Showing posts with label History Related. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History Related. Show all posts

2 August 2021

[Blog Tour] 'Steampunk Cleopatra' By Thaddeus Thomas #HistoricalFantasy

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'Steampunk Cleopatra' - Tour Banner

The Book:

Steampunk Cleopatra
By Thaddeus Thomas
  • Publication Date: 21st May 2021
  • Publisher: Independently Published
  • Page Length: 419 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fantasy

The Blurb:

Amani, a companion of Cleopatra, seeks to rediscover Egypt's suppressed science and history. She is the beloved of her princess become queen, but that may not be enough to overcome the system they've inherited. If she fails, her country and Cleopatra, both, could fall. History meets fantasy, and together, they create something new. Experience an intelligent thriller about star-crossed lovers and an ancient science that might have been.

Buy Links:

'Steampunk Cleopatra' - Front Cover

'Steampunk Cleopatra' - Excerpt:

Amani had sailed for Rome in early spring, north to the straight of Messana, where the snotgreen sea wedged itself between Sicily and the tip of the Italian peninsula. There, Dio and Theodotus had stood with her, admiring the coasts on either side.

“Have you read of the Roman siege of Syracuse, when it was still a Greek colony?” she asked.

Both men said they had not. Amani assumed they were lying, but if they offered lies in kindness, she would accept them.

“Archimedes held off their ships with a weapon that could set a ship ablaze from 300 cubits,” she said.

“Why don’t we have such machines now?” Dio asked.

“When the Romans finally took Syracuse, they killed Archimedes,” she said. “Many tried to guess how the weapon operated, but none of their designs ever worked.”

“How do you think it operated?” Theodotus asked.

Amani looked at him, and now, it was her turn to lie. “I don’t know.”

There was some truth in that. She felt certain they had added water to a heated metal cannon and the resulting steam fired a large ceramic projectile. On impact, the projectile released the mysterious Greek Fire, which consumed entire ships and even burned underwater. What Greek Fire was, no one knew.

In Messana, the breakwaters curled north, like a mother's arm, and they sought permission to harbor a few days. The city sent out supplies and an uneasy welcome. They would be better off to hurry along the last days of the journey and reach Ostia before the weather turned.

The skies showed no signs of ill-fortune. The leaders conferred with the captain and agreed to press on. They followed the coast and reached Ostia, a giant port at the mouth of the Tiber River. Tugboats guided them to the quay.

The city's ordered buildings shone clean and white. Amani almost felt safe as they awaited inspection. Two weeks had passed since they left Alexandria. Another day's journey by land would take them to Rome.

They spent that night in proper beds, free of the movement of the water and the sound of tortured wood.

Amani rose early, and she and Dio sat outside the city, staring off at the green hills and the roads. One would soon take them away to Rome.

“I need to ask something that may offend you,” she said.

Dio took a sip of wine and set down his chunk of bread. “At my age, I'm not easily offended.”

“I owe you. Don't think I've forgotten.”

“I won't.”

“You've eaten with Ptolemy,” she said.

“I have.”

“You've laughed with him and paid him homage, and now you travel to Rome as his accuser. I don't understand.”

“I haven't come to accuse him but to defend our people and our Pharaoh against his accusations. We are all here for one reason, to save our lives. Each of us has transitioned into the power structure under Berenice. Whether it’s her or her father who wears the crown, someone must care for Alexandria and run Egypt. The work continues without him, but he will see our care as treason.”

She wanted to argue against his reasoning, but could not. Instead, she nodded and ate her grapes, and they sat in silence as weightless clouds soared above the endless green. It was a wholly different beauty, and she wondered if she would ever see Egypt again.

Author Bio:

Thaddeus Thomas lives on the Mississippi River with his wife and three cats. Steampunk Cleopatra is his first novel, but he has a short story collection available at his website, ThaddeusThomas.com. There he also runs a book club where readers can receive indie book reviews and recommendation. His second book—Detective, 26 AD—releases July 9th and follows Doubting Thomas as he is conscripted to be an investigator for Pontius Pilate.

Connect with Thaddeus Thomas:

[Blog Tour] 'Steampunk Cleopatra' By Thaddeus Thomas #HistoricalFantasy
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30 July 2021

[Blog Tour] 'The Abdication' By Justin Newland #HistoricalFantasy #SuspenseThriller

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[Blog Tour] 'The Abdication'  By Justin Newland #HistoricalFantasy #SuspenseThriller
The Abdication - Book Tour Poster

The Book:

The Abdication 
By Justin Newland
  • Publication Day : 28th July by Matador
  • Page Count : 328 pages
  • Genre: Suspense Thriller / Historical Fantasy 

The Blurb:

The town of Unity sits perched on the edge of a yawning ravine where, long ago, a charisma of angels provided spiritual succour to a fledgeling human race. Then mankind was granted the gift of free will and had to find its own way, albeit with the guidance of the angels. The people’s first conscious act was to make an exodus from Unity. They built a rope bridge across the ravine and founded the town of Topeth. For a time, the union between the people of Topeth and the angels of Unity was one of mutual benefit. After that early spring advance, there had been a torrid decline in which mankind’s development resembled a crumpled, fading autumnal leaf.

Following the promptings of an inner voice, Tula, a young woman from the city, trudges into Topeth. Her quest is to abide with the angels and thereby discover the right and proper exercise of free will. To do that, she has to cross the bridge – and overcome her vertigo. Topeth is in upheaval; the townsfolk blame the death of a child on dust from the nearby copper mines. The priests have convinced them that a horde of devils have thrown the angels out of Unity and now occupy the bridge, possessing anyone who trespasses on it. Then there’s the heinous Temple of Moloch!

The Abdication is the story of Tula’s endeavour to step upon the path of a destiny far greater than she could ever have imagined.
[Blog Tour] 'The Abdication'  By Justin Newland #HistoricalFantasy #SuspenseThriller
The Abdication - Book Cover

'The Abdication' - Excerpt:

The Welcome Boulder

Tula’s swollen ankle ached as she trudged up the mountain. It had moaned incessantly, ever since she had left her home in the city before embarking on this journey. Then again, it had always hurt. Perhaps since birth: she could never remember that far back. She had complained to her parents, who could not afford to get it seen by the doctor.

A gust of wind whipped up particles of sand which spiralled in the fractious air ahead of her. She squinted and pulled her keffiyeh up to cover her nose. At this altitude, the air was a thin gruel, offering paltry nourishment. Her gut was rumbling, but that was nothing new. She had walked uphill all afternoon from Seliga in the valley below and now she was gasping for breath. Her backpack seemed to weigh as much as that boulder up ahead. A vulture circled effortlessly in the azure blue sky. There was another one above the next valley, griffon vultures searching for prey; so long as they left her alone.

