Excerpt "Visions" Book 3 in the "Harp & Sword Chronicles"

The Death Knell...

Thaddeus felt the pall of death when he entered Stephen's chamber. The somber and hushed tones of the Death Knell played throughout the castle corridors—minstrels preparing those within the castle for Stephen's impending demise. Thaddeus would have ordered them quiet, ordered them to stop playing were it not for the fact their music would inform those who cared about the fate of their precious prince that he was gone.

At Stephen's last breath, a signal would be given to the minstrels from the chamber window. The final notes would drift away and the music would stop. The people within the castle and the surrounding courtyard would then know Stephen was dead.

Off to the side, as he had seen her many times before during this last year, Lieutenant Pemura stood at a podium recording in scrolls what was happening for the Caldysian chronicles. Her elfin-style face looked haggard with sorrow and weariness. How many times had she recorded Stephen being so close to death? Thaddeus had never asked her, and she probably had lost count, but the effects showed on her face. Her round brown eyes were heavy, clouded.

Her long auburn hair was pulled back only in a tail, the standard Rashule Braid forgotten for the sake of haste. She lifted her head to exchange a sorrowful look with Thaddeus for only a brief moment then returned her attention to the scroll.

In that one instant, Thaddeus saw a tear fall down her cheek, reflected in the soft torch light just above her station. How hard it must be for this woman, this scribe, to record all things of significance for the Royal Chronicles. How difficult it must be for her to divorce herself from her emotions. This time, however, though she fought bravely to control her composure, it was all too clear she was losing the battle. Thaddeus did not envy her.

He turned to the canopied bed, where he had shared every night this last year with Stephen, holding him, monitoring his breathing. Though the act of sexual connection could not be performed due to Stephen's illness, there were other things they did to express their love. The holding, the touching, the kissing… in Thaddeus watching over Stephen like a dragon guarding a valuable treasure, and in Stephen playing his harp for Thaddeus, his music as beautiful as Shevna waking up to Spring. In these things they had made love time and time and time again.

The bed had been their safe harbor in both sickness and in joy; a source of comfort when Stephen battled against the breathing attacks that sought to steal oxygen from his lungs and body. It had also been a shelter for them at the end of those long days after taking care of affairs of state, or Stephen's lessons and dealing with Megar and Folon. It was a place where they could rest in each other's arms and love each other simply by touch.

Thaddeus could not help but think how fitting it would be for Stephen's final moments to be in Thaddeus's arms… in this bed.

Both Benesh and Kinarr hovered over the dying youth, hidden from Thaddeus's eyes by the red velvet curtains that made up the canopy and served as a small means of privacy for Stephen.

Tamor sat by Stephen's side, holding his son's limp and pale hand between his own pale and shaking ones. He looked up at Thaddeus through a slit in the curtains and gave his son a smile.

"He has come, Stephen." Tamor eased Stephen's hand to the bed and stood, reaching out, no doubt, to brush the blond hair away from his son's face. "I'll send him over." He then turned and slowly walked up to Thaddeus. His stride was burdened and heavy, his stature slumped in the pending grief and obvious sickness coursing through his body.

"Thaddeus," he whispered, and took the younger man by the shoulders. The two gazed deeply into each other's eyes. Thaddeus did not bother to hide how he felt, his inability to accept what was happening.

Tamor's soul revealed his acceptance of this moment from years of preparation. This time, however, there would be no reprieve. Stephen would not make it through the night. It was clear in Tamor's face, written there like some noxious decree no matter how much Thaddeus wanted to deny it.

"We have been prepared for this since the healers told us of his sickness, Thaddeus," Tamor said. "You have only been with my son for a little over a year. You knew of his sickness, but you have had so little time to prepare for the outcome. I fear more for your heart than I do my own."

Thaddeus worked his jaw as he fought to bite back his tears. "Majesty? What are you saying?" He knew what Tamor was saying, but as with all cases of denial, to hear the words spoken rather than conjectured upon was a necessary evil.

Tamor gripped Thaddeus's arms tighter. "He will not live to see the sunrise," he whispered, the threat of tears choking his voice.

And there they were—the final words on the matter. No conjecture this time, no room for error or miscalculation of symptoms. Thaddeus tensed, and the need to weep defeated his attempts to hold back the tears.

