Cari Lyn Jones's Blog, page 2

The longest night

The winter solstice is bringing a kiss of cold with it this year, which for Florida means we will see temperatures in the 50s, maybe even a quick dip into the 40s! Sadly, no snow (as only someone who has never lived in snow would say :D)

Lately, I have been working on The White Hind, the third book in the Stolen Away series, so I thought I might share some wintery excerpts from the first two books.

Excerpt from Lumina and the Goblin King – Chapter 3, Summer Winds and Winter Snows

A snow storm greeted the dawn of the winter solstice. All through the night, Lumina had heard the winds blowing. Normally, she would have slept the cold season through, curled up amongst the bare brambles of winter or in the boughs of an evergreen. But not this winter, with a young cat, not yet a year old, trailing along in her footsteps.

So now they were tucked up in a warm, dry den, far beneath the roots of Old Father Pine. The floor was lined with rose petals and wild thyme. And in one corner was a nest of cattail fluff and feathers, brought in before the snows by Crow and Hoax. The turtle shell sat near a hearth made of stone where Ember danced. The smoke from the flames curled up a small tunnel that served as a chimney, twisting out through the old pine’s roots. A door made of birch bark covered the entrance of a larger tunnel, keeping in the fire’s warmth.

Lumina watched Ember dance as she lay contentedly, snuggled up next to the young cat who lay sprawled in his nest, oblivious to the world. He had grown so quickly since the summer, and was now three times as long as she was tall. In fact, she could almost fit under his chin when he stood. She smiled to herself. Their little den was peaceful and mostly quiet, save for when the sylphs would race down through the small chimney. They whistled and laughed as they swirled around Ember, causing him to flare brightly for a moment, before racing out the larger entrance, banging the birch bark door behind them as they left.

They did this often at first, until Lumina pointed out that if the young cat froze to death, he would no longer be able to chase leaves with them. After that, they only came in every once in a while, but they still raced past the door tapping on it and calling out to her as they blew passed.

It was still early morning when Lumina heard a tapping on the door that did not come from the wind. The tapping was quickly followed by a raven’s feathered head.

“Bright and happy morning to you, fair one,” said Hoax, his large body filling the doorway. Suddenly, he let out a squawk and hopped all the way inside, flakes of snow scattering everywhere as he ruffled his wings in indignation. Crow followed in behind him, a hand full of downy black feathers held tightly in one fist.

“Something more with which to line the kitten’s nest,” he said, handing them to Lumina with a slight bow.

“What did you do that for?” asked Hoax, feathers still fluffed in outrage.

“For standing in the doorway while others waited out in the snow,” answered Crow.

“Can I be blamed if the Lady’s beauty had rendered my feet motionless?” said Hoax giving a little bow in Lumina’s direction.

“A shame it cannot render you speechless,” said Crow as he pulled the now familiar earthenware jug out from the satchel hanging around Hoax’s neck. He went over to the turtle shell, and pulling the stopper from the mouth of the jug, began to pour the contents into the shell. He continued to pour until it was full to the brim with milk.

“The milk will warm in a little while,” he said, fitting the stopper in the jug once more. He came over to sit near Lumina, handing her a packet as he did. When she opened it, she found that it held a bit of the brown bread with honey she loved so much.

Still grumbling, Hoax came to join them.

They settled in, sitting close together as the sleepy fire wrapped them in its warmth. The falling snow shushed the world above, until even the moaning of the wind was quieted. Lumina shared the bread and honey that had been brought to her, watching the firelight shimmer across the surface of the milk as she ate. The deep shadows cast by the soft light invited one to share confidences, and ask questions not usually asked.

“Hoax,” she said, in a voice as soft as the fire’s glow. “Why is there such enmity between your king and the Fairy Queen?”

Much to her surprise, it was Crow who answered.

“Because long before the Goblin King was the Goblin King, he was a knight of the Fairy Queen’s court,” he said, turning his dark gaze on Lumina. “She was his beloved, and he, one of her favored. But then there came a time when she believed that he had betrayed her. In a rage, she blinded him and banished him to exile. For a hundred years he endured, the love that had burned brightly for his queen turning to bitter ash.” His voice held no rancor or judgment as he told the story, but the white fires that burned in the depths of his black eyes were as cold as starlight.

“He was blind and alone for a hundred years?” she said, her heart weighing heavily in her chest.