Wisps of straw-coloured grass sprouted beside the graves of an unkempt cemetery. The top of the surrounding low stone wall was speckled with reddish spots, like splashes of copper rain. A few of the gravestones had fallen over and kissed the parched earth. This was the summit of a mountain and even the grand old yew trees huddled in one side of the cemetery were bending to the east, bowing to the omnipotent goddess of the winds in her distant unseen shrine.

Between the cemetery and the town lay a vibrant carpet of blue thorns; large cones of tiny blue flowers surrounded by a spiky, electric-blue collar.

Up ahead were the town walls, shimmering in the waves of heat rising from the scorched land. Finally, her journey’s end was in sight. On the side of the road just outside the town’s South Gate was the Welcome Boulder. It towered above her, which was not that difficult because in the city she was constantly mocked as the shortest amongst her peers. Most of the boulder was coated in that brownish-red dust. Towards the top of it was the immortal sign that declared the town’s identity:

Welcome to Topeth.
The First Free Town and
‘The Top’ Town of all.

Long before her arrival, her parents and teachers had fired her imagination with their stories about Topeth. As the sign proudly declared, it was once ‘The Top’ town, not only because it was perched precariously on the highest mountain in the range, but also because it was the living exemplar of humanity’s stumbling progress. Many years before, that epic story had featured Herman, the First Man. It told how he had ushered in a brilliant new freedom for mankind – hence the First Free Town. Yet, after that early spring advance, there was now a torrid decline in which mankind’s development resembled a crumpled, fading autumnal leaf.

Many people asked whether their forefathers had used that freedom wisely. Some answered with a resounding ‘Yes’, but Tula had doubts. That was why she was in Topeth; to find out for herself.

On either side of the entrance road was a row of tall, spiky cacti, standing like pale, bloated fish out of water.

To the west of the town was a large area of open ground. Huge scars pitted the land which was dotted with peaked mounds of reddened earth. A gnarled ghost haunted the land. Crouched amidst its shadow lands were rickety sheds and wooden shacks, all dowsed in the same brown-red dust. Even the town’s walls were tainted in the same hue. This was the infamous Topeth open cast copper mine.

In these dangerous times, many towns shut their gates well before sundown. Thankfully, the main gates to Topeth were still open.

An old man sat cross-legged with his back against one of the gate posts, whittling a long, rod-like piece of wood and chewing on a wedge of tobacco. What an obnoxious substance. Yellow pouting lips glared at her from within a grey, untended beard. On his head, he wore a scruffy, black and white chequered keffiyeh.

“Who’s there?” He completed the question by spitting prodigiously onto the earth.

“Me, I’m Tula. And you are?”

“Can’t you see I’m blind or are you as well?” The man was gruff. He faced her. Empty sockets peered into the void.

“No, I mean yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day.”

“Don’t recognise your voice. You new here?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve just arrived.”

“Got your pass?”

A blind man was asking her for a pass to travel. That she had not expected. She pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from her knapsack and hesitated, not knowing what to do with it.

“Give it here,” he demanded. “I may be blind, but do you think I can’t see right through you?”

“No, sir. I’m sure you can. It’s just that…” She gave him the travel permit.

He held it to his cheek. He rubbed it first against his left cheek, then against his right, and nodded to himself, as if reading its contents with inner eyes. She gazed at him wide-eyed.

He handed it back to her. “Go on. All in order here.”

“What did you just do?”

“When I hold something against my cheeks, I get pictures in my mind.”

“I never knew that was even possible. What did you see?”

“I saw a fair-haired young woman with blue eyes, sparkling like rays of sunlight dancing on a flowing river. I saw a smile that warms the day, a pretty face. Your fringe and pale skin and freckles will drive the young men crazy.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” she said, failing to hide a blush. “May I ask you something?”

“Carry on. You’re good at asking questions.”

No one was going to intimidate her. No one. 

[Blog Tour] 'The Abdication'  By Justin Newland #HistoricalFantasy #SuspenseThriller
Justin Newland

About The Author:

Justin Newland is an author of historical fantasy and secret history thrillers - that’s history with a supernatural twist. His stories feature known events and real people from history which are re-told and examined through the lens of the supernatural. He gives author talks and is a regular contributor to BBC Radio Bristol’s Thought for the Day

He lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.

His Books:

  • The Genes of Isis is a tale of love, destruction and ephemeral power set under the skies of Ancient Egypt. A re-telling of the Biblical story of the flood, it reveals the mystery of the genes of Isis – or genesis – of mankind.
  • The Old Dragon’s Head is a historical fantasy and supernatural thriller set during the Ming Dynasty and played out in the shadows the Great Wall of China. It explores the secret history of the influences that shaped the beginnings of modern times.
  • Set during the Great Enlightenment, The Coronation reveals the secret history of the Industrial Revolution.
  • His latest, The Abdication (July, 2021), is a suspense thriller, a journey of destiny, wisdom and self-discovery.

Connect with Justin Newland

26 July 2021

[Blog Tour] 'The Girl from Venice' By Siobhan Daiko #HistoricalFiction #WomensFiction

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[Blog Tour] 'The Girl from Venice' By Siobhan Daiko #HistoricalFiction #WomensFiction
The Girl From Venice - Tour Banner

The Book:

The Girl from Venice 
By Siobhan Daiko
  • Publication Date: 29th June 2021
  • Publisher: ASOLANDO BOOKS
  • Page Length: 300 Pages
  • Genre: Romantic Historical/Women’s Fiction

The Blurb:

Lidia De Angelis has kept a low profile since Mussolini's racial laws wrenched her from her childhood sweetheart. But when the Germans occupy Venice in 1943, she must flee the city to save her life.

Lidia joins the partisans in the Venetian mountains, where she meets David, an English soldier fighting for the same cause. As she grows closer to him, harsh Nazi reprisals and Lidia’s own ardent anti-fascist activities threaten to tear them apart.

Decades later in London, while sorting through her grandmother’s belongings after her death, Charlotte discovers a Jewish prayer book, unopened letters written in Italian, and a fading photograph of a group of young people in front of the Doge’s Palace.

Intrigued by her grandmother’s refusal to talk about her life in Italy before and during the war, Charlotte travels to Venice in search of her roots. There, she learns not only the devastating truth about her grandmother’s past, but also some surprising truths about herself.

