5 on Friday -- Set 208 and a Cover Reveal for Kate Robbins

Happy Chinese New Year! Gong Xi Fa Cai!

I've got lots of New Year's goodness going on at A Piece of My Mind today. I feel much more excited about the beginning of the Year of the Horse than I did at the Dec. 31st turn of the year for the western calendar. It's just how I roll.

Today my 5 on Friday set celebrates the horse that rides through the celestial path this year. Horse Year brings decisive action, after having shed old skin during Snake Year in 2013. Remember that horses love to gallop with the herd, so stick to your own instincts and don't get wrapped up in impulsive ideas.

Following the music set, keep reading for a cover reveal for my friend Kate Robbins, whose Promised to the Highlander releases later this year.

Spinning Friday tunes since 2010...

For anyone who wants to join in, simply choose five pieces of music and post them for other bloggers to enjoy. Then check out the set posted by the other 5 on Friday blogger -- you can sign in over at Golch Central's Rambling Stuff.

  

1 - 15 Lions and 1 Dragon traditional dance ritual -- Jing Wo Martial Arts and Athletics Association of Canada, Calagary, Alberta

Welcoming the Year of the Horse!

2 - Horse Soldier! Horse Soldier! -- Corb Lund

3 - Heavy Horses -- Jethro Tull 

4 - I Ride an Old Paint -- Woody Guthrie

5 - All the Wild Horses -- Ray LaMontagne

Ah...my horse obsession. I doubt it will ever leave me.

And now, on to my great delight in revealing the new cover for the upcoming release Promised to the Highlander, by Kate Robbins.

Second in her Highland Chiefs series, Promised to the Highlander, is Kate Robbins’ follow up to her debut Bound to the Highlander.

Promised to the Highlander, Blurb

Nessia Stephenson's world was safe until a threat from a neighbouring clan forces her to accept a betrothal to a man whose family can offer her the protection she needs. The real threat lies in her intense attraction to the man who arranged the match—the clan's chief and her intended’s brother, Fergus MacKay.

When powerful warlord Fergus MacKay arranges a marriage for his younger brother, William, he has no idea the price will be his own heart. Fergus is captivated by the wildly beautiful Nessia, a woman he can never have.

 When the feud between the MacKay and Sutherland clans escalates, Nessia, William, and Fergus all must make sacrifices for their future. Longing and loss, honour and duty. How can love triumph under such desperate circumstances?

Promised to the Highlander, Excerpt

“For a man who isn’t eager to meet his future wife, you’ve got quite a set of nerves there lad,” Fergus said to William.

William straightened his linen shirt and smoothed his tunic as he glared at Fergus. Yet, the comment was absorbed and William ceased his pacing to sit on a chair near the fire. Fergus watched his brother adjust his belt again. The young man wore his usual dress but had taken greater pains today to perfect his appearance. Fergus glanced down at his linen shirt and sleeveless leather tunic. William’s long hair was tied at his nape while Fergus’s was left hanging loose. He recalled having to take extra pains upon his betrothal. Thankfully those days had passed and he needn’t worry overly anymore. A young lass would surely find William’s neat, respectable appearance appealing. He hoped so, but before he could dwell on it further, a servant entered and announced the arrival of Thomas Stephenson, his daughter Nessia and several of their clansmen.

William sprang to his feet and crossed the floor in a few quick strides to greet them. He continued to fidget as Fergus sauntered up from behind.

 “Thomas! Welcome. We thought we’d have to send out a search party soon,” Fergus said as the stout man turned the corner leading into the great hall.

“Aye, the road was a bit rough with a wagon in tow,” Thomas said. The man’s brow was streaked with sweat and he looked weary from his travels.

“We’ve had a lot of rains this harvest there’s no doubting that,” Fergus said. In truth he would have gone searching himself had another hour passed. Earlier that day he’d heard more rumours about Ronan Sutherland. Apparently, the lad had agreed to his father’s suggestion and would commence his campaign in the coming days. Fergus sensed William stiffen beside him as Thomas began the introductions.

“Fergus, William, this is my brother Neville and these three are my sons, Colin, Robert, and Camden my youngest. And this is my daughter, Nessia.”

Fergus acknowledged each man in turn. When the introduction came to the girl and his gaze fell on her, his breath caught in his throat. With black hair and bright blue eyes she stood proud before him with her chin lifted and all the regal confidence of a noblewoman. She displayed no fear or reservation at all, something which was unusual in most men he met, but more so in a woman. The gentler sex usually cowered before him—not this lass.

