Dark Child
by Miriam
Newman
GENRE: Romance
BLURB:
Born
at a royal banquet for King Conor MacNessa of Ulster, Deirdre is predicted by
Conor’s own druid to be blessed and cursed with a beauty that will make
kingdoms contest over her. He names her
“Deirdre of the Sorrows” and urges the king to slay her. But Conor, unwilling to murder a babe, takes
her under his protection only to fall prey to the curse when she is nearly
grown. Captivated by her youth and
beauty, the aging king will go to any extreme to possess her.
Excerpt:
Once inside, the king and his guests
found beef and mutton and pork…fowl and venison and fine, firm pink salmon borne on ice across
the sea from Alba where ice was often to be found. Curds and whey they had, and all else that a
dairy might supply. There were breads
and cakes, pies and pasties of every sort and great quantities of wine, honey
mead and ale both light and dark. Yet so
deep went Conor’s unease that he had no appetite for them. Singers, dancers and
musicians both foreign and native performed, male and female alike, but the
crash and roar of the storm drowned out the sounds of their merry-making. Men marked that never had such a storm
visited Ulster. Irishmen all they were
and accustomed to the rains and gales of their island, but even Conor agreed it
seemed no natural storm and that he, too, had a feeling of doom.
“Nonsense,” Felim insisted stoutly
as the king merely nibbled at his food, for he saw all his plans dashed to
destruction and the favor he wished of Conor turned to stone. “’Tis but a storm!”
Hardly had the words left the
storyteller’s mouth than a terrifying scream split the air, a sound to raise
the bristle hair on a hound’s back.
“’Tis only my wife, who labors,”
Felim insisted, but the king took not a bite further of his food and sat with a
pale and ashen face.
“’Bring her here,” Conor ordered,
“that I may see if that is the scream of any mortal woman, for I much doubt
it.”
And so the unfortunate woman was
required to present herself to the king.
“Tell me true,” Conor demanded, “was
it you who screamed?”
Felim’s haggard and trembling wife,
fearing for her life, nonetheless shook her head, for she knew her maidservants
would give her away if she lied to the great king.
“Nay, my lord,” she replied. “’Tis the child that screamed from inside my
womb.”
“This is a thing I have never
known!” Conor exclaimed, while beside him his druid Catha stood abruptly to lay a hand upon the mother’s
belly, his expression dire.
“’Tis the scream of a girl child,”
he predicted, “and her name will be Deirdre, the call of alarm, for she will
bring war.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends
has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I was published in poetry
before catching the romance writing bug. I bring that background to my writing
along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas
of psychiatric social services and many trips to Ireland, where I nurture my
muse. My published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy
historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently I
live in rural Pennsylvania with a “motley crew” of rescue animals. You can see
my books at www.miriamnewman.com.
Buy Links:
Giveaway:
$10 Amazon or B/N GC
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better
your chances of winning.
1 comments:
Thank you for hosting me on your blog!
Post a Comment