He started. There was a long pause as they stared at each other. Finally his gaze dropped, his shoulders sagging. "You little witch," he muttered.
"Your lying got us into this mess. Did you really believe lying was the way to get us out?" Her voice still held that deadly gentleness. "Now, where is he?"
"He's safe in a convent far south of here." Father rested his hand on her shoulder. "Safire, if you value his well-being, don't go after him, at least not yet, not till I tell you it's safe. If you don't trust me, ask Merius what Falken said to us this afternoon. Falken has no reason to lie, not about this."
Safire looked at me. I cleared my throat, hoarse after witnessing her back my father into a corner. "Falken said that King Rainier is watching us, that he could be just as much of a threat to Sewell as the queen ever was. He warned us to keep you from risking yourself like that again."
"But," she started, then faltered, her hand going to her mouth. Her face crumpled.
"Sweet, trust me. When you and Merius are safely settled back in Cormalen, we'll make a plan for the babe." Father squeezed her shoulder, then let go as he strode for the door. The latch clicked behind him, leaving Safire and me in the buzz of the heavy silence. She stood as if turned to stone, her face downcast.
I went around the table and put my hand on her back. When she didn't respond, I perched on a chair near her. I circled her waist with my arms and closed my eyes as I rested my cheek against crisscrossed laces of her bodice, the warm pillow of her breasts under the finely woven wool of her gown. I could hear her heartbeat, the faint, fast patter of a bird.
“Why do you always compare me to a bird?” she murmured finally as she began to comb her fingers through my hair.
“You have such delicate bones, and when I touch you, you tremble like you’re on the verge of taking flight. Sometimes I think you’re going to fly away from everything, even from me.”
She bowed her head over mine. “Oh, Merius, what if I can't ever see him again? What if it's always too dangerous?” she choked.
"I'll get him back for you. If it takes the rest of our lives, I'll get him back." I pulled her on to my lap and rocked her, her tears soaking the front of my doublet.
About the Author
As a child, Karen suffered frequent bouts of insomnia. The only way she could settle into sleep many nights was to imagine stories that played out like movies on the dark ceiling over her bed. Since her mean parents refused to replace the TV after the cat blew it up by peeing on the cord, all Karen had left to entertain herself in the lone wilds of the Minnesota wilderness were books and her own stories. As Karen grew, the stories grew with her. One day when she was fourteen, she told her mother one of these stories for probably the hundredth time. Her mother, who knew Karen very well, turned to her and said, “You know, Karen, you keep talking about these stories, but you never write them down. You keep saying you’re going to write a novel, but I don’t believe that you will.” This comment infuriated Karen so much that she started writing her stories down and hasn’t stopped since.
Other Works
Fledgling Witch: A Novella (Prequel to the Landers Saga)
The Witch Awakening (Book One of the Landers Saga)
Phoenix Ashes (Book Three of the Landers Saga)
The Curious Fear of High and Lonely Places (Book Four of the Landers Saga)
The Bird Children (Book One of the Phoenix Realm) - available February 2014
Across the Summer Sea (Book Two of the Phoenix Realm) - available Winter 2014 / 2015
You can learn more about my current projects at www.karennilsen.com .
Acknowledgements
I am lucky to have many talented writers as friends.
Tapestry Lion wouldn't be what it is today without Cheryl Dietrich's unflagging support and uncanny sense of story and character development.
I would never have written the prologue without Jim Cox's comment that he wanted to see Jazmene doing something really evil from the get-go.
As with The Witch Awakening, my special thanks to Doug Mason’s critique group for their invaluable editorial feedback. I especially appreciate how each member brings a unique perspective to the process. Doug, Jim, Lloyd, and Cynthia--I can never repay you for your help polishing this manuscript.
Elizabeth Lutyen's Prose Masters class, a part of the Great Smokies Writing Program, proved to be a wonderful testing ground for the first several chapters and an inspiring environment to learn more about the craft of writing.
Special thanks to the many friends and mentors who have encouraged me through the years with my writing, too numerous to name here. Just know that without each and every one of you in my life, I never could have written this book.
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