This week’s Indie Author Spotlight shines on Angela B Chrysler. Read an excerpt from Dolor and Shadow, the 1st book in her Tale of the Drui series and enter her $25 Giveaway.
Also, she is handing out grab bags to ALL guests from 28 October to 31 October. Everyone from the US who “claims their grab bag” gets 4 bookmarks from me and an eBook as well as their name entered into a drawing to win a signed paperback. Everyone who is international, has their name entered into a drawing for a chance to win a $25.00 gift card and an eBook.
Even the winner of the Rafflecopter can enter! All you would need to do is to click on the Grab Bag Buttons at the end of post.
Best of luck!
Dolor and Shadow (Tales of the Drui #1) Book Blurb
As the elven city burns, Princess Kallan is taken to Alfheim while a great power begins to awaken within her. Desperate to keep the child hidden, her abilities are suppressed and her memory erased. But the gods have powers as well, and it is only a matter of time before they find the child again.
When Kallan, the elven witch, Queen of Lorlenalin, fails to save her dying father, she inherits her father’s war and vows revenge on the one man she believes is responsible: Rune, King of Gunir. But nothing is as it seems, and the gods are relentless. A twist of fate puts Kallan into the protection of the man she has sworn to kill, and Rune into possession of power he does not understand.
From Alfheim, to Jotunheim, and then lost in the world of Men, these two must form an alliance to make their way home, and try to solve the lies of the past and of the Shadow that hunts them all.
Dead men breed no pain.
Her eye settled on the black and reds of Gramm’s pommel.
While he sleeps…he wouldn’t even know…and I could return and conquer Gunir.
Throwing off the blankets, Kallan grabbed the nearest saddlebag and rose to her feet. With full force, she threw the satchel into the back of Rune’s head, jerking him awake.
Before he could turn and assess, before he could comprehend, Kallan took up his sword and unsheathed Gramm, its blade ringing out as if sounding off the opening note to his dirge.
Within two long strides, she came to stand over the Ljosalfar king and gave her battle cry. Seeing the blade turned down, Rune visibly braced for the sword to penetrate his heart as Kallan dropped all her weight onto him and plunged Gramm into the earth.
Blocking her face in shadow, her hair hung free as she heaved. Blood flowed where the blade nicked Rune’s ear. Against the black of Gramm’s hilt, Kallan’s white fists shook. The fire popped as Rune watched.
“Far too long I’ve dreamt of my sword stained with the blood of your people.” Kallan said. “Too long I’ve sought your death. Too long I’ve moved to strike. Even as you pulled me from the rancid darkness and I lay dying, did I plan to kill you and avenge my father’s death. Even now, all I have to do is strike. At the end of it all, I must decide. Should I kill you? Should you die?”
Rune watched, ready for whatever choice she made next.
“I should kill you,” Kallan whispered, “and watch your blood run with the blood of my people. If I kill you, all my troubles end. And I go home to Lorlenalin, my father’s death avenged.”
“And if you’re wrong,” Rune said, “if it was another who stole your father’s life, leaving him to die dishonorably upon the fields of Alfheim, whose life then will you have avenged by wrongfully killing me?”
The heavy burden of understanding weighted down her eyes, and, all at once, there was doubt.
“What wars may come by staining your hands with my blood?” Rune’s hush swept through her. “What lies then will you tell yourself once you’ve lied to your people? Can you risk being wrong, Kallan? Can you risk all the lives that will die and mine, all from your mistake?”
“Why did you save me?” she breathed. “Why did you kill my father only to save me?”
“I didn’t kill him,” he whispered.
“I can’t believe you.” Her voice wavered as the words caught in her throat.
“A king’s head is worth its weight in gold,” Rune said. Her eyes widened with unshed tears as she recalled Aaric’s words to her. “Name your price,” Rune said.
The back of her throat burned as she forced all other thoughts aside.
“Crawl through Svartálfaheim,” she said, “into the depths of Hel, beyond the roots of Yggdrasill, and bring him home to me.” Kallan stifled a sob. “That is my price.”
The chill from Rune’s eyes was gone, replaced instead with a pity that reached down into her and shook the walls she had built on anguish.
“Find the father you took from me,” Kallan bade, “and restore him unto me.”
“I can’t,” he whispered thickly.
Kallan’s dagger was suddenly unsheathed and pressed against his throat.
“Please.” The word tripped on a gasp. A tear slipped from her eye. “If I let you live,” she said, “please give my father back to me.”
He visibly swallowed against the blade.
“Please,” she said.
Additional Books by Angela B. Chrysler
About The Author
Angela B. Chrysler is a writer, logician, philosopher, and die-hard nerd who studies theology, historical linguistics, music composition, and medieval European history in New York with a dry sense of humor and an unusual sense of sarcasm. She lives in a garden with her family and cats.
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