A heart-breaking page-turner, based on actual events in Italy during World War II
Trigger Warnings: Death, Miscarriage, PTSD, Rape

The Teaser:

[Blog Tour] 'The Girl from Venice' By Siobhan Daiko #HistoricalFiction #WomensFiction
The Girl From Venice - Teaser
'The Girl from Venice' - Front Cover 

'The Girl from Venice' - Excerpt:

Lidia was spending the rest of the night in the Pivettas’ attic, just like Giorgio had done over two months ago. She’d insisted on coming up here; she didn’t want to put Marta and her family at risk. Giudecca was a small community and not everyone was anti-Fascist. It would take only one person to tell the police they’d seen Lidia leave the palazzo with her friend, and they would easily work out where she’d gone.

She sat on a lumpy mattress on the cold wooden floor and knuckled away a tear. What she’d witnessed tonight, the wilful destruction of hers and Papa’s personal property, had brought home the grim reality of her situation. Obviously, those air raid sirens had been a distraction. People’s eyes had been on the sky and the noise had prevented them from hearing what was going on. Would they have done anything, though? She doubted it; they would have been too afraid—

A knock rapped at the attic trapdoor, and Lidia almost jumped out of her skin. Then came two further knocks in quick succession followed, after a beat, by two more. Lidia’s knees buckled with relief. It was Marta, using a broom handle to tap their agreed signal—the same code she’d put in place for Giorgio.

Just to be sure, Lidia peered through a crack in the wood.

Marta’s dear face was staring up at her.

With trembling hands, Lidia lifted the trapdoor, fetched the ladder resting against the attic wall, and eased it down.

Marta climbed the rungs and pulled the ladder up after herself. She kissed Lidia on both cheeks and inquired how she was feeling.

‘Scared,’ Lidia breathed.

‘I think we got away with it,’ Marta said, hugging her. ‘If anyone ratted on us, the police would have been here by now. Oh, and I know where they’ve taken your papa—'

Lidia grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Where?’

‘The Collegio Mario Foscarini, that private school in the Cannaregio district. Angelo found out that he’s there with hundreds of other Jews rounded up by the police.’

O, Dio.’ Lidia’s chest tightened. ‘My poor dear papa. I must go and be with him.’

Marta stiffened. ‘You can’t mean that—’

Lidia held her in a firm gaze. ‘Where he goes, I go too. He would do the same for me.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Marta shook her head. ‘From what I’ve heard, your papa and the others will soon be transported to a labour camp.’

‘He will need me to help him.’ Lidia’s voice quivered. ‘I’ve always helped him.

‘Your papa won’t expect this of you. I’m sure he would tell you if he could.’

‘I must hand myself in.’ Lidia’s chin lifted. ‘I will go to the police first thing in the morning.’

‘Don’t do that,’ Marta pleaded. ‘Ti prego. I beg of you.’ She fell silent momentarily, then said, ‘If we can find a way for you to talk to your papa, and tell him what you are planning, would you agree to that?’

Lidia sighed. There was no point in going to see him; she’d made up her mind. She stared at Marta, and Marta stared back at her. Lidia caught the love and concern in her friend’s gaze. She owed it to her to go through the motions. ‘Alright. I’ll talk to him. But how do you propose I do that? I mean, there are probably guards.’

‘Some guards are more lenient than others.’ Marta gave a wry smile. ‘Try and get some sleep, bella.’ She hugged Lidia again. ‘Ti voglio bene.'

‘I love you too, beautiful,’ Lidia said. And she did. O Dio, she would miss Marta so much. So very much.

***

Lidia tossed and turned for the rest of the night. Papa’s eternal optimism would have him making the best of things, and he’d be helping anyone in need. But she couldn’t help worrying about him.

At breakfast time, Marta brought her some bread and milk, as well as a bowl of water, soap, a facecloth and a towel. ‘Giovanna came to find out how you are coping. She’ll be back later today with more information about what’s going on at that school.’

‘I’m serious about handing myself in,’ Lidia repeated.

Marta put her arm around her shoulders. ‘Be patient, bella.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

Throughout the morning, she waited and worried. Marta came up at lunchtime, and said, ‘It seems the police aren’t looking for you. Come down to the kitchen and eat with us. You can stay in my room tonight.’

‘How about we go now, just the two of us, to the Collegio?’ Lidia gave her a pleading look.

‘I think tomorrow would be more sensible. Better to wait until we know more about what’s happening there.’

Va bene.’ She would give it one more day. If she couldn’t find a way to speak with her papa, she’d hand herself in. It was only for Marta’s sake that she’d agreed to talk to Papa anyway.

Giovanna and Marisa dropped by before the night-time curfew. The four girls sat together in the Pivettas’ lounge.

‘The school has been transformed into a primitive detention centre,’ Giovanna said without preamble.

‘There aren’t any facilities,’ Marisa added. ‘Even the old and sick are sleeping on benches or on the floor.’

O Dio,’ Lidia muttered. ‘I hope they are being given food.’

Giovanna tapped the ash from her cigarette. ‘I’m afraid not. Some of the neighbours, hearing the children crying with hunger, have been passing bread, fruit and cheese through the windows.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Lidia choked back a sob.

‘It is.’ Marisa leant towards her. ‘But you can use the situation to your advantage. If you mingled with the people who are helping the detainees, you could ask about your father.’

Lidia wiped her eyes. She would do it. She had nothing to lose. If she was caught, she’d be imprisoned with Papa. And, if she wasn’t caught, she’d go directly to the police station anyway. ‘I will walk to the Collegio my own,’ she said, sending Marta a determined look. ‘It will be too dangerous for you to come with me.’

‘Absolutely not.’ Marta shook her head. ‘We’ll go in my babbo’s boat. The patrols won’t take any notice of us. It’s as if they consider women not worth worrying about; I’ve sailed right past them so often—’

‘But won’t we use a lot of fuel?’ Lidia asked. ‘The school is on the other side of Venice.’

‘We can cut across San Marco via the smaller canals. I know the route from visiting my nonna’s grave at San Michele cemetery.’

Lidia decided not to press the argument. When Marta got the bit between her teeth she never gave up. Lidia sat back in her seat and listened to her friends as they talked about the upcoming Christmas celebrations, and how miserable they would be with the Germans infesting the city like a plague. Lidia stared down at her hands. Hanukkah would start on December 22nd this year. Whatever happened, she knew she wouldn’t be lighting the menorah candles with Papa. And the realisation made her heart weep.
[Blog Tour] 'The Girl from Venice' By Siobhan Daiko #HistoricalFiction #WomensFiction
Siobhan Daiko

Author Bio:

Siobhan Daiko is an international bestselling historical romantic fiction author. A lover of all things Italian, she lives in the Veneto region of northern Italy with her husband, a Havanese puppy and two rescue cats. After a life of romance and adventure in Hong Kong, Australia and the UK, Siobhan now spends her time, when she isn't writing, enjoying the sweet life near Venice.