“Not entirely alone. There was one who followed him faithfully, a loyal servant who helped him as best he could. And others joined him,” Crow continued. “Until he had a court and a kingdom of his own. Now none of the Fairy Queen’s subjects will lightly trespass in his domain save for a certain desperate sprite who decided that saving a kitten was worth the possibility of starting a war.”

“A war?” she said incredulously, believing perhaps that she had misheard the goblin.

“Yes, Lady of the Glade, if it had been deemed that you were sent by your Queen to steal the goblin’s tribute, or even if you had done so with her knowledge, then it would have been war,” Crow assured her. “But she did not send you, and so it is only you who owes a debt to the Goblin King. Do you still feel that it was worth it, I wonder?”

“Oh yes,” Lumina said, fondly stroking the kitten’s fur once again. “He has become very dear to me, and now I could not imagine my world without him.”

All was silent for a while. Lumina could not help but think of the blind knight, maimed and exiled from all he knew by the one whom he had loved the most. To be alone, cast out and left to your fate without a care. A deep sadness filled her and she felt an intense need to hug the young silver cat laying next to her. So she did, resting her cheek against his soft fur, taking comfort in knowing that he was safe and alive.

“What betrayal could be so terrible, Crow?” she asked. “What could be so unforgivable, that she would do such a thing to one who had loved her so?”

              He did not answer; he only sat watching her with his inscrutable eyes. The firelight danced across his coal-black feathers as the moment stretched on and on. Until she began to wonder if there would be any answer at all. Finally, he spoke.

“Sometimes, my sweet sprite, even a small betrayal can seem as vast as the sea,” he said softly. “More so when love is concerned. And that begs the question, have you never been in love, Lumina?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I certainly have those that are dear to me. And there are those I miss when I do not see them, but it wasn’t until the kitten came that any one being so consumed my thoughts.”

“That is love, in the same fashion as how a mother feels for her child,” he said. “But, a love such as the one the Goblin King once had for the Fairy Queen, that is a much different love. Such a love is like the sun, warm and golden. It fills your world and your heart basks in its light. But when that sun is taken away, the heart becomes a barren thing where nothing will grow save bitterness and thorns. And after a while not even those.”

There was nothing she could say to that, so she said nothing at all. But she reached out to touch the hem of Crow’s coat, though she could not say why she felt the need to do so.

It was at that moment that the sylphs came racing down the chimney.

“Come see, come see,” they cried, swirling about the room, stroking Ember awake so that the fire rose higher and higher.

“The snow has stopped!”

“The sun has returned!”

“Everything is white and it sparkles! Come out with us, come out and see!”

The sylphs made to leave by the birch bark door as they had done so many times before. But it refused to budge until Gale raced back out through the chimney to blow away the snow that had covered it.

The sylphs’ excitement swept away the sorrow. Lumina stood, reaching out her hand to Crow who took it with what she thought might have been surprise. Together they slipped out through the door and into the cold clear morning.

The world was covered in pure white, just as the sylphs had said. A perfect blanket of snow that sparkled like stardust in the sun. Its brilliance was only broken here and there by the pale blue shadows of the trees.

Delighted, Lumina danced out over the pristine landscape. Out of the glade and across the meadow she went, all the way down to the water’s edge, leaving not a single footprint behind her.

The frozen lake was a black mirror, an unblemished reflection of the clear blue winter sky. While Serene was deep beneath the ice, playing in her garden, Mistral and Gale raced across the surface, conjuring up little flurries of snow to swirl in their wake.

A shadow was standing beside her when she came to the lake’s edge, and she found that she was holding onto Crow’s hand still, having never let it go. It was almost as pale as the snow and tipped with talons like long obsidian blades, but his grip was warm and gentle. Smiling up at him, she took his other hand in hers and led him out onto the ice. They glided across the surface as easily as the sylphs. The two figures swooped and soared across the sky’s reflection in the mirror of the lake’s face, like birds in flight. They moved in perfect harmony until he broke away from her with a frightening suddenness, spinning and ducking as a smattering of white scattered across the ice in the place where he had just been.

On the near shore, Hoax stood laughing while snowballs rained down around Crow like arrows in a siege.

“Ha! That’s what you get for pulling my feathers,” said the phooka flapping his own wings for emphasis.

