Cover Reveal - A Food Court in Hell

I'm pleased to share the gorgeous cover art by Cory Kirby (who incidentally is also a tattoo artist and has inked my arm). 

A Food Court in Hell is my ninth poetry collection. I think it might also be my weirdest one, which is why Cory's art is just so dang perfect for it. (We call the cover creature the Flamingo Saint.) 

The book will be available in paperback, $15.99 from Amazon on Halloween (Oct. 31, 2025). 

If you would prefer to buy from me directly, I will share when I have copies available. I can take PayPal or Venmo, domestic mail only. 

Cory will also have copies at her tattoo shop, so if you're in Kansas City, stop in at Pegasus Tattooing & Arts! I will share when she has them available. 

SYNOPSIS

A Food Court in Hell contains poems for the slow-motion apocalypse. With the stars as not-so-silent witnesses, awareness and resignation vie with hope, rumination, and celebration. These poems are a letter to the universe, a reminder that this world is worth saving. Herein, mythology and fairy tales, art and artifacts, natural and manmade wonders, pop culture and mysticism all converge, on the teetering edge of the dying American empire.

SAMPLE POEM (I am choosing one of the stranger ones so you know what you're in for.)

Semantics

a collage poem

1. Traduttore, traditore 

An inveterate read/write learner, I crave text. A misophonia sufferer, I am particular about what vibrations I want rattling my cochlea. I know I am not alone in finding actors’ voices drowned out by all those shoot-em-up bangs, booms, throbbing subwoofers, and other cinematic onomatopoeia generators. Truly, the art of close captioning is underrated, whole epics wrangled into brackets and footnotes: 

Human sounds [machine-gun-fire-like laughter] [urinating forcefully] [loudly implied cannibalism] 

Music [tense, percussive] [unsettling, atonal] [dire synth notes] 

Ambient noise [cellphone bloops] [demonic mumbling] [audio warbles disconcertingly] 

Descriptions that, themselves, defy description [Intensity intensifies] [Spock sobbing mathematically] 

Text translation fails [These symbols mean stuff in Japanese] 

Malapropisms and mondegreens that you hope are the fault of poor speech-to-text programs: 

Read Off the Rent Those Reindeer 
I did my job with a plum 
Firefighters deal with people ejaculating 

Sound fidelity implies faithfulness, but we all know the distance between what is spoken and what is heard, between what is meant and what is taken, between access and accessibility, between prayer and wishful thinking.

2. How to Lose Your Accent

In kindergarten, I pretended I didn’t know how to read yet. I pretended to struggle with phonics and sounding out words on the blackboard so I could be like everyone else. In high school Spanish, I deliberately flattened my accent. Same reason. Now, that accent is gone, as is most of the language that I grew up with. In every music class and at every mass, I sang as softly as possible. Now, I can only sing goofy, a warbling falsetto parodying corny power ballads that I still secretly love. In the days when I was beautiful, I hid myself beneath baggy clothes and unkempt hair. Now, I look back at the strewn wreckage of all I have crushed out of myself, afraid to be seen, afraid to be heard, afraid to be.

3. Message Deleted

One morning, I got to the office to find five voicemail messages had been left on my phone. All left after midnight, all from the same man, all in a language I didn’t understand or even recognize, a voice that seemed to float from out of the aether, crossed wires from another time, another place, another realm altogether. Back in those days, caller ID didn’t log calls, so I couldn’t see their phone number. I had no way to call them back to see if we had a language in common. I listened to the messages several times, trying to pick out a phrase or a name, part of me wondering if I was really here in my cubicle after all, or if I was still asleep, having one of those dreams where someone is telling me something very urgent and important that I know I won’t remember after I wake up. 

4. Last Words

As the dementia set in, my grandfather started calling my grandmother Luz. (Her given name was Maria de la Luz, but she’d always gone by the Americanized Lucy.) In 65 years of marriage, he had never called her Luz before. On his death bed, he kept calling for her, calling for his mother, eyes wide and terrified, fixed on some distant point.

Mama, Luz, Mama, Luz

Mother, light, mother, light

I am unclear as to whether I was witnessing one life ending, another beginning, or both. I am unclear as to whether he was calling out for what he wanted, or if he was telling us what he was seeing in those final moments. Decades later, I do DMT and way too many mushrooms, trying to simulate the dying brain. Every time, the visions take me back to that moment, the ICU room, the doctor shutting off the ventilator. Every answer is circular, elliptical, life constantly doubling back on itself.