Connect With Siobhan Daiko:

[Blog Tour] 'The Girl from Venice' By Siobhan Daiko #HistoricalFiction #WomensFiction
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22 July 2021

[Blog Tour] 'The Steel Rose' (The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy, Book 2) by Nancy Northcott #HistoricalFantasy #TimeTravel

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[Blog Tour] 'The Steel Rose' (The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy, Book 2) by Nancy Northcott #HistoricalFantasy #TimeTravel
The Steel Rose - Tour Banner

The Book:

The Steel Rose
(The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy, Book 2)
by Nancy Northcott

  • Publication Date: April 29, 2021
  • Publisher: Falstaff Books
  • Page Length: 370 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fantasy/Romantic Fantasy

The Blurb:

The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy
A wizard’s misplaced trust
A king wrongly blamed for murder
A bloodline cursed until they clear the king’s name

Book 2: The Steel Rose
Amelia Mainwaring, a magically Gifted seer, is desperate to rescue the souls of her dead father and brother, who are trapped in a shadowy, wraith-filled land between life and death as the latest victims of their family curse. Lifting the curse requires clearing the name of King Richard III, who was wrongly accused of his nephews’ murder because of a mistake made by Amelia’s ancestor.

In London to seek help from a wizard scholar, Julian Winfield, Amelia has disturbing visions that warn of Napoleon Bonaparte’s escape from Elba and renewed war in Europe. A magical artifact fuels growing French support for Bonaparte. Can Amelia and Julian recover the artifact and deprive him of its power in time to avert the coming battles?

Their quest takes them from the crowded ballrooms of the London Season to the bloody field of Waterloo, demanding all of their courage, guile, and magical skill. Can they recover the artifact and stop Bonaparte? Or will all their hopes, along with Amanda’s father and brother, be doomed as a battle-weary Europe is once again engulfed in the flames of war?

The Steel Rose is the second book in the time-traveling, history-spanning fantasy series The Boar King’s Honor, from Nancy Northcott (Outcast Station, The Herald of Day).

Buy Links: 

This novel is available to read with #KindleUnlimited subscription.
[Blog Tour] 'The Steel Rose' (The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy, Book 2) by Nancy Northcott #HistoricalFantasy #TimeTravel
The Steel Rose - Front Cover

'The Steel Rose' -  Excerpt:

In this excerpt, Amelia and Julian’s Aunt Augusta search his library for clues about the Mainwaring curse and pull books from the shelves to donate to a charity sale. It introduces a possible avenue for lifting the family curse.

***

Despite hours of work, Amelia and Augusta had found nothing helpful about the Mainwaring curse. Now they were having tea before going back to the books Julian had left for them. Fighting frustration, Amelia savored the warm liquid going down her throat. At least she and Augusta had found several volumes of poetry and an old copy of Edward Gibbon’s multi-volume The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire for the charity box.

She glanced to the side, at the secret room that held the oldest books and those about magic. Usually concealed by a bookshelf, it stood exposed today. A touch of Augusta’s hand and a bit of magic had caused that shelf to slide behind the one on the left and revealed Julian’s sanctuary.

Having such a collection of books about magic to read whenever one wished would be divine.

Augusta took a bite of caraway biscuit. “You know, Julian can introduce you to a number of Gifted antiquaries and historians who might be able to help you. In the meantime, you’ll continue with your research here and sort a few books from time to time.”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

“Are you ready to resume our hunt?”

Reading old-style type, with f for s, was fatiguing, but it was necessary. “Of course.”

The two women settled back into their chairs by the hearth. If they could find a clue—even something to trigger a vision or a scrying—that could lead them to proof Richard III hadn’t murdered his nephews, surely that would satisfy the curse.

Amelia had tried again to See or scry any link between king and the armor she’d Seen a few nights ago. Images of a sturdy figure wearing it on the battlefield and others of it packed into a chest had offered no clue. The figure bulged oddly in the upper torso, but that could’ve been an ill-fitting surcoat. The French emblem in the vision posed another puzzle. King Richard had been an enemy of France. Did the flag mean someone he’d fought held the answer she needed?

For now, best to attend to her research and not worry about this mystery.

Amelia picked up the next book on her stack. She and her hostess read in silence.

The delicate chiming of six by the mantel clock drew Amelia out of her book. “This is interesting,” she said. “Many more people than I realized defended King Richard’s honor, no matter how subtly and carefully they had to do it. It’s no wonder they waited until the Tudor dynasty ended.”

Augusta’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. “The more insecure a dynasty, the more likely they are to kill even a remote threat.” She fished a book from her stack. “You should read this one, Horace Walpole’s Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard the Third. Take it home with you if you like.”

“We’re having a quiet evening for once, so I would like to have it.” Amelia accepted the book. “I should go, though. Mama and Aunt Louisa will be wondering where I am.”

“I’ll have James send for the carriage and bring your maid from the kitchen.”

They left the library without closing the secret room. With the Gifted footman away, calling for the carriage, was that wise? Before Amelia could think of a tactful way to ask, Augusta laid her fingertips on the doorknob. Faint silver flared around them, and she smiled. “Just a little ward until I return. Anyone who tries that door will find it stuck. Or so they’ll think.”

They strolled down the corridor to the stairs.

Descending, Augusta sighed. “One cannot help pitying Richard III when he learned his admired elder brother was perhaps not so admirable. Or feeling for poor Lady Eleanor Butler. Years before he met his future queen, King Edward secretly wed her, only to disavow the marriage when it suited him. She thought she’d won the heart of the most charismatic nobleman of the age, that she was Edward IV’s wife and would be his queen.”

“It must’ve seemed too good to be true.”

“As it proved to be.” In a voice as dry as earth in a drought, the older woman added, “She never married again, likely because she believed she would be committing bigamy. Julian says that in those days, a betrothal followed by a bedding made a marriage, with or without the ceremony. According to that book in your hand, a bishop married her to the king, albeit secretly. Of course she believed they were wed.”

“If Edward IV did that to her and later secretly married Elizabeth Woodville, his queen, how many others did he treat the same way between them?”

“We’ll never know. After King Edward died, the bishop told Richard of Gloucester, as King Richard was then, and showed his proofs to Parliament. Proofs that have gone missing. If Edward’s marriage to Eleanor was valid, as Julian and I believe, then his later marriage to his queen was bigamous. That made their children, including the two boys who’re still known as the Princes in the Tower, illegitimate and thus ineligible to inherit the crown.”

