An Excerpt from The Opera by Michelle Franklin

Finding Your Own Road to Travel An Interview With Author Lawna Mackie

An Excerpt from The Opera by Michelle Franklin

Teague made a chary approach, wondering how to broach the subject in a manner that would not give offense. He said his addresses to the commander, explained what he and Mureadh had seen, and before he could finish his speech with a solemn regret and apology for the affront on behalf of the Frewyn Players, the commander interposed with:

"I must have evidence of this travesty," she said, beaming with glee. "This is far too much suspense."

He produced the poster and smiled at the commander's instant eagerness as she took it into her hands and held it open for a meticulous inspection.

"Oh, by the Gods, this is glorious," she exclaimed, remarking the whole of the piece. "I must show this to my mate. I cannot decide what shall anger him most: the violet skin, the overdrawn and yet handsome scowl, the fangs, or the paltry sizes of his sword, kilt, and the article beneath it." She smirked at such an erroneous interpretation and nodded while her eye perused every corner of the page. "This depiction could only be made more marvelous if a rose had been put in his mouth," she said laughingly. She sighed and her expression saddened. "He shall be disappointed about the size of my chest, however."

"I did think that was a little inaccurate," said Teague, stealing a momentary glance at the deep vale between the commander's heavy breasts.

"Little is certainly what I should call those in comparison to what my mate so delights in every evening."

They exchanged a smile, and the commander shifted into the light to remark the vibrancy of the colours and the brushstrokes employed in the piece.

"The palette was well chosen," she mused. "I rather like my flaxen hair and blue eyes."

"The Den Asaan's pink kilt is my particular favourite," Teague said with a half-smile.

"Pink is rather his colour, especially with the red eyes and grey hair to match. He's made me far too becoming and much too small in height and in proportion. I'm rather inclined to think this charade is not even about me, as I am nowhere on this advertisement other than in the title, and even that is ambiguous. My mate is certainly recognizable."

Teague simpered. "I recognized him immediately."

"I assume that this pristine fellow on the glimmering horse is meant to be our good king."

"I believe so, commander. "

"Well, Alasdair looks rather splendid, as he ought. He shall be quite pleased. Any illustration that portrays Alasdair with such excellently sculpted hair and a fine jerkin is all his delight. Maeve is the one who should be offended. She should never have wanted to be a white horse, or this fat and smiling."

Teague chuckled to himself, relieved to see how keen the commander was to oblige such misconception, and as she excused herself and hastened to the kitchen to share the news with Alasdair, he hoped that the offense on the king's side would be as moderate as the commander's. Though he did wish to remain within Diras Castle to see Rautu's reaction to the advertisement, there was a dinner to be had and there were friends to be met with, and as he left the barracks to rejoin Mureadh, he had little doubt of hearing the giant's roaring disapproval from wherever he should be in the capital at the moment of discovery.

About The Opera

By Michelle Franklin

The Frewyn Players at the Royal Theatre in Diras are looking for new material to perform when a famous director from Marridon arrives to impart a Marridon theatrical pastime that is certain to make them famous. An opera will be their new performance, one that glorifies Frewyn's greatest heroes, but what begins as homage ends as mockery, and the play that would make them the greatest exhibition in Frewyn might instead make them the Den Asaan's most merited enemy.

About the Author:

Michelle Franklin is a woman of moderate consequence who writes many books about giants, romance and chocolate.