C.J.R. Isely's Blog, page 2

Book Reviews: Ranger's Apprentice - The Ruins of Gorlan

This blog may include affiliate links. I may receive a commission--at no extra expense to you--for purchases made through links in this post.

Let me kick off this review by saying that, despite this book being on my TBR for literal years, it took until 2022 to finally sit down and go through the first of this series. I ask that you heed my advise and don't let this gem of a story just sit on your to be read list. Don't procrastinate, it's fantastic.

A huge thank you to the readers who reached out, asked if I had read it, and then encouraged me to get to reading it.

What a way to kick off a series.

Something I find hard in the world of fantasy reading is that a lot of the popular books don't resinate with me in this modern era. Many have a heavy push for romance, which seems to take away the magic of the adventure. It makes me revert to the one extremely popular series that I feel doesn't do that--Harry Potter--which I then read again and again rather than trying to read any of the newer material out there.

Ranger's Apprentice has been on my TBR for literal years, since I first saw it on a shelf in Barnes and Nobles when I was originally writing the Ranger of Kings books (between 12-14 years ago!)

But, I've found myself with some heavy reluctance to pick it up. Much of this is, after the glowing reviews I heard from others, I was worried it would be a disappointment like other popular fantasy series I've attempted.

I was wrong.

The Ranger's Apprentice, Ruins of Gorlan, starts with the perfect amount of dark intrigue when it sets the stage with an outcast tyrant who wants nothing more than to rise to power once more. It gives you shivers to read of his dark creatures, his heartless sense of purpose.

Then you meet our hero, who shares the same name as my own hero.

Will is a boy who is lost in regards to his purpose, searching for answers in regards to his past, and determined to make something of himself. Orphaned, raised a ward of the castle, he has spent every waking moment dreaming of becoming a warrior in Battle School.

But, when at last comes the day that he envisions being the start of his training, those dreams are dashed when he isn't selected... for any apprenticeship or school. He is too small, too quiet, not the kind to wield a sword or to even assist from behind the frontlines.

Instead, he is given no answer, no future, nothing but a heartbreaking reality that he will never become a warrior.

What he will become, he is afraid and amazed to realize, is a Ranger's Apprentice.

He knows little of the Rangers. No one truly does. But Holt, the Ranger of their region, seems to know much about him. He has been earmarked for this destiny, it transpires for some time. And, the talents that before were considered useless, are the very things that make him perfect to learn to defend the castle as a Ranger.

Now he is plunged into learning archery, stealth, tracking, how to ride, how to hunt, how to keep a Kingdom safe--not with glory and valor, but with skills and silence.

And that is exactly what is needed in the Kingdom because, in the ruins of Gorlan, the darkness is rising and it will take more than a warrior to defeat it. It will take Rangers...

John Flanagan can weave characters with well rounded emotion, personality, and fun into a story with such ease and skill that it draws you from the first page and makes you eager to pick up the next book. Personally, I regret waiting so long to start this book and will have to grab the next one as soon as possible.

I actually enjoyed the audiobook version of Ranger's Apprentice and, if you are like me and prefer to listen to books, I can tell you that the narrator is fantastic. He gives life to the story and keeps your attention just as well as the adventure itself.

This book was an easy five star start to a series I can not wait to plunge further into.

Horses in Writing: Make Them Believable

Perhaps it is just my belief, but I don't think there is anything as foundational in true fantasy as the horse.

Whether it is epic fantasy or low fantasy, sword and sorcery or grim dark, the horse has its place. It travels through pages, perhaps with a bit of character or perhaps only as means of transportation, but it is a part of fantasy that always intrigues me.

But, as an equestrian myself, it can also annoy me. Why? Well, more than once I have read books--not just fantasy--where it could not be clearer that the author has little to no grasp on anything about horses. They may have watched a hallmark-style movie and decided "that's what a horse is" or are basing their writing on the writing of other authors who, indeed, didn't know about horses.