"I can't accept that, Majesty. I won't accept that." If he kept faith in his denial, if he gave power to it, perhaps his belief would merit another day for him to bask in the love of his heart and soul.

Believe Stephen will live and he will. Believe it, believe it… believe it!

"You must accept it, Thaddeus," Erik said as he stepped closer and reached out to tenderly, firmly squeeze the tense shoulder. "You must be brave for Stephen's sake. Let him see your strength. He so fears leaving you behind. It is the one thing breaking his heart. Draw on that reserve of stubborn pride you harbor within you."

Thaddeus took in a few deep and shaky breaths and quickly brushed a hand over his eyes. "I wish to see him alone, if it would be permitted me?"

"It is permitted," Tamor said, his tone of anguish ripping into Thaddeus like a merciless sword cutting his heart in half. "I have said my farewells to him many times over the course of his life. He has asked for no more medicines. He is tired and wishes to sleep."

Thaddeus knew what Tamor was really saying. He needed assurance. "I will ease him into the next world, my king. I swear it."

Tamor lovingly put a hand to Thaddeus's cheek. "I know you will. Come to me when it is over. We will grieve together."

Thaddeus nodded, and a few tears escaped his eyes once again. He knew what this was doing to Tamor—what Stephen's death would mean to both the king and the land of Caldys, but neither were important to Thaddeus. He did not care for politics or family or any other thing in the world but the dying youth in the bed before him.

Nevome, Nevarie… my soul, my heart. To be parted from you will be death for me. But I vowed to protect you. I vowed to ease any pain inflicted on you. I vowed to hold you as dear to my life as my own breath. But you are my breath, you are my heartbeat. I live and breathe and will myself to feel because of you. Oh, I shall not tarry long in your wake, Nevome. Would that I could heal you in some way, but you shall not go into the next life alone. I know you will want me to live on, but without you I have no life.

Benesh and Kinarr approached, carrying away with them their bags of herbs and oils. Outside the rain fell in torrents as lightning flashed and thunder ripped through the sky. The elderly healer gazed out the window, his body weary, his spirit tired.

"The rain seems to know when shadows cross over a loved one's soul, as though coming to wash away the pain such shadows always leave behind." The comment was made possibly more for his own pain than that of the others around him. He too had lived with this burden since Stephen had become ill. He took in a deep breath and approached Tamor with reverence and compassion.

"It will not be long now, my king." He turned to Thaddeus. "Go to him. He needs you more than ever."

Benesh lowered his head, his face streaked with tears that glistened in the glow of the chamber's lit torches, but the torches were bitterly dim now, in the presence of impending death shadows.

Outside, the minstrels played on.

Kinarr drew close to Thaddeus, taking the warrior's arm. Thaddeus saw the tears streaming down the lieutenant's face, the soft green eyes full of pain. Kinarr loved Stephen. He had been the one who would have taken up the position of Stephen's warrior guard had Thaddeus not returned to Caldys. Now he and Shumway were back together, lovers in spite of their differences in rank. Kinarr would need his captain in more ways than just military focus now.

"Go to Shumway for your comfort," Thaddeus leaned in and whispered in Kinarr's ear, putting a comforting hand to his friend's neck. "You've done all you can for Stephen, Kin. Now it's my turn." A small kiss to Kinarr's cheek sealed the request.

Kinarr only nodded, trying to speak but unable to. He gave Thaddeus's arm an affectionate squeeze and followed Benesh.

The healer, Kinarr, and Pemura, who left her writing materials on the podium, slowly walked to the door, followed by General Erik, who turned to Thaddeus. "I will inform the other guards. The burden of telling them will not lie on your shoulders."

Thaddeus inclined his head in gratitude.

Tamor took his arm in a gentle and compassionate squeeze. "You were his hope, my son," he said. "When you entered Stephen's life, he saw a chance to live. You opened up a world for him he never was allowed to be a part of before."

Thaddeus nodded. The tears steadily flowing now, and he would not stop them. It would not be what Stephen wanted, but he could not deny them. They were as real as his pain, and he could not run from it or ignore it.

"As he did for me, Majesty," he choked.

