brow and his arms crossed on his chest. “There is something about him that just isn’t right.”

I raised my eyebrows, poured two glasses of wine and handed one to him. “Well, we’re only following him to his people and then to the mountain pass,” I said, seating myself in the chair opposite where he stood. “It’s not like we’re moving into his house.”

“It’s just too convenient,” he muttered. “It doesn’t make sense that so many of our people would remain secret from us for all this time.”

“That is strange,” I admitted. “Of course, I’ve never met any Elves who liked to travel, except you, perhaps. When you think of it that way, it makes more sense. The feravir we encountered lends some credence to his story. Until tonight, I couldn’t figure out how an Elf came to be so far from Leselle. If large settlements of Elves live in these mountains, it explains a lot.”

“True, but still, why wouldn’t they have sent word? Any Elven scout who can roam these mountains could cross over to Leselle at the border.” He scowled. “And why would a feraviri be this close to as large an Elven city and not be taught the lore?”

“We’ll probably learn the answer to that when we meet them. Why worry about it? It’s helpful to find a guide through the mountains at this point. If this Nige proves to be as experienced as he claims, it can do nothing but lend us an advantage, don’t you think?”

Brial’s eyes met mine coolly. “You have already three Elven scouts in your party, Tamsen. One more shouldn’t make that much difference.”

“I’m not casting any aspersions on your abilities,” I retorted. “This Nige is more familiar with the area, that’s all.”

He set his wine glass down at the mantle and scooped me up in his arms, settling himself into the chair with me tucked onto his lap. “I’m just wary of accepting help from an unknown source. We know nothing of these Elves, and it triggers my suspicions that their existence is unknown in Leselle. You may be right; perhaps I am too mistrustful.”

I nuzzled the side of his throat. “I don’t think I’d love you as I do, Brial, if you weren’t the most distrustful Elf in the world.”

He laughed and took my empty goblet from me. I slanted a look up at him from under my lashes with a wicked little smile and felt triumphant when I saw the intensity starting to mount behind his glittering eyes.

“You’re trying to change the subject,” he accused, wrapping my long braid around his hand.

“It appears to be working.”

He tugged my head closer to his, his lips hovering over mine. “You are an evil woman, cariad.”

I brushed a swift, scorching kiss against his lips with a soft laugh. “After all, Brial, it has been a long time since we were in a room, with a bed—”

Brial cut off my words as he kissed me and with one easy movement, he rose from the chair and crossed the room to the bed. He laid me onto the soft mattress, his lips leaving mine only when the bed sank under my weight. I smiled and ran a loving hand along the strong line of his jaw. Then, he lowered his head to mine and I lost all awareness of anything but him.

The next morning, as we ate an early breakfast, I kept my eyes on my plate. The others were talking in low voices around me as I attempted to keep a gloating expression from my face. When I looked up, Brial caught my eyes and smiled. The heat rushed to my face and I dropped my eyes again. We were nearly done when Nige’s slender, cloaked form entered the common room.

“Are you ready, my Queen?”

I pulled on my gloves and got to my feet with a frown. “Nige, will you do me a favor?”

“Certainly, my Queen.”

“I have a name,” I pointed out. “Call me Tamsen; I get very tired of ‘my Queen’ or ‘your Majesty’ after a while. And please don’t bow to me every time you see me; it gets on my nerves.”

Nige looked at me in shock. “I could never treat you in such a discourteous manner.”

“Consider it a command, then,” I advised. “If we’re going to be traveling together, I don’t want you hung up on all this formality.”

“As you wish, my Queen.” He bowed and left the room.

“This one is going to get irritating,” Mylan noted to Anner, who nodded in agreement. Surprised, I looked at all of my companions and, to a man, they were all staring at me in disgust.

“What did I do?” I demanded.

“It’s not you, Tamsen,” Mariol replied. “It’s that sycophantic Elf.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on Nige?” 

No one answered and I stalked from the common room with an irritated slap of my hand against my thigh. 

The Redemption of Asphodel--Available Today!

Release days are always fun!

The second book in my epic fantasy series based upon Homer's Iliad--The Asphodel Cycle--has just been released! The Redemption of Asphodel is available now at Amazon, Smashwords, and ARE and will be available on other online retail outlets in the next few days, including iTunes. 

