New Book

I have other projects planned that do not have to do with Greek mythology and the universe I started with Seeds and will continue to explore in future books related to mythology (like Interludes in Myth, which will have Hades as one of its stars)

I have a couple of books that will be based off favorite fairy tales. I recently completed the prologue to one of them. It will not be easy to guess which tale gives this book it's origin, but I hope you enjoy this prologue nonetheless. Please keep in mind that this is a draft, and will be edited/refined later on as I write more of the book. Without further ado, here is a sneak peek of one of my future books!

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Ear-splitting squalling filled the chamber, and Iriandril turned toward the source of the noise with a grimace, walking towards the cradle. The shrieking only stopped when she loosened her bodice and put the baby to her breast, gritting her teeth as he clamped down on the nipple. Even before he teeth started to come in, he had an all-too-firm grip on his source of sustenance. Since then, the task had become even more of an ordeal for her.
In the beginning, she’d tried to pry him off her breast in an attempt to teach him to not hurt her when nursing, but it only made him scream even harder, which in turn would rouse the wrath of his father.
Once the baby was sated, she put him back in his cradle and looked out the window. Many would have appreciated the sight before them, but to Iriandril, it only further reminded her of what she had lost. The manse was set in relative proximity to the edge of the mountain range, but it still sat a forbidding distance from the more fertile lands that her husband also ruled over.
These lands, the hills and valleys of her youth, were still visible between the peaks and crags that lined the path to the manse.
She glanced down at the courtyard, noting with a bit of surprise and a far greater amount of satisfaction, that the servants were making preparations for one of her husband’s trips. Well! Life in the manse was marginally better during his absences, and for the first time in over a month, she had something to actually look forward to.
His absence meant quite a few things that she could enjoy. The nights would be peaceful, without trepidation that she would have to satisfy her husband’s libido upon his whim. She wouldn’t have to look at her husband’s disgusting face at mealtimes or listen to the gravelly rumble of his voice. She would be able to effectively discipline her son, and let him scream all he want without having to give in to his demands and tantrums. And most of all, she could go into his library, and read and study as much as she wanted to.
It was the latter that lent a silver lining to the lord’s rampant misogyny. To him, women were nothing but servants, caretakers, and broodmares. Never did it occur to him that his wife might have an interest in anything more than romance, fairy tales, or poetry. That would prove to be his undoing.
She bustled around the room, changing out of her sleeping robe into a proper gown and summoning a servant to help her with her hair. Though she did not care for the color pink, her gown nonetheless bore that color, a heavy rose-colored velvet over a plain violet silk underdress. Her wheat-hued hair was pulled back in an elegant braid, several gold pins placed strategically to display on their tips rose quartz carved into the shape of its namesake. The color of her dress brought out the blue in eyes that were the color of aquamarine.
Were Iriandril to have absolute free choice in her appearance with no consequence, she would have chosen a much more somber color to match the unhappiness that was as palpable as a lump within her chest. Traces of that unhappiness lingered outwardly in the set of her lips, which had not been put in the shape of a smile for a long tme.
The maid gave out a small shriek and Iriandril turned around to see her son pulling various items out of the chest that she had left open in her search of today’s outfit. Her first instinct was to punish him, but she could wait until after her husband’s departure.
“Get him ready,” Iriandril commanded with a wave of her hand. The girl nodded and hoisted the kicking toddler in her arms.
Her husband not giving her notice about his trips was a subject that she didn’t care to bemoan. The talk at the long table in the dining hall was perfunctory as she ate her meal with small bites while her husband was quite the opposite, shoveling food down his maw, his face and fingers greasy with the mutton he was eating almost whole.
Since he thought so poorly of women, she was mistress of the manse in little more than name only. He alone made the final decision on anything that went on in the home and its surroundings, and she was expected to see that his orders were carried out during his absence. As she listened to his rumbling voice drone on between slobbering bites and gulps of his morning meal, she nodded, putting in an appropriate ‘As you wish, my lord’ or ‘I will see to it’, knowing that the servants knew what they were supposed to do, and the consequences of not performing the tasks he set to them.
The angry babble of their son drew her attention from her husband, and a small fist pounded the plate in front of him in an obvious demand for more.
“Like father, like son!” Iriandril’s husband said with an approving growl, and he tore off several pieces of meat from his own considerable portion and laid them on his son’s plate.
Finally, it was time for him to depart. His carriage awaited, drawn by the biggest horses that most people would ever see in their lifetime. She’d been so intimidated by them when she had first come here, nearly two years ago. Even now, she maintained a healthy wariness of the horses, and preferred to not go near them at all, letting the servants handle them.
The velvet of her gown insulated her against the chill of the autumn mountain air, though she welcomed the briskness on her face, deciding that she would take a walk later. She gave her husband a perfunctory farewell, wishing him luck and safety as she always did, though she never meant it.
As the sturdily-appointed carriage passed the gates, she glanced at the servants. “You have your orders.” It was all she had to say as she turned and went back in the manse. Her husband called it a ‘manse’ but it really was more of a palace, as befitting a man of his stature and wealth. For all its luxury, it was her prison.
Her stride quickened as she came closer to her refuge, the only place amidst the vastness of her husband’s personal property that she felt comfortable in.
For all her husband’s power and avarice, it also served as a double-edged sword. He was so focused on his wealth and strength that he neglected other pursuits. Iriandril smirked coldly as she crossed the expanse of the book-lined chamber to the window, tugging open its drapes and letting in clean, bright light that illuminated the dust motes she had disturbed.
Iriandril turned to the bookshelves, which she had started organizing last year during her pregnancy. She doubted her husband knew the secrets this library contained, all the better for her. It’d been made clear to her in her time here that her husband was more than satisfied with his considerable strength and abilities, and why not? He ruled his lands with an iron fist, and none dared stand against him. What was one man, or even an army, against a monster?
Well, the beast would rue the day that he took her. He may not fear the strength of men, but he was no match against the intelligence and cunning of a woman. She’d been planning her revenge every day for two years, not only against the one who had imprisoned her, but those who had betrayed her.