Tamor pulled Thaddeus into a warm embrace, only for a brief but meaningful moment. Then he released him and hurried after Erik, Benesh, and Kinarr.

The door closed behind them and Thaddeus felt the weight of death hovering over the room. He turned to the curtained bed and feared what he would see, but it was Stephen who laid there. Thaddeus's soul.

"Thaddeus?"

Stephen's voice, weak yet full of need, broke Thaddeus out of his grief-stricken paralysis.

He ignored the threat of impending death and stepped closer to the bed, unbuckling his armor and setting it on the floor as he neared. "I am here, Nevarie," he said. "And I will never leave your side."

He undressed to his tunic, pulling out the rainbow cloth given to him upon their bonding ceremony from the pouch hooked to his sword belt. He let the belt drop to the floor, uncaring of the sound it made, for all sounds now, even the music of the minstrels that filled the air with their soft notes, were as dead to him as his spirit, dying in the presence of this merciless horror.

He opened the curtains and gazed upon the still, pale youth on the bed, propped against the headboard to allow more ease of breathing. His normally brilliant, golden hair was now dimmed in the moisture of feverish sweat.

Stephen opened his eyes, and even in the presence of a death patiently waiting for his body to expire, the prince was able to smile. "I am not afraid… Thaddeus. You taught me… not to fear."

Thaddeus stepped onto the dais where the bed was stationed. He slowly moved to Stephen's side, pulled back the covers as Stephen held out his arms. He slid in between the sheets and pulled his charge close to him, easing the prince's head onto his shoulder.

"Are you in pain?" Thaddeus whispered, tenderly kissing the sweat-covered brow. Stephen was warm, the fever engulfing his body. Thaddeus reached over to the table at his side and lifted a rag from the bowl of water. He wrung it out and used it to wipe the sweat from Stephen's hair and face.

"My body… is numb now. Benesh said… this would happen. It hurts to breathe… but that is… normal for me." He spoke haltingly, struggling to find what little breath he could pull into his lungs between the words.

Thaddeus gently ran the cloth over Stephen's pale features, combing it through his hair. "I will keep watch," he assured. "Rest now."

Stephen eased into Thaddeus's hold, placing his trembling palm over his heart. Could he feel the maddening beat under the flesh and ribs? Thaddeus fought to control it, but it was a losing battle.

"Before I sleep… I wish to… speak my heart," Stephen whispered.

"Then speak, Nevome."

"I want you to know… how much… I love you."

Thaddeus choked back the tears. "Such things we have said to each other time and time again, shown each other through action every day. I have never doubted. I have always known the depth of your love."

"Have you?"

"Yes."

"Still, I wanted to… voice the words… one more time."

Thaddeus kissed him again. "I love you as well, Nevarie."

"I wish I could… play for you… one more time."

Thaddeus looked up to a cloth with its swirling rainbow colors nailed to the wall above them. He positioned himself and pulled it from the wall, spreading it over Stephen. The youth reached out to grip it.

"Warriors burn the bodies of their dead, do they not?"

"Yes. To release their spirits to the heavens or to join with their lovers in soul."

"I would ask… such for me."

Thaddeus shut his eyes, forcing the stinging tears back. He choked down the sob that threatened to escape. The burn was preferable to the actual shedding of tears before this youth. A few minutes ago he needed the tears to flow. Now all he wanted was for them to vanish.

"As you wish, Nevome."

"And this will be… wrapped around… my body." Stephen gripped the cloth. "And the music… will fly into the wind… and surround you, Nevarie. And I will… never leave your side."

"Yes," Thaddeus whispered, unwilling to trust his voice to not quiver if he spoke louder.

"Take a piece of… this cloth for yourself… and carry it with you."

"I will. I will always carry you with me."

Stephen smiled as he rested his head one last time over Thaddeus's chest. "I remember the day… you gave me this cloth. The day after… our joining of souls. I played for you again, and… you told me how the music… reminded you of the birds in the jungle… you traveled through… with Jetar. How their mixed song… filled the air… and you were in wonder… over the different colors… of feathers that greeted… your eyes."

Thaddeus smiled as he wrapped his arms tighter around Stephen. "You carried the cloth with you for months afterward. Then finally we had to nail it above your bed when you saw how dirty it was getting."

