“But—”
“So it’ll be crowded in the captain’s cabin. Won’t that be cozier?” He wiggled his brows. “Get rid of those papers. You’re done.”
“You mean you want me to join you? In the dead of winter, chasing a slimy Randart captain and probably his entire fleet and that stinker Chas, all turned pirate?” I yelled, for he’d vanished inside the wardrobe. “What kind of a wedding trip is that?”
He reappeared. “In the dead of winter.”
He tossed my winter mocs onto the bedding.
“Chasing pirates led by a slimy Randart captain.”
He pitched my sturdy shirt and riding trousers into my lap.
“And desperate duels on heaving decks. For truth, justice and honor.”
Next came my sword.
“Against sinister villains. Winning fabulous treasures. You know you want to,” he cooed.
And I do!
About the Author
To learn more about Sherwood Smith, please visit http://www.sherwoodsmith.net/. Send an email to Sherwood at [email protected] join her LiveJournal group to join in the fun with other readers at http://community.livejournal.com/athanarel/profile.
Look for these titles by Sherwood Smith
Now Available:
The Trouble with Kings
Once a Princess
Swashbuckling in a magic world—L.A. style!
Once a Princess
© 2008 Sherwood Smith
Sasharia en Garde! Book 1.
Sasha’s mother, Sun, was once swept away from a Ren Faire to another world by a prince—literally—but there was no happy ending. Sun’s prince disappeared, and a wicked king took the Khanerenth throne. In the years since, Sasha and Sun have been back on Earth and on the run. Mom and daughter don’t quite see eye to eye on the situation—Sasha wants to stand and fight. Sun insists her prince will return for them one day; it’s safer to stay hidden.
Then Sasha is tricked into crossing the portal to Khanerenth. She’s more than ready to join the resistance, kick some bad-guy butt, and fix the broken kingdom. But…is the stylish pirate Zathdar the bad guy? Or artistic, dreamy Prince Jehan?
Back on Earth, Sun is furious Sasha has been kidnapped. Sun might once have been a rotten princess, but nobody messes with Mom!
Warning: This title contains a kick-butt mother-daughter team, a wicked king, a witty pirate with an unfortunate taste for neon colors, inept resistance fighters, a dreamy prince who gallops earnestly hither and yon, and a kick-butt princess in waiting.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Once a Princess:
Elva reappeared, braids flying, brown eyes stark in a face so pale I thought she was going to be sick.
“There you are.” She clutched my shoulder. “Get out. Get out.”
“What?” I looked down at my food. “What’s wrong with the—”
She pulled my wrist, sending my spoon flying. “You’ve got to run. Now.”
“Why?” I snapped, getting up to retrieve the spoon.
“Because I followed Owl. I had my suspicions.” She made a terrible face. “He met up with him at the stable—” She waved a hand toward the far side of the brewery.
“Him? Zathdar?” I stared at the brewery, but just saw barrels of ale.
“Zathdar!” Elva repeated scornfully. “Oh, you’re in for a storm, right enough, if you don’t move.”
Heat flooded through me, followed by the self-righteous, fire-hot anger of betrayal. And that was followed by the sickening, almost lip-numbing humiliation that comes of realizing one’s been taken for a fool.
I grabbed my basket and followed her between the tables, the singing weavers’ plaintive melody blending into the heedless roar of voices behind me.
Out in the street, glare and the rising dust of early afternoon nearly blinded us. I blinked, breathing hard as silhouettes resolved into people, horses, carts, dogs, even a family of geese squawking and flapping. Children danced in a ring to the flitting summer melody played upon a pipe. In front of the last booth before the open road, several women teased a handsome fellow in a brown tunic who seemed to be trying to buy an embroidered scarf.
All oblivious, most of them happy, and very much in the way as I scanned and scanned, resisting Elva’s tugs. “This way,” she urged.
I faced her earnest, anxious brown eyes and knew that Devli waited somewhere, a transfer token in hand. “Thank you for the rescue. But I think I’ll take off on my own.”
Her face reddened. “It’s Devli. Isn’t it? You don’t trust him.”
“I’m sorry, Elva, but I just don’t trust those giving him orders,” I murmured as a cart full of melons rolled toward us, shoved by a brawny fellow not watching where he was going.
She moved to one side. I ducked to the other side of it so I wouldn’t have to see her reaction, and dove into a pack of sailors, several of them wearing battered floppy hats much like mine. I still felt outlined in neon, though so far the few guys in brown tunics around were not searching, merely sauntering.
All right, Sasha, you got what you wanted. You’re alone. Pick a direction.
My pack of sailors headed toward the brewery. I stayed with them as far as the door. That sense of being watched intensified, so I slunk round the back of the Gold’s stables and peered out, scanning with care.
The marketplace lay to my left, a long street of tent booths below the high palisade of sheer rock on which the garrison and academy bulked. The market street crested to the right, below the bluffs on which the academy barracks ended in the furthermost tower.
The road on the other side of the crest stretched in a lazy arc, paralleling the rocky shore against which long breakers creamed and crashed. Lines of wagons inched their way in a string that curved through mellow grassy fields to the horizon, the only tree in sight a single clump of willow growing beside a stream winding toward the shore.
