Sunday Share: The Prince of Val-Feyridge, by Helen C. Johannes
I'm happy to welcome award-winning author Helen C. Johannes with her book,
The Prince of Val-Feyridge
. I was smart enough to take this one with me on my trip to Italy last October and Helen's wonderful imagery was brought fully to life as I toured mountains and castles. It was pretty cool.
Enjoy the excerpt she's sharing today and any comments could net you winner's choice of an ebook or print copy of your own!
The Prince of Val-FeyRidge, by Helen C. Johannes2011 EPIC Winnerin Fantasy Romance
Heat level: Spicy
Published by The Wild Rose Press
The Wild RosePress , Amazon , Barnes and Noble
A warrior with a destiny, a woman with a gift. Can loving theenemy restore a broken kingdom? Or will forbidden love destroy it—andthem—first?
Prince Arn has adestiny—an ancient throne—but he's not waiting for fate to deliver when he canact now, before his enemies organize against him. The healer Aerid longs forher barely remembered homeland. Marked out by her gift and her foreign looks,she insists she is no witch. The swordsman Naed hopes to honorably defend hisuncle's holding, but he harbors a secret fascination for the exotic healer.Prince Arn's campaign against Aerid's homeland throws them into a triangle offorbidden love, betrayal, and heartbreak. Only when they realize love isblood-kin to friendship, and neither is possible without risk, can they forge anew alliance and restore a kingdom.
Excerpt from CHAPTER TEN
Shiversracked Aerid, coming so hard and fast she had bitten her lip bloody, but sherefused to make a sound while the Prince rode with her clamped to his body. Herlife depended on saying nothing until this man—the Demon Himself for all thecruel efficiency with which he had dispatched their attackers—gave her leave tospeak.Treeswhipped by; a bit of moonlight beamed down on a narrow track, and always thehorse's mane lashed her face. She had given up breathing, gulping air wheneverthe horse's stride loosened the Prince's grip a fraction.Thehorse slowed, and the Prince straightened in the saddle, allowing a sliver ofnight air to slide between their bodies. She shuddered at the shock of it,realizing the skin under her tunic was damp with the sweat soaking through his.She had ceased to feel his heartbeat as separate from hers. Both thundered inher ears, and the sweet scent of fresh blood—on his hands, his clothes, hisweapons—mingled with horse lather, man-sweat, and her own fear.Heguided the stallion off the track and into a stream. Krenin followed, as did ariderless horse that had raced with them out of the village. Aerid guessed itwas one of those that had charged her in the square. Instead of crossing, thePrince headed the stallion downstream, letting it pick its way throughfetlock-deep water. Krenin made no comment. Aerid stole a glance in hisdirection, but the Prince's Second seemed still in control of his horsealthough he slumped over the animal's neck. Around them, water rushed andhissed over stones, the sound echoing the blood-rush in her veins.ThePrince's arm tightened, drawing her hard against the planes of his chest. Aeridsucked in breath, digging her fingers once more into his tunic sleeve. Everymovement reminded her, perched sideways as she was on the saddle pommel, allthat kept her out of the water and away from trampling hooves was the strengthof his arm—and that arm was trembling. Not with the fear still rattling throughher, for he was Tolemak and a warrior. Nor with weakness, though the wound shehad stitched a scant seven-night before could yet give him cause. No, in thatmoment when he had recognized her—in that awful moment after theshock—she had seen all too clearly the fury vibrating through him now. And theknowledge that it had not abated even a whit made her flinch when he bent andhis voice lashed at her ear."Tellme, witch, and tell me true—does Krenin know who you are?"Thequestion itself startled Aerid, not its harshness, for she had expected that.Twisting her head, she caught a glimpse of eyes like coals in a face dark andset."Imean," he said, each word measured and knifesharp, "either who you are or whoyou pretend to be."Sheflushed, knowing full well what he meant. "I—I think not, m'lord. 'Twas darkand—""Thenyou'll do nothing to enlighten him. Hear?"Sheheard him clearly despite the water-song and hoof splashes she was sureprevented their voices from carrying to Krenin. She understood, too, whatunderlay his warning. He wanted no one to know that he, the exalted andinvincible Prince of Val-Feyridge, had been tricked—trapped—into sparingthe life of an Adanak—and a woman!