This is one thing I always am aware of in my books and it has made me realize that, in all things writing, we as authors should try to learn a bit about the pieces of our writing. If we are smithing in our works, we should learn about metals, quenching, and basics of forging. If we are using a bow, then we should learn about the dominant eye, basics of aiming, the equipment that goes with a bow (because if you ever fired one without an armguard and got yourself with the string, you will remember an armguard in your writing.)

And, if we are writing a book where the character swings into the saddle, we should know what a saddle is, how a horse works, and the dos-and-don'ts of basic horsemanship. This isn't just for the fantasy genre, but all genres that the character is riding.

We don't all have horses to practice feats on, however. So, I thought I would outline some of the most common things that strike me, as an equestrian, as unrealistic when it comes to horses.

I do this in hope this might help others in their writing

Steering With Your Knees

Please don't. This isn't how we steer horses, ever. We do steer with our legs, yes. It is possible to ride a horse without any tack at all (please look up the Stacy Westfall Bareback and Bridleless video, you won't regret it.) But we never steer with our knees.

How do we steer with our legs?

Well, with our full leg or with our calf.

A horse will yield away from pressure so, when I am out riding my horse and need to steer left, and I will hug my right leg to the horse's side. If I need to move the horse in a side-pass left, my leg will stay in the middle of the ribs. If I need to move the hip only left, the leg presses further back. If I need to move the shoulder, my leg moves further forward. Think about it if someone pokes you in the ribs suddenly. You will yield away from that pressure. That calf is the pressure.

If the knee provided that steering, it would be unable to ask for fine movements and, likely, wouldn't be felt at all since it would be too high up on the horse (if someone poked the left side of your back, you might wince but you wouldn't likely step right.)

You can find some great youtube videos about steering with your legs or basic articles. Or you can simple say "steered the horse with his/her legs" rather than knees and you already sound more skilled in all things equestrian.

2. You can't just fight off any horses.

I've learned this from experience. Throughout high school, we would buy foam swords or noodles and try battling from the saddle when bored. We had some horses that were great at it, steering with legs to ensure that both hands can be used in combat.

We had other horses that, try as you might, you'll more likely be killed by the horse than the sword because horses are alive due to being flight animals. When scared, they'll run. And they are scared of a lot of random stuff. Plastic bag? Scary. A mirror? Terrifying. Flailing a foam sword? That must be how we all die.

This doesn't mean they can't be trained out of that but, if you main character vaults onto a pasture pony and charges toward a fight bareback and bridleless, and by some stroke of luck that horse listens (because most won't listen, they need trained to listen) then you are likely going to be thrown when you draw your sword because that is scary and a new object. Horses need trained for battle, as anything else. It's like police dogs are trained to attack, so horses are not naturally born with this instinct for medieval battle.

3. Stallions

Historically, stallions are a popular choice for your warhorses and that is fine. They are more aggressive, more likely to fight, fiery. Most my horses in my works are stallions (who have had proper training) because they are meant to be the fiery and battle kind of horse.

The Ranger is the exception, of course. He likes his mares because they are clever and see no issue in outsmarting their rider.

They are not, however, what every single person would ride. The cart horse in the paddock is unlikely a stallion. The horse the queen rides? Unlikely to be a stallion. Stallions are a lot to handle and not everyone needs to be riding one. Most can ride geldings (stallions who have been cut so they can't reproduce) or mares (female horses) and be fine. Mares have a lot of spice and I honestly will pick a mare every time because they are smart, witty, and fun to work with.

There is an old saying in the horse world along the lines of:

You can tell a gelding, you can ask a mare, but you have to discuss it with a stallion.

Keep that in mind as you write, regardless of the genre. I recently had to DNF a book because it was a modern ranch and everyone rode stallions. I live on a ranch. You don't keep stallions often because they fight more, they need better fencing because they'll break it, and they are more dangerous. We want horses who focus on the job, not on finding a lady. We like geldings and mares. Don't be afraid to sprinkle some of them into your writing.