“I’ll pluck you bald if you don’t stop,” warned Crow, deftly avoiding all that was thrown at him.

“Ah, but it isn’t me,” said Hoax, once again holding up his wings and thus showing why he could not be the one responsible. “Look to the sylphs,” he said, gesturing off to his side.

“At your behest, goblin,” said Gale.

“True enough; but still, it is not m…” Hoax spluttered, cut off mid-word as a snowball hit him unerringly in his open beak.

Perhaps that was why the phooka did not notice the little silver shadow, doing its best to be stealthy as it crept across the snow. The second snowball was most likely the reason he did not see that same shadow as it launched itself towards him.                

In a heartbeat, the scene changed from a young cat trying to hold on to a raven’s tail feathers to one doing his best not to let go of a stomping pony’s mane.

“Ah, you little…” the phooka snorted, shaking his mane in an effort to dislodge the young cat. “I’ll take you back down into the lake you came from if you do not let go!”

“You will do no such thing, phooka!” said Lumina, her voice strident. The tableau froze as all stopped and looked at her in surprise.

“But, Lady!” Hoax pleaded, the kitten still hanging on to his mane with teeth and all four claws.

“You will not hurt that kitten!”

“What about him hurting me?” the phooka pleaded, and when it seemed that there was no sympathy in the offing he sighed with resignation.

“Fine,” he said. Then he was a raven again, his tail feathers still clamped in the kitten’s teeth. He reached back and pecked the young cat between the ears. “Let go!” he admonished.

“But I caught you fair and square!” the young cat insisted around a mouthful of feathers.

“And what do you think you are going to do with me?” the phooka asked.

“I don’t know,” the young cat admitted. “Eat you, I guess.”

The Broken Court – Chapter 2, A Summer Crown for Winter’s Head

That afternoon found her standing at the table, the evergreens she had gathered earlier stretched out before her like a miniature forest. The warmth of the hearth was at her back as she deftly wove the fragrant greens into garlands, wrapping them in red thread and stringing them with silver and brass bells. She watched the snow blow past as she went about her task; the window’s multi-hued panes making a kaleidoscope of the flurries as they swirled by.

In only a few hours, the weather had turned bitter. The snow, which was at best only a light dusting at this time a year, was even now piling up into tall drifts. Usually, she did not mind being snowed in, enjoying the hush of the world outside as the snow blanketed the house. As long as the water butt and pantry were full, there was little need for her to go much further than the spring cellar door. But this year was different.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she found Thom sitting on the hearth rug watching the fire, the silver cat curled up next to him was fast asleep. Checking on the boy was something else she found herself doing often now. An increasingly familiar weight settled on her shoulders even as she looked at him fondly.

She had not had a name for that feeling of heaviness the first time she felt it, but she did now. Strangely enough, it was loneliness. The loneliness of caring for Thom on her own, and the uncertainty of what the years ahead would bring for him. And for herself as well, if she were honest. It was a foolish feeling perhaps, but she felt it all the same.

Once the garlands were done, she set about hanging them above the windows. The sharp piney scent of them tickled her nose as the bells strung throughout winked merrily back at her in the firelight.

She had just finished hanging the last one when there was a sharp tap, tap, tapping at her window. Opening it, she found a snow-covered raven perched on the sill. He wasted no time in shaking off his feathers and hopping inside.

“Fah! My wings are nearly frozen,” the phooka declared, gliding from the table to a spot on the floor, closer to the hearth.

“What did you expect, flying out in such weather?” she asked, closing the window behind him.

“Tch! Cold-hearted! That’s what you are. Suddenly, the weather outside seems balmy,” the phooka said, shedding his feathers and holding his hands out to the fire. “And here I am, having braved the elements, riding on the very back of the Northwind no less, all the way here just to tell you…”

There was a knocking at the door.

“…to expect visitors,” she finished his sentence for him as she made her way towards it.

“Just so,” he grinned.

Answering the knock, she found a golden-eyed Lumina standing there smiling at her, snowflakes strewn through her hair like a string of stars in a blue evening sky. The sprite’s arms were full of snow-dusted bundles which she began to hand to Hoax, who appeared as by magic from inside the cottage.

Lumina turned around to the pale stag standing behind her, unloading the last of the bundles from his back before stepping inside. The White Stag, now relieved of his burdens, followed in on his bride’s heels, changing to his more human seeming as he ducked his antlered head to cross the threshold.

