New Adult Fantasy Romance
Date Published: October 2016
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
How do you dethrone a heart when its owner has stolen your kingdom?
Altarn is used to tolerating the biases of men. It comes with being the first female to secure the political State Head of Blindvar. But Kaelin, the State Head of Ruidenthall, crosses the line when he proposes a merger of their two states. Altarn has reason to believe this is Kaelin’s attempt to make himself king of both. Believing it’s her responsibility to “dethrone” him, she rides to her last ally to ask for aid.
While on the road, she’s kidnapped and taken to Ruidenthall. She wakes from a drug-induced sleep to hear about a foreign army marching upon Blindvar, and Kaelin capitalizing on her kidnap to make himself king. He threatens her life if she tells anyone, but she will suffer tyranny under a king if she does not.
When the final battle forces her hand, she has but one choice: to save Kaelin’s life or let him die. She never expected to dethrone his heart instead.
Excerpt:
“And what do you think I lack?” she dared ask
him, though she feared the answer because her void was empty and he
looked sincere enough to fill it.
“Respect,” he said. “Respect is earned. They
love you for sure, they trust you for sure…They love you because you smiled at
them once, they trust you because their tax money goes right where you say it
will, but you have not commanded respect and that is what your nation needs
right now.
“Knowing you the short time I have,”
he somehow made that statement sound like that time started this morning, “it
appears you wield your emotions like a weapon and people have to back away or
be stabbed. I don’t think it’s so much a fear of having a female in charge,
it’s…having you in charge, and so people make that one and the same.”
The daggered truth stabbed her. She
sucked in a sharp breath, which left little room for words to defend herself.
His apologetic eyes made it worse, like he was being truthful though she wished
he’d said it just to be ugly. She didn’t know how to defend
against the truth.
“I fail to see why you care,” she snarled. Her
exposed weakness left her more nervous about leading an army,
and the bucket of white paint became so obvious now and Japheron’s
comment about it laid her entire self open, naked and ready for Kaelin to dress
her as he pleased.
“I care,” he said, lifting a finger as if he
could shove the understanding into her skull, “because you showed up
to a war council in a dress.”
She laughed at the ridiculousness of
his concern, but his eyes didn’t change.
“You’ve never had a dress in
a war council, so I can see how it would appear odd to you.” He
pressed his lips together, and Altarn wished the real concern she saw
in his expression wasn’t so earnest. “You’ve never been to a war council,
have you?”
“I don’t see how the proceedings are
any different than a regular court session where other problems with equal
importance are discussed. I have been doing that for a year.”
He exhaled and leaned back, crossing a boot
over one knee. “It’s different for Ruids. We discuss war plans every
week because of our pirate problem. The mood is
different, the light in our eyes is different. It’s life and death we
speak of, and that holds a special kind of ceremony we honor in our speech, in
our manners, and our dress.”
“Why would my dress not honor this ceremony?”
“It might…except you look like a damn
princess. I don’t know about Blindvar, but we killed our princesses long ago.
Your people don’t want a princess. They want a war queen. A princess
can’t handle the emotional responsibility of sending people off to
their deaths, but a war queen can.
“You’d be surprised how willing your soldiers
would be to die for you, so long as you did it without crying as they march
away. They need to be reassured you’ll hold your ground when they cannot.”
The image he put in her head gave her
pause. She wanted to buck his advice— advice he’d earned through years with
boots on the ground in a real fight. But he saw through her. She
wasn’t trained on how to earn the respect he spoke of, and to ignore
advice from someone who did would stunt her growth as a leader, even if that
advice came from the man who expected Blindvar as payment for his
services.
“I think you could use advice, too, Kaelin.”
He stood, folding his naked arms. The busy
lacework tattoo almost made his other arm invisible. “Enlighten me.”
“I suggest when you send a man to stage an
assault on me, you don’t send one who breaks so easily. Turns out, he needed
saving.”
He unfolded his arms. “That’s off topic.”
“Brilliant, really, staging those two attacks
on me. The Lord of Ruidenthall rushing in at the right time
and saving the Lady of Blindvar is quite romantic, going so far as to
complete the rescue with a kiss.” She watched that familiar twitch in
his jaw, the debate dancing behind blue eyes.
He ducked his head, spinning around to
leave the room.
Altarn laughed after him, reveling in her
small victory of chasing him out of his own garden. If she had nothing else,
she had blackmail since he had just admitted his attempts to woo her on their
way to Athenya embarrassed him to the core.
About the Author
J.M. Robison is a fantasy historian who chronicles the events which force heroes to reveal their mistakes, lead rebellions to dethrone tyranny, and unearth ancient secrets to free the oppressed. She's quested over lands with the U.S. Army and now works for the king under the honorable title of Deputy Sheriff. She makes her own shampoo, lotions, laundry soap, face wash, and toothpaste. Some day she'll pack the wagon and roam the mountains in search of dragons.
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