If you write with stallions in your book, just bear in mind that they are a bit more of a handful often.

4. Tack

Just pull up a basic diagram of tack used on horses. The pieces you need are a halter (for catching a horse,) a bridle, and a saddle. Have those on hand for when your character is riding.

5. Sore muscles

If you haven't ridden before and get on a horse, the next day you will wonder if you will ever walk again. Long rides are much the same. It takes a lot of muscle to ride a horse. It is not simply a car. It is a workout to balance through your core, steer with your legs, and hold with your thighs to keep from launching into the great unknown.

6. Color.

Like tack, please have a color diagram. If you are riding a palomino, they do not have chestnut mane that blows back in the wind.

Overall, a great few resources are books about horses and YouTube videos. There is a lot to learn about horses if you care to go into details. If you don't, that is fine too. But I know these are things I've heard from readers and have witnessed myself as a reader. They simply flag as showing the writing has little or no experience in the horse world and these mistakes are often easy to avoid.

I do encourage you to write with your heart, always, but if your book contains horse facts, double check them.

Another way to make sure your horses are realistic is to find Beta Readers who are Equestrians. Simply go on Facebook into Beta Groups and say you are looking for an equestrian beta reader to run things past. They will help catch and educate on what isn't believable in your story--regardless of genre.

If you have horse questions for your writing, you can also reach out to other authors if your answer isn't easily available on google. I know I've helped authors who weren't sure what age a horse could be ridden at (for the sake of their bones, please no earlier than late two-year-old, but better at three or four.)

Please reach out with questions, I'm always happy to help.

But, otherwise, I do hope this helps you as a writer in avoiding the common pitfalls of horse-knowledge in writing.

Below: The first time touching my wild Mustang, Altivo, after months of work in taming him and finally managing to halter him.

New Covers: Your Thoughts?

So, in case you haven't noticed yet, the William of Alamore series is getting an updated look one tale at a time.

Ranger of Kings was originally published with the first cover (below) in 2020 and, after some time, I decided it was time to get a new look.

Why?

Well, the cover, thought I loved it, just didn't feel like it captured the essential feel of the book. And I wanted something that really did.

Over the past year, I've worked with several artists, received mock ups and covers, but never found just that one that I loved. It has really delayed this project time and time again.

But, finally, the new cover came together with a design I sketched and the hard work of myself and my husband.

And we created this:

So-- what are your thoughts on the new cover for Rangers of Kings?

Anything you think we still didn't get quite right?

Did you prefer the old or this one?

We are slowly going through with the other covers. The second book, The Cutthroat Prince, has been launched with its new cover and the third is coming together now and should be live soon (we just have to get text done and finalized!)

Are there books you love that you just didn't like the cover? What made you pick that book up?

I asked AI to create the characters...

And the following are the creations it came to after much tweaking and adjusting! Some I agree with, some aren't quite there, but I'm curious of your thoughts. Scroll down to see the "fan art" for the World of Alamore as created by computer generation

Sir Laster (as seen in the William of Alamore series in age):

The Ranger (Again, William of Alamore)

Sir Haru

Sir Rockwood

King Tollien

Sir Ross

King Revlan of Alamore

What are your thoughts? Are any of the bot-book-creations similar to what you've imagined?

Do you want to see more? Drop character names for more AI creations.

A Preview of Rogue Amongst Royals...

Prologue

Winter fell in ghost-like flecks against the silver glow of a moon stifled beneath the press of heavy clouds. The trees reached bare branches toward the unseen stars, shivering in the wind, rattling their mournful tune to the hush of snow-ladened forest atop its ridge of stony cliff, glistening with ice.

