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In a world governed by the opposing forces of the mystical House of Tarot and the tribal Great Families, Synn is caught in the crossfire. He witnesses the slaughter of innocent people, and the devastating murder of his father. This act awakens his Mark of power, a Mark greater than any the world has seen in a very long time.
Queen Nix thought she won a great prize when she destroyed Synn’s father, the leader of the strongest Great Families. She had no idea she’d be doubly blessed by capturing his son. However, before Synn can become her treasured weapon, before she can use him to bring the rest of the world to its knees, she must break him and bind his soul to hers.
She does her job with brutal brilliance. Synn’s mind is broken and his soul is seared to hers in an unbreakable bond.
That doesn’t stop him from wanting to be free. She may have broken his mind and claimed his soul, but he will find a way to destroy her.
Experience a world of ships that sail the clouds and cites buried beneath the ocean, and survive the fiery battle brought forth by those who control the forces of nature!
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JW: What have you written? Describe your novel(s) in one line.
FB: Fall of Sky City - Synn must find the courage to do what the Great Families never could--strike back at the Hands of Tarot.
JW: What is your favorite genre to write?
FB: Fantasy.
I love to write anything fantasy. I love being able to world-build. I
think you can see that in my work. I love how the genre's basically
limitless.
JW: If you had to play favorites with your characters, which one would you choose to be your favorite?
FB: Oh,
Synn for sure! Though, there's a new favorite on rise in a new series
I'm working on right now. His name is River and I think he's going to
give Synn a run for his money.
JW: Where do you like to write?
FB: My
favorite spot is down by the creek. I have to wear bug spray, don't get
me wrong, but there's this lovely tree. I love to just sit on the
roots, listen to the creek, feel the wind, and say hi to the passing
people. I love writing there.
JW: What are you currently writing?
FB: I'm
currently working on my Super Secret Dreamland project before I get
back to Knight of Wands (book 2 of Devices of War). I'm calling this new
series the Adventures in Dreamland. It's about the children born from
Dreamland and the adventures they go through to help shape their
changing world. Each novella is going to be an "Episode" and there will
be a nugget in each one that directly connects to the full-length novels
in romance series, Dreamland Stories.
While
the full-length novels are taking longer for me to produce and publish, I
should be able to get these out a bit faster. I still want to do them
right, but it's just such a great way to keep everyone in Dreamland, and
to give them a behind-the-scenes look almost. This setting is just so
massive. It's incredible the kinds of stories that come from it.
JW: What are you currently reading?
FB:The Clockwork Bluebird by Ravven. It's taken me forever to free up time to read it! But, oh my word, it's a good read.
JW: When not writing or reading, what do you enjoy doing?
FB: There's time like that? *head desk*
I
enjoy creating in other ways--sewing, crocheting, baking, gluing. You
name it. I'm also trying to learn to play the guitar, and I'm having a
TON of fun taking classes that are well beyond my high school education
at Coursera. I'm taking Chemistry, Biology, Physics. OMW. It's awesome
fun!
JW: Have you always wanted to be an author?
FB: No. I wanted to be an astrobiophysicist for the longest time. LOL!
JW: If you were transported into the world of any novel or book series, which would you want it to be?
FB: Before
I became a writer, I would have said Valdemar or the Taledras (Mercedes
Lackey). Now, I would have to choose between Illona (Devices of War) or
Dreamland. And I just...Ooohhhhh. Could I bounce between the two?
JW: If stranded on a deserted island for an indefinite amount of time, what is the ONE thing you would want with you?
FB: My
computer with Internet access so I could write and share my stories.
That sounds awful doesn't it? LOL! I just get so much enjoyment writing
and then hearing what other people think, even if they don't like the
books. I still love it.
JW: If you found yourself in a horror movie, do you think you would make it to the end? Why or why not?
FB: Yes.
I think if I found myself in a horror movie, I'd dip in Queen Nix's
personae and BECOME the villain. *nods* Yeah. It wouldn't be great for
everyone, but maybe I could make a hero out of her THAT way.
Muahahahahahahha!
JW: Lastly, what advice would you give to aspiring writers?
FB: Wear Big Girl Panties every day,
and don't quit. If you're going to cry about everything, go into
another line of work. This is tough and most of the time, it's brutal.
It's exhausting. It's a lot of hard work. There are going to be days
when you have to drag yourself out of bed because you're just so
overwhelmed and tired and overworked, but if this is really your dream,
suffer through it and don't quit.
SM Blooding lives in Colorado with her pet rock, Rockie and her bird, Jack. She likes to hike the beautiful Rocky Mountains, and is learning to play the guitar. She’s dated vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, weapons smugglers and US Government assassins. Yes. She has stories.
Visit Frankie at http://www.smblooding.com/ and Frankie Blooding's Bookshelf
Also, be sure to check her out on Twitter
He glanced down at the paper and realized her scribble was actually an image. Trees and mountains framed a large lake on the paper and Leocardo was frozen in confusion. How was she drawing? The pen fell onto the paper as Odette collapsed into Leocardo’s arms.
Twisting her around to face him, he demanded, “What were you doing? Answer me!”
Her limp body shook in his arms; her eyes closed and she was barely audible as if on the brink of passing out. “I don’t feel good,” she murmured weakly. Even though she was naturally petite and fragile, now she looked like she was about to shatter. “I want to sleep.”
The warm brown crept back into her unfocused eyes and her pupils normalized.
“Odette,” he started again, but her trembling became more violent so he stopped. “Okay.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her room. As soon as she hit the sheets, the trembling stopped and almost as quickly, snoring followed.