"It was more… than just a piece of cloth… to me, Thaddeus. It was a symbol… of our union."

Stephen's voice faded off as his breathing grew more labored by the conversation. Thaddeus pulled him closer. "We need not speak anymore, Nevome. Ease your breathing. Let sleep come to you now."

"I do not wish… to leave you. I know if I sleep… our time here together… will be over."

"You will always be with me, Stephen. It is as you said. We have joined. How can I but believe you will always be with me? Now please, Nevome. Ease your fear for me. I will be fine. I promise."

Stephen wrapped his arm around Thaddeus's chest and tightened his hold. "My life… my soul… my heart, all these things… you made… better this last year, Nevome. Never… forget that."

Thaddeus nuzzled his cheek against Stephen's brow. "I won't. Not ever. Sleep, my prince. Close your eyes. I'll be with you… forever."

And with those words, Stephen closed his eyes. "Forever," he whispered.

Sleep took him into its peaceful realm quickly.

Thaddeus held him, his tears silent. He listened to the slow and erratic heartbeat… and waited for the end.
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M/M Good Book Review of "The Connecting Flame"

Heart Rating: ♥♥♥♥♥5Hearts
Reviewer: Pixie
Blurb: Thaddeus: A warrior cursed with a Blood-Rage.
Stephen: A terminally ill prince.
Reunited after nine years, Thaddeus discovers Stephen is targeted by the Gods, but with his cursed rage, he wonders–Is he the wisest choice to become Stephen’s protector?
Thaddeus: A warrior cursed with a Blood-Rage. Stephen: A terminally ill prince. Separated for nine years, they are reunited again by two warring factions of Gods and a mysterious mist of light, all of whom have their eyes on Stephen. Knowing the dangers of his Blood-Rage, Thaddeus must determine if he is the best choice to become Stephen’s warrior guard. But with the Aggregate System of Gods involved, he may not have a choice. In spite of his terminal illness, Stephen may be the prophesied Catalyst who will bring about the downfall of the Aggregate. In order to hold on to their reign, the Aggregate have a plan… and that plan includes the manipulation of Thaddeus’s love for Stephen.
CONTENT ADVISORY: This title has a bittersweet ending.
Purchase Link: https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/products_id/755/
Review: Thaddeus is a warrior who has been cursed with Blood-Rage and his dreams are leading him home; a place where his family were slaughtered. The young prince needs him, but Thaddeus has a fear that his Blood-Rage will do more harm than good. Stephen is a young prince who is seriously ill and is also cursed. The only time he feels safe is with Thaddeus, the man who saved him years before.  Now, he needs Thaddeus more than ever.
What an absolutely fantastic fantasy that is well written and leaves you longing for more. Thaddeus has been cursed and is well known as The Marked One, who leaves dead bodies after his Blood-Rage. Stephen is a frail prince who has lived longer than anyone thought he would. These two, the warrior and the prince, are pulled together by dreams and a bond neither knew about and the gods who are manipulating them and those around them.
This story is not a romance.  It is a true fantasy that has elements of love that is just starting to develop. Thaddeus and Stephen are our main characters and both have their own form of anguish. Stephen, because of his illness and Thaddeus, because of the losses in the past and his curse. and they are both being manipulated by the Gods. We slowly learn, as we progress through the book, of the manipulation and the players the gods are using.  and we get an idea of why the gods are doing the manipulation, but things don’t always go to plan, as some gods are playing two sides.
Although there is sex in this book, it is between secondary characters that use it more for control.  Although Thaddeus does have sex, it is because of the Red Moon Day (his species mating time). There are some nasty characters in this book who you will cheerfully want something bad to happen to and some great characters who you want the best for. The world building is quite good, but I can see us getting even more in future books, so we can get a clearer picture of the game that is in play.  we get some fantastic descriptions of the surrounding areas and we get a good idea of what Thaddeus and Stephen are being shaped for.
Although we are given a warning that it has a bittersweet ending it doesn’t.  It has a ‘to be continued’ ending that made me want the next book…now.  I will be reading this book again when the next one is released, just so I can say ‘ahhh’ when I open the next book. Sighing in satisfaction, as I see how Thaddeus will rescue Stephen from the High Dolen (some of the god’s high priest). If you want to know more, read the book…Bwahahaha.
I recommend this to those who love fantasy, gods manipulation, human manipulation, nasty brothers, fierce warriors, a strong bond between prince and warrior, fantastic back stories and a brilliant ‘to be continued’ ending.