This novel was originally published as The Gift of Redemption in 2008, when it was a Top Ten Finisher in the Preditors and Editors Best Sci Fi/Fantasy Poll, and was nominated for Best Fantasy Novel at Love Romances and More.

Aside from a title that actually goes with the other three books in the series, this is the one that received a more stringent editorial pass and is much better than the original version, speaking as an editor instead of an author. So I'm more excited than I probably should be, especially as this book is so important in setting up the sequel series The Black Dream, to be released later this year.

With Asphodel and the Elven Realm safe for a time, Tamsen de Asphodel dives headlong into the political turmoil. Her decision to wade into these shark-infested waters is complicated by the fact that she hasn’t yet regained her strength from the magic she used to defeat her uncle, Spesialle. On top of that, Brial is none too pleased that Tamsen’s pushing herself physically in the search for Ansienne’s new king—or with their best friend’s feelings for his wife. So when the Virgin Huntress sends them all on a new quest, Tamsen is haunted by the single question she must answer.  

What gift can buy the redemption of the Elves?  

In the end, Tamsen must determine if she has the courage and strength to give the right answer.

One of my favorite scenes ever is in this book--a scene that earned me a lot of reader emails back in the day and that was commented on by several reviewers. 

...4 ½ tombstones. I loved revisiting the characters, and watching them grow – especially Tamsen – was a delight. Celina Summers really packs in the drama and love that was so evident in her first novel into this action-packed delight. There is a scene at the end that left me in tears..."--Bitten by Books

Never ever underestimate what Ms. Summers has planned next. 

Ms. Summers creates battles that rival any historic saga.  Her leaders are precise and flawed.  Her heroes are worthy. Their sacrifices heavy.  They have learned that with every blessing from the gods there is a price to be paid.  What more do the gods/goddesses want from Tamsen? 

There have been times I have felt cheated when reading a fantasy quest…Ms. Summers never cheats.  Each of her books is packed with intensity and gentleness.  Still she leaves you craving more.While reading “Redemption” I felt there was an underlying meaning to Tamsen’s journey.  There is more to her adventure and battle, she is learning her own truth, her strength of being.  How does a writer capture this?  This is the craft of writing, which Ms. Summers dominates--ChrisChat Reviews

This novel is available in mobi, epub, and pdf. Grab your copy today, so you'll be ready for the release of Book 3:The Temptation of Asphodel when it releases on July 5!

Happy Reading! And as always, please leave a review!

First Excerpt up from The Redemption of Asphodel!

The second book in The Asphodel Cycle, The Redemption of Asphodel, will be available for pre-order on May 30 on Amazon, and will go on sale June 6. Check out my website and Amazon author's page for more details!

Chapter One (partial)

Two hours later, I joined the men in the library, freshly clad in a warm, loose woolen gown and with my damp hair hanging down my back. As I walked in, Mariol saluted me with his glass. “Today was beautifully done, Tamsen.”

“I don’t see what was so beautiful about it,” I said irritably. “I got stuck in the middle of this entire mess, which is precisely where I didn’t want to be.”

“I think that at this point, you need to be right in the middle of it,” Mariol corrected me. “You don’t need to be some center of activity away from the Court now. Let’s keep you as the mediator and above the messy politics. That will serve us better in the long run.”

I gave him a steady look. “Mariol, if I were away from the Court, the last thing I would be is a center of activity. I need to rest, as you well know, and this will not help matters much. We can’t afford for me to collapse, especially since we have no idea where Spesialle is or what he’s planning.”

“Is your health still that bad?” Mylan asked with a frown.

I sighed, toying with the glass of wine Anner had handed me. “Magic takes a great deal of strength. Even when doing normal magic, it takes days for a mage to recover from a huge output of power. The weakness caused by the greater magics is debilitating, which is why you don’t have people blasting their way magically through the kingdom. Do you follow me so far?”