“Welcome,” the eld woman said, kissing first Lumina, then Lorne on the cheek as they moved past her. “What is all this?”

“We’ve come to spend the solstice with you,” Lorne said, walking over to where the various bundles had been piled. “And we brought gifts.”

He began unwrapping them one by one. The first held a warm coat for Thom. The ones that followed were filled with shirts and trousers and a sturdy pair of shoes, all just the right size for the boy.

There was also a great deal of food to be had: wheels of cheese, loaves of bread, a cold ham, and small bags stuffed with sugared fruits and nuts. There was even a tightly tied basket of cranberries sitting off to one side, which she immediately set Thom to stringing.

Leaving them to the unwrapping, she pulled on her old shawl and made her way through the narrow door that would take her to the spring cellar. Just as she had hoped, there was still a jug of cider left from the batch she had made out of last season’s apples. They had been gathered from the progeny of the old apple tree, and though they did not contain the same virtue of immortality as their parent, they were tasty and made excellent cider.

When she returned, she found there was barely room on the table for the jug she was carrying, so full of food was it. Which was fine because the cider was soon in a pot, set high over the fire to warm, spices from her dwindling stores simmering serenely atop the golden liquid.

They ate and laughed while they hung strings of cranberries, taking care to light the candles she had waiting in the windows, so that their warm glow would shine out into the darkness beyond.

She tucked Thom into bed just around midnight. The silver cat followed along, claiming that his hearth rug was too crowded. Which was true, for the rest of her guests were all sitting together on the floor in front of the fire, content in each other’s company, sipping mulled cider as they reminisced about the passing year.

And what a year it had been! It had seen one of her oldest friends, and her newest, find their happiness in each other. It saw herself give up a gift beyond price when she gave the oldest tree’s last apple to Lumina. Which she did knowing full well that by doing so, she would once again age as any mortal would, for a time at least. And it brought her Thom, and with him, the changing of her whole world.

The shushing snow outside and warmth of the fire in front of them conspired to lull everyone into a dreamy contentment. Lumina and Lorne lay to one side of the hearth, heads pillowed on each other’s hips, and she could not help but smile softly at the sight. Perhaps it should have seemed odd to have such beautiful, otherworldly creatures tangled together like two kittens asleep on her hearth rug, but it didn’t. Seeing their happiness had chased away the loneliness of before, reminding her of when she was young. Of long nights just like this one, spent in front of a fire, keeping warm with friends or lovers.

She felt a soft weight settle across her back. The phooka’s chin came to rest on her shoulder, his breath warm on her cheek as he spoke low next to her ear.

“Do you wish that for yourself?” he whispered, in a voice made for secrets.

“What would make you ask something so foolish?” she retorted softly.

“Am I asking something foolish?”

How to explain the different aspects of love to a creature such as the one sitting next to her?

“Yes, you are. And if you understood the human heart, you would know how foolish a question it was,” she replied.

“Perhaps, and perhaps the question I am asking is not the one you are answering,” he suggested, smoothing his hands over her shoulders as he moved away.

He had left something behind. Her fingers, reaching up, brushed across fabric thick and luxuriant. Drawing it closer, she saw that it was a lovely green shawl, beautifully woven. The silken threads beneath her fingertips were cottony and soft, and unlike anything she had seen before.

“I don’t see why Thom should be the only one to receive gifts,” he said, wrapping the shawl more securely around her shoulders. “A gift freely given. To keep you warm, and to give me a soft place to rest my weary head,” he finished, laying his head on her shoulder, daring her to admonish him.

She sighed in defeat and fond exasperation, allowing him to stay where he was. Resting her own cheek against the top of his head, she watched as the salamanders danced in the fire. The furry tip of Hoax’s ear twitching ever-so-softly against her lips with each out-going breath.

“Do you want to see something wondrous?” a voice whispered quietly in her ear, waking her from sleep.

She opened her eyes to find herself looking up into Hoax’s face, her head now lying comfortably in his lap. He gestured for her to stand, so she did, wincing as her stiff muscles complained. Hoax took her hand and led her to the window nearest the hearth, its glass panes, traced in frost, hid the world outside behind icy lace. He undid the latch, opening it just a crack so that they might see out.

The night was clear now, sharp-edged, and brilliantly cold. Just beyond the linden tree she could see two figures dancing out on the snow.