Fergus stared at the girl, his heart drumming. His guts clenched as if he’d been punched. He had to force himself from moving toward her to touch her hair which looked like spun silk, for surely it could not be real. Fergus remembered his brother then and tore his gaze from her to find William eyes wide and his jaw slacked. An unexpected pang ran through him.

When he turned back it was to find her still staring at him, seemingly unabashed for staring openly at a man. A bold one, then. Fergus’s drew his brows together. What did she want?

Kate Robbins, Bio

Kate Robbins writes historical romance novels out of pure escapism and a love for all things Scottish, not to mention a life-long enjoyment of reading romance. Her journey into storytelling began with a short screenplay she wrote, directed, and produced which was screened at the 2003 Nickel Film Festival in St. John’s, Newfoundland. She has also written and directed several stage plays for youth.

Kate loves the research process and delving into secondary sources in order to give readers the most authentic historical romance possible. She has travelled to Scotland and has visited the sites described in her Highland Chiefs series.

Promised to the Highlander is the second of three books set during the early fifteenth century during the reign of James Stewart, first of his name.

Kate is the pen name of Debbie Robbins who lives in St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada with her hubby, the man-beast, and her two awesome boys, the man-cubs.

You can find Kate online at the following:

Into the Highland Mist

Twitter

Facebook

Goodreads

Thursday Thirteen -- 295 -- 13 Questions for Norah Wilson, Co-author of Enter the Night

It's my great pleasure to welcome fellow Maritimer Norah Wilson to A Piece of My Mind.

Norah's visit wraps up this year's Spooky Stories Author Series. Be sure to check back next October when I ask a whole new crew of writers about what sends chills down their spines...

1 – Norah, your Casters series is a writing team effort with Heather Doherty. How did your partnership start?

Heather told me a number of times about this idea she had for a young adult novel. I’m a little slow on the uptake, but finally, I said, “Hey, we should write it together!” That project was The Summoning, the first book in our Gatekeepers series, for which we’ve plotted seven books. We never did get to write them, since at the time we were submitting to New York publishing houses, and you always have to be moving on to the next idea until something sells.

But when we wrote the first book in the Casters world, we knew we had to stick with it until we got all four books out. We haven’t looked back since. In addition to other YA paranormal, we’ve gone on to jointly write a launch book for Kindle Worlds (in the Pretty Little Liars universe), and some seriously funny cozy mystery.

2 – Tell us about your latest release, Enter the Night.

In Comes the Night, our girls (Alex, Brooke and Maryanne) learned to escape their troubles—and their actual bodies—by casting a dark piece of themselves out into the night.

We explore that further in Enter the Night, which is essentially Maryanne’s book. (Comes the Night was Alex’s book, and Embrace the Night will be Brooke’s. The final book, Forever the Night, will provide resolution for all of them.) Maryanne, who is by far the most wholesome of the three, nevertheless has a very dark secret, one that is tearing her apart. So when she takes up with Bryce Walker, son of the famed (or infamous) “Heller” hunter Ira Walker, we’re left to sort out how deeply rooted that attraction is in self-destruction. And if it’s self-destruction she wants, she just might get it.

3 – When writing spooky material, do you ever scare yourself?

When Heather (who is crazy intuitive) first got a ‘flash vision’ of the Casters, she started flipping emails to me as the ideas rushed in. Days later, as we were fleshing out the story in a quiet cottage at a nearby lake, we did succeed in scaring ourselves. A lot!

LOL! Awesome.

It was isolated and dark out there on the lake’s edge, and by the time we went to bed, I was afraid to look out the window in case I saw a Caster!

But normally, I don’t usually scare myself while I’m writing this stuff. Unless I’m home alone at night and there’s a branch knocking against the window and my dog starts growling low in her throat… In which case, I’d probably be scared no matter what I was writing!

4 – Did you watch spooky TV shows or films when you were young?

Oh, definitely!

What were your favorites from those?

Remember The Twilight Zone? Night Gallery? And of course, old Vincent Price movies. Gosh, I’m a bigger horror fan than I knew!

5 – As a reader or as a viewer, do you prefer spooky/scary, or do you delve further into horror?

I think I like spooky/scary better than flat-out horror. You won’t catch me at the movie theatre, or even in front of the TV, for Friday the 13th or Saw or the classic horror gore-fests. I don’t mind some violence, but I don’t want to be completely traumatized.

