The Sand Prince
Hellne
fights to keep her people alive and her son Rhuun’s heritage a secret.
myth. Only a handful of old men and fanatical children still guard
The Door between the worlds.
that tells
of a human world of water and wonder. Forced by his mother’s enemies
to flee Eriis, he finds himself trapped on the other side of The Door
in the very place he has read and dreamed about—Mistra.
must
balance serving and surviving, even at the risk of exposing his true
identity. Riskiest of all is his task of kidnapping an infuriating
young woman who is about to find out that the demons of Eriis are
much, much more than just an old bedtime story.
**Only .99 cents!!**
The Heron Prince
heir to its
throne. What’s more, he has even found love with the prickly,
passionate heiress, Lelet va’Everly.
throne. They are out for his blood…which holds the key to unsealing
The Door between the two worlds, and the demons want in. When Rhuun
is lured into a trap on Eriis, Lelet has no choice but to turn to a
motley group of exiles, children, and madmen to help save him.
a price. The secrets in Rhuun’s blood may be worth killing for, but
are they worth dying for?
The Glass Girl
demon
realm of Eriis sees hope for his life on the human world of Mistra
with his fierce human lover, Lelet va’Everley. She literally went to
hell and back to save him, and she’s not about to let anything—or
anyone—ruin their perfect future.
Lelet to confront new griefs and old mistakes as they attempt to
restore balance to the throne of Eriis. But, with every jealous rumor
and each vengeful whisper, friends turn, family schemes, and
forgotten enemies creep from the shadows.
Lelet have
fought so hard to build, threatening to tear apart the two lovers,
their families, and even their worlds.
Kim Alexander grew up in the wilds of Long Island, NY and slowly
drifted
south until she reached Key West. After spending ten rum-soaked years
as a DJ in the Keys, she moved to Washington DC, where she lives with
two cats, an angry fish, and her extremely patient husband who tells
her she needs to write at least ten more books if she intends to
retire in Thailand, so thank you for your patronage.
and a magical book…
She unwrapped the book and put it on the bed next to the baby. Then she took her needle
in one hand and one of the child’s tiny fingers in the other.
“I won’t take much and you won’t miss it,” she told him. “I promise I’ll take a lot less than
those hooded freaks downstairs. Ugh, I can’t believe I brought you there. Hellne, get
yourself a maid.”
For his part, the baby laughed and tried to grab her hair.
She stabbed his finger. His face was a picture of surprise, and then it screwed itself up into
a howl.
She looked at him curiously. “You felt that?”
She hadn’t expected that, but perhaps she should have. His father, she recalled, was as
delicate as a new flower. She looked at his tiny hand, at the bead of blood welling, and
frowned—it was just a little needle, after all. She stabbed her own finger and felt nothing
more than a slight warmth. Well, maybe the child was just startled.
Do babies startle?
She held the little finger over the back page of the book, where Malloy had made some
sort of human looking scrawl. Blood made the ink run for just a second, and then it righted
itself, unsmearing before her eyes. More human magic, they were just so fond of their
words.
She held the book at arm’s length. Would a crack in The Door open here in her room?
She waited. Nothing.
“Well, not today, then. Still, I imagine this might be useful later. Maybe one day you’ll
figure this out and go visit your father. Won’t that be exciting?”
She set the book aside and blotted the baby’s finger.
“See? You’re fine.”
The baby had stopped crying and was back to gazing at her with its big, red, and round
eyes. It was unnerving, the way it watched her. Normal babies had tilted eyes and a subtle
gaze, never resting on anything for very long, a habit that carried them into adulthood.
This child was so direct, the only one who had ever stared at her like that, she suddenly
recalled, was a hunting hawk she’d had as a girl. A gift from her father from the humanworld. The bird’s eyes were amber, not red, but perfectly round, and it held her gaze just
this way. Watching her, taking the measure of her, silent and constant.
“Rhuun,” she said, remembering. “My hawk’s name was Rhuun. He was my weapon. He
would fly so far I couldn’t even see him at all, but he always came back to me.”
The baby looked up at her as if he were listening.
“Will you be my weapon, Rhuun?”