Amelia’s heart kicked. “If they had no right to the throne, King Richard had no reason to kill them. That would point to his innocence, perhaps even clear his name.”

Why had Buckingham seen them as a threat? Did he fear the nobility would prefer the sons of Edward IV, illegitimate or not, to him? King Richard would not have shared that fear. He’d acceded to the throne after being asked to do so by the nobility, and he’d subsequently received oaths of allegiance from the higher clergy, the lords, and officials of the City of London. His nephews posed no threat to him.

“If we could find that proof,” Augusta replied.
[Blog Tour] 'The Steel Rose' (The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy, Book 2) by Nancy Northcott #HistoricalFantasy #TimeTravel
Nancy Northcott

Author Bio:

Nancy Northcott’s childhood ambition was to grow up and become Wonder Woman. Around fourth grade, she realized it was too late to acquire Amazon genes, but she still loved comic books, science fiction, fantasy, history, and romance. She combines the emotion and high stakes, and sometimes the magic, she loves in the books she writes.

She has written freelance articles and taught at the college level. Her most popular course was on science fiction, fantasy, and society. She has also given presentations on the Wars of the Roses and Richard III to university classes studying Shakespeare’s play about Richard III. Reviewers have described her books as melding fantasy, romance, and suspense. Library Journal gave her debut novel, Renegade, a starred review, calling it “genre fiction at its best.”

In addition to the historical fantasy Boar King’s Honor trilogy, Nancy writes the Light Mage Wars paranormal romances, the Arachnid Files romantic suspense novellas, and the Lethal Webs romantic spy adventures. With Jeanne Adams, she cowrites the Outcast Station science fiction mysteries.

Married since 1987, Nancy and her husband have one son, a bossy dog, and a house full of books.

Connect with Nancy Northcott:

[Blog Tour] 'The Steel Rose' (The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy, Book 2) by Nancy Northcott #HistoricalFantasy #TimeTravel
The Steel Rose - Tour Schedule

16 July 2021

[Blog Tour] Mendota and the Restive Rivers of the Indian and Civil Wars 1861-65 (The Simmons family saga) By Dane Pizzuti Krogman #HistoricalFiction

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[Blog Tour] Mendota and the Restive Rivers of the Indian and Civil Wars 1861-65  (The Simmons family saga)  By Dane Pizzuti Krogman #HistoricalFiction
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The Book:

Mendota and the Restive Rivers of the Indian and Civil Wars 1861-65
(The Simmons family saga)
By Dane Pizzuti Krogman

  • Publication Date: 15th March 2021
  • Publisher: Independently Published
  • Page Length: 416 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction

The Blurb:

This is the fictional story set in Mendota, Minnesota of the Simmons family who are faced with the consequences of the Dakota Sioux Uprising of 1862 that swept across the state as well as the Civil War.

The father, Dan enlists in the 1st regiment of Minnesota volunteers as a teamster. His two sons, who are both underage join the 2nd Regiment. John, aged 16 becomes a bugler and William, aged 15 becomes a drummer. Their sister, Sara is left behind with their mother, Louise to fend for themselves. Dan is sent east to fight with the Army of the Potomac while his sons are sent to the western theater to serve in the army of the Cumberland. Back in Mendota, their neighbor and close friend, Colonel Henry Sibley is ordered to stay in the state to control the Indian uprising.

Dan will see action up through the battle of Antietam. He will later find himself in the hospital in Washington DC where he befriends a comrade also from the 1st Regiment. His sons barely miss the action at Shiloh but after, are engaged in all the major battles in the West. While they are passing through Louisville, William falls for a young woman, Mary who works as a hospital nurse. Back in Mendota, Sara befriends a young Chippewa native boy while her mother struggles with the breakup of her family. After Colonel Sibley defeats the Sioux, he is promoted to General and ordered to round up all the Dakota and push resettle them in the Dakotas.

This leads to the punitive expeditions that he and General Sully will command up until 1864. William is captured at the battle up Missionary Ridge and then sent to the prison camp at Belle Isle, VA. and then onto Andersonville. GA. John receives a 30 day furlough and returns to Mendota before he re-enlists. Louise and Sara wait for the war’s end so the family can be reunited, but events may not turn out as anticipated.
[Blog Tour] Mendota and the Restive Rivers of the Indian and Civil Wars 1861-65  (The Simmons family saga)  By Dane Pizzuti Krogman #HistoricalFiction
Mendota - Front Cover

'Mendota' - Excerpt:

Chapter 8: The uprising.

"We have waited a long time. The money is ours, but we cannot get it. We have no food, but here are these stores, filled with food. We ask that you, the agent, make some arrangement by which we can get food from the stores, or else we may make our way to keep ourselves from starving. When men are hungry they help themselves" -Taoyateduta,(Little Crow) 1862-

The Sioux Indian revolt and massacre commenced on August 18th. Authentic information reached St. Paul on the 19th, the same evening ex-Gov. Henry H. Sibley was appointed by the governor of Minnesota to conduct a military force against the hostile Sioux, and he started the next day with four companies of the Sixth Regiment for St. Peter. In compliance with the request of Gov. Ramsey, Gen. Halleck, on August 22d, instructed Gen. Schofield to send the Third Regiment to Minnesota. The War Department announced on August 27th that the enlisted men of the regiment, as paroled prisoners, were fully exchanged. A high value, even in their disorganized condition, was placed upon their service in the Indian campaign, and their arrival was anticipated with much interest. Rapidly marching until eleven at night, they made forty miles.

Near Acton, Minnesota close to the Lower Sioux reservation along the Minnesota River was the farm of the settler Mr. Robinson Jones. On the hot humid morning of August 17th, four young braves all belonging to Shakopee’s band, 18-year-old Brown Wing, 20-year-old Breaking Up, 20-year-old Killing Ghost, and 18-year-old Runs Against Something When Crawling were hunting in a wooded area near the Jones homestead. They wandered up to a split rail fence that separated the woods from the farm. Brown Wing spotted a hen’s nest with some eggs in it. He reached over the fence rail to take them and exclaimed to the others.

“I’m so hungry, I’m going to eat these.” Breaking Up reached out to stop him. “Don’t take them. They belong to a white man and we may get into trouble.” Brown Wing held fast to the eggs anyway and lashed out at Breaking Up. Angrily he dashed the eggs to the ground and yelled out. “You are a coward! You are afraid of the white man! You are afraid to take even an egg from him, though you are half-starved. Yes, you are a coward, and I will tell everybody so.” Breaking Up yelled back at him. “I am not a coward. I am not afraid of the white man, and to show you that I am not I will go to the house and shoot him. Are you brave enough to go with me?” Brown Wing accepted his challenge. “Yes, I will go with you, and we will see who is the braver of us two.” Not to be left out, Killing Ghost turned to Runs Against Something When Crawling and said, “We will go with you, and we will be brave, too.” “Yes, we will all go,” replied Runs When Crawling Against Something.