5. Tetragrammaton

It is forbidden to say the name out loud. Many four-letter words are considered profane. According to some, God is actually a four-letter word. (My grandfather would have said Dios.) But then, so is love. (Amor.) The unspeakable word of God means to be, and God spoke the world into being. Words are the domain of God, the domain of man. I think when people say that they love God, they’re really saying they love the world. Gabriel spoke one four-letter word to Mohammed: Read. Another four-letter word is joke. Did you hear the one about England and America, two countries separated by a common language? Presumably, man and God have a common language somewhere, but we’ve lost our accent. The phrase “Tower of Babel” does not appear anywhere in the Bible. It is simply “the city and the tower.” The name of the city was actually Bāb-ilim, “gate of God,” for language is a gate and understanding is its key and these mortal tongues are so tragically limited. Is every divine message a breakdown in communication, filtered through our faulty hearing apparatuses, interpreted by our even more faulty brains which are already dying? Is every religious text a collection of eggcorns and holorimes and ambiguous syntax, one big cosmic game of Telephone, two tin cans and a string? Now phones dominate our lives. Don’t leave me on read. Now the whole world is our phones, fiber optics like the Earth’s own nervous system. And England and America aren’t really separate, no more than birth and death are separate, or God and the world, or life and mystery. And we are inseparable, indistinguishable, from the world, from God, from each other. It’s been said that area codes have become like ancestral clan names or heraldry, a marker of your homeland. When we die, they say hearing is the last sense to go, which is why doctors encourage us to talk to our fading loved ones. Shema means “receiving the kingdom of Heaven.” Hear, O, Israel. Trumpets, harps, psalms, a voice ringing out. Be the receiver. Four letters, each one a pillar that holds up the universe. Hello, how may I direct your call?

In the King's Power - Part 6 Cover Art and Excerpt

Part 6 is the final part of In the King's Power. It will be available February 1 on Amazon, free on Kindle Unlimited, $3.99 to purchase. Check out the rest of the series on Amazon here. Bonus excerpts are available here on my blog - access them from the series overview. 

SYNOPSIS 

Reunited with her foster father at last, Alyssa must choose the life she ultimately wants.

EXCERPT

THE coming weeks were every bit as hard as Clayton had imagined they’d be.

After he treated and bandaged the wound, Alyssa began to speak, haltingly at first. He’d picked up a few leatherbound journals in town, as well as some pen and inks, and now, he asked her permission to take notes as they talked. She granted it.

Their progress was interrupted the following day when she took the bandage off. The scalding metal had done nothing to mar the dessin itself—just the flesh around it. Clayton explained that, from what he’d learned from talking with Thia and her Red Garter friends, the dessin was created using alchemical inks, formulated with powerful enchantments. Occasionally, women who’d managed to escape their husbands and keepers found ways to black out the marks, but that was all. Even an alchemist or a healer could not erase it completely. They could remove the colors, but the woman would still be left with a ghostly outline.

Alyssa became quite hysterical at that. She howled, she screamed, she pounded the walls with her fists until she fractured her knuckles, and blood ran down her arms. If she were any other mental health patient, Clayton would recommend a sedative, anti-anxiety medication, but with Alyssa, that just wasn’t an option.

Outwardly, he kept his cool, holding her when she finally wore herself out, tending again to her injuries. But inwardly, he was heartbroken. No parent wanted to see their child go through this. He was also frightened. This was the most dangerous time. What if she hurt herself so badly, he wouldn’t be able to treat it with ointments and bandages? Or what if…?

But no. He refused to even think it. She’d come this far. She’d make it the rest of the way through this.

When he stepped outside to refill the water bucket, he found animals surrounding the house, looking somberly on. He left the door open and some of them followed him inside. Having a fox curled around her feet, a chipmunk on her shoulder, seemed to soothe her.

The priority was to make sure she didn’t hurt herself again. Clayton didn’t think she would. Both times, she’d injured only her hands, trying to destroy the dessin. But all the same, he asked her to stay close to the cabin for the foreseeable future. “Please, don’t go anywhere without me?” He put in only the tiniest hint of a question, to make it sound like a request and not a directive.

Understanding him perfectly well, she nodded. “I won’t.”

Alyssa resumed speaking. Days passed, and she continued to speak. Of course, the story did not come chronologically. She laid it out like a terrible Tarot spread for him to interpret. The cards shuffled and overlapped and reversed direction, but they stuck with it. The individual incidents even sounded like the trump cards of some strange new arcana: the Mute Queen, the Burning Girl, the Forty Slain Men, the Masquerade, the Kiss of Life, the Suicide Princess, the Sword and the Carving Knife.

In the King's Power - Part 5 Cover Art and Excerpt

Folks, I'm not gonna lie. This is my favorite part of the series, and I am so excited to share it with all of you. If you love it half as much as I do, I can die happy.

Part 5 of In the King's Power will drop on Amazon January 1, $3.99 to purchase, free on Kindle Unlimited. Check out the rest of the series on Amazon here. Bonus excerpts are available here on my blog - access them from the series overview. 


SYNOPSIS

Leo and Christophe are growing up and experiencing the initial pangs of adolescence, which leads to Christophe getting into some serious trouble. His punishment sends shockwaves through the royal household that impacts the rest of the summer, if not the rest of their lives. The family’s annual holiday to Auroch is more eventful than usual when James decides to come along.

In the fall, the arranged marriage takes place. James’ scheme is revealed, and it’s more diabolical than anyone could have imagined.


EXCERPT

Then came time for the annual trip to Auroch. The evening before they were scheduled to depart, Henri and Geoff were discussing some last-minute preparations at dinner, when out of nowhere, James said, “You know, I think I might join you.”

Henri and Geoff broke off. “Join us?” Henri echoed.

James looked at his son, apparently wounded. “Well, only if I’d be welcome--”

“Of course you’d be welcome, Father,” Henri said quickly. “We’re just surprised, is all. You’ve never come with us before.”

“I think a bit of fresh air would do me good.”