"The Connecting Flame" Excerpt

Blurb: 

Thaddeus: A warrior cursed with a Blood-Rage. Stephen: A terminally ill prince. Reunited after nine years, Thaddeus discovers Stephen is targeted by the Gods, but with his cursed rage, he wonders--Is he the wisest choice to become Stephen's protector?

REUNION...

 Thaddeus lifted his bow and placed the arrow to the string. The buck stood only twenty feet away, grazing calmly on the leaves of some lower tree branches. It was healthy and strong and would make for good meat. Whatever Thaddeus had left over, he would give to a needy family. As he pulled back the string and took aim, focusing on a clean, quick kill… until the growl of a lone predatory salar tore through the air and sent the buck leaping away in fear.

Thaddeus cursed in frustration. He turned to the source of the interruption and heard the frenzied growl again, but only one thing could make a salar sound like that before attacking… human prey.

Forgetting the need to hunt for that evening's meal, Thaddeus gripped his bow and hurried over the hills, darting around trees and brush. The growl had come from the area near the Weeping Boulder. He would have to get there quickly in order to do what he could to save the unfortunate person who had disturbed the salar's rest. The man-eating beasts were merciless in their killings, usually clawing the belly open and letting the scent of warm blood grip them. They would feed upon their victim as it lay slowly dying.

As he leapt up onto the crest of a ravine, he looked down onto the far bank of the river… and froze in place.

There, with his back against a huge oak tree, stood a youth, dressed in what appeared to be the traveling clothes of nobility: a light blue tunic with a dark blue cloak clasped at his neck. Straggly blond hair hung limply to his shoulders. His breeches were also dark blue and his black boots reached his knees. The young noble stood like a statue, perfectly still as a snarling salar growled and unsheathed its fangs before him.

For the first time in six years, Thaddeus felt his heart jump into his throat. It was a sign of life he had not felt within since his soul had died in the Verma camp. For his dream had come to life before his eyes. He saw the salar crouch into position, ready to leap, and that pulled him out of his shock. He lifted the bow and arrow and took careful aim. "Don't move!" he shouted to the young noble.

The sound of his voice forced the salar to growl once again. From the way the cat crouched, the rolling muscles of its shoulders and back, it would lunge at any second. Thaddeus aimed for the neck and let the arrow fly just as the man-eating cat leapt into the air.

With his Rantha strength, the arrow had enough force behind it to rip through the golden hide and muscle, piercing the neck all the way through. Thaddeus watched with uncertainty as he nocked another arrow to his bow, ready to let it fly if the animal tried once more to attack, but no. The salar fell at the youth's feet, dead.

Relieved, Thaddeus drew in a heavy breath and let it out, releasing the excess energy built up by what had happened. He quickly removed the arrow from his bow and stashed it back into the quiver hanging off his back, but he could not take his eyes from the young noble.

Was this what his dream meant for him to do, simply to save the life of this youth? No, there was something more to this than just felling a salar to keep a noble youth from a violent death, and Thaddeus needed to find out exactly what.

He started down the ravine wall. "Are you all right?" he called before he leapt and somersaulted over the river, landing just a few feet away from the dead animal. He turned, now able to focus clearly on the youth.

Small in stature, but still tall enough to reach Thaddeus's shoulder, the youth looked extremely frail and thin. In spite of his flushed face and skin, he had a very comely face. In fact, with a healthy complexion he would be considered beautiful. His eyes were round and the color of a clear spring sky, or would be if not for the glassy film of illness clouding them. His strong jaw smoothed down into a round chin. His had a small, straight nose, turned up a little at the tip. And his lips, though full and shapely, were also pale and dry, the symptoms of sickness clearly evident. Yet Thaddeus wondered why such a sick and flushed youth would not be sweating. Not even a face-to-face encounter with one of the deadliest creatures of Fuhrahl Forest had caused him to perspire.

Thaddeus then saw the stone around the youth's neck and his heart almost stopped. He hitched a breath as the reality of truth came at him from all around his mind. Memories, desire, hope long forgotten; all of those things culminated within his being as he locked eyes with the youth, uncertain he could accept, yet uncertain he could not accept what he knew to be true.