I'm more for spooky myself, although I totally get into the sword swinging of Vikings and Spartacus. That can get pretty gory.

6 – If you had to name your top three supernatural creatures, what would they be?

I do love my vampires.

I’m kind of picky about my shifters, but I do love dragons!

And demons. I do love a demon done well. Or a Djinn!

7 – Have you explored these character types in your fiction so far?

I’ve written vampires for the adult paranormal romance market, and Heather and I have written demons in the Gatekeepers story (The Summoning).Given time, we’ll probably get around to some more. Or we’ll just create a new one, like our Casters or our Fleshers (yes, they are just as scary/creepy as they sound!).

8 – Are there some earthbound, everyday aspects of life that you find scary?

Honestly, the scariest thing I know of is human greed and corporate pillaging. The wars that have been started over it, the people who’ve died for it, our ecosystem poisoned over it, species killed, our own health eroded. Way scarier than a zombie apocalypse.

9 – Where is the spookiest place you’ve ever been?

A taxicab in Boston.

What made it so scary?

No seatbelts, and a maniac for a driver.

LOL. But seriously? I think any place is spooky in the dark. My imagination just goes crazy. I once watched the movie Alien late at night by myself. That short trip from the living room down the hall to my bedroom was the perhaps the scariest one of my life.

10 -- Why do you think people like to be scared?

I think it’s largely the younger crowd who enjoys being scared. The older we get, the more saturated we become with all the “real life” scary stuff we’re bombarded with in the news. But I think lots of younger adults seek out those scary thrills because they don’t have occasion to experience them in their normal lives. It’s a safe way to live through a really intense, cathartic experience.

11 – You began your publishing adventures as a romantic suspense author. How hard is it to switch gears between genres?

I still write romantic suspense, and yes, it’s a big shift in mindset when I switch over from one to the other. I don’t find it particularly difficult, once I get going. You just fall into the right “voice”. But it can be a little tricky when I come to a romantic interlude. We write toward the upper end of the YA market, so the stories might not be squeaky “clean” (I hate that word, because it suggests anything sexual is dirty), but neither are they remotely like an adult romance. I just have to be extra careful to make sure the voice and the emotions stay true to our teenagers.

12 – Do you use your suspense skills when you switch over to paranormal stories, or is that sense of suspense just a part of your writing voice?

I think suspense is just part of my writing voice. I’ve often said that my adult paranormals are just romantic suspense with vampires. I write them exactly the same way!

But truthfully, I have to give Heather all the credit for injecting the suspense into our YA stories. She has such an innate sense of story structure that I rarely feel the need to interfere with her plotting magic. At first, when there’d be a dramatic development or complication or something happened to drastically increase the stakes, I’d be a little, “Okay, are we over-promising here? How are we going to get our characters out of this corner we’re painting them into?” But she’d be all, “No, really, it’ll work.” And it always does, because she is the plotting queen.

13 – This has been so much fun, Norah -- thanks for dropping by. Could you tell us a bit about this excerpt from Enter the Night?

Happy to oblige! This one takes place when the girls come back to Harvell House after the Christmas break.

On their first cast out, they revisit some old haunts and find themselves out at the Walker farm. Bryce Walker is working in a lighted shed beside the barn, and Maryanne wants a closer look. The other girls try to talk her out of it, without success.

“It’s too dangerous!” Alex protested, but Maryanne ignored her. A quick look wouldn’t hurt anything.

Reaching the window, she hovered in front of it, peering in. Bryce Walker stood with his back to her, his tall frame stooping over an old fashioned workbench. With two portable hanging lights shining down on his work area, the room was well lit. As long as it was brighter on the inside than the outside, he wouldn’t be able to see her. Well, see them. Alex and Brooke had joined her now and stared in, too.

She looked around the room. It was like stepping back in time. A small, pot-bellied stove squatted in the corner, a full wood box beside it. The unfinished walls were lined with old license plates, discolored calendar pages, and rusted saws, some of them the largest Maryanne had ever seen, obviously used in the forest industry before chainsaws took over. High on the wall just above Bryce’s head, on a slightly off-kilter, plain board shelf, sat some small sculptures. They were not especially well done, but the subjects were recognizable. A brown owl, a green-shelled turtle, a leaning, peg-legged pirate with a parrot on his shoulder. Then there was the last thing resting on that crooked shelf. Or rather hanging from it.