The child gurgled and tried to catch her finger again, his tears forgotten.
“You have quite a good grip for someone so small”, she told him. “Perhaps we’ll have a
little Naming party for you after all. Let all those gossips get a good look at you. ‘Eriis is
his father’, I’ll tell them. ‘He belongs to the city and to me.’”
She picked him up, a bit awkwardly. He grabbed a handful of her long, black hair and
stuffed it in his mouth. She laughed.
For the first time, she could look at him and see something other than Malloy’s face
looking back at her.
“I made you,” she said “and you’ll always come back to me.”
She sat back on her bed and watched the low clouds whip past her window and held him
until long after he’d fallen asleep.
Another excerpt, because I want you to meet Rhuun, my wayward demon prince. He’s an
adult now and is calling himself ‘Moth.’ Lelet, the young woman he’s kidnapped, is trying
to figure him out.
Moth—now hatless—squinted through the trees. “It’s getting dark. We’ll stop here.” He
climbed down from the front of the cart, warily approaching the horse.
She folded her arms and glared at the back of his head. She was hungry, and while having
an adventure seemed like an exciting idea, being carted through an empty forest in a dirty
cart—there was a distinct smell of garbage—was both boring and a little scary. The only
way to get her captor, whatever he was, to talk to her was to provoke him. He was
certainly good looking enough to be interesting, but he sat there like a stone, he didn’t pay
her any attention at all. And this whole being a demon thing, the thing with his eyes, well,
there had to be some trick to it she wasn’t seeing. Rane was going to have to come up with
the explanation of a lifetime. She’d deal with Rane in due course, but right now she was in
a mood—a Low Snit. And this person—Moth of all things, honestly, what sort of a name
was that?—wanted to stop.
“What’s the difference?” she said. “You’re just going to slit my throat and eat my flesh.”
“You might as well be rested when I do.”
“Was that a joke? Are we joking about murdering me now?” Low Snit was quickly
escalating.
“I am not going to murder you,” he replied. “I am also not going to eat your flesh, skin
you, cut off your hair, cut off your feet . . . what else was it you said before? Oh, I’m not
going to make a necklace of your eyeballs. You are very imaginative, though. You should
write a book.”
Did he actually think this was funny? He was doing something with the horse, which
turned into a slow motion ballet of him trying to tie the leads to a tree and the horse pulling
just ever so slightly far enough away to prevent it. She stalked up behind him and grabbed
the leads away and secured the animal, which calmed down when he moved away from it.
“I am so glad you can see the humor in dragging me off in the night and throwing me in a
filthy wagon. Or did you not do that, either?” she snapped.
He looked up from fiddling with a collection of rocks. He was making a pile, like a small
pyramid, with bigger stones at the bottom. “I am to deliver you. That’s all.”
She knew he wouldn’t say where or to whom, having asked more than twice. “What are
you doing? With those rocks?” she asked, more out of frustration with his behavior than
actual curiosity. After all, how many different things could you do with rocks?
“It will be cold tonight. I’m going to light them,” he told her. Unsatisfied with their
formation, he carefully rearranged several near the top. As he did, the form collapsed. He
again said something that sounded like rush toe or rich tea, and started over.
She barked a laugh. “Light them? Do you think they’re made of wood?”
“There isn’t much wood where I come from.” This time the pile seemed to be the right size
and shape, and he sat back on his heels and brushed the dirt off his hands.
“On the other side of The Door,” she said, hoping to catch him in a lie. But he was sticking
with the demon thing and said, “Well, obviously we don’t call it that.”
She put her fists on her hips. “What do you call it?”
He looked back at the rocks, did something with his hands, and they began to glow. “It’s
called Eriis. We call it home.”
Here, Lelet and Prince Rhuun (she calls him Moth) have been on the run and
sleeping in the open for about a week. Now that they’ve found an inn, he wants to hit the
sheets at once. She’s all, Dude, let a girl have a bath!
Lelet put Moth to work washing her hair. “No, it doesn’t get clean with just water,
just use a little of the soap—the green one—that’s it.” She slapped his hand. “That is not
my hair! Focus.”
