See the video of her performing live at the King’s Enjoy book launch here:www.caspeace.com
Q&A With the Author:
1. Describe yourself in 50 words or less.
I’m female, British, and I adore writing fantasy. I have a wonderful husband and two gorgeous rescue dogs. I’m quite small, at 62 inches, and I also love country walks, folk singing and singing in our church choir, growing cacti, riding horses, and working with stained glass.
2. What do you love most in the world?
My husband and my family, and I include our two rescue dogs, Milly and Milo, in the word “family”. I have a brother and my parents, and my husband has three adult children and six granddaughters, so family get-togethers are great fun!
Connect with the Author here:
Three years have passed since Reen’s trial and exile and changes have occured at the Manor. Taran now resides in Loxton Castle as Elias’s Court Artesan, with Sullyan, General Blaine, and Colonel Vassa all making regular tours of guard duty there. Accused of corrupting her daughter Princess Seline, the disgraced former queen, Sofira, has been exiled to Bordenn, where she nurses a bitter heart. And a terrible scarecrow creature has taken roost in a dank cell below the palace of Lerric, Sofira’s father.
Word reaches Sullyan of Reen’s suicide. The lack of a body and a series of dreadful events in Port Loxton—a vicious murder, a brutal ambush, and a devastating fire—raise doubts in her mind. She launches an investigation, unsuspecting of the evil that’s about to be unleashed...
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Lerric, aging client-king of Bordenn, stood in the dark doorway. A damp, noisome smell assailed his nose, the drip of water reached his ears. Lerric shivered, his reaction not wholly due to the chill in the air.
Deep within the lightless room he detected a hint of movement. Creaking leather, a hiss of pain. Lerric stepped one pace farther from the door’s protection and raised his lamp. As soon as the faint yellow light touched—and flinched from—the dark form huddled on the truckle bed along the far wall, a vicious curse sounded. A crooked hand flew up to shield eyes that could no longer bear good, honest light.
“Put that out, you bloody fool! Would you blind me entirely?”
“Ah . . . your pardon.”
Lerric shuttered the lamp and gloom reclaimed the cell. When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, the king assessed the cell’s lone occupant.
Habitually dapper and well-fed, his body had assumed scarecrow proportions. A parody of his former self. The fastidiously clean and expensive raiment was replaced by a thin, shabby robe of dusty black. A darker blot amid the shadows, it barely disguised the gaunt frame it covered.
Gone were the arrogant swagger and confident poise, replaced by a savage desire for revenge, a thirst for retribution. Three years of incarceration and hopelessness, of nursing raging grievances, hadn’t lessened the pious fervor and deeply-held beliefs. Thirty-six interminable months of imprisonment and deprivation had served only to deepen his determination to rid the land of those to whom he owed his life. Those without whose mercy he would have suffered a horrific and agonizing death.
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