Standing between the shelter of shadows, drawn tightly in his dark cloak, the man paused at the narrow path that led toward the descent, his eyes trailing toward the bottom of the valley, the cluster of darkened homes with smoke trickling feebly from their chimneys. Bracing against the bite of wind, his golden eyes were pulled to the only building with light prying between the shutters, the warm glow evident even from this distance. A grim smile lifted his lips, his hand tracing to his side, resting on the ornate sword hilt. There. As if they were waiting on him, inviting him, if only by their own attempts to remain hidden. How very foolish. Foolish to believe that they might move unnoticed through these lands, his lands.

His knuckles shone white, gripping the hilt as anger and satisfaction congealed through his chest. They would pay for this most dearly, their doubt, their aspersions in trying to avoid him so poorly.

The shadows behind him shifted, the darkness seeming to hold its breath. Long years made it easy to sense the movement of others, though untrained eyes might not notice the whisper of a cloak, the glint of eyes in the dim light. It was harder to see the figure moving back along the narrow cliff path toward him, but he could sense the approach, the light step. A feeling of pride in his charge’s trait for silence rose through him and he at last pulled his eyes from the chink of gold that split from the darkened village beneath.

“Tell me then, what did you find?”

It was almost disconcerting how invisible the young man had been on the cliff path. Seeing him straighten now on the place directly beneath the older man’s perch, pull away his hood from his young face, his golden hair falling over blue eyes, would have made most other people start in alarm. Not the man, however. He was the mentor, the elder. He would always he knew, be the superior.

The younger man snorted in disgust, running a hand through his hair and glancing back toward the dark cluster of homes below. “As we believed—they broke into the old Stoneway tavern, used boards on the windows to hide themselves, and now seem to be congratulating themselves on a job well done. The horses are stashed in the attached stable, the doors are barred.” He raised his brows, turning back to the older man. “They suspect we are following though, I can assure you.”

“How?” the older whispered, his tone colder than the sting of the wind. They couldn’t know, not truly. Unless someone had told them…

“They’ve left three on guard rather than one,” the younger explained, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall of stone at his side and tilting his head back to look at the older man. A smirk twitched over his lips, barely visible in the press of night. “The rest, however, don’t seem to think they need worry. They have walls, a roof, a fortress as far as they are concerned.”

“Walls fall, roofs collapse, and fortress are simple enough to turn to flames,” the older muttered.

The younger chuckled. “I thought you may say that, Acra. But, I’m afraid that fortress is mostly stone.”

Annoyance bristled through Acra’s skin at the younger man’s casual use of his name, his nearly laughing tone. As though they were equals, as though anyone might be his equal. Still, he did not let the expression break through his features. Instead he only inclined his head, allowing his eyes to drift once more to the building beneath their perch. The silence pressed around him, sending a thrill through his skin, the familiar feel of the hunt beginning. The invisible eyes between shadows pressed against him, the motionless figures rigid and awaiting orders. Even the wind held its breath, the trees silent, the world listening for his command.

He reveled in the power a moment longer before running a hand over his jaw, across his white beard, and narrowing his golden eyes. “Then it’s time we use their bones for kindling.”

The hiss of excitement, the bite of cold winter, the breath of movement rushed about him. Darkness detached itself from the forest and pressed nearer as Acra pull his hood low and, with the ease of long practice, vaulted from his place on the cliff edge to the narrow path beside his younger companion.

He straightened in time to catch the flicker of hesitation in the blue eyes and stiffened, turning to the younger man. It sent prickles of fury through him to find that this man now stood several inches taller, his build lean and powerful.

“What is it, Nicolyn?” Acra whispered.

Nicolyn faltered, glancing back again toward the abandon cluster of homes, barely a village, lacking in life. “You said we would know the reasoning of this, Acra, but you still haven’t told us. You swore, when we took in the Shadow Dale boy, you’d explain this, him, all of it.”