Their feet left no prints to mark their passage. No music guided their steps, or at least no music that she could hear, yet they moved with sureness and grace. The moon was caught up in his silver antlers and the stars tangled themselves in her hair. With each sway and turn the world was made right around them. Spring was in every touch they shared, and autumn in every kiss. Every parting brought with it winter and every return summer. Their dance was eternal, and in that infinite moment, the music of the world revealed itself. It was a song not meant for mortal ears, though they themselves were a part of it. The endlessness of eternity filled her mind as she understood truths she knew she would not remember. She was but a mortal being, and her heart ached as she watched the dancers. They were as stars in the sky, pure and beautiful and so very far above her.

 A warm hand cupped her cheek, wiping away tears she had not even known were there.

“This is not at all what I intended.” And for once the phooka’s face was serious. “Forgive me, sweet witch; I did not think. Humble beings such as you and I are not meant for such lofty things.”

“Such lofty things?” she repeated, her ire growing unreasonably. “Is that what you think I wish for? Only a fool tries to hold the sun. I, for one, would much rather bask in its warmth.”

“Would you? I thought you loved him once.”

“I do still,” she admitted. “But not as I think you mean it.”  

“You sacrificed half your sight for him,” the phooka pointed out.

She had given up much more than that to see Lorne happy and whole, but she had no desire to bring the phooka’s attention to that.

“And when he was blind, you were his eyes for a century or more. Though you were no more obligated to do so than I was,” she retorted, annoyed at his interrogation, yet at the same time feeling perversely grateful for it. “You will admit there are those who are deserving of such kindnesses. Ones like your king and his bride, who do for others with no thought of gain for themselves.”

“I will wholeheartedly admit it,” he said, closing the window. The dancers disappeared from her sight behind the frost-laced glass. “But your answer is really no answer at all.”

“It is as plain an answer as you could ask for, and certainly plainer than any one you have ever given.”

“That may be, but I think I need it to be even plainer.”

“Even plainer?” she scoffed. “How can I be any plainer than ‘I love him still’? Is it the ‘still’ or the ‘love’ that I need to make plainer?”

“Oh ‘love’, definitely ‘love’. I think everyone could stand to have that made plainer!” he laughed softly. “And I am curious to know what you meant when you said, ‘not as I think you mean it’.”

“I am not going to try to explain the different aspects of love to a twisty-tongued creature such as you,” she said, voicing her thoughts from earlier. “You would get too much pleasure out of spinning my words on their heads.”

“Explanations of love should set your head spinning,” he nodded sagely, but the twinkle in his eye told her he was taking great delight in teasing her.

“Ach! You make me tired,” she said.

“I could if you would only let me!”

“Enough, you ridiculous goblin,” she said with familiar exasperation.

Hoax held his tongue, smiling at her in much the same way as the silver cat did when he happened upon an unattended crock of cream. She eyed him suspiciously, wondering what mischief he was up to.

There was a shifting in the world around her, a turning of the tide. Though the darkness still held sway, the longest night was over. The old year was passing, and soon the sun would rise, bringing with it a new year and new beginnings.

Another series worth rereading – The Fortune Chronicles

So, Seven Sisters’ is drawing to a close. The Kickstarter is finished. The books, totes, stickers and bookmarks ordered, soon to be packaged and sent off to those wonderful backers who took a chance on my illustrated collection of fairytales. It is at times like these that I find myself wanting to delve into something I have read before. Something I can immerse myself in, where I know how it turns out, like comfort food for the brain. Kathleen McClure and Kelley Mckinnon‘s Fortune Chronicles is just such a series.

Now, I am a sucker for richly realized worlds and characters with personalities that pop off the page, and this series has that in spades. There are actually two storylines that intertwine with each other. The first follows Gideon Quinn, an ex-soldier with a past and an axe to grind. The second follows John Pitte and the motley crew of the airship, Errant.

First, let me tell you some about the world. Fortune, the planet the stories take place on, was colonized generations before by peoples from Earth, and the culture reflects the fears and concerns of those people. It also reflects the influences they might have brought with them. Historical and pop culture references are sprinkled heavily throughout their world. Familiar names used in an unfamiliar way can take a moment to get used to. However, I soon found myself looking at our own world and seeing echoes of our distant past. (I wonder what the ancient Greeks would think about us naming a line of shoes after their goddess of victory?) Once you start looking, you can’t help but find tons of references from the ancient world that have made their way into our modern one. This series takes that and propels it hundreds of years forward, giving us a look into how the names of today may be used in a far-off future.