The four braves, without any permission from their chief, then moved out towards the house of Robinson Jones.

Robinson Jones, a family man, and settler in his early 30’s was resting in his cabin. Without any concern, he sensed something was amiss and headed for the cabin door to have a look outside. He opened the door and looked out across his property. Headed toward him were the four braves with rifles at the ready. Becoming alarmed at the sight and having heard rumors of unrest among the Dakota, Robinson reached for his rifle, which he kept loaded next to the door and made a mad dash to the house next door. This was the home of his brother-in-law, Howard Baker. He was greeted by a shocked Howard Baker, Baker’s young wife and the wife of another neighbor named Webster. Jones’s wife and his 14-year-old daughter were also at the house. As Jones relayed what he had just seen outside his cabin all the occupants of the Webster home rushed to the windows to see for themselves and were all horrified to see that the braves were now headed for the Webster house. A panicked Jones reached for his wife to comfort her. The startled neighbors could hardly believe what they were seeing. Ester, Jones’s daughter, ran to her mother’s side.

“They’ve got guns, mama! What could they possibly want? Mama! I’m scared.” Jones looked to his wife and daughter. “I don’t know what they want, but they sure don’t look happy.” Howard was now panicked but tried to remain calm. “OK, everyone take cover. Webster, take my shotgun.”

Howard lifted a rifle from its perch above the door then handed the shotgun to Webster. The men prepared for the worst as the women cowered in a corner of the cabin. Webster handed a pistol to Mrs. Jones and the men all took positions of defense at the door. Within moments the four braves had reached the entrance to the Baker house. In shockingly quick time they breached the threshold of the door without incident and immediately fired on the settlers. Before any of the defenders could get off a shot, the three men were killed. Mrs. Jones rushed to cover her child and was shot in the back. Ester was then pulled out from under her dying mother and raped by two of the braves. The other two rummaged through the cupboards and took whatever food stock they could find and stuffed it into a grain sack. One of the braves slit the throat of Ester and with a loud whoop, they departed the house. The four Indians rushed to the barn and stable to find a team of horses and a wagon. They hitched up the team and rushed off in the wagon. They cut across the open field and entered a wagon trail road. Runs When Crawling Against Something wiped the blood from the knife he used to kill young Ester, then turned to Killing Ghost.

“Where is Shakopee’s camp?” Killing Ghost who had taken command of the horse’s answered. “He’s about 6 miles above the Redwood Agency.” “He’ll be proud of how brave we are,” said Brown Wing. “Is he with Little Crow?” asked Runs When Crawling Against Something to nobody in particular. Killing Ghost answered him. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think Little Crow will find us so brave.” Breaking Up added to that comment. “Not after what you two did to that little girl.” Brown Wing tried to put on a brave face as he was now evidently not so proud of his actions in the death of Ester. “You know how angry whites get when it comes to their children.” Runs When Crawling Against Something scoffed and put an end to this early chatter. “That’s because they are weak and so are their children- Always crying-for what? They already have everything!”

The carriage headed down the wagon wheel road making haste for Little Shakopee’s camp. Though the drive was less than ten miles, they had to ford many streams and rough terrain full of fallen trees and tangles of brush. They did not get to the camp until late evening. Before going to Little Crow’s cabin, the four braves stopped to meet with Little Shakopee, thinking that maybe he would understand their violent outburst of the day against these innocent settlers and smooth the way for the meeting with Little Crow, who was not in this camp but had gone back to his cabin in Redwood Falls. Shakopee and the four braves exited the teepee and walked across the campground, passing the native dancers and drummers. It was a hot humid night full of mosquitoes, which were common in this part of the lower Sioux agency. The swamps, wetlands, and Minnesota river itself were the big contributors to these conditions, but the smoke from the bonfire held back the infestation of flying insects, which made their walk to the stolen wagon more pleasant. The braves mounted the stolen wagon and headed out. Little Shakopee took the reins and snapped the horses to a gallop. The wagon pulled out onto the agency road. Their drive to Little Crow’s cabin took them a little over an hour.
[Blog Tour] Mendota and the Restive Rivers of the Indian and Civil Wars 1861-65  (The Simmons family saga)  By Dane Pizzuti Krogman #HistoricalFiction
Dane Krogman

Author Bio:

Dane Pizzuti Krogman was educated in the fine arts at the University of Minnesota, receiving BFA and MFA degrees. He also specialized in Asian art history, with a concentration in textile and surface design. After graduation, he worked as a freelance designer creating fashion samples for women’s athletic wear. He eventually relocated to California and taught at Cal-Poly Pomona in the Environmental Design program then moved on to work as a pictorial artist for outdoor advertising. Moving back to the Twin Cities in 1981 he formed a scenic design company call Artdemo which in 10 years did over 1000 designs and productions for sets, props, and special effects for television commercials and feature films. In the early 90’s he relocated to Charleston, SC to work as a spec writer for feature film scripts. Six of his screenplays have won major writing awards and two of these have been optioned for production. During this time he also taught scene design at the College of Charleston. This position led to an adjunct teaching position at Virginia Commonwealth University where he taught art direction for filmmakers. In 1998 he took a full time teaching position at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts where he taught art direction, life drawing, set construction, and Asian film studies, eventually becoming chairman of the department.

The common thread through all of this has been his passion for Japanese design, art, and fashion. He has lived in Kyoto, Japan for the past 20 summers studying Japanese kimono and obi design of the Heian and Edo periods. In 2002 he won the Grand Prize for the best graphic novel at the Hiroshima manga competition. His graphic Novel Skeleton boy was selected for inclusion into the Hiroshima peace memorial library in 2007.

He was most recently an adjunct faculty member in the Graduate Program in Digital Filmmaking at Stony Brook Southampton. He is also an award-winning screenwriter. His screenplay, The Schooner was produced as the Australian film, AUSTRALIA in 2008. He has other award-winning films that have been optioned for production or are in production.

As a Civil War historian he has worked as a technical advisor for the films, Dances with Wolfs, Gettysburg, and Glory. He currently has one Civil War novel in pre-publication; MENDOTA, AND THE RESTIVE RIVERS OF THE CIVIL AND INDIAN WARS 1861-65.