A dark caster, about seven inches tall with a long neck and outstretched arms and legs. Around its neck was a length of rope from which it dangled. As if alive, the caster—the Heller, as Ira Walker would have called it—seemed to sway and twist on the rope ever so slightly now and again, whenever Bryce nudged against the workbench, sending vibrations up the wall.

“Oh, God! You’ve got the hots for Bryce Walker!” Brooke accused.

“What’s this?” The frown was clear in Alex’s voice. “No way!”

“Haven’t we all had enough trouble from the Walkers?” Brooke’s voice rose again. “All those damn Walkers!”

Maryanne didn’t miss that—we all. They all. Legends and hunters. They all had legacies.

Nor did she answer. She kept staring in through the window, her eyes riveted on Bryce.

“What’s he doing?” Alex asked, her curiosity apparently trumping her anxiety, at least for the moment.

“I don’t know.” Maryanne said. “Something…something for shop class maybe?”

“Right, Maryanne,” Brooke said. “Bryce Walker is in there finishing up that smokin’ bird house he’s been working on over the Christmas holiday! Give me a break! He’s just—”

“Standing too still.” Maryanne’s words were a whisper, even to the casters’ ears. They all watched, silently now, as Bryce stood there, stone still and tense. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Then he did move, and suddenly. His right hand shot sideways to an electrical outlet just above the table, below the shelf. With one quick snap of the electrical cord, the shed was in darkness, and then the casters were not.

As Maryanne processed what was happening, Bryce flew to the door and snapped on the yard light. The three of them were suddenly bathed in brilliant white light.

“Go, go, go!” Alex shouted.

            They tore away from the window, just as the door flew open.


© Norah Wilson and Heather Doherty, 2013

A to Z Blog Challenge - Z

*tooting little horn*  Welcome to Day 26 of the A to Z Blog Challenge. My third completed challenge--thanks to everyone who dropped by. Today:

Z

is for

Zealots

In the sequel to my dark fantasy novel, BOUND BY DRAGONSFYRE, releasing later this summer, the sect of monks who stamped out the use of magick are the zealots to whom I refer. 

In the world of Dragonsfyre, called the Eighth Dominion, dragons plague the people in bursts of destructive sightings, rather like the tornadoes of this world. Generations back, a sect of monks linked the dragon sightings to the use of magick, and since that time magick has been outlawed in the Eighth Dominion. Of course, the monks then replaced the seers as imperial consultants.

To wrap up this year's A to Z Blog Challenge, here is a sneak peek at Book 2 in my Dragonsfyre series:

Dragon signs were everywhere.

          Xaviero kept this to himself as he scanned the sky for confirmation that the inevitable drew nearer. No one must even suspect that he could foretell the future.

          Instead, he sat in the cadet’s hall staring down at his plate of food, listening past the low hum of the other boys’ conversations. 

Seers were blessed by the gods, it was said. Yet the monks who served these gods rejected visions as proof of magick.

Best to sit here ignoring the ominous sound of many little animals rushing away at once. It would take only a few moments more, and surely the cadets on watch would see the movement along the ground.

His pulse raced, though he sat as still as he could, his fork poised above the chunks of meat in thin gravy. How oblivious they were, the other boys and the older officers both. Eat quickly, he wanted to urge them.

Taking his own advice, he grabbed one last mouthful as the hall darkened, frantic flapping overhead announcing birds in mixed flocks in the air above their academy.

          Conversation ceased. Heads turned.

          A sharp bugle call warned of danger.

          Cadets and officers called orders as boys ran according to drill and shutters slammed. Xaviero blocked all of it out as he bolted for the middle of the yard, free to turn his head to the sky as the chaos provided cover at last.

          There it was, a large black form far off in the late afternoon sky, sunlight glinting off scales as the dragon approached with impossible speed. Xaviero’s thrill at finally seeing a dragon with his own eyes splintered into cold fear.

          The wings flapped once, twice, then held straight as it glided in eerie silence directly towards the academy. Xaviero made out spiky horns along its head and spine, its mouth opening to reveal teeth as big as swords.

          The dragon’s cry rent the air as Xaviero was lifted bodily, carried at a run by one of the commanding officers towards the barracks. Taking the few steps in one leap, the officer dove with Xaviero through the door, landing hard on the wooden slats just as the heat of the dragon’s fire burst in yellow and orange plumes to blot out the sky.