—only to cover the fact he and all hisarmy had been duped into believing—for weeks!—that she was a boy, and aD'nalian. Oh, he had chosen well the moment for his question, Aerid thought, arush of indignation beating back her shivers."Aye,m'lord, 'tis safe with me, your secret."Hisarm clenched so, she feared he would crush her. "I should have let them killyou!"Hehad to feel how her heart fluttered like a trapped bird under his arm, but the breathlessnessmade her almost giddy, not frightened. Her words had power, and her tongue spatout more of them. "Why did you not? If I be to you what you believe of me, whydid you not leave me to them? 'Twas surely—""Youhelped Krenin. Why?"Whyindeed? Krenin was Tolemak, her enemy. But he had been alone, andinjured, and there were so many of them, and they were thieves, not good men,and she could not stand by and watch while… Tears scorched her throat. ThePrince would not understand any of that—nothe, the warriorwho swung his arm and lopped off heads and limbs without thought of who thebearers might be or where they might be from or who they might have waiting forthem—"'Twas—'twasnot by choice!" Turning away, she pressed knuckles to her mouth to stopits trembling.Hemade no response, only straightened away from her and turned the horse toward agrassy bank. When the animal had climbed out of the water, he opened his arm.Unprepared, Aerid slid straight down and fell into marshy grass. She gaped ashe dismounted and, looking impossibly tall and featureless in the faintmoonlight, stood over her. "Understand then—'tis not by my choice thatyou're here, now." Dropping the stallion's reins, he walked toward Krenin'shorse, pushing aside the stray that had followed them. ~*~Author's Personal Note:I hope you enjoythis short sample from The Prince ofVal-Feyridge. These characters have been with me since high school when Iwrote about half of their story. It lay unfinished, on hand-written sheets ofnotebook paper in a binder, for many years before I took it out, dusted it off,and found I still cared about these characters. If you have unfinished storieslurking in binders and drawers, take heart and don't throw them away. You neverknow when they might call you back and become your break-through book. She was also kind enough to answer a few questions for us today:
1. How did you get started in writing, and how long have you beenwriting for? (delete the second part if you prefer not to answer.)I've been a writer since I could use apencil. My earliest publication was ahaiku in grade school, but I remember writing sequels to the books I wasreading while I was supposed to be paying attention in class. I credit fairy tales for my early experiencewith story structure, archetypes, and great imaginarysettings/characters/plots.2. What genre do you enjoy reading? Do you stick with what youwrite, or "'play the field"?I read a mix of fiction from middle grade to YAfantasy to mystery/suspense (romantic and not) to romantic comedy/adventure tohistorical to some paranormal. (My Goodreads page is all over the place.) I tend to prefer women authors (especiallyWisRWA), but I mainly love a good story well told. When I'm writing fantasy, though, I try notto read it and stick instead to romance, etc.3. What do you find most challenging in the writing process?Getting the words on the page. Sometimes they seem to just stick. Once upon a time, the words flowed, but thatwas when I wasn't so aware of "good writing" and effective storystructure. In those early days, I neededa lot of revising time. Now, I thinkthat is reduced.4. What do you enjoy most?Having my characters come alive on the page andreveal to me secrets I didn't know they had. That's when the story opens up for me; it's a mind-blowing moment. I have great admiration and respect for themystery that is the human subconscious.5. What's your favorite drink of choice while writing?Hot tea, strong, steeped five minutes. Black or green but definitely with caffeine.6. What do you have in store for readers next?I've finished Bloodstone, the WIP that won the PRISM contest, and I'm beginning asequel to The Prince of Val-Feyridge . Readers told me I had to write one, and Iagree.
~*~
I must say having read and loved The Prince of Val-Feyridge , I completely agree you must write the sequel!
Thanks so much for sharing with us today, Helen. Readers, don't forget to comment up through Wednesday for a chance to win this fabulous book!
Have a wonderful week! As always, happy reading.
Stacey Joy Netzel
Enjoy the excerpt she's sharing today and any comments could net you winner's choice of an ebook or print copy of your own!