He also works part-time as a crew member on a Grand-Am Rolex series race team. The team won the national championship in 2008
[Blog Tour] Mendota and the Restive Rivers of the Indian and Civil Wars 1861-65  (The Simmons family saga)  By Dane Pizzuti Krogman #HistoricalFiction
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13 July 2021

[Blog Tour] 'The Anarchy' (Conquest, Book 3) By Tracey Warr #HistoricalFiction #Medieval

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[Blog Tour] 'The Anarchy'  (Conquest, Book 3)  By Tracey Warr #HistoricalFiction #Medieval
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The Book:

The Anarchy
(Conquest, Book 3)
By Tracey Warr

  • Publication Date: 2nd June 2020
  • Publisher: Impress Books
  • Page Length: 218 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction/ Historical Romance

The Blurb:

Unhappily married to Stephen de Marais, the Welsh princess, Nest, becomes increasingly embroiled in her countrymen’s resistance to the Norman occupation of her family lands. She plans to visit King Henry in the hope of securing a life away from her unwanted husband, but grieving for the loss of his son, the King is obsessed with relics and prophecies.

Meanwhile, Haith tries to avoid the reality that Nest is married to another man by distracting himself with the mystery of the shipwreck in which the King’s heir drowned. As Haith pieces together fragments of the tragedy, he discovers a chest full of secrets, but will the revelations bring a culprit to light and aid the grieving King?

Will the two lovers be united as Nest fights for independence and Haith struggles to protect King Henry?
[Blog Tour] 'The Anarchy'  (Conquest, Book 3)  By Tracey Warr #HistoricalFiction #Medieval
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Buy Links:

[Blog Tour] 'The Anarchy'  (Conquest, Book 3)  By Tracey Warr #HistoricalFiction #Medieval
The Anarchy - Front Cover

'The Anarchy' - Excerpt:

Chapter 21

The Beard

‘Hold still, man!’ Gwenllian cried. Einon, one of the men serving Cadell’s father, sat before her as she struggled to weave the tiny, folded message into the strands of his bushy, red beard. Cadell pinched a hand over his nose and mouth to stop his snort of laughter, but it was near impossible to hold it all in, and his stepmother Gwenllian glanced sidelong at him. ‘You’re not helping, Cadell!’ she exclaimed.

Einon was also doing his best not to laugh. ‘It’s a mite ticklish, my queen.’

Gwenllian sat back to take a frustrated break from her third attempt to entwine the parchment in the beard. Twice before she had almost got it suspended in the wiry red hairs so that it was invisible and carefully couched. But as soon as Einon stood and drew himself up to his considerable height, the tiny letter dropped to the floor. ‘This is no good! It won’t work!’ Gwenllian groaned, her face pink with frustrated effort.

‘You’ve so nearly done it, mother.’ Cadell’s stepmother was not renowned for her patience. ‘Here, let me try.’ Cadell held his hand out for the small, folded square. He had penned the letter. His parents did not write, but he had learnt to do so during visits to his Aunt Nest’s household and he had written the message to the Norse lord Raegnald in a minuscule script. It read,

Gruffudd, King of Deuheubarth, sends love to his foster-brother Raegnald. I mean to attack the Normans at Cardigan, aided by the sons of Gwynedd. Will you send boats and men to assist me in this endeavour and help me to regain the kingdom that is rightfully mine?

Cadell’s slender fingers nested the message deep into the beard. He plaited strands around it so that it could not fall—not when Einon rode, or rolled over in his sleep, or stood in a gale-force wind on the ship taking him to Dublin and Raegnald’s hall. ‘There!’

The man looked down. ‘Can’t see it at all.’

‘It will hold?’ Gwenllian asked.

‘It will hold,’ Cadell said with certainty, looking at Einon. Then he turned to Gwenllian. ‘But is this wise mother?’

‘Wise?’

‘To trust our lives and throne to your brothers?’

‘Go, with my thanks and hopes,’ Gwenllian told Einon, her brusque manner belying her words.

‘My brother and I will be ready at the gate shortly,’ Cadell told him courteously in an effort to mitigate Gwenllian’s tone.

Einon tucked the forked ends of his loaded beard into his belt, bowed low to them and strode from the room.

‘I don’t want to speak in front of him. That is why you wrote the letter rather than sending a message by mouth,’ Gwenllian told Cadell.

‘Yes, I know.’ This way Einon could not have the message tortured from him if he were captured by the Normans at the port. He would be travelling from Llansteffan. That had been Cadell’s idea too. Nest had invited her nephews to visit her again and Einon would travel as part of the boys’ escort, and then slip away to Ireland by boat at night.

‘No, it’s not wise,’ Gwenllian stated. ‘I don’t trust my brothers at all, but is it wise for us, the royal family of Deheubarth, to sit here in this backwater stirring potage all day long?’

Cadell shook his head. ‘No, for sure. That is not wise.’

Author Bio:

Tracey Warr (1958- ) was born in London and lives in the UK and France. Her first historical novel, Almodis the Peaceweaver (Impress, 2011) is set in 11th century France and Spain and is a fictionalised account of the true story of the Occitan female lord, Almodis de la Marche, who was Countess of Toulouse and Barcelona. It was shortlisted for the Impress Prize for New Fiction and the Rome Film Festival Books Initiative and won a Santander Research Award. Her second novel, The Viking Hostage, set in 10th century France and Wales, was published by Impress Books in 2014 and topped the Amazon Australia charts. Her Conquest trilogy, Daughter of the Last King, The Drowned Court, and The Anarchy recount the story of a Welsh noblewoman caught up in the struggle between the Welsh and the Normans in the 12th century. She was awarded a Literature Wales Writers Bursary. Her writing is a weave of researched history and imagined stories in the gaps in history.

Tracey Warr studied English at University of Hull and Oxford University, gaining a BA (Hons) and MPhil. She worked at the Arts Council, Institute of Contemporary Arts, Chatto & Windus Publishers, and edited Poetry Review magazine with Mick Imlah. She also publishes art writing on contemporary artists, and in 2016 she published a future fiction novella, Meanda, in English and French, as part of the art project, Exoplanet Lot. She recently published a series of three books, The Water Age, which are future fiction and art and writing workshop books - one for adults and one for children - on the topic of water in the future. She gained a PhD in Art History in 2007 and was Guest Professor at Bauhaus University and Senior Lecturer at Oxford Brookes University and Dartington College of Arts. Her published books on contemporary art include The Artist’s Body (Phaidon, 2000), Remote Performances in Nature and Architecture (Routledge, 2015) and The Midden (Garret, 2018). She gained an MA in Creative Writing at University of Wales Trinity St David in 2011. She is Head of Research at Dartington Trust and teaches on MA Poetics of Imagination for Dartington Arts School.