The shadows above faltered in their own steps, Nicolyn’s doubt creeping into their own blood. Acra’s hands balled into fists, his rage flaring warmth across bitter skin. “That time is not yet.” As the younger man opened his mouth, brow furrowing, clearly ready to protest, Acra shifted his fingers to Nicolyn’s shoulder. He gripped until he felt his fingers biting through cloak and tunic, gripping the flesh beneath in a vice-like hand. Pain flickered in Nicolyn’s blue eyes, giving Acra a moment of satisfaction. Lowering his voice in a conspiratorial manner, he nodded past Nicolyn, down toward the trail of smoke that drifted into the sky. “I ask you trust me, Nicolyn. Trust that what waits ahead will change all in our favor. It will mean bringing things how they should be, righting the wrong. It means proving yourself, proving you’re prepared for what I need from you.”

“Prepared?” Nicolyn murmured, a frown creasing his brow.

“I need someone I can trust, Nicolyn,” Acra said, raising his voice again. The figures hovering along the forest edge seemed to relax. “I need to trust you, so you must show you trust me.”

Nicolyn nodded, though Acra thought he could sense the hesitation. There wasn’t a moment to search the face further for concern, to press his point further, as Nicolyn pulled his hood low once more and fell into silent step at Acra’s side.

The narrow trail might have once offered protection to the village, but Acra felt the uneasy sense that they were stepping deeper into the trap that had left these homes empty. Nestled beneath the trees, hidden at the foot of the steep ravines, he could almost imagine the rain of arrows that once fell from above. In his head, he imagined people fleeing their burning homes, sprinting toward the escape of the cliff paths, only to find others were there. Others with blades and ill intent...

Ready for the release of Book Four in the William of Alamore series? Be sure to pre-order your copy and subscribe to the newsletter found on this site in order to stay up-to-date of release, previews, and more.

Book Four - Cover request is in, Alpha reader starting, story coming together

It's been a crazy year! With the release of The Fallen Heir, Once Upon Another Time, and Shadow of the Sword, I really have loved every moment I have been able to write.

Of late, those moments are limited. With things of November turning to chaos, I was worried I might be too far behind.

But today, I put in the order for the cover of Book Four in the William of Alamore series to be created! I am seriously over the moon excited for this, as it means two things

the book will be available for pre-order shortly The book will be in your hands and kindles relatively soon!

My amazing Alpha reader for this book has started to read as I post the beginnings of this rough story. She is helping me stay on track and giving feedback to ensure that this book keeps the world of Alamore and William's story top of mind.

What can you expect?

Well, as hinted at prior, you can see the Ranger get a squire.

You can see a new enemy arise out of a prior character.

You can see feasts, dancing, and good humor.

You can see it all in the pages of Book Four in the William of Alamore series.

The title voting is about to wrap up so, if you have thoughts, please run to Facebook to cast a vote.

Don't have Facebook? Comment or message and I'll add your vote.

Here are the options:

Royal Amongst Royals

Rogue of the Throne

The Royal Nomad

Nomad of the Throne

Let me know your thoughts! And keep your eye for the announce and title release for Book Four!

Join the World of Alamore

It's hard when you close the final page of a book and find yourself waiting on the next. You want to talk to someone, anyone, discuss what world you've ventured into.

You turn on the spot only to find that no one else has heard of the book.

No one else has read it.

You're alone.

Well, if that lonely feeling came from the World of Alamore, you don't need to be alone any longer.

After a few weeks of debating, tossing the idea around and second guessing, I've decided it's time that the World of Alamore gain its own Facebook Group!

This is just kicking off as of right now but is a place where you can find other readers from the World of Alamore, book recommendations from those who've enjoyed the adventures of Will, Rowan, and Colin, as well as exclusive tid bits and finds related to the series.

What kind of exclusive, you ask? (Or maybe you didn't, either way, here's the answer)

Currently, I am learning a bit about Mid Journey and having AI create likenesses of the characters you love. I'll post an example below and let you guess 1. Who it is? and 2. Tell me how accurate or inaccurate AI is to your own vision of these characters.

There will be more to come from this group, questions to ask you all, times for other authors to discuss what books they think Alamore readers will enjoy. Again, this group is just kicking off, but I can't tell you how much I look forward to being in discussions with you, the readers, and having the chance for like-minded people to join the World of Alamore.

