I woke up this morning with a lovely note from my editor. She is halfway through the edits, and is excited with the layout and world building of book 2 in the Praetorian Rising series. I can’t even begin to describe how exciting and nerve wracking the feeling is of someone else reading your book for the first time.
Book 2 has been a labor of absolute love for this story and the characters, but it’s been a whole different experience than with Praetorian Rising. Book 2 I had a basis of understanding on what to do, but I also have a book 1 to compare it to. I wonder, will it be good? Will anyone like it? Did I lose the gift of writing and now I’m just a hack???
I feel much better this morning getting news from my editor that she is halfway through book 2 and she is LOVING IT! With my heart near bursting, and my excitement to just dive back in to the story with a renewed fervor, I decided to share a tiny excerpt from Book 2 that I do sincerely hope you enjoy. Unlike Praetorian Rising, I have taken to Prologues in these next books to give some depth on context to the story on a whole. I personally love Prologues in books, it’s like the Star Wars scroll at the front end of your book. A smallest hint of foreshadowing or a layout of details to hold onto for a later time when you reach the AH HA moment.
The Prologue to book 2 is no different, and I do wonder if my Rogue readers will catch on to what this scene is truly about. Keep in mind, this excerpt is PRE-EDIT and I have no doubt will change before the final edit, but I wanted to share a piece of Book 2 with you in hopes that you are as excited as I am on this book to come:
BOOK 2 – EXCERPT
Prologue —
It was too cold to be brisk, the air was downright bitter. The sharp sting of early dawn stabbed at the lining of his nose, but he didn’t dare move away from the open window. There’d been no warning, no raven sent ahead with a note; but intuition told him he needed to be ready. Langhorn knew this would be the morning he’d see her.
Looking out over the expanse of White Wall, he scanned the horizon line of the distant mountains and forest edges in hopes of movement. A scuttle, a slight shift amongst the tree line, the splotch of black and brown against the wide expanse of green. He waited with bated breath, but saw nothing of consequence.
He felt the soft flutter of feather against his elbow as he stood against the window ledge and extended his cloaked arm toward the brown and white speckled hawk without thinking. Archimedes was more than a pet to him, the loyal hawk was his silent confidant. If anyone were to speak the birds language perhaps Langhorn would second guess the level of frank openness he’d taken with the wee ball of feather and fluff. He knew however, without a shadow of doubt, that his secrets were safe. Archimedes was as loyal and stern as was the depth of his own character. Nothing would persuade Langhorn to turn on or against the ones he loved, and his feathered companion was no different, though perhaps just a slight bit more stubborn. A soft smile played across Langhorn’s lips as he watched the bird stare out the window with a look of desperation he felt quite deeply himself.
“You think he’ll come this morning?”
Archimedes turned his golden eyes on Langhorn, the sharply hooked beak chattering as though in reply. It was the third early morning in a row that Langhorn had stood in front of the open window of his study waiting, hoping, and begging the gods of fate to bring news of his granddaughter back to him. The ache of her absence for the past seven years and the sharp jolt of guilt as to why she was gone blazed through his chest in fierce recognition. He rubbed absently at the hardened breastbone beneath the heavy silver cloak he wore, and hoped he could one day forgive himself for what he knew was about to happen. There would be no easy way to save her, no possible alternatives, but he’d do whatever it took to ensure the safety of his granddaughter. It ached in the depths of his chest in a way he’d never felt before, not even at the loss of his wife Laura, whom he’d loved dearly.
Archimedes clicked his beak and scooted fractionally closer to Langhorn in the open air of silence between them.
“No, I can’t be certain she will be here today, you’re right. But I do have a strange feeling. Today feels different.”
The hawk said nothing as it ruffled up it’s feathers as though settling in for a long wait.
“I’m a patient man,” Langhorn said conversationally. Archimedes ignored him and stayed rooted to the spot as though to prove that between the two of them, the bird would be the one to wait longest. Langhorn chuckled and scratched the birds head with loving affection.
Rays of early morning light peaked over the mountain side spilling dappled hues of orange and yellow across the late summers grassy meadows. Early autumn trees rustled their leaves with excitement as a sharp breeze slipped through their sleep heavy branches, but the gentle sway of landscape and atmosphere remained empty, silent, and barren.
“Perhaps tomorrow my feathered friend,” Langhorn said on a small sigh of disappointment.
Archimedes perked up suddenly, his head swiveling toward the door of Langhorn’s study. A patter of steps echoed down the hall growing louder as Langhorn waited. In a flurry of movement, Archimedes leapt into the air flying upwards toward his favorite perch in the rafters of the room just as a young girl of fifteen flung open the door.
“Doctor!” she panted heavily as though she’d run up the four flights of stairs to his study. “There’s a man here to see you. He said it’s urgent.”
Maggie’s cheeks were flushed pink as she spoke, the black fringe of her bangs highlighting the slate grey of her eyes. “He’s brought a woman,” she said as he moved toward her without a word. Langhorn’s face snapped to her flushed expression to search for any additional clues. His heart clutched in his chest in fervent hope of who he’d find waiting for him.