“I’m sorry, just—help me to understand this. Was it not you who always referred to the Parthenaises as our ‘poor country relations,’ and to Fermin as ‘the hillbilly duke,’ or am I thinking of someone else?”

“If you don’t want me to come, just say so.”

“No one is saying that.” Henri and Geoff exchanged another look. They both knew very well why James wanted to come. Endymion had been gone now for over a month, with no sign of coming back. When the rest of them departed for Auroch, James would be left alone at Four Mothers. “I would just hate to see you go someplace where you will not enjoy yourself.”

“Why wouldn’t I enjoy myself? I like a good hunt as much as the next man.”

“You know it will mean a procession and you hate processions.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Geoff, sensing the impending argument, spoke quickly. “I’ll see to the arrangements, Your Wisdom.”

* * *

The Parthenais family gathered outside the gates to await their guests’ arrival, as they always did. They were stunned to see the King arrive first on his crimson stallion.

“Your Wisdom!” Fermin cried. He dropped to one knee and everyone else immediately followed suit.

Alyssa had ridden in beside the King. Rainier was not hard to spot, standing right up front with his father and grandfather. Their eyes met for an instant before he, too, knelt.

James dismounted. “Arise, all of you.” Turning to Alyssa, he helped her down from her horse.

Fermin gave James a deep bow. “Your Wisdom, you honor us.”

“Cousin, it’s been too long since I paid you a visit,” James returned. Seeing the two men side-by-side, it was hard to believe they were about the same age—Fermin looked old enough to be James’ father. Fermin was in good shape, but he was unmistakably in his seventies.

As Fermin straightened up, he paused, thrown at the sight of James’ hand still resting on the small of Alyssa’s back. “Ah… I’m afraid you caught us unawares, Your Wisdom. I hope you’ll forgive us if the accommodations are not quite up to your usual—”

James waved off the duke’s concerns. “Please, Fermin, we’re family. I’m here to hunt and make camp right along with the rest of you, so don’t trouble yourself.” He looked up at the castle nestled into the mountainside. “Turns is exactly as I remember it.”

Fermin inclined his head. “Turns is yours, Your Wisdom.”

The others had dismounted and joined them. “Fermin, Arcadios!” Henri said jovially, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “So good to see you!”

Fermin’s relief was palpable. “And you, cousin. But who is this? This can’t be Leopold! Look at you, lad! Damn me, if you haven’t sprung up since I saw you last! How tall are you now?” He ruffled Leo’s hair, pulled him into a rough embrace. Then he held him at arm’s length, looking into Leo’s face. “Your Wisdom, I tell you, this boy grows more and more like you every time I see him!”

James liked that, pulling Leo proudly against his other side in a one-armed hug.

“Uncle,” Leo said, “you remember my fiancée, Miss Calderon?”

“Of course, of course, who could forget so lovely a mademoiselle?” Fermin bent over Alyssa’s hand. She smiled and looked down, mainly because she really didn’t have anything to say to this blowhard and it was considered a perfectly acceptable response for a modest Corbenese girl. Fermin peered at her. “Finally tamed this one, have you? No more climbing trees or roughhousing with the boys for you, eh, missy?”

Alyssa didn’t raise her head, but James said, “Oh no, not tame. But nothing proper men can’t handle.”

Fermin feigned laughter and went on down the line, “Geoff, always glad to see you, lad.”

Geoff laughed. “Listen to that! ‘Lad’ he still calls me.”

Without missing a beat, Fermin said, “You’ll always be a lad to me, boy. Compared to me, that’s what you are. And here’s Christophe. Going to bag us another elk this year?”

After all the pleasantries had been exchanged, some of Leo’s younger cousins ran up, eager to drag him and Christophe off to the woods. Leo and Christophe hesitated, looking at Alyssa, who, in turn, looked at James.

The King chuckled. “You see, Fermin?” he grabbed Alyssa’s jaw, squeezed her cheeks. “She knows who her master is.” Releasing her, he nodded for her to go.

Leo took her hand and, together, they hurried away.

November News

I don't actually have any news this month. If you didn't see my blog post earlier this month, I have been having major health problems. My husband took me to the emergency room the day after the election. The rest of the month has been kind of a blur. I had to go back to the emergency room the week before Thanksgiving and was admitted. I am not actually well, just stable. They sent me home with eleven prescriptions and a whole slew of follow-up appointments over the next few months. This month -- hell, the whole past year -- has been a perfect storm of suck. I'm exhausted and in a lot of pain, but I am hoping to get back into writing and submitting work again. Progress so far has been slow. 

I am no longer able to work, so I must humbly ask that you consider donating to help me out, especially with the medical expenses. I don't even want to think about what the initial emergency room visit plus a week's inpatient stay is going to run us. 

Aside from releasing Part 3 of the In the King's Power series, my only other major news is to say that I'm happy to see Bluesky booming. I moved to the platform back when Musk first bought Twitter, but it wasn't very active. You can find me @laurenscharhag.bsky.social -- I'd be thrilled to connect. 

My only other bit of news is to say that Part 4 of In the King's Power will go live on Sunday. An excerpt is available here. 

I was actually released from the hospital on Thanksgiving, so Patrick and I hit Whataburger then went home and watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles, as one does. For those who celebrate, I hope your Turkey Day was an excellent kickoff to the holiday season. I will post an excerpt from Part 5 of the series around mid-December. I am especially excited to share it since it's my favorite part of the series-- a lot of cool stuff happens. I am grateful for all my friends and readers-- truly, you, Patrick, and writing are what will pull me through this. Thank you. 