          A hot blast of wind slammed the door shut as the searing flames poured over and around the stone barracks. Xaviero and the officer hid their faces from the heat, but when they could no longer hold their breath, they lifted their heads to find smoke filling the barracks. The officer pulled Xaviero to his feet, already turning to head for the door.

          That’s when Xaviero was struck with a vision.

          The grip of the officer’s hand upon him as he made to leave was all it took. In that split second Xaviero knew he must not let the officer open that door.

          Dragging back upon the man’s arm with all his weight, Xaviero cried, “No, Sir! No!”

          The officer stopped and looked down at Xaviero, eyes filled with disbelief that fear had got the best of a top cadet. “We’re getting out of here,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

          Again, he made for the door. Yet Xaviero knew without a shred of doubt that it would be the last thing the officer would ever do.

          Grabbing the man’s arm and pulling so hard the fabric ripped, Xaviero said, “Sir!” with the authority of a commander. “You’ll be burnt up!”

          Stopping in his tracks, the officer turned to gaze at Xaviero with a hint of dread in his face. He stopped pulling against Xaviero and listened. The crackling sound of flames could now be heard just outside the door.

          With the heavy energy of the dragon’s flight still swirling in the air, the officer seemed to shake off the notion that Xaviero had divined the future in time to save his life. If that were the case, it would mean that a boy in their academy was an adept at magicke.

          It was easier just to leave the barracks by climbing through the window on the other side of the common room, easier never to mention an incident forbidden by imperial decree to his superiors once the reports were finally given.

          At least, Xaviero was never called to headquarters to explain himself, though the officer in question gave him wide berth from that day forth.

Copyright - Julia Phillips Smith - 2013

A to Z Blog Challenge - Y

Welcome to Day 25 of the  A to Z Blog Challenge. Today:

Y

is for

Yashtii

Yashtii is a supporting female character in my dark fantasy novel, BOUND BY DRAGONSFYRE. 

A member of the Sibiu, a nomadic people who live on the edges of Eighth Dominion society, she is not the sort of choice any member of the nobility have made for a bride. Until now.

For today's post, meet Yashtii in this excerpt:

Something else had begun to pull his attention to the far corner of the hall.

            Several of the guard had posted themselves near a small group of nobles who managed to stand out from the rest, even in this finely turned-out company. Three males and one female, as richly attired as anyone else, yet something about their demeanor felt at odds. Scorpius’ senses sharpened to a knife edge.

            The nearest door was a dozen strides away.

            His best choice was to push Lord Thibault beneath the solid banquet table and cover him with his body while the guard took action, as he knew they would. Now that he’d worked out a plan, he fanned his fingers over his sword pommel and stood poised to spring.

            Still, the eating and conversation continued, laughter pealing up over the coiffures as though nothing simmered in the afternoon air.

            Somehow the young woman from the little knot of suspicious nobles had caught his master’s eye. This time, it was impossible not to notice Lord Thibault’s interest in the exotic lady, even when he could not see his master’s face.

            Wasn’t she a beauty? Her skin was a shade darker than most other ladies’, her eyes alight with tracery that brought out an irresistible wildness. Her hair was well-concealed beneath a scarf and hat arrangement that only served to make Scorpius long to tug at them both, to see her locks tumble free.

            The more eligible young lady continued to engage his master with glances and conversation. The dukessa continued to smile discreetly upon her son from the gallery. However, the chancellor followed Scorpius’ focus upon the unknown nobles and the interest shown them by the guard.