"Stephen?" he whispered, unable to give any more strength to his voice.

The youth smiled at him and reached out a shaking hand. Thaddeus hurried to his side, grasping that hand. And the second they touched, both reacted to the physical contact. A surge of energy flowed through them from one to the other, and Stephen clutched Thaddeus's hand with surprising strength that overwhelmed the warrior. He had not expected such a grip from this obviously very ill young man. He looked into those glassy blue eyes, now swimming in tears. A smile full of tender knowing and contentment shone from Stephen's face, and Thaddeus felt the ice around his heart start to thaw from a gentle and healing heat, which had been far too long a stranger to him.

What happened next was so natural and so welcomed it took a few seconds for Thaddeus to remember the curse on the child prince he had met all those years before.

"I knew… you'd come back."

Thaddeus blanched. Those words had come from Stephen's own mouth.

Stephen had spoken!

But Thaddeus had no time to revel in such a glorious revelation. Stephen's weary eyes rolled back into his head and his body buckled. Thaddeus caught him around the waist and eased him down, cradling him in his arms.

"By Enreak, what is going on?" Thaddeus wasn't sure if he had spoken the words aloud. As he held the unconscious prince, he gazed down at the face that had many times, since his becoming The Marked One, haunted his dreams. The veins within the eyelids were prominent, deepening the gray coloring around the eyes. Stephen looked so much like the child of Thaddeus's memory. He had grown taller, of course, but the lung sickness had ravaged him without mercy.

"How is it you are alive?" the warrior choked out, as he ran a trembling hand over Stephen's pale and beloved face. "You have grown up, my Prince."

He noticed the stone, now encased in gold, hanging from a leather thong around Stephen's neck. He carefully ran his fingers over it, the smooth, oblong surface echoing traces of memory in his mind. That day, so long in the past, now rushed up to greet him in the present and it felt like these last nine years had never come between them; as though Thaddeus had never lost his family to slaughter that night, never sought to learn how to fight in order to avenge their deaths, never met and fell in love with a member of the Swarrin race named Terahn, and never lost that love to an act of violence sending Thaddeus over the edge into darkness.

"Stephen," he whispered, his voice choking under the strain of the emotion fighting with his reason. Stephen could not be alive, but here he was, in Thaddeus's arms. And he had held onto the stone, onto the memory of a rebellious youth who had saved him on that fateful day.

"Stephen, Stephen, Stephen." Thaddeus brushed the tips of his calloused fingers over the stone, worn by Stephen like a medal or, even still, an amulet of protection, just as Thaddeus had told him it would be. "Stephen, is this how you survived… by holding onto my memory, just as I have survived by holding onto yours?"

The tears that fell from his eyes were of joy, and for the first time in what seemed forever, Thaddeus did not deny them. Stephen was alive! The source of his hope, the small candle of light in his darkness, the treasure still shining in his burned-out soul, was alive, and talking.

Unconsciously, he pulled the youth tighter into his embrace and lowered his lips to Stephen's ear, whispering; "Is this a dream?"

But in a shattering second, something happened to turn the dream into a nightmare. Thaddeus felt the chill of steel against his cheek. He heard the sound of a hard-edged voice full of violent warning.

"Release His Highness now, Marked One, or I will lay claim to the legend of being your executioner."
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"Passion's Chill" (Excerpt...)

Blurb:

With his beloved Prince Stephen sentenced to be executed for treason, Thaddeus, the warrior cursed by the Gods with a Blood-Rage, must fight Stephen's accuser to the death. There is one problem: He needs the Gods' blessing to be victorious.

 

A FINAL REQUEST...

He walked up to the platform and examined the rings, where Stephen's chains would be attached. The thought of his prince in such a precarious position made Thaddeus ill. So instead, he focused on Kinarr's pain.

"You wanted to become Stephen's warrior guard."

Kinarr nodded as he sat on the edge of the platform. "Yes."

Thaddeus quietly fingered the rings, feeling their coldness, their lack of anything symbolic other than lack of freedom. He shivered.

"I have taken your only source of comfort from you."