After he nodded, I continued. “During the battle of Asphodel, I performed a magical act that should have killed me. The control of the weather is a power that is normally beyond mortal ability, except for me apparently. In order to accomplish something as immense as a cyclone, I had to borrow power from somewhere. In the attempt to control what I’d borrowed, I destroyed a great deal of my strength. To this day, I have not regained it entirely. The—” I paused, swallowing the repressed lump of sorrow in my throat. “The miscarriage I had took even more of my strength, and my little trek through the forest didn’t help my situation. Kaldarte thinks I will improve, and perhaps even reach my normal strength again, but only if I rest. Any time I use magic, or I am up and active for extended periods, it causes a setback that I think we can ill afford right now. Spesialle has taken the time to heal and recuperate. He will not remain dormant for long.”

Anner frowned, first at me then at Brial. “Why are you here then? You should have remained in Asphodel while we came here.”

“It is necessary,” I said simply.

“Don’t think I haven’t tried,” Brial said, a defensive gleam in his eyes as he met Anner’s frown. “If you think you’ll have better success in restraining her, my friend, by all means: be my guest.”

Once again, the latent tension between the two men hovered in the room as they stared at each other. Mylan’s sudden laugh broke the uneasy silence.

“If Kaldarte can’t control her, there is no way either one of you two could,” he pointed out. The wary tightness of his face, however, suggested that Anner’s private confrontation with my husband was not as discreet as once it was.

Mariol turned back to me. “I had no idea it was this bad, Tamsen. If the Seer is that concerned, then you are endangering yourself by even being here.”

I waved this away with a grimace. “I’ll be very careful, Mariol. We’ll just need to regulate the Council meetings. Our herald friend is coming by tomorrow with a list of legitimate claimants to the throne. If we have our mind set on only a few of the candidates, then perhaps we can lead the Council to consider only those men.”

“Perhaps we can find somewhere a bit less formal to convene the Council,” Brial suggested, his voice still cool. “If we are someplace warm and comfortable, then the strain will less affect my wife.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mariol approved, ignoring the worded gauntlet Brial had tossed to the floor. “Several of the larger drawing rooms might be appropriate. I will contact a friend of mine in the city as well. He is an herbalist and physician, and if he attends you in Council, Tamsen, it will be a simple matter to use your health as an excuse to dismiss it early.”

“We can’t do that,” I disagreed, shaking my head. “If any word of my illness reaches Spesialle’s ears, we can expect a visit from him in short order. I don’t know how he can get from one place to another magically, Mariol. Do you?”

“No,” the mage admitted, scratching his head with a frown. “It must have something to do with visualization, but I can’t grasp the idea behind it. I know Hyagrem is looking into it.”

“We don’t know who we can trust at Court, so no one must suspect I am this weak. With any luck, I can keep the meetings short. Call your physician if you like. Perhaps he has options for me that Kaldarte didn’t.”

“Brial will be there,” Mariol said. “He’ll know if you’ve had enough, and can get word to one of us so that we can make the suggestion. With all of us working together, we’ll be able to keep your secret.”

A servant announced dinner, and we followed Mariol into the familiar dining room. We had spent several enjoyable evenings lingering over the polished mahogany table in happier times. On this night, however, we ate the delicately seasoned shellfish and game birds the newly returned kitchen staff sent for our consumption without much conversation. Brial sat at my side, eating little and speaking less.

Inwardly, I sighed. The situation with Anner and Brial was reaching the point where I must address the issue. Obviously, I didn’t want them addressing anything in private with sharp objects, so it would be up to me to see that this crisis was resolved.

Just another thing to worry about.

We were silent when we reached our rooms. I curled up in a chair with a book on Court procedure while Brial honed the edge of his sword. The repetitive shrill of the whetstone running along the blade set my teeth on edge and banged against my throbbing temples with every scrape of the sword.

“Brial,” I said finally. “Put that sword down and let’s talk about this.”

“Talk about what, cariad?”

“We need to discuss this situation you have with Anner.”

Brial set the sword and whetstone on the floor. “I would say he has a situation with me,” he replied as the shutters dropped down over his face.

I winced, but plowed forward anyway. “Anner has been a good friend to us, beloved. We should be past these petty distractions.”

“I do not require the criticisms of another man on how I protect my wife,” he said haughtily, and for the first time anger snapped into his eyes. “Nor do I need that same wife to lecture me on how to behave.”