Leocardo wanted to wake her up so he could question her, but he wasn't sure if she would have any answers. He couldn’t help but wonder if this had happened to her before. He stormed back to the kitchen, picked up the paper, and examined the drawing. The sun’s rays tore through the clouds, and Odette had even added glimmer to the lake’s rippled surface. Odette had been blind since birth; so how could she have drawn this so perfectly? If he hadn’t seen her doing it, he never would have believed it.
Leocardo slouched into the leather couch, still holding the paper. He felt a throbbing pain behind his eyes. Staring at the drawing, he tried to glean some divine understanding of what it meant or how she had done it. His black labrador, Cielo, had abandoned him to sit outside Odette’s bedroom. He was stunned; he knew he shouldn't have been angry with her, but he had been scared and confused.
An hour passed; he was no more enlightened. He looked up to find Odette standing in the open doorway to her room. He kept silent, but his gaze followed her. She seemed better, no longer moving with the mechanical gestures she had used when she was drawing. Cielo’s nails clicked on the hardwood floor as she followed Odette’s every move.
With disbelief, he watched as Odette began to prepare some sandwiches. “Odette,” he called softly, not wanting to startle her.
“Yeah?”
Leocardo hesitated; why was she acting like nothing happened? “What happened to you before?”
She shrugged, “I guess I had low blood sugar. It was just a headache.”
“What do you remember?” he pried. How could she not remember?
“I had a headache. I went to the fridge. I got dizzy for a second. You caught me.” She paused. “How’d you get from the couch to the fridge that fast?” she asked, as though he was the one who did something strange.
“What?” Irate, he marched over. “Don’t you remember drawing this?” He flapped the page so she could hear it rustle. “What are you trying to pull? This isn’t a game.” He was losing his already short patience. Something could be seriously wrong and she was being evasive.
Her brow pressed together and her lips thinned as she let out a frustrated huff. She spoke slowly, as if concerned he was losing his mind. “Leo…you know I can’t draw, much less see whatever it is you might be holding.”
“I know you can’t,” he said a little defensively. Why was she questioning him when she should be providing answers? “You got up and went to the fridge before you started to draw this. I’m not making this up. I have the drawing right here in my hand!” He restrained himself, shaking the paper again, as if hearing the sound made his story more believable.
Odette’s calm expression indicated that she was not amused.
“How can you not remember?” he asked angrily.
He sighed and dropped the drawing onto the floor. His fingers ran through his hair as he tried to make sense of everything without flying off the handle.
“I’m sorry,” Odette murmured, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s okay…sorry,” The moment was awkward and disjointed; he was unsure what to do. Odette went back to making the sandwich, and Leocardo returned to the sofa. He snatched the remote and flipped between channels until he settled on the news.
Tragedies flashed on the screen as Leocardo watched, desperate for a distraction. Something wasn’t adding up, cognitive dissonance, ironic that something he was learning in school was relevant to his life for a change. Maybe he imagined it all. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him and he had drawn it. Television bored him, but he didn’t know what else to do. The news changed topics, now featuring Alaska and its trading partners.
“Edaion,” Leocardo repeated one of the countries listed. A sudden and overwhelming desire to visit this island nation overtook him.
Odette came over and sat next to him, her unfocused eyes in the direction of the screen. Leocardo leaned forward as if being pulled into the screen. He was mesmerized. Slowly he felt his eyelids droop.
“Edaion,” Odette whispered. A silence fell over them and a supernatural film began to wrap around them. Invisible to all, it pressed down on them. Cocooned in this new state, he continued to stare in a trance at the screen. Unable to understand why, he had never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted to travel to Edaion.
When he tried to stand, he felt an immense pressure upon his shoulders, face, and chest. He reached out to Odette, feeling as though he was falling through the sofa itself. Cielo whined and nuzzled his knee. His grip around Odette’s hand tightened. Suddenly the pressure snapped and he felt the painful sensation of being rammed from all sides, as if hit by a train.
In a dreamlike state, he stumbled forward with Odette sandwiched between him and Cielo. They were somewhere else, no longer in the cozy Barcelona apartment. The air was clean and chilly. A stranger’s arm brushed up against him as a group huddled together, all looking lost and confused. Half a dozen dogs circled and sniffed them. While trying to restore his equilibrium, he noticed the dogs wouldn’t leave Odette alone. They sniffed and licked her palms causing her to wipe them on his shirt. Someone asked him if he was okay, but he didn't answer. The speaker herded the group onto a bus, and as soon as he was seated, Leocardo’s head fell against the windowsill. Blackness engulfed his vision.
The bus lurched and Leocardo was propelled into the seat in front of him. His eyes flew open; his throat felt dry and his nose was pink from the cold. Someone held a colored version of Odette’s drawing before his eyes. It was blurry, and as he reached out, his fingers hit glass. With his sleeve, he wiped the window to see the drawing become clear. Something was wrong.
Why was it behind glass? Where was he? Why was he on a bus? His gaze darted back to Odette who had Cielo nuzzling her affectionately. Her eyes were closed. He woke her up with a shake of the shoulders.
“What is this?” Leocardo demanded as if she would know.
“What’s what? You’re the one who can see, remember?” Her voice was soft and timid. He realized she was just as confused. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close and then placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
His gaze returned to the window. It was still there. As the bus meandered through perilous mountains, he never lost sight of the lake. It was glistening, majestic and overwhelming in size, but it was not a drawing. This time he knew it was real. Something was terribly wrong.
-end excerpt-