MeiLin Miranda's Blog, page 48

Chapter 13 Part 2 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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"Temmin?" said Allis's voice at his elbow. She put a hand on his back; he mechanically took her on his arm, and walked toward the Supplicant's Chamber. Issak joined them, kissed Temmin without a word, and took his other arm. They left the Temple's Own at the door to the Supplicant's Chamber. Once inside, Temmin paced away from the twins into the room; Issak glanced at Allis as they followed behind.

"You're upset," said Allis. "What did Litta say?"

"Nothing of consequence."

"Ah, that explains your shift in mood from apprehensive and excited, to apprehensive and frightened," said Issak. "What did he say, Temmin?"

Temmin sighed and folded himself onto a couch, setting his hat beside him. "He knows about your life in Belleth. Pagg damn my father, he told Litta about your past."

"And?" said Issak.

"And Litta says if I take Supplicancy, he'll tell everyone!" said Temmin, spreading his arms. "It'll ruin you! I can't let that happen to you, and I can't swallow letting him win like that, especially when it's really my father's doing. Gods, I hate him!"

"It's not hard to see it from the King's perspective," said Allis, sitting next to him. "He's worried about you."

"Worried about politics," said Temmin.

"In his mind, the two are linked. You will inherit the throne. He worries he won't have one to give you," she said.

Temmin pushed his hair out of his eyes. "You think Eddin's priests are right, that if I come here it's the end of the monarchy?"

"No," she said, "I think your father loves you."

"I wish he'd leave me alone."

"And I wish I had a father," she murmured.

Issak fixed his sister with a warning look, and said, "Temmin, you knew the nobility would not approve of this."

"No, but I thought they'd just try to talk me out of it!" Temmin answered. He grimaced and threw up his hands. "Who'd think they'd dare threaten the Heir, or Embodiments--who does something like that? It's blasphemy!"

"Not everyone puts faith above personal advantage," said Allis.

Temmin put his head in his hands, pushed his hair back again, and stood up. "So that's it, then? I just go home?"

"Do you want to go home?" said Issak.

"Pagg's balls, will you stop that!" he shouted. "Aren't you worried? At all? My father's won! I can't let him ruin you! There's nothing to say he won't do it anyway!"

Issak took him by the shoulders and shook him once. "You are going to calm down, and we are going to take care of it. All right? We decide what happens here, not you. We will take this to the Most Highs, and among us, we will sort it out. You are to focus on becoming a Supplicant."

"How can I focus, when my father's threatening you? He's the King. He's a believer who fears for his soul, but apparently he has others who don't, who'll do his bad business for him. If he wants to hurt you, there's nothing I can do--I can't protect you except by leaving!"

"Tem, you don't have to protect us," soothed Allis. "It's all right."

"No, it's not! This is a bad idea anyway, just let me go!" He wrenched himself from Issak's grip and ran from the room.

Allis rose from the couch as if to follow, but took her brother's hand instead. "I think it's best if we let Teacher deal with him at this point."

"I agree," nodded Issak. He sighed, and took Allis in his arms, kissing the top of her head. "One thing I love about people," he said, "is that however much I know about them, however well I think I can read them, they still manage to surprise me now and again. I knew his sexual frustration is mounting, and then he wants his father's approval so badly, but--"

"No, it's more than that." She looked up, eyes troubled. "I think he's in love with us."

Issak paused. "You may be right." He rocked her in his arms a moment longer, and kissed her nose. "We have time to take care of that. What concerns me is that you react to him more than you ought."

"It concerns me too," murmured Allis.

"Come on," said her brother. "Let's go bother the Most Highs and decide how best to deal with His Grace the Duke of Litta."

"There's a cheery thought, at least," she smiled.

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Another five-star review!

Another five-star review, this time from Sift Book Reviews:

"Anyone who enjoys political fantasy and enjoys or doesn't mind erotica will absolutely enjoy this."

The bad review is out there lurking, kraken-like, I just know it, but it hasn't surfaced yet.

(Posted on 07/12/2011 - 11:04pm

Chapter 13 Part 1 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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Temmin vacillated several times before Farrday's overnight visit to the Lovers' Temple. He talked himself back into it each time with a combination of wrath against his father, desire, pride, and the memory of the tiny voice in the stillness of the chapel.