"No, Thaddeus. Never. In your love for Stephen, I know he will be safe. That is comfort enough for me."

Thaddeus studied him with fondness. He sat beside his friend, their shoulders almost touching. Kinarr was a gentle soul, full of love for his prince and his people. He would be an honorable and trusted friend. How far that trust would go was what Thaddeus needed to find out.

"But now you have no one to share your life. With Stephen and me joining, with Shumway giving his affections to Pemura, it remains to be determined—who will take care of you?"

Kinarr chuckled, but it was full of dim mirth. "You?"

Thaddeus smiled. "I will always be your friend, and Stephen will always hold a place in his heart for you. You must know and believe that."

"I do, Thaddeus. It is enough."

"It's never enough, Kinarr, as noble as those words are. It is, however, very brave."

"Noble am I?" Kinarr chuckled again. "No. Brave am I? Far from it. But… I would never dishonor either Stephen or Shumway with my selfish desires."

Thaddeus smirked. "Hardly selfish."

"Hardly not. For this pain is about me, and what I cannot have. I do not fault you for that, and I do not fault Shumway. I fault myself for feeling too much. Someday such a flaw will get me killed. And for a Rashule, there is no greater shame than to lose your focus of duty in the blinding light of selfish passion. Therefore, I harbor my feelings like a fish caught in a net, and I refuse to set them free. If the pain is netted, it will at least die in its own time."

He turned to Thaddeus, expectant. "I would ask you to speak not a word of this conversation to anyone, even to His Highness. By my honor, Thaddeus, I would not have him pity me. When you and he are joined, I will guard both of you as is my destiny and honored duty. I refuse to let anything other than that direct my course."

Thaddeus absorbed these words like parched earth absorbed a long-awaited rainfall. "Then it is right we took this walk tonight, Kinarr. For in your heart you have shown me a man capable of such honor as to grant Stephen and myself a final request."

Kinarr studied him carefully. "You will win tomorrow, Thaddeus. Stephen's life depends on it."

Thaddeus smiled at Kinarr's confidence in him. He put a hand to the back of Kinarr's neck and gave it a fond squeeze. "In case I do not win, my friend, hear my words and heed them."

Kinarr gazed at him, and suddenly Thaddeus could see the blood drain from the soldier's face, and he knew Kinarr understood what was about to be asked of him. "Say it then," Kinarr choked.

Thaddeus breathed in deeply. "I would ask you to take Stephen's life."

Kinarr shut his eyes, his mouth twisted in pain. "Thaddeus," he whispered.

"Make it quick," Thaddeus continued, "through the heart. And hold him fast as you do so. I will not be able to embrace him in death. I give you that task, as a trusted friend. Let him feel the arms of love around him in his last moments. Do not let the Dolens receive any satisfaction in having their guards do the deed. My final wish is for Stephen to be honored, to be saved from the Dolens' form of death. For death by the hand of one who loves is easier to bear than from the hand of an enemy."

Kinarr stared at him, and for a long moment he was unable to move. Finally, he found his feet, as unsteady as they were, and stood. The look of abhorrence on his face made Thaddeus wonder if he had placed his trust in Kinarr too soon. "Thaddeus! I cannot believe what you are… what you ask is…"

"Is from his heart as well as mine. We have discussed it. It is our wish."

"Then why did he not ask me?"

"Because he wanted me to be able to trust you. Can I trust you, Kinarr?"

Turning and stumbling, Kinarr fell to his knees and swallowed heavily as if the weight of what was asked hit him square in the heart. "Thaddeus," he whispered with a sob, the words struggling to get past the choke-hold on his throat. "What you ask will be near impossible for me."

Thaddeus knelt beside him, pulling him into an understanding embrace. "You're the only one we can trust who has enough strength to carry it out, Kinarr. Can you—will you do this?"

Kinarr lowered his head into one hand, his tears seeping through his fingers. He clenched his other hand on his thigh, and a tremble of horror and sorrow rolled through his body. Finally, he removed his hand from his eyes, partnering it with his other.

"Yes, of course I will. Only, there will be two souls meeting you on the wind should that happen." He looked up at Thaddeus, silent tears streaming down his face. "No matter the Aggregate decreeing Stephen to die, the Dolens will never allow me to escape their wrath should I take their pleasure of killing Stephen away from them. They will throw me into prison. And with both you and Stephen dead, my life will mean nothing to me anymore. Once I take his life… I will then take my own."