It is an intriguing world, one that has just come out of a war and has the scars to prove it.

But as interesting as the world is, characters are almost always the thing that gets me invested, and so it proves with this series. All of them are unique, with their own pasts and idiosyncrasies. And each one adds richness to the story. Even the secondary and tertiary characters are fully fleshed out, which I love.

I particularly enjoy how the characters interweave between the two narratives. But, I have always enjoyed seeing the same scene or character from a different POV. Like the two episodes of the show, Leverage titled The Girls’ Night Out Job and The Boys’ Night Out Job where you see the same night from two different perspectives.

Soldier of Fortune is the first entry of The Fortune Chronicles, a future steampunk/ecopunk series set on the engineered planet Fortune, where dracos soar alongside airships and dodgers slip through the rain-slicked streets in search of their next mark. If you like low-tech science fiction, found families, and roller-coaster adventure for ages 13 to 99, you’ll love Soldier of Fortune.

The first book, Solider of Fortune, had a slightly gritty, noir feel to it. An ex-soldier, wrongly accused of committing treason, set on discovering what happened and settling scores; a street kid who sees an opportunity to possibly improve her lot; an idealistic medical student bent on helping those who have no one looking out for them; a hardened cop; a down-on-their-luck airship crew… there is even a femme fatale pulling strings in the background. All set in a low-tech future on a planet far from the one we are on.

Outrageous Fortune is the second book of The Fortune Chronicles, a PG-13 future steampunk/ecopunk series set on the engineered planet Fortune, where dracos soar alongside airships and dodgers slip through the rain-slicked streets in search of their next mark. If you like low-tech science fiction, tarnished heroes and snappy dialogue, you’ll love Outrageous Fortune!

The second storyline starts in the second book (imagine that). To me, Outrageous Fortune was much more of a steampuck/ecopunk adventure. John Pitte, captain of the airship Errant, and the aforementioned down-on-their-luck airship crew are the stars of this one. It is its own story, where colorful characters abound. But it touches a lot on the first book giving more insight into the happenings there and the overall backstory. Plus, it’s fun to see how some of the characters you meet in Soldier of Fortune are viewed through a different set of eyes. One person’s dubious ally is another’s pain in the airship.

If any of the above sounds like your cup of tea, then I would highly recommend you pick up The Fortune Chronicles (click here) Or, you can follow the Outrageous Crew on Ream like I do, and not only read all the books but also read upcoming works as they are being written.

Book trailer – Where the Angels Dream

A little something to celebrate “Angels” being a year old.Where the Angels Dream

Some cool things on Kickstarter

One of the things I like about Kickstarter is that it has something for almost everyone. Here are a few campaigns some of my fellow authors are running.

A cursed lord, a feisty librarian, and their dragon in a no spice, marriage of convenience, Beauty & the Beast fairy tale romantasy.

If you enjoy swoony love stories, guaranteed happily-ever-afters, and the low-heat romance of Hallmark movies–but wished they were books set in a cozy fantasy world then go take a look at Chickadee Lane Press’s Once Upon A Rose.

Or if LitRPG, harems, and catgirls are more your thing, check out the fifth volume of DoubleBlind’s Everyone’s a Catgirl!

Fae – check, witches – check, vampires – the Ascelin series has it all, and now the third book in the series, Crest of the Forgotten is set to launch on Kickstarter.

A vampire, haunted by the memory of his entire clan, brutally massacred during the war. Amidst the chaos of a raging war, his only daughter is caught in the crosshairs. Determined, he will do anything and everything to shield and save her. Yet, amid the darkness, a glimmer of hope emerges.

A forgotten goddess hiding amidst the human world as she wanders, unseen for eons. A mysterious vampire seeks her out, his sharp gaze piercing through her. Uncertain, she wonders whether or not she should help him.

With the chaos and destruction that war inevitably brings, a question hangs heavy in the air: who will be victorious, and who shall make it out alive?

But war is a fickle mistress, and its outcome remains uncertain.

All good things come to an end…

I can’t wait to share this with all of you, but The Seven Sisters’ Kickstarter ends soon! Click here.

