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.”
About
the Author
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.
Miriam
will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner
via rafflecopter during the tour.
4 comments:
Thanks for hosting!
Thank you for hosting me on your blog!
Hello, Miriam,
Thanks for being my guest. Your cover is really compelling.
Hope the tour is very successful.
Thanks, Lisabet. Happy New Year!
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