“I’m not trying to tell you how to act,” I said as my own temper began to stir. “I am concerned for you both. Anner has a problem, yes, and I will address that with him if I must. But your response to him today only encouraged him to continue his foolishness.”

“That is not my concern.”

“Maybe not, but it is mine!”

He snatched up his sword, ramming it into the sheath at his side. As we glared at each other, he strode to the door.

“Where are you going?” I demanded.

He did not turn back to me, only hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Then, he squared his shoulders and stalked from the room.

Damn him! In all the years I had heard about the Elves and then lived among them, I had never heard of such a foul-tempered Elf. I threw a warm mantle over my nightdress and slammed my feet into slippers.

When Brial was in a temper, there was no telling what he would do. He could either be saddling his horse or searching the library for a book. I would have to go find him.

As I stepped out into the hall, I didn’t hear any shouting or sword fighting. That was encouraging. I closed our door and sped down the dimly lit hall. My slippers made no sound on the marble floors as I hurried in search of my irate husband. As I slipped down the huge, central staircase, I heard the others in the study. The doors were ajar, and I crept to them.

“You’re acting like an ass,” Mylan’s firm voice floated out to me. “They are married. Brial is our friend, Anner. You’re treating him like he’s beaten her.”

“If he were as protective of her health as he is his own pride, she would not be here right now,” Anner growled. I rolled my eyes.

“If she were not here,” Mariol pointed out quietly, “we would not have the advantages that we do. Tamsen knows her importance in the scheme of things, and if you think that husband of hers isn’t kept involved in the decision making processes, you are a fool. Brial Ka’breona has the unenviable chore of guarding his wife, and acquits himself admirably. He is the only one who can manage her with any form of success. All he has to do is suggest an outrageous restriction upon her, and then when she protests—usually at the top of her voice –he lets her suggest a compromise. Then he agrees and places her exactly where he wanted her in the first place. No one else, save possibly Kaldarte or Hyagrem, exercises that kind of control over our young lady from Asphodel.”

My mouth dropped open. All of the arguments and struggles we had over my participation in events flashed through my head. All of the “you leave at sunsets” and the “I forbid its” were nothing but opening gambits in a game I did not even know he was playing?

“If she is so ill, she should be at home under the Seer’s care,” Anner said stubbornly.

“Anner, my friend,” Glaucon interrupted, a definite chill in his voice. “You need to get past this. She doesn’t love you.  She is married to an Elflord, and among the Elves that is permanent. You can never have her, Anner. You need to move on.”

Glaucon’s blunt comment fell into the room with a crash, and Mylan added. ”I have followed you through many things, mate, but I will not follow you on this. You are jeopardizing everything we have worked for a year to build with this ridiculous attitude of yours. It’s time, Anner. Give it up.”

I hurried away. I didn’t want to hear any more. As I sped through the drawing room, I saw Wilden. He jerked his head at the music room door, and disappeared into the darkened corridor. I stopped to catch my breath, and went to stand in the door.

Brial sat with a small harp nestled upon his lap. His long, slender fingers were brushing over the strings, checking the tone of the instrument as he turned the tiny wooden knobs that tuned it.

“I didn’t know you could play,” I observed.

He didn’t look up, which meant he had heard me coming. One of the worst things about being married to an Elven scout was the difficulty in surprising them.

“I learned when I was very young,” he replied after a moment. “My mother taught me. As I grew older, I put it aside when I began to study warfare.”

I drifted through the door. As I hovered there, uncertain of what to do next, Brial looked up at me with a wry smile. “Go ahead and sit; I won’t shout at you.”

I lowered myself into a chair as he bent his head back to the little harp. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and began to play a sweet, haunting little melody that drifted through the room.

“What is this song?” I asked. “I think I’ve heard it before.”

“Oh, you have,” he assured me. “You heard it at our vialigatis.”

“That’s right,” I agreed, remembering the harps playing as the Ka’breona maidens tucked their blossoms into my hair. “What is it called?”