My first Kickstarter Campaign – The Seven Sisters’ Fairytales

Kickstarter – The Seven Sisters’ Fairytales

If you have been following my blog for a while, you have probably read at least one of the posts in my Fairytale Series. I have called in my “fun” project, my palate cleanser in between working on other books for my Stolen Away and An Affinity for the Dead series. But I can’t say that any longer. Not that it isn’t still a fun project, but now it has taken center stage.

If you’re like me, these familiar words began many a treasured tale read throughout childhood and beyond—tales of love and loyalty, quests and curses, and above all else, determination.

I have gathered all the fairytales that I posted here and created The Seven Sisters’ Fairytales, a small collection of seven whimsical fairytales inspired by those much beloved classic stories from the golden age of folk and fairy tales.

For this campaign, the book will be available in both a paperback and a short-run, signed and numbered, limited deluxe hardbound edition. Both will be slightly larger than average at 7.5in X 9.25 in with over 20 illustrations throughout. The limited edition will be a cloth-covered hardbound book with a foil-stamped cover and 5 additional color illustrations not found in the paperback edition. It will truly be limited. Signed and numbered by me, they will be the only ones of their kind. I will never do another run of this edition.  

More fun stuff

I had a lot of fun designing the extras for this campaign. I kept to things I use myself like totes, stickers, and bookmarks. The designs for the simple totes will probably look pretty familiar to you.

2 simple tote designs

The fairytale totes are large, sturdy totes printed on both sides with artwork from The Seven Sisters’ Fairytales book. On one side will be one of the designs shown below, and on the other a black and white version of the Seven Sisters’ cover with the Lapis Moon Publishing Sleeping Mooncat logo. (logo can be seen on the simple totes)

4 fairytale tote designs

The designs are still being finalized, so if you have a suggestion for what illustration you would like to see, let me know! You can find the concepts for some of them here, in Artwork & Illustrations, or by reading the stories in my Fairytale Series, the first of which is Daughter of the Sea.

Plan and Schedule

All the content for the book is complete, save for a tweak here and there. I am currently in the process of laying the book out and researching which print house to use for the Limited deluxe edition. I plan to have the paperback edition, bookmarks, and totes ready to send out by the end of November and no later than December 1st of this year. The Limited deluxe edition’s timing is a little trickier to predict since most have a 6 -7 week turnaround. 

The Seven Sisters’ Fairytales is my seventh book, something I didn’t even realize until I was putting together my Kickstarter campaign. If you enjoyed reading my fairytales here, and want to see them in all their published and illustrated glory, then go to my Kickstarter page and sign up to be notified when the campaign begins – which will be on September 22, the first day of autumn. My favorite season and the best time of year for fairytales, don’t you agree?

Keep an eye out for updates which I will post here.

A new venture

For any of you who also follow me on Instagram, it will come as no surprise to learn that I love to take pictures. I have even posted a few here and there on this blog in the past (Found on my camera, Pictures and Progress).

Well, as you can imagine, this tendency has led to my having hundreds and hundreds of pictures stored up. I have had to find stock photos at different times in the past, and that got me to thinking – why not try something new and put some of my own up for others to use?

It took a little more than just uploading any photo I wanted, and there is a bit of a learning curve, but I am enjoying the process. And now my pictures can be found on both Shutterstock and Adobe Stock.

Here are a few that are available already –

I am constantly adding to them, so if you find yourself in need of some stock photos I invite you to go take a look. If you don’t see what you want on either site, but you remember seeing me post a picture on Instagram that you just have to have, reach out to me. You can reach me through the contact page on this blog, or DM me directly through my Instagram or the Idyll Dreams and Nonsencial Things page on Facebook. I am sure we can work something out.

Until next time, take care of yourself and do your best to find the beauty in the world around you.

Work in Progress

Actually, I guess I should really say “works in progress” because there is rarely just one.

My writing process usually consists of a main project (currently the third book in my Stolen Away series), a secondary project (the second book in An Affinity for the Dead series), and a “fun” project that is sort of like a palette cleanser for the other two. Of course, this system is pretty fluid depending on my muse. And as a result, it is my “fun” project that is currently getting all the attention.