On the dreaded and anticipated day, he took out his nerves on Jebby's legs, riding hard over the countryside through the King's Woods into the unknown fields beyond--another thumbing of his nose. He'd been ordered to stay within the safe confines of the Woods, but today he was invincible. Jebby was less so; the hectic ride had left the big horse flecked with foam, and Temmin decided to leave him at home to rest rather than ride him into town.

Once breakfasted and dressed, Temmin's nerves overwhelmed his coordination; his hands shook too hard to saddle LeiLei, and he gave the task up to the grooms before he'd begun it. By the time he gave LeiLei's reins to one of the servants at the Temple's steps, he wished he were back home in bed with the curtains drawn. He trudged up the steps, Brother Mardus and a Guardsman flanking him; four Temple's Own crossbowmen and a supervising Brother crouched on the roof. He took off his hat and went inside.

Allis and Issak waited for him in the Great Hall, in a respectful circle of space left where the stream of worshippers parted around them. The soft waterfall of voices echoing against the rosy marble trickled away. Every face turned toward Temmin. A young man said, "It's him, Tess--is he...?" into the quiet.

"A word, Your Highness," said a rasping, cultivated voice. Temmin turned; the Duke of Litta stood to one side, rigid and disdainful.

Temmin stopped, uncertain. He'd been introduced to Litta--he'd danced at his ball--but he knew the Duke only casually. Even so, he crossed the floor, holding out his hand and projecting as much dignity and confidence as he could muster. "Good morning, Lord Litta," he said in his best imitation of his father.

Litta took his hand, and pulled him closer. "What I have to say is for your ears alone--for now."

Temmin let himself be led to an altar dedicated to the Wingèd Neya; he noted Mardus and four Temple's Own hovering nearby, out of earshot. "What may I do for you?" he said.

"You may stop this," Litta replied brusquely.

Temmin gaped briefly, but recovered and said, "I hardly see how this is your business, sir."

"It is the business of every noble in this land. You are making a grave mistake, and we are willing to go to some lengths to stop you."

Litta was the more powerfully built, but Temmin was taller; he took refuge in his height against the other man's intimidating manner, and pulled himself upright. "Exactly how far would that be--hang on," he said, his temper rising, "are you threatening me? In the Temple?"

"Threatening you? No. I am a loyal subject of His Majesty, and bear scars endured in the King's service," bowed Litta. "But you are aware of the prophecy, 'When Nerr gets the Heir,' as the vulgar people summarize it?"

"What of it? I'm amazed you believe in it. And even if it is true, why would the country's prosperity be bad for the nobility?"

"Not the country's prosperity--the common people's prosperity. We are the country. They are our subjects. Should they prosper too much, they will begin to consider themselves our equals. Your Highness, if you take Supplicancy, you may bring down a thousand years of Tremontine rule."

"Prophecy is often misinterpreted," said Temmin, thinking of Warin's prophecy.

"I am not willing to gamble on that."

Temmin crossed his arms, his confidence less and less feigned as his temper rose. "And how do you propose to stop me?"

Litta flicked a glance over Temmin's shoulder. "From your behavior, I assume it's more than just a physical urge that leads you into the arms of the Embodiments." Temmin said nothing, his eyes narrowing. "Mm," murmured Litta. He gazed dispassionately at the twins, letting his words take their time. "I would imagine, then, that if they were harmed in any way--"

"If you or anyone acting on your behalf lay a finger on either of them, I will see the Brothers hang your head over Marketgate. Pagg damn me if I don't do it myself!" said Temmin.

"Keep your voice down, young sir."

"I remind you I am an adult, sir, and the Heir."

"If you are an adult, then you will understand that I don't have to lay a finger on them, sir."

Temmin stared into Litta's triumphant eyes, his confidence fading. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Word of the Obbys' past has reached me." Litta stepped closer. "If it got out, it would ruin them. They'd be cast out of the Temple. I dare say they'd have to return to their former profession."

"I'm sure the Temple knows what happened to them when they were children."

"Oh, of course. I can't imagine their sponsor kept it from the Most Highs, nor do I think it would have mattered. It doesn't matter to me--what happened to them is sad, really. Deplorable. But I wonder what the common people would think. The Obbys explained it all away to you, but they can't...charm...everyone in the kingdom, can they? It would ruin them," he repeated.

Temmin blanched. "This is blasphemy--are you a believer?"

"I care more about my children's inheritance than my soul." Litta smiled. "Do you think I wouldn't do it? If you take Supplicancy, I promise you, everyone in the City will know the day after Neya's Day. If you turn from the Temple, I promise you, no one will know other than the King and myself--and you. And you'll still be able to see the Obbys. Just not...right away. Do think on it, sir." Litta patted Temmin's shoulder, and strode out of the Temple with as close to a saunter as his military bearing would allow.