“Lelet,” he said, pouring clean water over her head, “There’s something wrong with
your hair.”
She looked up at him. “Is it falling out or something?”
“No, it’s a different color where it’s growing. It’s changing color.” He had a horrible
thought. “It’s not going to be pink again, is it?”
She laughed. “I am the only one who liked the pink. No, it’s going to be dark, not as
dark as yours, though. But I’ll probably make it white again when I have the chance. I
don’t know anyone who has naturally white hair.”
He marveled. “Humans. So many colors, and you use them all.”
She stood up, water streaming from her hair and down her slender form, and
reached for a fresh towel. “If you want a turn…”
“Maybe another time. But I do need the tub when it’s empty.” The thought of sitting
in a pot of water did not appeal, it was a little too much like making soup. As far as he was
concerned, if there was water, it was going to be his river. Or maybe her ocean, if it really
existed. He took a breath and said, “I want to change my form, and I don’t want to set
anything else on fire or scorch the floorboards.” He busied himself drying her back.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you sure about that? You know I’ll be
able to see you. I can close my eyes, I guess. If you don’t want me to watch.”
He shrugged. “You keep telling me you like how I look. This is part of how I look.
Just don’t come too close.” He wasn’t sure at all, but he wanted to give her something, and
he had nothing else.
She sat on the bed with her knees tucked under her, and as he stepped into the empty
copper tub her eyes never left his face. He took a deep breath. She nodded. He wanted to
close his eyes or look away, but she didn’t, so he didn’t either. It only took to the count of
ten, and he was himself again. A scattering of ash lay at the bottom of the tub.
Since she hadn’t leapt to her feet or run for the door, he lay down beside her. Instead
of the disgust he was used to feeling upon showing his true face, right now he felt only
calm.
“I have to tell you,” she said, “I was expecting something…else. I didn’t really see
you, that other time. It was dark and I was so tired. But now? You looked sort of like a
statue of yourself, made out of ash and smoke. You looked soft. I wanted to touch you. It
wasn’t ugly, although if I didn’t understand what you were doing I might have been afraid.
But ugly? No.” She watched his face. “Do you believe me?”
“You don’t have to keep asking me that. I believe you.” And, he realized, he nearly
did.
Dun Dun Dun! Rhuun has been betrayed and he’s in trouble! Here we find out a little bit
about who is related to whom, and how far Lelet will go to save the man she loves.
“…This was an exciting adventure, but it’s time to take your pretty dress and go
home, back to your friends and parties,” said Brother Blue.
“I am a Fourth, and he came here to see you,” said Lelet. “We came here even
though we knew there was a chance The Door might open, because of you.”
“Well, that’s highly unlikely, but if it got him back where he—it—belongs—”
“He read your stupid book, old man.” Blue gaped at her. “All the way over there on
Eriis, he somehow got a copy of The Claiming of the Duke, and thought you were some
kind of genius. He told me your book changed his life. Just because he has crap taste in
literature doesn’t make him a monster.”
“My….what did you say his name was?” Had the room gotten colder? Blue felt a
chill.
“He told me his name was Moth, but that isn’t his real name. I don’t know it and it
doesn’t matter. But he did tell me who his mother is. He’s the Prince. His mother is the
Queen.”
“And who is this prince’s father?” Blue asked faintly.
“He doesn’t know the man’s name. But he does know one thing and that does
matter. His father was a human.”
“Lies,” Blue whispered, “Lies.” Hellne…did you figure it out after all? That little
escape hatch I came up with a hundred years gone, you gave it to your son, and he came
here…he’d be a man by now….it cannot be… He passed a shaking hand over his face.
Olly stepped in front of the desk. “Can’t you see he’s ill? This day has been too
much for him. You both need to go.”
“Go?” Lelet pushed the boy aside. “There’s only one place I want to go. You want
to keep your precious Door in place? Because pretty soon, it’s coming off the hinges.
That’s what he’s for, that’s why they want him back. He’s not a monster or a criminal or a
key. He’s not a beast. He’s a weapon. Now, I don’t care if there’s a Door or not, but I’m
not going to let him die if there’s even a chance I can save him. And you’re going to help
me.”