So, don't miss out! Join today: https://www.facebook.com/groups/44192...

To Kill A Character - and why?

It's a question I asked my readers through email and a question I have been pondering for some time. It's a question I finally decided to ask the world at large - or as large as it is on this website, anyway.

We all have read a book that left us gutted and reeling, that has that death of a beloved character that makes you ask why?

We have all wanted to (or maybe actually have) chuck a book for the loss of a character we were rooting for. We wanted to see them survive, thrive even.

Of late, I've found myself wondering though, why it seems to be more common. Is it the books I am reading or is it the authors of the day, twisting the knife between the ribs of the reader and straight to the heart?

As an author, I won't lie, there are character's that have died in my own works. Several that I actually really enjoyed, that left me torn even as I knew it was coming, wondering if I shouldn't just save them. But the reason I didn't generally had much to do with the story.

That's when the death of a character seems a little more forgivable. If the death adds to the development of a plot, of a character, of a series, I am sad but I understand. Those have to happen at times. They hurt but they had to leave in order to help the stories.

But then there are others that leave me shaking my head, even years after, asking why. Perhaps that's the reason - because death does leave us asking why in the real world. However, isn't that why we read? To enter a new world, on of magic or adventure?

I digress, I know. My blog here is a little disjointed (I'm blaming it on the fact I quit drinking coffee.)

What I really want to know is - what are you thoughts? What do you think of the death of beloved characters? Do they strike you as painful? As essential? Does some part of you believe that you need that emotional ache to connect to the story at large and to make it unforgettable? Do you feel that, in this current era of books, we are seeing a trend of killing characters to cause a buzz amongst readers?

I'd love your thoughts on the death of characters. Comment or message me, let's discuss it.

Book Four - William of Alamore - Update

As ever, the writing does continue!

Don't read ahead if you haven't read The Fallen Heir or you might be in for some minor spoilers...

The rough (and by rough and I mean really bloody rough) draft of book four in the William of Alamore has finally surpassed the 50,000 word mark. This means that the book is nearly at 1/3 for goal of rough draft (though my goals tend to get obliterated by my own story continuing regardless of what I tell the characters).

This writing has been interesting and it's hitting a stride that makes it entertaining. It's a fun chance to write a bit more about the lives of our characters now that they've returned to Alamore with the Queen of Alamore. For Alamore, this means celebrating the return of their Queen and being presented with their Princess for the first time.

You can expect a lot of interest and other returning characters from book three that we might not like as much as Queen Lyanra. You can also expect a new (and yet known) enemy to rise... because this time, even Thornten finds themselves in times of conflict that might keep them distracted from their attempts on Will's life.

Even though I've reached my 1/3 mark, however, I am struggling with titles. A few have come to mind but what is settled on remains to be seen. Perhaps, if one doesn't seem best compared to the rest, you will see a survey in a future newsletter asking for you, the reader, to decide. (So, make sure you're subscribed so you don't miss that or my random questions.)

This book is not the next release, however.

We still have Shadow of the Sword slotted for an October 31st release this year, something I can not wait to share with readers. Laster's backstory, how he became the lone knight that he is, has always been one I wanted to share and am so thankful for the chance to get it on paper and into the hands of readers like yourself. I truly hope you will enjoy it.

Make sure you preorder Shadow of the Sword from Amazon or mark your calendars for the audio release, also expected this fall.

As ever, I love hearing from readers so never hesitate to reach out with your questions!

Best,

CJR Isely

Character Insights - Count Cavian of Lonnac

Introduced: The Falcon and The Stag

Character Included in: The Falcon and The Stag & Shadow of the Sword

Description: Tall, a quiet sense of command, golden hair, strong build, green eyes.