In the King's Power - Part 4 Cover Art and Excerpt

I apologize for the delay in updates for In the King's Power. I landed in the emergency room last week, so I did not share the formal announcement that Part 3 is now available on Amazon for $1.99. (I realized as I prepared the ebooks for publication that Parts 3 and 4 are quite short, so it seemed unfair to charge $3.99 for them, as I had initially planned.) 

The cover art and excerpt for Part 4 is below. It will go live on December 1, free on Kindle Unlimited, $1.99 to purchase.

SYNOPSIS

Alyssa's birthday celebration is filled with bittersweet moments. Four nobles hatch a plot to strike at the King, which bring's Alyssa and James' sort-of friendship to an end.

EXCERPT

James did not return to Alyssa’s room for four days. On the fourth night, he showed up drunk.

She was in the music room with her headphones on when he staggered in and dropped into a chair, bottle in hand. “Dym says I’m in love with you. What do you think?”

She took the headphones off. “I don’t think you know how to love, James.”

“Of course I do. I love my son. I love my grandson—”

“No, you don’t. You only love certain qualities in them—the ones that remind you of you. That’s not love, it’s ego.”

Closing his eyes, James shook his head. “Vicious.”

“If you knew what loving someone felt like, you wouldn’t have to ask me.”

“Do you love me?”

Alyssa made an exasperated noise. “That’s it. I’m cutting you off.” She got up and tried to take the bottle away from him. They wrestled for it. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the floor, his weight on top of her.

His eyes were bloodshot, his breath hot in her face. “Answer the question. Do you love me?”

“I’m your prisoner.”

“So, what? If a man sees a woman he wants, he may take her. If he can keep her, she’s his. And I’ve kept you.”

She shook her head violently.

“Say it. Say it, damn you!”

“You say it,” she spat. “But you can’t. You can’t. Why would I give my affections to a monster like you?”

Sighing, he rolled off her. “Lying to yourself.”

They lay side-by-side, looking up at the ceiling. “If you know everything, what do you need me for?” she asked.

“Why would you be working so hard to avoid the question, unless the answer was yes?”

“I gave you an answer. I don’t do well with captivity. I told you about that guy I tried to eighty-six that time.”

“You may have left the Dormitory, but you stayed with the Order. You must have loved something about it.”

“That’s your argument? If I’m going to be abused, I might as well be abused by you?”

“Everyone’s a slave to something.”

“You’re not.”

“The hell I’m not! I’m chained to this place—to Corbenic, to Four Mothers, to these people, and to my father before that. You’ve been here nearly a year. Did you somehow fail to notice that I’m—” he broke off.

She waited to see if he would actually say it, that he was miserable, that he was lonely. But he didn’t. He just sat up, scrubbed at his face with his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “It’s not just Endymion. Henri said it, too. I’ve killed men before, as you well know. In duels, yes. In war, certainly. And my father—just as you said. But never with my bare hands. I know you’ll never believe it, but it was for you. I’ve never done that for anyone—not Endymion, not my wife. Only for you.”

In the King's Power: Part 2 is now available!

 

Part 2 is now available on Amazon! It's $3.99 to purchase, or free with Kindle Unlimited. Read an excerpt here. 

Part 3 will be available on November 1. I will post an excerpt for it soon. 

Happy Halloween, my friends!

September News

NOMINATION

I got my contributor copy of the 2024 Rhysling Anthology. I had four poems nominated for Rhysling Awards this year, and my poem, "Little Brown Changeling," is a finalist. It was originally published in Aphelion Magazine. Thank you so much to the judges and congrats to my fellow poets.

APPEARANCE

On September 25, I was the featured author on the Muse's Mic, a new literary series by SpoFest, sponsored by Sheila-na-Gig Magazine. It was a great interview - I will share the recording as soon as it is available. Thank you to James Bryant and Sandra Feen for being excellent hosts. 

SCREAMING INTENSIFIES 

The first review for Screaming Intensifies is in! Thank you so much, Richard - so pleased to hear you liked the book! 

I got my author copies of Screaming Intensifies, so if you'd like an autographed copy, hit me up. It's $16 + shipping. I can take PayPal or Venmo. It's the perfect Halloween read!

As always, I will do two books for $20 if you'd like a poetry collection as well.

IN THE KING'S POWER 

Part 1 of In the King's Power dropped on September 1. Read an excerpt here. 

Part 2 will go live on October 1. The excerpt for it is here. 

Thank you so much to everyone who has purchased a copy of Part 1 or read it on Kindle Unlimited. The series was a lot of fun to write, and I am going to miss these characters so much. Knowing that some readers are out there enjoying their company brings me such joy.

Thanks, as always, for stopping by this old site! 

In the King's Power - Part 2 Cover Art and Excerpt

Hello, friends. If you're reading the new In the King's Power series, I hope you enjoyed the beginning. If you haven't read it, Part 1 is available on Kindle Unlimited, purchase for 99 cents. The Part 1 excerpt is here. 

Now, get ready for Part 2! Excerpt below. I don't think there are any spoilers in this section, but all the same, proceed at your own risk.