Connect withTracey Warr:

[Blog Tour] 'The Anarchy'  (Conquest, Book 3)  By Tracey Warr #HistoricalFiction #Medieval
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5 July 2021

[Blog Tour] 'Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling' By Zenobia Neil #HistoricalFantasy

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[Blog Tour] 'Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling' By Zenobia Neil #HistoricalFantasy
Ariadne Unraveled - Blog Tour Banner

The Book:

Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling
By Zenobia Neil
  • Publication Date: 7th July 2021
  • Publisher: Hypatia Books
  • Page Length: 345 Pages
  • Genre: Mythic retelling/ Historical Romance
[Blog Tour] 'Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling' By Zenobia Neil #HistoricalFantasy
Ariadne Unraveled - Front Cover

The Blurb:

Ariadne, high priestess of Crete, grew up duty-bound to the goddess Artemis. If she takes a husband, she must sacrifice him to her goddess after no more than three years of marriage. For this reason, she refuses to love any man, until a mysterious stranger arrives on her island.

The stranger is Dionysus, the new god of wine who empowers women and breaks the rules of the old gods. He came to Crete seeking vengeance against Artemis. He never expected to fall in love.

Furious that Dionysus would dare meddle with her high priestess, Artemis threatens to kill Ariadne if Dionysus doesn’t abandon her. Heartbroken, the new god leaves Crete, vowing to become better than the Olympians.

From the bloody labyrinth and the shadows of Hades to the halls of Olympus, Dionysus must find a way to defy Artemis and unite with his true love. Forced to betray her people, Ariadne discovers her own power to choose between the goddess she pledged herself to and the god she loves.
[Blog Tour] 'Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling' By Zenobia Neil #HistoricalFantasy
Ariadne Unraveled - Teaser

Ariadne Unraveled - Excerpt:

The sacred olive grove, which usually gave Ariadne such peace, was dry and brittle with the heat of the long summer. Leaves and a few neglected olives crunched under her feet as she walked with Thalia. Manko and Talos followed behind at a distance.

“I brought honey and oil if you desire it,” Thalia said.

“Thank you, Little Leopard.” Years ago when Zoe had teased Thalia for her freckles, Ariadne had given Thalia the name to show how much she liked the spots.

Ariadne had told no one that the goddess had ceased speaking to her long before Dionysus had come. The goddess did not always speak to her high priestesses, but this felt different. Sometimes a high priestess could reach the goddess by swinging to epiphany.

They stopped before the sacred swing that Daedalus had built for Pasiphae. In early spring, novice priestesses wove flower braids around the two cedar posts. Musicians would play, and priestesses and novices would sing while Ariadne swung.

But now, at the height of summer, the swing appeared dried out, as if the sacred doorway would yield nothing. Still, Ariadne would try. She smoothed her skirt down and sat on the swing.

This is as close as you will come to flying, her mother had said when she and Phaedra first learned how to pump their legs on the swings designed for children. This one was different. The pillars were wider at the top, so the ropes hung at an angle. She had to work much harder, but that often led to epiphany.

She gripped the hot ropes and kicked off. As a child, she had thought Phaedra would travel this path with her, believing the two daughters of Pasiphae would both become priestesses. Ariadne’s crescent-shaped mark had begun to tingle at her first blood, but the goddess had never spoken to Phaedra.

Ariadne pulled back and pushed. The wind rushed through her hair, whooshing in her ears. She let the rhythm carry her to and fro. Sweat beaded her brow. The sun beat down. Let this be another show of my devotion, Goddess. Please tell me what to do. She pumped her legs, leaned back on the ropes. Had she angered the goddess by marrying Dionysus? Had the offerings Thalia, Melia, and Zoe left not appeased her? Or did the goddess no longer care?

She swung higher, pumped, and extended her legs over and over again, until her mind cleared. Now the goddess could enter and convey what she wanted Ariadne to do.

Fully entranced, Ariadne let her mind search for the goddess as her body continued to swing. She traveled to the cave sanctuaries. First, the one in the hills above Knossos, but the darkened cavern where women left offerings and came to give birth was empty. Her mind’s eye flew high, leaping from one peak to another. An old priestess alone in a cavern, staring out from the rocky crag to the sea below. Two girls who had just started their moon blood climbed up to another, eager to be able to enter the sacred space for the first time.

But the goddess was not there.

Ariadne swung, searching in her mind, calling the goddess by her names.

Mistress of Wild Things, Great Goddess, Our Lady, Artemis.

She searched across the island, from temple to temple to the uninhabited wild lands. She spied mountain goats asleep in the shade, and a griffin vulture circled above a canyon. Ariadne felt herself soar with the bird, the wind on her wings, her vision keen.

Great Goddess, where are you?

This sensation of flying with the bird, of going from cave to cave was a new one. Her power had never been this strong before.

She swung higher and higher, ignoring the pain in her hands and legs. Intense heat enveloped her, and she imagined jumping straight up into the sky, directly into the sun. Bright light and searing heat surrounded her.

Granddaughter.

The Titan Helios stood before her, his bronze skin giving off its own light. His eyes glowed with the sun itself; a crown of flames danced on his pure gold hair.

I have had a vision of you, child. Your fame will be great, but you will be abandoned and remembered as a girl left behind, though you will be far more than that. Your service to Crete is near its end.

Ariadne gasped. What did he mean? She could not speak. The fire of the sun consumed her, blinding her so she lost her connection to her strength. She put her hands up to feel where she was and began to fall, out of the sky, plummeting to the earth below.

She imagined falling into the sea, being extinguished by the water, but no, she fell toward Crete, past the griffin vulture, gliding on the wind, past the sleeping mountain goats and back toward her vacant body in the dried-out grove.

Thalia screamed as Ariadne’s body pitched backwards off the swing. Ariadne opened her eyes to see a flash of blue sky, the crooked olive branches. She had flown, and now she fell. She had reached an epiphany only to be thrown back to earth. Was she to die? Was that the goddess’s message to her?
[Blog Tour] 'Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling' By Zenobia Neil #HistoricalFantasy
Zenobia Neil

Author Bio:

Zenobia Neil was named after an ancient warrior queen who fought against the Romans. She writes historical romance about the mythic past and Greek and Roman gods having too much fun. Visit her at ZenobiaNeil.com

Connect with Zenobia Neil:

[Blog Tour] 'Ariadne Unraveled: A Mythic Retelling' By Zenobia Neil #HistoricalFantasy
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