“It is our traditional song of courting,” he replied, unleashing those black eyes at me. “We play it to the women we love, and at the formalization of our unions, as a reminder of the early days in any lifebond where the magic and the power mingle in the growing surety that this particular woman is the one. It is, at once, a declaration and a question.”

“I see.” I relaxed in my seat. He turned his attention back to the harp.

“You thought I was leaving?”

“I thought it a possibility.”

“I will never leave you,” he replied, his voice deep and low.

We were silent for a few minutes more, caught up in the spell of the music and the new strangeness between us. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and cry. I knew I had wounded him in some way.

He finished the song with a last, tinkling spray of notes and lifted his head to stare at me. We regarded each other as the room fell back into silence.

“I have,” he began quietly, “changed many of the ways I was brought up to be since I fell in love with you. I have forced my mistrust of humans from me and learned to befriend the men that gathered around you. I have learned to bite my tongue at your ways, none of which, I might add, would be tolerated in an Elf of your age and station. I have given up convincing you to be more aware of your safety, and instead have focused my efforts into guarding you without your knowledge. Everything that I thought I was I have given up in love for you save for one vital thing: I will not endure any interference from another in the decisions I make regarding you. I don’t care who it is, this one, last thing I will not concede. Even you, cariad, tread a careful line with me in this matter. You are my wife and I think it important that we agree on things. There will come a time, however, that I will override you and you will obey me if I see fit.”

His eyes flashed into the glittering black glare of his anger. “Anner de Ceolliune, in particular, must come to respect this. Friend or no, I will not remain silent if this happens again. I know, cariad, that you will not understand this. I repeat it now only as a warning. I no longer have the patience for it.”

“Brial, I—”

“Do not question my ability to look out for your best interests again, Tamsen. I apologize for my behavior earlier; I misplaced my anger. You need to realize that I mean what I say, and I will not change my mind.”

The Reckoning of Asphodel Release Day!

It's been ten years since my first book was published, but it doesn't matter. Even sixteen books later, release days are important. And scary. And fun...in a scary way. Because this is a reissue of a book that was rather successful it's a little more nerve-racking than most. Obviously, I couldn't change the voice of the original book even though my writing has matured since then. But I could--and did--go through it with a far more experienced red pencil and addressed some of the issues that should have been picked up on in its first incarnation. 

So this book is tighter, technically improved, and--since it's an author's cut--includes some scenes cut from the original version. 

Did I mention that it's free? 

Head on over to Amazon before May 7, and you can download a copy for free. After the promotion ends, the original sale price of $3.99 will go into effect. 

And four bucks isn't a lot to pay for six hundred pages of fantasy. 

As I write this, Asphodel has just cracked the top 100 sales list for epic fantasy, and is poised to do the same in sword and sorcery as well. 

Book release day is a good day. 

New Cover Art ; New Book-=-The Asphodel Cycle 2: The Redemption of Asphodel

Cover art makes me happy. Well done covers help your readers to visualize the characters in your story. I've been fortunate. Over the past six years or so, I've worked exclusively with cover artist and web diva Kelly Shorten, over at KMD Designs. She was one of my partners at Musa Publishing and is responsible for all those gorgeous Penumbra covers. Now she's an independent designer, and I am SO glad to be working with her again. You've already seen the gorgeous art for The Reckoning of Asphodel--now check out the even MORE gorgeous art for The Redemption of Asphodel!

Okay, let's be for real here. 

It's freaking amazing, right? 

You may be wanting to know more about this book, so here's the blurb: 

The battle of Asphodel and its aftermath has taken a toll upon Tamsen Ka’antira de Asphodel. Her Elven husband, Brial, is overprotective—and very aware that their greatest friend, Anner, is still in love with his wife. Still dangerously weak, Tamsen must help determine which noble is best suited to sit upon Ansienne’s alabaster throne—whether Brial likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the Duke de Spesialle isn’t done with Tamsen yet. The dream that once tortured her keeps changing, and despite Brial’s precautions, she must confront Spesialle again. But the Virgin Huntress has plans for Tamsen, and sends her on a journey to answer just one question: “What gift can buy the redemption of the Elves?”

But when Tamsen finally confronts the answer to the goddess’s question, she may discover that the one thing she must sacrifice to save her people is the one thing she is not strong enough to give.