Part 2 will be available October 1 on Kindle Unlimited, $3.99 to purchase.

SYNOPSIS

Summer turns to fall. With Leo and Christophe back at school, Alyssa has to figure out ways to fill her time when she’s not dealing with James. (Or worse, Endymion.) Every morning, James demands predictions, and nearly every night, he comes to her room for chess and conversation. He also starts having Alyssa accompany him at court functions, which gets people talking—who is this foreign girl, and why does the King spend so much time with her? The uncomfortable intimacy that develops teaches Alyssa just how cruel James can be—and if it weren’t for Corbenic’s excellent healers, she would have the scars to prove it. It also stokes the attraction that has been simmering away between the two of them.  

EXCERPT

That afternoon, Alyssa was informed that His Wisdom wished her to attend the evening’s banquet. She never knew if it was because of the Clayton is a King conversation, or if it was something James had made up his mind about a long time ago. In either case, she was informed through Clotilde, who looked pleased at the prospect of getting her all gussied up.

The banquets were held nearly every weeknight at the palace. They were meant to be social occasions for the visiting nobility, but, as Alyssa quickly learned, they were just an opportunity for more political dickering.

For her first attendance, Clotilde dressed her in a gown of gold and brown brocade, and gold jewelry with amber gemstones, dark as cognac. When Alyssa was ready, she waited for someone – Henri or Geoff, she presumed -- to come escort her to the dining room.

Instead, when her door opened, it was James who appeared. For dinner, he was wearing a jade-green coat with white embroidery and a satin vest sewn with rubies.

She curtsied. “Your Wisdom.”

As she straightened up, he looked her over approvingly. “I thought we’d make use of your telepathic abilities this evening. Before dinner, there will be a lot of mingling. I want to know if certain parties are lying to me.”

She nodded. “My field commander and I worked out a system to help him win at cards. He’d sit at the table and I’d See what the others were holding. We had signals worked out for when he should go all in, fold, that sort of thing.” She touched her throat. “This meant they were bluffing.” She touched her left ear. “This meant they were cheating.”

Sighing deeply, James’ hand went to his heart. “Ah, chèrie. A soothsayer and a card sharp?” A roguish grin lit up his features. “So, being unable to lie does not preclude other forms of dishonesty? What fascinating implications.”

Biting her lip, Alyssa looked down. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that?

Quickly, James put his arm around her. “It’s all right. I was hoping to work out a similar arrangement. As I said, I want to know if I’m being lied to. It would be helpful to know if someone is concealing something from me as well. Shall we say that this means someone is lying?” Here, he touched her throat. “And this means they’re hiding something?” He touched her ear.

Again, she nodded. His arm was still around her, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Good girl.”

Endymion was waiting for them in the hallway. When he saw her on James’ arm, he scowled.

The three of them went downstairs to one of the dining rooms. As far as state soirees went, in Alyssa’s narrow experience, it was a small one-- only fifty or sixty people. The guests eyed her curiously. She was still quite the novelty, the strange foreign girl who was Prince Leopold’s affianced. They were even more curious to see her with the King, who had never shown the slightest interest in any of his daughters-in-law before, or any other woman for that matter.

Over the course of the evening, their curiosity grew. James kept Alyssa close, his hand on her back, or sometimes at the nape of her neck, steering her around. It made her deeply uncomfortable. She caught the looks on Henri and Geoff’s faces. They didn’t like it, either. Not one little bit.

For the meal, she was seated on James’ left, across from Endymion, who took the opportunity to send her some pretty major bitchwaves. She did her best to ignore him since she was on the clock.

Listening in on the King’s conversations was easy work for her-- dull, in fact. She barely listened to the words themselves, just read the intentions behind them. And the lords were easy to fool. She didn’t even have to be subtle with the hand signals. Once the men were engaged in conversation, she became a non-entity. It’s not as if women were expected to join in, much less have an opinion.

Afterwards, James was so pleased with her performance, he gave her a pat on the head before he sent her back to her rooms with Henri. Maybe next time he’d balance a piece of cheese on her nose.

The next night was the same, and the night after that, and the night after that. Clotilde dressed Alyssa often in the Sarpedonne house colors. To her profound relief, they hadn’t stamped the back of her hand yet. (Thia explained that that wouldn’t happen until the marriage ceremony. Wives were stamped on the left hand, mistresses on the right.) Still, Alyssa could see could how puzzling her position must be to everyone. If she was engaged to Leopold, why did the King keep her at his side like that? Why did he put his hands on her as he did?

In the course of listening in on their thoughts, Alyssa discovered that the nobility’s opinions of the King were sharply divided. About a third of the people hated him, a third loved him, and a third were too terrified of him to either truly hate or love him. Hatred and fear she understood, but why did so many people love him?