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Chapter 12 Part 10 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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Temmin withdrew from the book. He brimmed with desire, outrage, disgust and a deep need to see Emmae revenged, every hand on her, every one of Hildin's infuriating strokes imprinted on his body. That such a personal violation could bring on such ecstasy--it had to be the spell.

"You're shaking, Your Highness," said Teacher. "Take a moment."

Temmin closed his eyes, marshalling his emotions. "I want him dead, I so want to see him die," he muttered.

"You will."

Temmin concentrated on the velvet upholstery under his fingers, and the soft dry heat from the low fire. He closed his eyes; the insides of his eyelids shone coral in the sunlight falling across his face, until a shadow crossed him; Teacher blocked the light from the window. "Every time the book tells her part of the story, it takes me a bit to feel myself again--especially to feel fully male again. You think that's funny?" Temmin added in irritation.

"Oh, not exactly," said Teacher, lips twitching. "Go on."

"I just thank Farr I'm not a woman. I haven't even had sex yet, not really, and here my head's filled with her experiences. I'm just glad I was made for—ehm--doing...not...being done to?" he trailed off, wincing.

The twitch turned into a smile. "What do you think goes on between Mentors and Students, between lovers of men?"

"Isn't it like what Hildin and Gian...or what Gian does to Hildin...isn't it just mouths? And hands?" said Temmin, thinking of the men in the petitioning rooms, and of Alvo.

"It depends on the lovers involved," said Teacher. "Remember what Gian said to Emmae. Hildin took him in that way, too. More shall be revealed at the Temple, I am sure."

"I should hope not."

"I should bet on it, were I you, sir."

"Let's not talk about it," he said, waving his hand to dispel the thought. "Why didn't Emmae's father stop the marriage? He knew something was wrong, he had to have known."

"Think about it as her father would have. Whoever held her, probably had her--at least, everyone assumed so, including Fredrik. Royal women especially must come to the marriage bed virgins. Emmae's captivity damaged her, destroyed her reputation. The only way Fredrik could get her decently married was to swear his kingdom would pass to her husband. If she had had a brother, even another sister, Emmae would have been sent to a Temple and forgotten." Temmin couldn't read Teacher's face, shadowed from the sunlight, but the cool voice retained a pragmatic tone. "Hildin seemed genuinely pleased to have her, even though she was broken."

"But she wasn't broken," said Temmin.

"She was not a virgin."

"No..." Marriage required a girl's virginity; if the groom's family wouldn't look the other way at an unfortunate Sister's Temple evaluation, the wedding would be canceled, but Temmin had never heard of it happening. Though how would he know, he admitted.

He thought of the sentimental songs Nurse liked to sing sometimes in the evenings, especially if she'd had a bit too much barisha. Ellika would play the nursery spinet, Sedra would roll her eyes and retire to read in the furthest corner; his mother would tut-tut as Nurse crooned about naughty boys who didn't obey their mothers and fell down wells, sad young men dying on battlefields, a lost love's name on their lips, and ruined girls, ravished and abandoned by noblemen, throwing themselves over bridges, their drowned bodies floating past the battlements of their evil seducers. For such a cheerful, busy woman, Nurse loved her maudlin tragicals, reflected Temmin.

"Imagine were one of your sisters somehow compromised like this," said Teacher. "What would happen to her? What do you think your father would do?"

"You'd have a far better notion than I would."

"Even so, cast your mind on it. You are king. You have two daughters. One of them has been shamed, everyone knowing she is likely no longer a virgin, though no one would dare say anything."

Temmin thought of Ellika's bright, golden smile and Sedra's dark, amused eyes as they sat before the fire the night before. "I'd think anyone would marry either of 'em," he answered. "Sure, they're annoying, but they're both pretty, especially Elly, and Seddy is very good company when she cares to be. And they're the King's daughters. I can't see where virginity would make a difference."

"But it does. No man wants another man's leavings."

Temmin blanched. He'd called Allis his father's leavings, just two days ago. That was different, wasn't it? Going after one's own father had to be different than going after some random man. Allis was no virgin, far from it, and it didn't bother him, did it? Or was this an example of Percy's species in the species? "I don't think that's necessarily true."