Character: Cavian Greyhead is nearly the last of the Greyhead line as introduced in The Falcon and The Stag. He and his older sister were left orphaned when an unknown sickness took both of their parents. This left Cavian as the sole heir to Lonnac - the Greyhead estates.

However, at the time Cavian was still training in Alamore as a squire. It was decided that he leave a steward in his place at Lonnac as he complete his knighthood in the King's castle since the Greyhead family has been closely linked to the royals for generations and he felt it important to remain there.

He was glad of the chance to stay there as his best friend, Prince Paradon of Alamore, offered support to him in his time of mourning. Cavian struggled with the loss of his parents, the responsibility looming of being a Count at eighteen, and trying to keep up with practice. He began losing great amounts of sleep, restless pacing, and his work as a squire became sloppy and threatened his place in Alamore.

Determined to keep Cavian from being revoked his position in the castle, Prince Paradon decided to take matters into his own hands and dragged Cavian with him when he snuck away from court to join a tournament a smaller Alamore castle on the southern part of the country. This was certainly a distraction - Cavian was on edge keeping track of the Prince and trying to keep him safe as no one else had any idea where the crown heir had gone. He was forced to stay on high alert, not letting his mind wander at all for fear of mercenaries, rouges, bandits, or assassins that might be on their path or in the tournament itself.

During the tournament, he was livid to find that Paradon had entered him in the sword fighting classes in order to help him "lighten up."

Cavian, out of practice with a blade, nearly lost the first round but regained his footing and defeated his competitor. It was then that he felt the stir of life through his veins again, the age old desire to become a knight. It was then, too, as Paradon thumped him on the back and he told the Prince he wouldn't ever forgive him, that a girl from the crowd approached them. She had recognized Paradon, despite his best attempts to keep himself discrete and hidden with hoods and armor. This girl, the daughter of the castle's governing Lord, informed them that her father was considering sending her to Alamore as a lady of court. However, he had recently started to voice trepidations as his finest knight, a young and arrogant man name Sir Lebran, had asked him for her hand in marriage. She asked that, after the tournament, Prince Paradon approach him and convince him to let her leave. It was that or she would announce who he truly was - which meant no one would care to compete against the Prince of Alamore.

Paradon, laughing, agreed wholeheartedly.

Cavian found it impossible to speak in her presence, left wordless by her vivid green eyes and chestnut hair and quiet intelligence. She'd smiled at him, congratulated him, and wished him luck in the remaining sword matches. She told him she would love to see a squire defeat Sir Lebran. As Cavian couldn't find words, Paradon assured her that Cavian, though a token of luck would probably help. The girl kissed Cavian on the cheek and fled back to the crowd.

Not a single swordsman came near defeating Cavian for the remainder of the day and, when they left the following morning to return to Alamore, they rode as a party of three: Prince Paradon, Cavian of Lonnac, and Anara - the Lord's daughter.

Cavian completed his training for knighthood while courting Anara. On his eighteenth birthday, he was officially introduced to court as Count of Lonnac. Two months later, he was knighted in Alamore - the last ever to be knighted by King Valren, who died three weeks later.

At King Paradon's coronation, after saving Paradon's life from a would-be assassin, Cavian asked Anara's father for permission to marry her. They were wed that fall in Lonnac, where King Paradon was introduced to a friend of Anara that he would later marry - breaking the tradition of marrying royalty from beyond Alamore lands.

Anara and Cavian found much misfortune in trying to have children. They lost their first two after they were born, and three before ever meeting them. However, after many years of trying, Count Cavian and Countess Anara introduced their first heir to court - Kybis. It seemed to them that having another child may never happen, that Kybis would be their only one as they faced more heartbreak. They loved him immensely and, when Kybis was old enough to join Alamore as a page, they were proud and sad to have him leave Lonnac. The day that Kybis's letter arrived at their home, announcing he was a squire and that Sir Richard had asked to mentor him, Anara found herself unsteady and sick. Cavian was terrified, remembering his parents deaths. However, the healer had other news for them - Anara, far older than many mothers of the land, was expecting once again.