The short answer was basically the Monty Python song, “What Have the Romans Ever Done for Us?” The Romans are all bastards, they’ve bled us till we’re white… Like the Romans, James had made sure all of the major cities had new water and sewer systems. Filtration dramatically decreased water-borne diseases. He’d also improved the hospitals around the world, subsidizing their operational expenses from the royal treasury. Along with that, he’d ordered the first wide-scale vaccination programs—smallpox, tetanus, cholera, and some others. Healers around the world were developing new treatments. Before James, there hadn’t really been an educational system to speak of. Of course, there was the Great Lodge in the Capital, and all the provinces had at least one Lodge school, but their curriculums were surprisingly disparate. James had worked with the Grand Master to create a standardized curriculum for all the Lodge schools, to endow more scholarships for disadvantaged students. He also set compulsory education for peasant boys through age twelve—reading, writing, arithmetic, and some history and geography. Alyssa gathered that the compulsory part was not as well-enforced as he’d like, but it was a start. And finally, he’d overseen large-scale infrastructure projects. Old roads and bridges underwent repairs and new ones were put in. Cartographers were employed to update maps and atlases. If they weren’t already, all the major cities were put on power grids (fueled by the ley lines, of course). And on and on.

Well, Mussolini made sure the trains ran on time and Hitler loved his dog, Alyssa thought sourly. Though she couldn’t imagine James had done any of those things out of love or compassion. That wasn’t his way. A man like James didn’t want to merely conquer the world; he wanted the world he ruled over to be worthy of him. Still, Alyssa had never expected listening in at the banquets would be so interesting.

That was how she stumbled onto a different thread altogether, from the women. Some of them were sympathetic to her plight. All of them were in arranged marriages. Many of them had been traded for political gain in the wake of James’ wars. Bleeding provinces trying to hold themselves together—what better way to build alliances than with marriages? Some of these women had even been abducted by their current husbands. Alyssa remembered how blasé Rainier had been when he’d asked, He stole you, didn’t he? Like, it was just a thing here, no big deal. Christ.

One evening, James turned loose of Alyssa just long enough for one of the women to approach her. “Good evening, mademoiselle,” she curtsied. “I am Sandrine Adele Bellerophon Taliesin. My husband is Lord Gaspard Taliesin.”

Alyssa curtsied back. “Alyssa Calderon. Nice to meet you.”

Lady Taliesin smiled. “We met before, at your engagement party. I’m sure you don’t remember.” Coming forward, she clasped Alyssa’s arm. Up close, Alyssa could see that she was about twenty-five, though the serious look on her face made her seem much older. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone here. You have friends, if you wish it.”

Alyssa did not get a chance to respond. From behind them came the King’s voice, “Chèrie.”

In spite of herself, Alyssa flinched. He was not angry—not yet. But his voice had carried, and the room went silent, breathless. Alyssa turned to see him, holding his hand out to her.

Lady Taliesin whispered, “Just know that you are welcome in our home anytime, my dear.”

Alyssa smiled gratefully, then returned to James’ side. Pulling her close, James glanced at Lady Taliesin, then at her husband, who had joined her.

Lord Taliesin bowed. “Your Wisdom.”

The King gave him the most cursory of nods.

After dinner, James escorted Alyssa from the dining room. As soon as they were out of earshot of any guests, his fingers tightened on her neck. “Don’t do that again.”

“She spoke to me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Keep your mouth shut, for a start. You’re here to listen.”

“I can’t even make friends?”

He snorted. “They’re not your friends; they’ll never be your friends. They’re only interested in you because you’re engaged to Leo. They want to use you to further their own aims.”

“Gosh, what must that be like?”

He turned her roughly to face him. “You’re mine. The only person you need to worry about pleasing around here is me.”

“All right!” she snapped. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. But could you just, please, maybe, lay off the whole manhandling thing? It’s pretty unnecessary.”

“Evidently, it isn’t. I can’t trust you not to wander off.”

“Wander off? I was like five feet away--” She took a deep breath. “Forget it. It’s just… People are starting to talk. It’s why that lady approached me. It has nothing to do with my relationship with Leo or even Henri. But I think you know that.”

“And what conceivable difference could it make to you, what they think?”

“To me?” she shrugged. “Not much. Might mean something to Leo though.”

He let go of her then. His features softened; his eyes grew warm. For a moment, he was so handsome, it was blinding. “Well,” he traced her cheek, ran one fingertip lightly across her lips. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

A shiver went through her and she tried to take a step back, but he caught her arm again. “Oh, don’t worry,” he laughed as they continued to the stairs. “As you said, people are already talking. Why validate them?” 

August News

TOP 50!

I received news this month that my short story, "Feather and Scale," made it to the top 50 of the Roadmap Writers Short Story Competition. Thank you so much to the judges and congrats to my fellow quarterfinalists. I'm afraid that I have since heard that my story did not advance to the top 25, but of course, it is still a huge honor to have made the long list! 

"Feather and Scale" is the story of a man shipwrecked on a deserted island who is menaced by a mermaid. It originally appeared in Meat for Tea magazine and will be in my forthcoming short story collection, Screaming Intensifies, from Whiskey City Press. (More on that below.)

APPEARANCE

I will be the featured guest on the Muse's Mic, a virtual literary series sponsored by SpoFest, on Wednesday, Sept. 25, 6-7 pm CT. Hope some of you can tune in!

COMING SOON

Part 1 of my new dark fantasy romance, In the King's Power, will be dropping in just a few days! It will be only 99 cents as an ebook, and will be available through Kindle Unlimited.

Details about the series are available here, including an excerpt and the publishing schedule. I will post again when the book is live. Part 2 will be available October 1. 

Also coming soon, just in time for Halloween - my short story collection, Screaming Intensifies, from Whiskey City Press. I just received my proof copy, so it will be dropping any day. Many thanks to the Whiskey City team for making this happen. 