"You are thinking of Allis. She is a Beloved. Beloveds are by definition experienced, as are mistresses, courtesans and prostitutes. One takes them to bed, not to wed."

"So tell me what Father would do."

"He would marry her off as quickly as possible," said Teacher. "She would be given to the first consenting noble."

Temmin put his feet up. "I don't see how that's all that different than what he has in mind for them now."

"Your father is trying to make good matches for your sisters both for the kingdom and for their own sakes. If he can possibly combine the two, he will."

"But the kingdom comes first," said Temmin.

"Yes, it does," admitted Teacher.

"Then kings should never be fathers," grumbled Temmin.

That night, Temmin decided to brave the dining room. If his father wanted enmity, he'd return it, Pagg be damned.

He got no chance to show his father unpious incivility; the King dined elsewhere, and so Temmin found himself staring at Fennows over the after-dinner port. "Well!" said the spotty young lord. "Bit of a time you're having with the old man! Damned unhappy about the whole Temple thing. Still doing it, eh? Well, I suppose you'll live it down at some point."

"Serving the Gods is not something to live down, Percy."

Fennows snorted. "Among the common people, no. You'll be celebrated in story and song as the Virgin Prince, I should think. It's not the peasants and merchants I'm thinking of, but our sort of people."

"Here's what I want to know," said Temmin, cracking a walnut between his fingers and tossing the shell in Percy's general direction. "Why is it so important that a man should be sexually experienced as soon as possible, when women must be virgins until they marry?"

"What?" said Fennows. "You can't be serious. Let me hand round the bottle, old thing, your gears are stuck and in need of lubrication."

"I'm quite serious!" said Temmin, automatically pouring himself another glass. "For instance, if you loved a girl, would you care if she wasn't a virgin? You'd marry her, wouldn't you? I mean, she's not supposed to even know about all the women you've had."

"That's because I'm a man," explained Fennows in a slow, singsong voice. He sat up straighter. "You're not implying anything about Elly, are you?"

"Elly? What? No! Of course not. Why d'you always talk about Elly as if she's practically-- I'm speaking in general," he ended impatiently.

"I wouldn't pay for a dinner where someone else had eaten the main course, would I? No man wants a slut for a wife."

"I'm not talking about a slut! I just mean--what if something had happened--she was tricked, or she was forced, or something?"

"Women are weak-willed, true. But damage is damage. She'd be lucky if anyone took her. End up at a Temple, I should think." Fennows cocked his head; his small eyes studied Temmin's face. "You can't marry Allis Obby, you know, Temmy."

Temmin gaped. "I'm not talking about Allis," he said.

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I'm not sure I know," Temmin murmured.

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Bunches of new icons to choose from and use elsewhere

There are five new icons to choose from if you're registered, and all are available for you to download and use elsewhere--LiveJournal, Facebook, Twitter, whatever. I ask you NOT to hotlink them. Take a local copy. And if anyone asks what the heckity-heck that icon's about, please tell 'em.

Posted on 07/05/2011 - 12:03pm

The Future of the Webserial May Not Be on the Web (Updated x2)

Cross-posted at WebLit.Us

Update: You can now subscribe to the site on Kindle. UK people who found they couldn't subscribe at that link, here's the link for you. I'll keep webserial folks posted on results here and at WebLit.Us.

A funny thing has happened: I've stopped reading webserials.

I KNOW, RIGHT??

You see, I got a Kindle, and I realize now that I hate reading on the web. Hate. It. But I like serialized fiction. And I'm hearing from readers of my own work that they're in the same position now that they have ereaders; they've stopped reading on the web. I'm thinking that ereaders have the serious potential of taking away our online audiences.

So now I have a dilemma as both a reader and a writer. What to do? I could do what a lot of traditionally published writers, agents, editors and publishers do and rage against those horrible ereaders. Or I could be smart and go with it. I choose smart.

As a writer I'm going to start publishing my feed on Kindle. Or try to; there are hoops I have to jump through.

As a reader, I'm going to start asking writers to do the same--once I test the waters. There's no charge--no downside--and a potential revenue upside. It pushes content to the Kindle, and any advertising eyeballs lost may be balanced by subscriptions.

I'm also going to see if there are other blog-to-ereader apps out there that will work on, say, Nooks. iPhones and Droid devices have Kindle readers already so I'm not worried about them.

So what do you think? Do you have an ereader? Would you prefer to have this site on your ereader than your web browser? Note I'm not asking you whether you'd pay for it, just whether you'd prefer it; I'm thinking that this might be a way of reaching out to readers I don't have yet.