They were careful to keep Anara safe as she wavered between sickness and health, confined to her bed. Cavian felt ill with anxiety but, in a few months that lasted an eternity, they had a second son both. A son with Cavian's bright golden hair, with Anara's vivid green eyes.

They named this boy Colin.

They loved having this second son and considered that, as the younger heir, it might be best if he train in Lonnac rather than in Alamore. Kybis was in Alamore, after all, and he would be the Count in future.

This seemed decided, their hearts and minds settled on the matter. They watched Colin grow and rode to visit Kybis in Alamore whenever they could. Cavian had never been happier.

However, on a spring morning, as young Colin struggled to ride a shaggy pony around the courtyard under his father's watchful eye, a messenger galloped through the gates on a frothing horse. The chestnut animal staggered as the messenger, his face flushed, legs shaking, swung from his saddle and whirled about, demanding to see the Count.

Cavian stepped forward, heart slamming, and heard the news that broke his heart, shattered his world. Kybis Greyhead, his eldest son, had been gravely injured in a fall. No one understood, no one had seen. It seemed that he had been the first to rise, to saddle his horse and ride into the valley beyond the castle. He had intended to spend the day with his eldest cousin, Cavian's sister's son, Carnell. But Carnell had ridden out after him. He'd returned shouting, yelling that Kybis's horse had fallen down the stone gorges of the forest, that the animal's leg was shattered, that Kybis wasn't moving and was trapped beneath the horse's weight.

Cavian, Anara, and Colin rode for Alamore within the hour of the messengers arrival. They found Carnell too distraught to speak. He only pointed to the chamber known as The Final Farewell. They rushed in, Colin shaking in confusion and fear, to find Sir Richard bent over Kybis's body on the plinth, silently sobbing. Kybis had already passed. Richard, stepped away at their arrival, he let Cavian and Anara approach their son. Colin hung back, terrified as his parents broke before his eyes. He could only stare at his bother, his face too pale, and feel his own tears silently well and fall down his cheeks.

The first comfort he received was a quiet hand that gripped his shoulder. He'd only recognized the man who'd come to stand with him by his face. The man's stony blue eyes were overly bright, but he stood as a silent guardian with Colin until Cavian staggered back from his son.

He caught sight of Ross and threw his arms around the knight, his friend, a man who understood the agony. He'd shaken with grief, with a howl of pain that tore his chest apart, shattered his heart.

When Cavian and Anara did leave, a wagon carrying Kybis's body accompanying them, Cavian took Ross aside. He explained that now, without Kybis, Colin would be Count. Without Kybis, it would be Colin's duty to come to Alamore and train, starting as a page, after Kybis had been laid to rest. He asked that Ross ensure nothing ever happened to Colin, that he watched over him when Cavian couldn't be in Alamore too.

Ross agreed.

Ross was there the day Kybis was buried. He remained in Lonnac for the week that followed and, when he left, he brought Colin back to Alamore with him. Cavian and Anara watched with tears in their eyes and the weight of pain in their chests.

Cavian never truly could come to rest with Kybis's death. Things felt wrong to him. He'd known his son as an intelligent horseman, someone not foolish enough to ride to the top of the stone gorges in the forests. He spent hours, days, weeks, considering this and pacing. He felt something was wrong, something was off.

The answer came to him in the night, the piece that seemed strange. He voiced his thoughts to Anara. They agreed to find answers, to find peace through some form of justice.

Anara's health, never strong, failed before they could. She was overcome with sickness and passed in the days that followed. She was delirious with fever. She told Cavian that Kybis wanted to show her something, that he was near.

Cavian knew it was the end for his beloved. His heart broke.

It wasn't long before the darkness returned for him. It wasn't long before Cavian, too, could see Kybis waiting in the shadows.

Cavian passed two days after Anara. Two days that he spent hiding away, his grief shattering him, knowing the truth and the dangers that he would leave behind.