Thank you for reading! Hope you get a chance to check out some of my new work. 

New Series: In the King's Power

 RELEASE DATE: SEPTEMBER 1, 2024 

I am excited to share that I will be releasing a new O4S-related series, In the King's Power. Part 1 will be available as an ebook on September 1, for only 99 cents. Parts 2-6 will be $3.99 each. 

The story will be released serially - one section each month:

• September - Part 1
• October - Part 2
• November - Part 3
• December - Part 4
• January, 2025 - Part 5
• February, 2025 - Part 6

SERIES OVERVIEW

Alyssa Calderon, powerful psychic, and highly trained field operative for the Order of the Four Sons, gets separated from her team when a mission goes south. Injured and alone, she finds a door that leads her to a strange and magical world called Corbenic. And the door doesn’t lead her just anywhere—it delivers her right to the royal palace, where she now finds herself at the mercy of its tyrannical King, James Sarpedonne. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. As Alyssa remains a prisoner, she finds her hope of ever returning home waning. Can Corbenic be her new home? Does she want it to be? She finds there are no easy answers, especially as she comes to make new friends, a new family, maybe even a new life.

 
PART 1 SYNOPSIS

Almost immediately, Alyssa finds that she feels oddly drawn to her royal captors, a feeling that appears to be mutual. King James recognizes Alyssa’s value as a seer and decides to keep her at the palace to serve him, which includes getting engaged to a prince. As Alyssa struggles to find her footing in this alien world -- a world filled with geomancers and alchemists, nobles and courtesans, fairies and mermaids – she must also find a way to hang on to her self. 

EXCERPT

The dining room was small, just big enough for the table, chairs, and space for servants to move about, but no less sumptuously appointed than the halls. A crystal chandelier hung from the recessed ceiling. A fireplace dominated one wall, windows the other, brocade drapes tied back to give them a view of the sea. Everything, every surface, was patterned, engraved, embroidered, enameled. Even the ceiling beams overhead were carved and inset with jewels. In such a close space, it was overpowering.

When Alyssa entered, the men at the table stood, and James’ voice greeted her, “Ah, here she is. Excellent. We’re so pleased you could join us.”

She halted, heart hammering in her ears. Besides James, there were two other men and a boy. All of them were mages. Powerful ones. Even the kid, and Geoff, too, who left her side and joined them.

He gave her the nod. Bowing her head, she curtsied low.

After a polite interval, James said, “You may rise.”

She did. Clasping her hands tightly in front of her so she wouldn’t fidget, Alyssa looked around at them. James was at the head of the table. He’d changed for dinner and now wore a cream-colored suit, embroidered with red, yellow, and green flowering vines, trimmed with gold threads, carnelians, and tourmalines. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She picked the thought out of his head, Geoff must have advised her on how to behave. Good.

She was going to have to watch it. Her psychic antennae needed to be up and running, but she couldn’t get carried away. She couldn’t afford to go all space-cadet in front of these people. Yet a great deal of information came to her all at once. The man to James’ right was younger, dressed in emerald and gold, then the boy, who was about ten. The boy wore violet, though he wore short pants and stockings beneath his coat instead of trousers. She knew immediately that those three were related. The family resemblance would have been obvious to anyone, but she could feel the bloodline running through them like a current, running in a straight line: father, son, grandson.

The man on James’ left was dressed in black and gold brocade. Alyssa looked at him, then quickly away, the blush stinging her cheeks like a slap. If James was beautiful, this man was simply unearthly. He was the same age as James, but with his smooth cheeks and reed-thin body, he could pass for a teenager. He had skin like milk, copper hair, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, almost turquoise. He would have been a perfect angel but for the expression on his lovely face: utter distaste and contempt, as if she were an unpleasant odor that had wafted into the room. She also found that he and James had an unusually intense attachment. It was sexual, yes, but there was something more to it than that-- something she’d never felt before. James’ son seemed to have a similar bond with Geoff.

All this came to her in the space of a few seconds. She didn’t have time to ponder any of it, though, before James spoke again, “I am James Walter Erebus Sarpedonne. I am pleased to present to you my son and Heir,” he gestured to the man at his right, “Prince Henri James Endymion Sarpedonne.” He gestured to the boy, “My grandson, Prince Leopold Felix Sebastien Sarpedonne.” He touched the elbow of the man on his left. “My inspirer and chamberlain, Lord Endymion Sinnis Heosphoros Miltiades.” At last, he nodded to Geoff. “And you’ve already met Lord Britomart.”

Alyssa inclined her head to each of them in turn, which she thought was a perfectly acceptable way to acknowledge everybody, but Endymion seemed offended. She didn’t look at him again, but she could feel the loathing radiating off him like heat off a stove. It took her aback-- she’d been awake for all of five and a half hours. What could she possibly have done to piss him off?

James nodded to the spot across from him and Geoff pulled the chair out for her. The seat was cushioned, but it had a carved wooden back. She sat stiffly, mindful of her bandages, her hands folded in her lap.

The rest of them sat, still watching her.

“How are you feeling, Miss Calderon?” Prince Henri asked. Unlike everyone else, he was built like a linebacker: thick neck, slab-like shoulders, and big, meaty fists. The face beneath his beard was round and sweet. Blue-eyed and russet-haired, he was nice enough to look at, but in this room, that put him at tragically average.