            Scorpius tried to read the chancellor’s signals, but the older man was too schooled in deception to give anything away. All he could do was be ready to draw his sword if it came to that. Even if that meant striking down the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

 ~~~

            It was a blessing that Scorpius had taken to dancing so readily. Keeping one eye trained to the next figure in the promenade, while the other eye scanned the room--in particular the other dancers—was no small task.

            No less distracting was the exotic beauty who’d obviously captured Lord Thibault’s notice. To his master’s credit, Lord Thibault spread his charmed responses equally among the assembled young ladies. Not even the fair-haired favorite of the dukessa and the chancellor could suspect what Scorpius knew with certainty.

            By the time the night gave way to dawn and the guests made their yawning reverences to Lord Thibault and the dukessa, Scorpius bristled with the need for sleep. Yet there would be none, as Lord Thibault brushed past him briefly to conceal a murmured request.

            Scorpius fought to conceal his expression, unable to prevent himself glancing through the crowd toward her.

            The mysterious one’s retinue didn’t miss Scorpius’ interest. He saw how they reached subtly for their sword hilts.

            Lord Thibault strode forward to take his delighted mother’s hands in his, bending his head to kiss her cheek and leaving Scorpius to devise a means of stopping the unknown beauty from departing. How was he to arrange a decidedly unofficial meeting with her when her kinsmen never left her side?

            Scorpius forced himself to walk toward them, still unsure of how he would phrase his master’s request. He saw the men fan out slightly around their prize, standing as tall as they could, broadening their stances. He judged from their reaction to his approach that it was he who held the upper hand, and slowed his pace accordingly.

            Once he stood before the mysterious one, Scorpius felt the pull of her allure like a lethal undertow. He quickly dropped his gaze, unwilling to look into those violet eyes. Taking her hand in his, he bowed and kissed her knuckles.

            “My Lord Thibault requests that you stroll with me into the garden,” Scorpius said. “He regrets that the evening sped by so quickly that he was unable to get to know you…better.”

            The young lady curtsied to him with an aggressive movement unlike any other lady present. Her guard also bowed quickly to him. Imagine it. As easy as that.

            Striding toward a far doorway, leaving his master to chuckle and quip with the last of the departing guests, Scorpius led the exotic beauty and her kinsmen into the dew-chilled air. The sky lightened in gray warning.

            Their steps echoed on the empty flagstones, their path twisting farther into the recesses of the garden. Scorpius ignored the tightness in his gut as he wiped the stone bench dry. The mysterious one settled herself to wait. It didn’t take long.

            When Lord Thibault arrived, Scorpius and the lady’s retinue stepped into the shadows with one accord. Glancing back at his master, Scorpius’ breath caught in his chest as he saw Lord Thibault’s hands slip the young lady’s headpiece and scarf aside.

            Tumbling free, the mysterious one’s hair wasn’t simply dark, or fiery, or fair as Scorpius had longed to discover. No, her locks fell in black and white stripes such as he had never seen before.

            Turning to the men surrounding him, he saw now that each one also hid his hair beneath a scarf and cap. In their gazes Scorpius saw ferocious pride in the secret he now held about them.

            The young lady returned Lord Thibault’s kisses and embraces with matching ardor. Scorpius hoped his master knew what he was doing. Wordlessly, Scorpius raised one finger to his eye and then swept his hand toward the estate grounds.

The men turned and kept watch while Scorpius kept his eye on Lord Thibault and his lady. It would be hours yet before Scorpius saw his bed, and even then, how would he rest when this was where his master determined to lead them?

Copyright - Julia Phillips Smith - 2012

A to Z Blog Challenge - U

Welcome to Day 21 of the  A to Z Blog Challenge. Today:

U

is for

Underground Magick

For those of you who have been following my challenge all month, you'll know that the first half was also a blog tour for my dark fantasy, BOUND BY DRAGONSFYRE.

In my interviews I was asked about my next project, which is the sequel to Scorpius' story. For today's 'U' post, I'll give a little preview of the second book in the Dragonsfyre series.

These books take place in a land called the Eighth Dominion, one of twelve provinces ruled over by the emperor. In this land's history, magick was once practised openly, until a religious order rose to power and linked the devastating dragon attacks to the practise of magick.

At that time, the monks were installed as imperial advisors, while anyone unfortunate enough to be known as an adept at magick was hunted down and weeded out. Those who continued to be born with the gifts of sight and who wielded control of magick were forced at an early age to keep these aspects of themselves a closely-guarded secret.

Two major characters in the new book, which will be releasing later this summer, have made their way through the world by keeping their magick a secret. Yet both of them feel the time may be right for magick to emerge from its underground status--especially since the use of it may be the only thing that will save the Eighth Dominion from the destruction of the dragon.

Here's a brief preview excerpt from Dragonsfyre Book 2:

Lying angry and awake in the dark once again, listening to the sleeping sounds of the other cadets, Xaviero put two and two together as his Beloved came to him, gliding silently like a phantom.

Only now did he realize that she came to him in times of despair. His heart seized with dread as she neared him. He couldn’t bear to see more of his future self, chained to the dragon in that wooded ruin, not after the day he’d had. Yet he craved her presence with a force that left him trembling. Again she sat on his cot, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair from his eyes.

Between heart beats, he became that naked future version of himself, kneeling at the base of the statue, his arms pulled behind him, his wrists chained to the stone with cold cruelty.

He felt the gravel digging into his legs as he knelt in this ancient forest clearing, felt the coolness of the stone dragon against his shivering flesh. When he looked up into her gaze that saw him more truly than anyone else, he knew once again that she was meant for him. The realization that he must wait for her burst through his body like a geyser.

Xaviero heard himself moan in the midst of his vision, and he twisted his head back and forth, trying to wake himself out of it. Yet he came to at the feet of his commanding officer and the dormitory steward, both staring at him in the chill light of dawn.

Marched to the commander’s barracks, Xaviero stood and answered questions until his officer tired of his lies.

Xaviero heard the orders to report to their hand-to-hand combat master, his wounded pride forcing his feet to take the steps that would bring him to a rare penalty drill. An exacting cadet with a sense of impatience with the youthful high jinks of his peers, he’d helped to send a few of his fellows to a similar fate without so much as a moment’s hesitation, certain they’d deserved it.

As the sweat stung his eyes, his body rebelling with the effort to obey the master’s relentless commands, Xaviero wished he knew what to do with his magicke instead of spending so much time hiding it. Tumbling to the ground with a flattening blow, he picked himself up to face more, wishing he had a friend to stand in the shadows awaiting him once this was over, as all the other cadets had.

Thus far he was on his own, both with his visions and his years at the academy. He’d never encountered anyone who may have also had visions, though for magicke to be outlawed, at one time in the dominions there must have been practising adepts.

The very next night his Beloved walked towards him in the gloom. Xaviero lay on his side, his back to the other cadets, staring into the dark as his muscles and joints flared with pain.

When she appeared, Xaviero almost spoke aloud. No, he said in his mind. I can’t take any more of this.

Hush, my love, she answered him.

Xaviero pushed himself up with a wince, glancing around him in a panic. None of the other boys stirred.

His Beloved sat upon his cot as she always did. She reached up and wiped the trickling sweat from his face.

You will be asked to suffer for me, she said, hugging his head to her breast. Will you be brave for me? No matter what is asked of you?

Xaviero nodded, unable to speak, not even in his mind.

There’s something I need you to do, she said.

Nodding again, he gazed into her eyes that seemed to see into all his hidden desires.

When we meet, we must embark upon a course of action which the dominions have forbidden. Do you know of what I speak?

Yes, my lady, he finally managed.

Then find a teacher who will prepare us for that which awaits.

Xaviero came to, clutching his crumpled pillow as the cool dawn sent the shadows scurrying. At first stretching stiffly, he froze as his muscles seized in protest.

He remembered what his Beloved had asked of him. Gritting his teeth, Xaviero forced himself to move through the pain as though hacking his way through impassable hedgerows. It wasn’t easy, but through sheer force of will he got through the day with only the barest of signs that he suffered.

He saw the bent heads, noticed his fellow cadets whispering. He even saw the officers taking note of how quickly he’d apparently recovered from that which they knew their drill master could dish out.

You will be asked to suffer for me, his Beloved had warned.

All he’d done was to recover from a penalty drill more quickly than expected. Yet it was a simple thing to go from that to rumors of how he’d recovered, and then to accusations of unnatural means, especially when he had no friends at the academy to set the record straight at mess and during drill practise.

The only person to whom he’d ever felt truly close was his mother. At this late stage of the game, all the alliances had been forged amongst a group of boys who’d studied and trained together for years.

On a wearying day when those same two hostile cadets and one of the officers he admired most seemed to have joined forces to make him crack, an approaching carriage churning up dust in the road outside their gates made Xaviero look up from the demeaning work detail to which he’d been assigned.

Along with everyone else unlucky enough to be clearing the yard of manure in the chilly afternoon, Xaviero stopped to watch a green recruit disembark and gaze longingly after the carriage as it made its way back onto the road.

A calculating idea struck him as the boy looked around for some sort of welcome or direction. This boy was unclaimed by anyone, and Xaviero needed an ally. Dropping his shovel on the ground, he ambled over to the new arrival with as much of a smile as he could conjure up, not having much experience with this sort of thing.

“Looking for the officer on watch?” he asked.

The new boy nodded warily. He seemed a reasonable sort. For all Xaviero knew, he was a complete ass or an idiot, but he no longer had the luxury of picking a good match for himself. He needed a friend, and this boy would be it.

Copyright - Julia Phillips Smith - 2013