And if you're a fellow serialist, have you tried this? What's been your experience?

Posted on 07/04/2011 - 2:57pm

The Future of the Webserial May Not Be on the Web (Updated)

Cross-posted at WebLit.Us

Update: You can now subscribe to the site on Kindle. I'll keep webserial folks posted on results here and at WebLit.Us.

A funny thing has happened: I've stopped reading webserials.

I KNOW, RIGHT??

You see, I got a Kindle, and I realize now that I hate reading on the web. Hate. It. But I like serialized fiction. And I'm hearing from readers of my own work that they're in the same position now that they have ereaders; they've stopped reading on the web. I'm thinking that ereaders have the serious potential of taking away our online audiences.

So now I have a dilemma as both a reader and a writer. What to do? I could do what a lot of traditionally published writers, agents, editors and publishers do and rage against those horrible ereaders. Or I could be smart and go with it. I choose smart.

As a writer I'm going to start publishing my feed on Kindle. Or try to; there are hoops I have to jump through.

As a reader, I'm going to start asking writers to do the same--once I test the waters. There's no charge--no downside--and a potential revenue upside. It pushes content to the Kindle, and any advertising eyeballs lost may be balanced by subscriptions.

I'm also going to see if there are other blog-to-ereader apps out there that will work on, say, Nooks. iPhones and Droid devices have Kindle readers already so I'm not worried about them.

So what do you think? Do you have an ereader? Would you prefer to have this site on your ereader than your web browser? Note I'm not asking you whether you'd pay for it, just whether you'd prefer it; I'm thinking that this might be a way of reaching out to readers I don't have yet.

And if you're a fellow serialist, have you tried this? What's been your experience?

Posted on 07/04/2011 - 2:57pm

The Future of the Webserial May Not Be on the Web

Cross-posted at WebLit.Us

A funny thing has happened: I've stopped reading webserials.

I KNOW, RIGHT??

You see, I got a Kindle, and I realize now that I hate reading on the web. Hate. It. But I like serialized fiction. And I'm hearing from readers of my own work that they're in the same position now that they have ereaders; they've stopped reading on the web. I'm thinking that ereaders have the serious potential of taking away our online audiences.

So now I have a dilemma as both a reader and a writer. What to do? I could do what a lot of traditionally published writers, agents, editors and publishers do and rage against those horrible ereaders. Or I could be smart and go with it. I choose smart.

As a writer I'm going to start publishing my feed on Kindle. Or try to; there are hoops I have to jump through.

As a reader, I'm going to start asking writers to do the same--once I test the waters. There's no charge--no downside--and a potential revenue upside. It pushes content to the Kindle, and any advertising eyeballs lost may be balanced by subscriptions.

I'm also going to see if there are other blog-to-ereader apps out there that will work on, say, Nooks. iPhones and Droid devices have Kindle readers already so I'm not worried about them.

So what do you think? Do you have an ereader? Would you prefer to have this site on your ereader than your web browser? Note I'm not asking you whether you'd pay for it, just whether you'd prefer it; I'm thinking that this might be a way of reaching out to readers I don't have yet.

And if you're a fellow serialist, have you tried this? What's been your experience?

Posted on 07/04/2011 - 2:57pm

Chapter 12 Part 9 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

Gian circled her in his arms; she spread her legs, shamefully eager. But then, the sooner she satisfied Gian and Hildin, the sooner her anguish would end, at least for the night. He pushed hard against her belly, but to her surprise, he flipped them over. He pulled her down and kissed her, running his tongue across the roof of her mouth until she straddled him, ready.

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The Old Broad Rap

Over on BPAL.org I called myself an Old Broad of BPAL ("Get off my Lawn Gnome!"); another gal said she wasn't an old broad though we're about the same age. I like being an old broad, and this is why:

I no longer feel bound by convention.

I'm out of sexual contention,

No longer an object of casual male contemplation.

It's a Manic Panic'd gray hair celebration!

I'm too old to care about my mother's condemnation--

An old broad like me has no time for prevarication.

I'm not old enough yet to collect on my pension,

But I'm old enough to no longer fear reinvention

Even though I still fear water retention.

Get that Red Hat shit out of my immediate location!

You took that awesome poem and made it a commercial fabrication.

So that's why I call myself an OBB.

If you think I think I'm rapping, then you're out of your tree.

Peace out.

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