Life is good to a former soldier
to the margrave. Riven kan Ingan is settling into his middle years,
a country giarl.
He’s still struggling with his less than congenial relationship
with son and heir Val and the fact that second son Ilke wants to
become a priest, but the other children are still under control, and
his beloved Barbara is as loving and fiesty as ever.
Through his efforts, a treaty
with the barbarian Ghermians brings peace to Francovia, , with the
barbarians have settled qeacefully within the kingdom. Too soon,
however, the little bubble of contentment bursts.
With
the ascension of Meraud’s son Morling to the throne, the new king
enacts severe laws and restrictions against his foreign-born
citizens. Soon civil war is imminent, and Riven must choose between
swearing loyalty to a madman or becoming a traitor to the country he
loves.
EXCERPT:
“Why
this secrecy, Llanfir?” Riven didn’t bother with a greeting.
“Come inside.” He gestured to the manor. “Barbara will be glad
to see her brother.”
“Nay,
Riven.” Llanfir glanced at the open gate and back at him. “I
don’t wish my sister to know I’m here.”
“Why
not?”
“My
men and I travel to Aljansur, Riven. I won’t come inside because I
don’t wish Llanginfiar to know.” Llanfir had never accepted the
name Barbara
for his sister. Other than her husband, he was the only one who ever
called her by her true name.
“What
do you mean? Why are you going to Aljansur?” As soon as he asked
that, Riven knew it came out wrong. He’d meant to say Why
are you going now?
“Surely
you’ve heard what’s happening? Ghermian-held lands are being
seized by our new king.” Llanfir hesitated a moment, then burst
out angrily, “I was uncertain of making that treaty. I thought it
a mistake to trust civilized men—now you see why.”
He
shook his head, silver braids swinging.
“You
mustn’t blame Leontilf for what’s happening now, Llanfir,”
Riven argued.
“I
admit Leontilf was honorable, as was his son, but this Morling…”
The
wind begun to blow, and the two men moved into the shelter of the
gate, Llanfir limping slightly as he favored the leg injured in a
long-ago battle. The pony stamped its hooves impatiently.
“I’m
riding now to register my protest,” he continued. “If Morling has
any honor at all, surely he’ll hold valid this treaty…” He
tapped the scroll tucked into his belt, which both he and Leontilf
had signed on the day they met, with Riven and Hraeth san Gene as
witnesses. “…made with his grandfather. It must
be, otherwise…”
He
didn’t finish.
“Wait,
I’ll saddle a horse and go with you.” Riven offered. He put a
hand to his mouth, cupping it so his voice would carry to one of the
guards.
“Don’t.”
Llanfir put out a hand, pulling his arm down. “When I first came
here, I asked you to act as intermediary for me, Riven, but this time
I have to speak for myself and my people.” He allowed himself a
slight ironic smile. “Besides, from all I hear, your presence would
be a detriment rather than an asset.”
“I
wish I could take offense at that.” Riven’s answer was as rueful.
“Unfortunately, it’s most likely true. Take care then,” he
cautioned. “It’s being kind to say Morling’s unstable. Take
great care. Seeing you may topple him over the brink of his madness.”
“I’ll
do nothing untoward,” Llanfir promised. “I’m carrying no
weapons, and neither are my men.”
Looking
around, Riven realized he saw no swords at anyone’s saddle, no arms
at all, not even a longbow. A twinge of uneasiness stabbed through
him. “I hope that’s not a foolish gesture.”
“It’s
a necessary one. He has to see we come in peace.”
He sounded so assured Riven
allowed himself the hope the problem might be easily solved, though
he feared Morling’s hatred of the foreigners in their midst
couldn’t readily be turned aside with reason. With his blue eyes
and snow-white hair, Llanfir, though now Francovian in his life-style
and dress, would represent exactly what the margrave hated.
“It
might be prudent for some of your men to be armed. You may be
walking into a viper’s den, Llanfir, so be cautious,” Riven
urged.
“I’ll
be as careful as I can without provoking him,”
With
those words, his friend caught up the reins and swung into the
saddle. With a call to his men, he rode away, leaving Riven standing
in a flurry of snowflakes rapidly falling.
To
purchase A Singing in the Blood, go to:
Paperback
available exclusively from the publisher’s website:
http://www.classactbooks.com/component/virtuemart/fantasy/a-singing-in-the-blood-8462017-10-14-23-35-38-detail?Itemid=0
About
the Author:
Toni
V. Sweeney has lived 30 years in the South, a score in the Middle
West, and a decade on the Pacific Coast and now she’s trying for
her second 30 on the Great Plains.
Since
the publication of her first novel in 1989, Toni divides her time
between writing SF/Fantasy under her own name and romances under her
pseudonym Icy Snow Blackstone.
In
March, 2013, she became publicity manager for Class Act Books (US).
She is also on the review staff of the New York Journal of Books. In
2016, she was named a Professional Reader by netgalley.com.
In
2015 and 2016 Toni was voted one of the Top 10 authors of those years
by Predators & Editors Readers Poll. In
2013, the Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer’s Choice voted The
kan Ingan Archives
(Part Two of the Arcanian Chronicles) a Special Mention, and the
following year, named the individual novels The
Man from Cymene,
and Space
Studs,
from the same series two of the Top 8 SF/fantasy novels of 2014.
As
of 2018, Toni currently has 55 novels in print, including 3 series,
and 3 trilogies.
To
find out more about Toni, go to:
Amazon
Author’s Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002BLQBB8
Twitter:
@ToniVSweeney
Love the excerpt! Good luck with the book!
ReplyDeleteLoved reading about your book! It sounds great!
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