The Prince of Val-FeyRidge, by Helen C. Johannes2011 EPIC Winnerin Fantasy RomanceHeat level: Spicy
Published by The Wild Rose Press
The Wild RosePress , Amazon , Barnes and Noble
A warrior with a destiny, a woman with a gift. Can loving theenemy restore a broken kingdom? Or will forbidden love destroy it—andthem—first?
Prince Arn has adestiny—an ancient throne—but he's not waiting for fate to deliver when he canact now, before his enemies organize against him. The healer Aerid longs forher barely remembered homeland. Marked out by her gift and her foreign looks,she insists she is no witch. The swordsman Naed hopes to honorably defend hisuncle's holding, but he harbors a secret fascination for the exotic healer.Prince Arn's campaign against Aerid's homeland throws them into a triangle offorbidden love, betrayal, and heartbreak. Only when they realize love isblood-kin to friendship, and neither is possible without risk, can they forge anew alliance and restore a kingdom.
Excerpt from CHAPTER TEN
Shiversracked Aerid, coming so hard and fast she had bitten her lip bloody, but sherefused to make a sound while the Prince rode with her clamped to his body. Herlife depended on saying nothing until this man—the Demon Himself for all thecruel efficiency with which he had dispatched their attackers—gave her leave tospeak.Treeswhipped by; a bit of moonlight beamed down on a narrow track, and always thehorse's mane lashed her face. She had given up breathing, gulping air wheneverthe horse's stride loosened the Prince's grip a fraction.Thehorse slowed, and the Prince straightened in the saddle, allowing a sliver ofnight air to slide between their bodies. She shuddered at the shock of it,realizing the skin under her tunic was damp with the sweat soaking through his.She had ceased to feel his heartbeat as separate from hers. Both thundered inher ears, and the sweet scent of fresh blood—on his hands, his clothes, hisweapons—mingled with horse lather, man-sweat, and her own fear.Heguided the stallion off the track and into a stream. Krenin followed, as did ariderless horse that had raced with them out of the village. Aerid guessed itwas one of those that had charged her in the square. Instead of crossing, thePrince headed the stallion downstream, letting it pick its way throughfetlock-deep water. Krenin made no comment. Aerid stole a glance in hisdirection, but the Prince's Second seemed still in control of his horsealthough he slumped over the animal's neck. Around them, water rushed andhissed over stones, the sound echoing the blood-rush in her veins.ThePrince's arm tightened, drawing her hard against the planes of his chest. Aeridsucked in breath, digging her fingers once more into his tunic sleeve. Everymovement reminded her, perched sideways as she was on the saddle pommel, allthat kept her out of the water and away from trampling hooves was the strengthof his arm—and that arm was trembling. Not with the fear still rattling throughher, for he was Tolemak and a warrior. Nor with weakness, though the wound shehad stitched a scant seven-night before could yet give him cause. No, in thatmoment when he had recognized her—in that awful moment after theshock—she had seen all too clearly the fury vibrating through him now. And theknowledge that it had not abated even a whit made her flinch when he bent andhis voice lashed at her ear."Tellme, witch, and tell me true—does Krenin know who you are?"Thequestion itself startled Aerid, not its harshness, for she had expected that.Twisting her head, she caught a glimpse of eyes like coals in a face dark andset."Imean," he said, each word measured and knifesharp, "either who you are or whoyou pretend to be."Sheflushed, knowing full well what he meant. "I—I think not, m'lord. 'Twas darkand—""Thenyou'll do nothing to enlighten him. Hear?"Sheheard him clearly despite the water-song and hoof splashes she was sureprevented their voices from carrying to Krenin. She understood, too, whatunderlay his warning. He wanted no one to know that he, the exalted andinvincible Prince of Val-Feyridge, had been tricked—trapped—into sparingthe life of an Adanak—and a woman!—only to cover the fact he and all hisarmy had been duped into believing—for weeks!—that she was a boy, and aD'nalian. Oh, he had chosen well the moment for his question, Aerid thought, arush of indignation beating back her shivers."Aye,m'lord, 'tis safe with me, your secret."Hisarm clenched so, she feared he would crush her. "I should have let them killyou!"Hehad to feel how her heart fluttered like a trapped bird under his arm, but the breathlessnessmade her almost giddy, not frightened. Her words had power, and her tongue spatout more of them. "Why did you not? If I be to you what you believe of me, whydid you not leave me to them? 