Their eyes met. With a start, she realized he’d been the one who’d found her. When she’d fallen through the doorway and landed here, Prince Henri had discovered her, filthy, bloody, and unconscious, on the palace grounds. The spill of dark hair, the limp, splayed limbs. He turns her over, eyes widening when he sees her face. Gently, carefully, he lifts her up in those huge arms, holding her against his broad chest--

“Miss Calderon?” Sky-blue eyes looked into hers with increasing concern. Well, Earth skies, anyway.

Alyssa blinked. “Huh?”

“I asked how you were feeling,” Henri said.

Right. Space cadet thing. Her back was throbbing something awful, but she managed a smile. “Oh, I’m up and about, thank you.”

On her right, Geoff whispered, “Your Grace.”

She kept that smile painted on. “Your Grace.” Addressing them all, she added, “In fact, I really appreciate this opportunity to say thank you in person. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done. I know the Order will be as well.” Then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to talk. Well, that was about as much speech as she had prepared anyhow.

There was a pause. Then Henri said, “Think nothing of it, mademoiselle. It is the least we could do.”

Servants began to make the rounds. Her napkin was placed in her lap for her. Wine and water were poured. (Alyssa declined the former, so they offered her iced tea instead). Then came an assortment of hors d’oeuvres: scallops, quail eggs, snapper crudo on cucumbers, dolma, mini quiches, sausages, sweet potato croquettes, savory tarts, roasted vegetables, breads.

When everyone had been served, James said, “Everyone’s terribly curious about you, mademoiselle, and how you came to be here. Go on, tell them what you told me.”

Putting her fork down, Alyssa repeated her sitch report, more or less verbatim. When she got to the part about neutralizing targets, the boy, Leopold, piped up, “What were the targets?” His gray-green eyes were bright and inquisitive.

“Demons,” she replied.

“Yes, but what kind?”

“Ghouls.”

“How did you neutralize them?”

“Grenades to flush ‘em out. Flame throwers to finish ‘em off.”

“Really?” he leaned forward eagerly. “What else have you fought?”

“Now, Leo,” Henri admonished, “it’s her tale. Let her tell it.”

Disappointed, the boy sank back in his chair. Alyssa gave him a little smile, then told them the rest of it.

“What was it that wounded you?” Henri asked.

“A gug.”

“A what?”

“A gug. Y’know, the--” she started to raise her arms to pantomime the enormous mouth opening and closing, but immediately regretted it. The pain was so intense, she had to grip the edge of the table for support. “-- the vertical jaws? About… about twelve feet tall? No? Well, they eat ghouls. They have pink eyes and these nasty arms that split at the elbow, so they have four sets of talons. One of them raked me down the back.”

They stared at her, aghast. “How on earth did you get away?” Geoff asked.

“Ran like hell.”

Leopold spoke up again. “But the poison--?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I just… kept going.”

“This Order you mentioned before,” James said. “Tell us about it.”

The pain was really starting to wear her out, and she was not prepared for that question. “That’s a lot of history to cover. The Order’s very old.”

He took a sip of wine. “We have time.”

“Well, the Order began about five thousand years ago, in a place called Egypt. It was started by a group of mages who dedicated themselves to protecting our world from extradimensional threats. Since then, we’ve branched out to include not only mages, but scholars, soldiers, psychics, and technicians, but the mission stayed the same: protect humanity from demons and dark magic. We operate in secret, but we’re basically a nation unto ourselves. We have a government, laws, schools, customs, even a religion of sorts. I was born into it. Not everyone is.”

“Why do you operate in secret?” Henri asked.

“Because throughout my world’s history, there have been times when it wasn’t safe to be a mage.”

“So, the rulers of your world, they are not mages?” James asked.

“Almost never.”

Onyx eyes regarded her across the table. “How many members would you say this Order of yours has?”

“Well, we’re global, so. A lot.”

Without warning, Endymion slammed his hand down on the table. “Your Wisdom.”

Alyssa had almost forgotten he was there. “Sorry…? Oh! Sorry! Your Wisdom! I forgot! I’m so sorry. We don’t use honorifics like that where I come from. Your Wisdom. It won’t happen again.”

Still indignant, Endymion opened his mouth to speak again, but James touched his arm. “She is foreign, after all.”

James motioned for the servants to bring the next course. It was the soup course, and a selection of broths and bisques were ladled out.

“Now, where were we?” James mused. “Oh, yes. Your Order. Ancient, stealthy--”

“Are there many women in the Order?” Henri interjected.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Many women soldiers, like you?”

Alyssa tasted her soup, pomegranate seeds and split peas. Delicious. Too bad she wasn’t hungrier. “It’s not uncommon, Your Grace.”

The notion seemed to disturb him. “It must be very dangerous in your world, for the women to have to fight alongside the men.”

“Where I come from, Your Grace, we are considered equal to men. We don’t fight because we’re desperate. We fight out of duty, and because some of us are good at it.”

James laughed outright at that.

Meeting his gaze squarely, Alyssa said, “I’ll wager I’m trained on every weapon you are and then some. Your Wisdom.”

The King stopped laughing. Next to him, Endymion looked murderous...