No cover whatsoever, but at least that road lay outside of Ellir and its bazillion warriors.
I slipped away from my crummy hiding place and headed straight for that high point, beyond which freedom beckoned.
But right before I reached the top of the market street, not five hundred yards from the low stone wall that marked the boundary of the city, my shoulder blades itched. My danger sense had gone into the red zone, urging me to turn and fight.
I just knew I would hate what I saw. But I had to look.
Past the dancing children. Past the strolling flirts, the bargaining marketers with their baskets, past unheeding cadets and warriors obviously on leave, past the dogs and geese and sailors. I stared straight into a pair of familiar blue eyes.
Too late.
Too late, but I turned on my toes and sprinted for freedom, despite the faster footsteps behind me—much faster.
When I reached the top of the road, the footsteps had almost caught up so I plunged into a crowd of prentices in one last attempt to shake my pursuer, and risked a glance back.
The stinker was maybe ten steps away. He hadn’t yelled, and though some of the people he pushed past turned to stare, and one or two began to call out in protest, stared, then quickly backed away, no one interfered.
The oblivious prentices didn’t part for me. They shoved past and stampeded toward the brewery, leaving me alone to face the enemy.
The pirate caught up in an easy step, and stopped an arm’s length from me.
So for a long, measureless moment we stood there facing one another at the top of Market Street, the last of the prentices flowing around us with exasperated looks and a wry comment or two that neither of us paid the least attention to.
All the things I could say chased through my mind. You liar! Go ahead and strike me down, see if I care! And perhaps most useless of all, I hate you! But I said nothing for a breathless, anguished eternity, as the market crowd walked, strolled, sauntered, pushed, shoved, talked, sang, sighed past us.
Pirate Hurricane stood there, waiting for me to speak.
And so I said, “Y
ou must really love making everyone look like a fool.”
He flushed as if I’d slapped him. But then flicked his head, as if repudiating my words, and retorted, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, so you’re not a liar and a poser?”
“I never lied. I just didn’t tell you everything.”
“Oh.” Well, that was a nasty little oopsie, but I plowed right past. “So you managed to tell one bit of truth. What did it cost you?” Take that!
“Listen. Just listen.” He half raised a hand in a gesture of appeal, but when I stepped back, he dropped it to his side. His side, at which he wore a sword. And a knife through his sash. Neither of them touched, much less brandished. Nor had he whistled up his minions. There were certainly plenty of them about.
But I couldn’t bear another terrible, sickening sense of betrayal, and so, without examining the motivation behind that I said, “No.”
His eyelids lifted slightly, giving me half-a-heartbeat’s warning. Before I could draw breath to move, or even to yell, a thick winter quilt blotted out the sun and my world was perforce confined to hot, enshrouding darkness that smelled distinctly of mold.
Is he the hero of her childhood dreams…or the death of them—and her?
Prophesied
© 2008 Liz Craven
On the day of her birth, Lia fulfilled a prophecy that ended a 5,000-year war, and became a wife. But being the fulfillment of a sacred prophecy makes for a stifling childhood—not to mention a dangerous one. When an assassination attempt goes wrong, Lia takes the opportunity and runs from her destiny—as well as from her absent husband.
Talon isn’t sure what to expect when he rescues his bride from a mining colony on a barren moon. What he doesn’t anticipate is her lack of gratitude and her repeated escape attempts. Determined to convince his wife to accept her duties, Talon knows he also needs to keep her safe, even if he has to lock her up in his own quarters to do it.
As they get closer to their planet and Lia’s coronation, the danger around them increases, and so does the tension between them. For their growing attraction to turn into something more, they need to stay alive and learn to trust each other—a tall order when Lia’s experience in life has taught her that trusting people can get you killed.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Prophesied:
Lia’s eyes, accustomed to the dark mines, burned under the harsh office light. Blinking the tears back, the face of the speaking soldier wavered briefly, before coming into focus.
Her heart stuttered, and she managed to keep her jaw from dropping. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse—or any better, she wasn’t sure which.
His face was leaner than she remembered, giving his cheekbones a sharp edge. He had lost the soft features of a young man. The roundness of his cheeks had faded, making his square jaw more pronounced and giving him a determined look. He regarded the rep with gray eyes, the color of melted xyreon ore when light struck it. Unlike the ore, however, his flinty eyes were ice cold. The world “ruthless” flitted across her mind and a shiver danced down her spine.
His body had been long and lanky when she had last seen him, but the man before her was not the awkward boy she once knew. His chest had filled out, making him easily three times her width. His upper torso tapered to a lean waist. Body armor hugged trim hips and strong legs. The red emblem of an elected planetary official gleamed on his shoulders.
He barely glanced at her, and the feeling of disappointment that swept over Lia surprised her. She hadn’t wanted him to recognize her and had no business feeling hurt because she had gotten her wish.