Brother Blue had gone quite grey. “Is this possible? Is it true?” Hellne, what else
were you keeping from me?
Lelet looked at Scilla and at Blue. “You’re both so clever, aren’t you? A whole
building full of clever people. Well, now you’re going to figure out how to get me there.”
She slammed the dagger on the desk. “You’re going to figure out how to hide my face, and
I’m going to Eriis and I’m bringing him home. And then both of you and this place and
that damned Door can go straight to hell.”
Blue caught Scilla’s eye. She might be of use after all, he thought.
“It is not impossible…” he began.
“Is there precedent..?” she asked.
“Olly,” said Blue, “I am going to need some books. I’ll make you a list.”
The white haired sister, who had finally stopped her wailing, curled up in the corner
in Blue’s good chair. She held the ugly dagger up and stared at the light on the blade. Blue
thought she looked a little mad.
“Hurry,” she said.
Okay, so it looks like Lelet is willing to do anything to save Rhuun’s life. Do not come
between Lelet and her boyfriend!
“The prince is free by my hand,” she told them. “Eiith, rest him now, is dead, by my
hand. Would any of you care to join Eiith? Or would you take the example of your prince
and live in the open air? Because this place—” she looked scornfully around, “is about to
be gone.”
“Madam,” said Coll, “Madam, why? Eiith spoke in….regretful terms regarding the
prince, but all of Eriis knows our work is important. Soon we will be able to open The
Door and revenge ourselves on the human world. Don’t you want that? Doesn’t the
prince?”
So it was true, what Moth had suspected. They were doing more than tinkering with
the atmosphere. “How close are you? To making it ready?”
“Very. So, again, and with no disrespect—why?” He nodded to himself, figuring it
out. “Of course. I have been long removed from the world of men and women. I saw you
with him. You attend the prince and wish to protect him. Perhaps you have grown attached
to him. Think of it this way. What greater legacy could he have than lending his very blood
to the Weapon that will take from Mistra what the humans stole from us? His name will
live forever.”
“It will, I think,” she agreed, “but not like this.” The men, now with their faces
exposed, frowned and whispered together. “Tell me,” she said, pointing towards a stern
faced man on her left.
“You are from the humans. We can smell it on you. At first we thought it was from
attending the prince, but it is your own. You are from the humans, somehow with a demon
face. Your manifestation is corrupt, your power is warped. How else could you walk into
our Raasth and strike us down? Well? Have you come to finish the job the Weapon
started?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “Very far from it. If I could bring back the rain I’d do it right
now. But war upon war is not the answer. Yes, I attend and protect the prince, but I also
protect everyone on the other side of The Door. You’ll stop your work. That’s why I’m
here.” They stood silently. “Do you have families to return to?”
“We do, some of us,” said Coll, “but they may not show a kind face when they see
us.”
“Then you’ll make new families, or convince the old ones. But you can’t stay here.”
She looked around again. “I will not be remembered as the girl who burnt down the
library, though. These books should be saved. And you must have things you love, even
down here in the Raasth. I will count to fifty. And then whatever’s left…” she shrugged.
“Oh, and if any of you go directly from here to Yuenne or the Zaal? You’ll meet Eiith on
the other side. And that’s a promise made by a human.”
They gaped at her and at each other.
“One. Two. Three…”
They went from frozen to frantic in a heartbeat; raising so much dust in grabbing
volumes and artifacts that she didn’t see one of them, the stern faced one, quietly gathering
every tightly lidded silver bowl he could lay hand to.
The last one fled past her at the count of forty-five, giving her as wide a berth as
possible. The white flame of her hands now reached nearly to her shoulders.
Use me, the fire said.
She did that last thing, the thing she didn’t know if she could do, the thing that
revealed her True Face and set the fire free. And as sand boiled into glass, she shut her
eyes and pictured the place neat and dry and clean; smelling for a while like ash, but the
stink of blood and pain, that would all be gone.
I like all the covers but I love The Glass Girl. Amazing
All the covers are awesome! They make me interested in reading the books.
The covers look intense and great reads. I guess based on covers alone, Glass Girls would be my favorite.