Thaddeus shut his eyes, the weight of Kinarr's words flaying his soul. "Kinarr…"

"Those are my terms, Thaddeus. I would do this for Stephen because I love him as I do my own life, but I will not give the Dolens the satisfaction of having any control over this."

Thaddeus’s own tears threatened to spill. He quickly pulled Kinarr into his arms. "Then so be it. Let it be thus, my friend, and Stephen's judgment in you is sound. I know that now. And I will be able to enter the arena carrying with me a peace the Dolens would never suspect to be housed within the Marked One's soul."

Kinarr pulled away from Thaddeus’s comforting hold, enough so he could look deeply into the Rantha's eyes. "Stephen's love for you… it is as true as the sun, Thaddeus. As true and as bright. His judgment is sound to choose you for his protector."

Thaddeus pulled Kinarr back into his embrace, clutching him tightly. "By all that is right and true, by Stephen's name… we will be victorious tomorrow, should even death rise up to meet us."

Kindle Version Here
Nook Version Here

Writing Fantasy--Using Magnifying Glass to Find an Audience

 

Writing a Fantasy M/M Romance series is not easy. For one thing, there's not a huge audience for the genre', not compared to contemporary settings. It's great if it's within Paranormal parameters, but to world build off-world (A/U), it's another story... pun intended.

Then there's that--world building. To introduce a story line taking place in another universe is another problem, especially when there are plots and subplots and main characters and supplemental characters. Yup. Lots going on. The prequel to my "Harp & Sword Chronicles" will probably never be published, as it's too, too, world-buildy. Not enough sex, and it's all about Thaddeus (especially during the second part), and how he became the 'Marked One'. Stephen is only a child at that time, though mature for his age, and is only seen in the first part. The entire prequel is over 200 pages long. I'm working on it in case someday I offer it as a free read, but there's much to cut out due to overbearing exposition. And I have to ask myself, will anyone really care about this part of the world-building? Can I simply refer to stages of the prequel in future installments, such as in exposition dumps here and there, along with sparse flashback sequences? Much of the prequel is alluded to in "Passion's Chill", some scenes used as one or two flashbacks, but it's a conundrum. It's a difficult task, but... Thaddeus and Stephen's love story is deep and built on a foundation, as well as destined to be. It took me over 10 years to where I truly see possibilities for this series to be ongoing, almost like a TV show, with each installment like an episode.

But, again, the problem is finding an audience. All I can offer is an intimate relationship between two young men who care for each other deeply, and to have that love tested time and time again into a forged bond that seemingly nothing can break. I'm not going to guarantee that their love will constantly be without conflict, as they deal with abusive magicks and divine entities who just love to toy with them, but... it will be strong and powerful. Enough to win every time? Well, we'll see.

My greatest desire for this series is that people will give it a chance to grow on them. I believe they will be pleasantly surprised. =D
-Hurt/Comfort Never Felt So Good-
~Myr~

The second book in my "Harp & Sword Chronicles" will be released September 1st.  "Passion's Chill" takes up where "The Connecting Flame" left off and will have a HFN ending.  I hope to come up with some advertising/contests soon, so stay tuned here or on my FB page at Myristica Onenine for upcoming details.  I will be posting an excerpt on Release Day, both for TCF and for PC.  My thoughts are disorganized on how to do a Blog party so I'll be working on seeing what I can do to get that going soon as well.  

Until then, I hope that Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort in a M/M Romance is your choice of reading material.  If so, then Thaddeus and Stephen deliver on all counts!  =D

You can purchase both books here:

https://spsilverpublishing.com/index/book_authors_id/195/typefilter/book_authors/

Or, "The Connecting Flame" is on Kindle here:

http://www.amazon.com/Connecting-Flame-Sword-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B007X7EIB0/ref=bit_f_abba_amznsearch_ff_us_title/185-6461671-2732916?_encoding=UTF8&tag=abba-amznsearch-us-ff-20&tagbase=abba

Or on Nook here:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Myristica?keyword=Myristica&store=ebook

Enjoy!

Blessed Be!

~Myr~