As she studied him, he glanced at a soldier behind him and jerked his chin in her direction. A man with blond hair and the flush of youth still in his cheeks stepped towards her. He smiled at her—the first courtesy ever offered to her in the rep’s office—and extended his arm.
“This will only take a moment,” the young soldier assured her.
Staring at the device he was holding, Lia took a cautious step back. The rep still had a death grip on her arm—her fingers were going numb—so the step was small, but it was enough for the soldier to hesitate.
“What is that?” she demanded, relieved she sounded angry rather than panicked.
“It won’t hurt.” His tone was polite, if condescending, but he didn’t lower the device.
“What ‘won’t hurt’?” Lia snapped out.
The young man actually blushed. “It’s a simple DNA scan. It will take less than five seconds, and you won’t feel a thing.”
This time Lia wrenched her arm free from the rep as she leaped backwards. “Absolutely not.”
“I promise it won’t hurt,” the youth reassured her.
“I said no.”
Then he spoke, and he had the audacity to sound amused. “Madam, we are looking for someone. The DNA scan will help narrow our search by eliminating you. We will compensate you for your time.”
She snorted. Even if they gave her money, the rep would be the one “compensated” for her time. “I still refuse.”
“We must insist.”
Ignoring the furious glare of the rep, she stood her ground. “Under League privacy laws, a DNA scan cannot be compelled unless an individual is under arrest. Am I under arrest?”
He lifted an eyebrow. She resisted the urge to reach up and yank it back down.
“You are not under arrest—” he conceded.
“Then I am free to refuse the scan.”
“Neither are you in League territory,” he continued. He gestured towards the youth. “Caden.”
Lia’s stomach sank. They had her. League laws meant nothing on Tmesis. The only thing she could do was endure the scan with dignity.
The young soldier stepped forward, pointing the scanner at her.
Dignity be damned. With fury fueled by fear, Lia kicked out, knocking the scanner from the unsuspecting soldier’s hand. She spun and darted for the door.
She didn’t make it three meters, before slamming into another one of the soldiers who had circled around to block her path with inhuman speed. Her breathing hitched when she took in his glowing red eyes, wide-spread jaw, and sharp pointed teeth. An Inderian. A proud and fierce race of warriors steeped in tradition, blood feuds, and honor. If their inherent skills weren’t enough to inspire fear in those they met, the rumors of ritual sacrifice and cannibalism were. They rarely left their home system, but those who did usually hired out as assassins.
Were the soldiers seeking her out to ensure her death?
The Inderian turned Lia to face the others, lifting her completely off her feet to do so, and she hated that her face was flushed. The impromptu flight embarrassed her. Where did she think she was going? There weren’t a lot of hiding places on a barren moon. Especially when you needed pesky little luxuries like water. Fortunately, the dirt and grime smearing her face hid her blush. At least she hoped they did.
He stood in the same place, his arms crossed and that infuriating eyebrow still cocked, making no effort to hide his amusement.
Caden held the scanner again, his gaze flicking back and forth between Lia and his commander who met Lia’s narrowed eyes for a brief moment before nodding.
Caden approached her cautiously, like drawing near a nest of vipers. Lia felt a crazy urge to laugh. The Inderian held her immobilized. She could barely turn her head, much less attack a trained soldier. She wasn’t fooling herself. The only reason she’d succeeded in kicking him before was the element of surprise.
No miner in their right mind would attack a League soldier. Lia supposed that meant she was no longer in her right mind. Not that it mattered, seeing how they were probably going to kill her.
She had feared for her life for as long as she could remember and had half-expected to feel relief at finally facing death. She didn’t. She was pissed-off, plain and simple. And under the anger, her heart ached that the one good thing she remembered from childhood—this cold and amused man—
was an illusion.
An illusion that was probably going to kill her.
Caden pressed a button and a beam of orange light moved over her. The crucial procedure took mere seconds. The light disappeared, and Caden began inputting data into the scanner.
Scrapping together what little dignity she had left, Lia addressed the Inderian. “You can release me now.”
A nod from their leader, and she found herself standing on her own two feet. The Inderian shifted behind her and she knew he prepared to catch her if she bolted. He needn’t have bothered. With the scan completed, she felt oddly resigned and drained of energy. With her anger gone, the long day, the cave-in and her injury finally caught up with her. Not to mention the strain of the last five minutes. She wanted to sit down. Actually, she wanted to curl into fetal position. She did neither.
A pair of boots stepped into her field of vision and she looked up into the face of the man from her past.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The brisk tone lacked warmth, but Lia sensed he was trying to be kind. Her anger had amused him. She wondered if her dejection bothered him.
She decided to answer his question honestly. “Yes, it was.”
He blinked, and she realized she had surprised him. Instinctively, she knew very little surprised this man.
He inclined his head politely. “I apologize for the inconvenience.” He hesitated before dropping his voice to prevent the rep from overhearing. “We only seek to find a missing person. The scan will be used to eliminate your DNA as a match for hers. Once done, you will be free to go. We will not be passing scan results on to authorities or storing them in any public database. Your privacy and secrets will remain intact.”
Twice a Prince: Sasharia En Garde Book 2 Page 26