Said project is called The Seven Sisters Fairytale Collection. It is a collection of all the fairytales I have posted right here on this blog with the addition of illustrations. Edits still need to happen and there are a few more illustrations that need to be finished, but I am excited to say that it will soon be out in the world. And by “soon” I actually mean later this year which is sooner than you think when illustrations are involved. Since I don’t use AI-generated content for either my artwork or my written works, there is a bit of time needed for their creation. I feel it’s worth it though, and I hope you will as well.

Here are a few of those illustrations:

I also have a new venture in the works that I will tell you all about in my next post. Until then…

Inspirations and Interesting Places

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, Inspirations and Interesting Tidbits, a great deal of inspiration for the land around Ashwood town came from my own memories. I grew up walking down sandy roads and exploring the woods around where I lived, usually on horseback. A lot of those places are long gone now, and I guess I wanted to share with you a part of Florida that not everyone sees, but that I had the luck to grow up running wild through.

Florida has many wonderful, interesting habitats, and it was hard not to try to include all of them here (many a day was spent down the rabbit hole on this one) But, I’ve decided to stick to the ones you see in and around Ashwood.

Mesic pine flatwoods have sandy, acidic soil with very little organic matter. A few feet below that is usually a layer of hardpan or marl. The canopy is made up of slash or longleaf pine and saw palmetto is the dominant understory plant. They are an open kind of wood. Their beauty is subtle and as unforgettable as the sweet ephemeral fragrance of the tarflower that grows there.

Oak Hammocks often occur as little “islands” of high ground in surrounding wetlands. Live and Laurel Oaks interspersed with Sabel Palm usually form a heavy, closed canopy, and it is not uncommon to find their limbs covered in Resurrection Fern and draped in Spanish Moss. The understory tends to be shrubby and is often made up of Saw Palmetto, American Holly, Hog Plum, and Wax Myrtle. There is a timeless quality to the air in a hammock, a glimpse of old Florida.  

“The sand dunes were the closest thing to hills this area had. And yet, Ascher house sat up on high, atop a rise in the land made by the discarded shells of a long-dead people.” Shell Mounds or Shell Middens are exactly that, huge mounds of discarded shells. For thousands of years, the early peoples of Florida lived on the bounty of its extensive rivers and waterways, and these shell mounds were a result. They can be found throughout Florida, though many are gone now, having been used for construction and early roadworks. There is one in my hometown of Jupiter, in fact. It was, and still is, 20 feet high, but once measured 600 feet in length but now it only measures around 90 feet. It was made by the Jeaga (hay-gwa) tribe that once inhabited the area. 

Today, the Dubois Pioneer House sits at the top. Built in 1898 it is the second oldest house still standing in Palm Beach County. Although as you now know, the land it sits on is much, much older still.

The natural springs of Florida are beautiful places where the water is always cool, crystal clear, and often the most amazing shade of aqua or green. They are surrounded by hardwood forests and their bottoms are often covered in white sand and seagrass. They are a favorite spot for manatees. Is it any wonder that these magical places were the inspiration for the Shallows at the end of Washboard Lane? 

Barrier islands line Florida’s coasts, some 700 miles of its coasts in fact. They often begin in one of two ways, as simple sandbars or emerged shoals that grow over time into more substantial islands separated from the mainland by tidal creeks, bays, and lagoons. Beaches and sand dunes covered with deep-rooted grasses form on the side of the barrier island facing the ocean while the side facing the shore often develops into marshes, tidal flats, or maritime forests. 

The barrier islands I am most familiar with were covered in coastal scrub and maritime forests made up of mangroves, sea grape, and gumbo limbo trees. I often visited Jupiter Island when I was younger, walking along the beach from Coral Cove to Blowing Rocks Preserve. Australian pines grew there then, and the sound the wind made through their long needles was like nothing else in the world. I used to sit there on limestone rocks worn smooth by the waves and listen to the pines whispering and watch the osprey or sea birds flying overhead. Talk about a wonderful place to daydream. The Australian pines are gone now. I know it had to be because, sadly, they are an invasive species, but I miss their voices.

Although I wasn’t able to take pictures of all the places mentioned above. However, all of these pictures were taken near where I grew up, and all played a hand in the shaping of Ashwood. I hope to post more pictures in the future.

All About the Love’s review for The Broken Court

My heart was so full after reading this review from All About the Love. Thank you Jess!

Click on the link to read the review.

The Broken Court – Cara Lyn Jones