'Twas surely—""Youhelped Krenin. Why?"Whyindeed? Krenin was Tolemak, her enemy. But he had been alone, andinjured, and there were so many of them, and they were thieves, not good men,and she could not stand by and watch while… Tears scorched her throat. ThePrince would not understand any of that—nothe, the warriorwho swung his arm and lopped off heads and limbs without thought of who thebearers might be or where they might be from or who they might have waiting forthem—"'Twas—'twasnot by choice!" Turning away, she pressed knuckles to her mouth to stopits trembling.Hemade no response, only straightened away from her and turned the horse toward agrassy bank. When the animal had climbed out of the water, he opened his arm.Unprepared, Aerid slid straight down and fell into marshy grass. She gaped ashe dismounted and, looking impossibly tall and featureless in the faintmoonlight, stood over her. "Understand then—'tis not by my choice thatyou're here, now." Dropping the stallion's reins, he walked toward Krenin'shorse, pushing aside the stray that had followed them. ~*~Author's Personal Note:I hope you enjoythis short sample from The Prince ofVal-Feyridge. These characters have been with me since high school when Iwrote about half of their story. It lay unfinished, on hand-written sheets ofnotebook paper in a binder, for many years before I took it out, dusted it off,and found I still cared about these characters. If you have unfinished storieslurking in binders and drawers, take heart and don't throw them away. You neverknow when they might call you back and become your break-through book. She was also kind enough to answer a few questions for us today:
1. How did you get started in writing, and how long have you beenwriting for? (delete the second part if you prefer not to answer.)I've been a writer since I could use apencil. My earliest publication was ahaiku in grade school, but I remember writing sequels to the books I wasreading while I was supposed to be paying attention in class. I credit fairy tales for my early experiencewith story structure, archetypes, and great imaginarysettings/characters/plots.2. What genre do you enjoy reading? Do you stick with what youwrite, or "'play the field"?I read a mix of fiction from middle grade to YAfantasy to mystery/suspense (romantic and not) to romantic comedy/adventure tohistorical to some paranormal. (My Goodreads page is all over the place.) I tend to prefer women authors (especiallyWisRWA), but I mainly love a good story well told. When I'm writing fantasy, though, I try notto read it and stick instead to romance, etc.3. What do you find most challenging in the writing process?Getting the words on the page. Sometimes they seem to just stick. Once upon a time, the words flowed, but thatwas when I wasn't so aware of "good writing" and effective storystructure. In those early days, I neededa lot of revising time. Now, I thinkthat is reduced.4. What do you enjoy most?Having my characters come alive on the page andreveal to me secrets I didn't know they had. That's when the story opens up for me; it's a mind-blowing moment. I have great admiration and respect for themystery that is the human subconscious.5. What's your favorite drink of choice while writing?Hot tea, strong, steeped five minutes. Black or green but definitely with caffeine.6. What do you have in store for readers next?I've finished Bloodstone, the WIP that won the PRISM contest, and I'm beginning asequel to The Prince of Val-Feyridge . Readers told me I had to write one, and Iagree.
Author Helen C. Johannes lives in the Midwest with her husband and grown children. Growing up, she read fairy tales, Tolkien, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Agatha Christie, Shakespeare, and Ayn Rand, an unusual mix that undoubtedly explains why the themes, characters, and locales in her writing play out in tales of love and adventure. A member of Romance Writers of America, she credits the friends she has made and the critiques she's received from her chapter members for encouraging her to achieve her dream of publication. When not working on her next writing project, she teaches English, reads all kinds of fiction, enjoys walks, and travels as often as possible.You can find Helen on the web at: http://www.helencjohannes.com
~*~
I must say having read and loved The Prince of Val-Feyridge , I completely agree you must write the sequel!
Thanks so much for sharing with us today, Helen. Readers, don't forget to comment up through Wednesday for a chance to win this fabulous book!
Have a wonderful week! As always, happy reading.
Stacey Joy Netzel
No comments have been added yet.