The Asphodel Cycle 2: The Redemption of Asphodel will be released on June 6!

All that being said, next Tuesday, May 3, is the release of the first Asphodel novel The Reckoning of Asphodel. Stay tuned for buy links and--

Wait a second. I neglected to mention that for the first WEEK, The Reckoning of Asphodel will be offered for free. As in totally free. So take advantage of it--and if you do, a review on Amazon or Smashwords or wherever you purchase your copy would be greatly appreciated. 

Let me know what you think about my cover art or anything else Asphodel--I look forward to hearing from you!

A New Excerpt From The Reckoning of Asphodel

This is the second excerpt from my upcoming novel The Reckoning of Asphodel, which will be released on May 3, 2016. For more information about Asphodel, check out my website, Goodreads page, or my Amazon page. 

Tamsen de Asphodel watched as her parents were killed—murdered by her sorcerer uncle. Raised by her Elven kin, Tamsen knows her destiny is to avenge them both.

 

Unfortunately, Tamsen’s destiny is complicated. She is the sole heir to her human father’s estate, but she is also the last remaining heir to the Elven throne. The Elves, especially the Scout Brial, are suspicious of her human ties and her magical power. Her magic is unique—neither human nor Elven, dangerous, and difficult to control. And when she and Brial fall in love, it is a relationship the Elves will not accept.

 

But when her uncle moves to destroy the Elves, war explodes across both kingdoms. Only Tamsen, with Brial at her side, can bring human and Elf together to fight against him. In the reckoning that is coming, she will need both sides of her conflicted nature…and the aid of a goddess.

****

Within an hour, it was impossible to see further than twenty feet. I had taken the lead, but Brial was close behind. I had pulled my cloak so far forward, however, that I didn’t see the men charging at us from the sides of the road. 

“Get down!” Brial shouted hoarsely. 

As I turned to see what was going on, someone jerked me out of the saddle. I landed on my back with the breath knocked from me. A large man hovered into my line of sight. He grinned, three blackened, broken teeth hanging precariously from his upper jaw. I lay there, trying to gasp air back into my lungs as he leered at me. 

“Gots us a purty gel here boys!” he roared, bending down and picking me up by the front of my cloak. I felt the fabric rip under his dirty fingers and a cold realization surged through me. My breath came back into my chest with a whoosh and I gulped in fresh air. 

Then my eyes narrowed. 

“I am giving you one chance to back away from me,” I said, my voice still a bit breathless. He laughed, throwing back his head, and the teeth teetered in his gums. Behind me, I heard steel on steel. Brial was fighting. The man swept me against him with one blow of his meaty arm. Try as I might, I couldn’t free myself. As I closed my eyes and reached for the magic, I felt his ugly face nuzzle into my hair. 

Two things happened next. As gorge rose in my throat at the man’s touch, an electric charge zipped out from me, blasting the ruffian back with an oath. Then a sword point thrust through the front of his beefy chest. I watched, stunned, as the outlaw slid down the cold steel edge, falling almost in slow motion to puddle at my feet. 

My mind flashed back. Blood on the snow. 

Flakes swirling in a howling wind, while the ground stained red with blood. The sickly sweet smells of cooked meat. The flash of a sword against a slender throat— 

Are you all right, Tamsen?” Brial was shaking me, his face white. 

I pulled back to the present, my gaze meeting his then sliding past him. There were two other bodies lying in the churned snow, already stained by a sluggish crimson flow. 

Brial swore. “You don’t have time to be faint now. I only drove the others away! They’ll be back, Tamsen.” He worked quickly, wiping the sword on the outlaw’s jerkin and driving it into its sheath. Turning, he whistled, and the horses trotted up. “Can you stay on?” 

“I’m fine, Brial.” I forced out the words from between numb lips. “Let’s just ride.” 

We turned our horses and fled into the teeth of the storm. It was only after we galloped away that I wondered: had I killed the man, or had Brial? I looked down at my hands in a daze. Surely, the shock I had released was only enough to stun the outlaw. 

The smell of roasted meat hung in my nostrils until several miles lay between the newly dead men and us. It took us two hours at a dismayingly slow pace to reach the next village.