Tales of romance, adventure, and virtue set in a medieval fantasy world are her preference, but she also writes speculative fantasy and a bit of science fiction.
The royal wedding approaches and the country is alive with anticipation.
Among the craftsmen traveling to the capital is Constance Rendare and her family. An artist, a widow of an unhappy marriage, and the mother of a young son, she dreams of escaping the cruel servitude of her father’s household.
Wilard Naron serves the Earl of Dentin. He returns to the capital, his childhood home, to collect his earnings and finally free himself from his father’s reputation.
Kidnappings, bandits, and a plot against the king complicate the journey. The conflicts throw Constance and Wilard together as their circumstances grow steadily worse. The more the pair uncovers, the direr the future looks for the country and for them.
Wilard
Constance’s small smile for her son as she emerged from the wagon door the next morning made the exhaustion in my limbs worthwhile. I could function on a half-night’s sleep per night for a few days if I could see such a clear positive result. Madam Rendare, despite all of her efforts to be independent, needed a champion. It was a position I didn’t intend to sign up for in the long-term, but I was happy to fill the post short-term with Hugh’s assistance.
“Roman is acting like a wounded bear this morning,” Hugh informed me as he guided the gypsy wagon’s team past me to their hitching places. “I would steer clear.”
I nodded but didn’t comment. Roman hadn’t approached the women’s wagon during my watch, but I had heard him pacing in the dark barely out of sight for most of my time on duty.
Making my way around the camp to check on everyone’s progress in the preparations for the day’s journey, I encountered Owen racing through his tasks.
“What is the rush?” I asked as he trotted past me with one of the feeding bags over his arm.
He blushed. “I am a bit behind, Master Wilard.”
“Why?”
He avoided my gaze.
“Owen, regard me directly and tell me the truth.”
He reluctantly met my gaze. “Aunt Meri made me scrape the pot last night, and I overslept this morning.”
“If she orders you to do so again tonight, seek me out, understand?”
He nodded briskly while glancing off toward our wagon and his waiting tasks.
“Go on with you. Continue in your duties. We will move out as soon as everyone is ready,” I said. He flashed me an eager grin before running off to finish his work. Turning my own mind to the task of collapsing and packing the rain cover, I set to warming up my aching muscles.
Before the sun cleared the far horizon, both wagons were on the move. The horses followed at a more leisurely pace as Roman and Owen kept the herd in check. Hugh drove the gypsy wagon, utilizing his greater experience. I handled the open wagon with its cover stowed.
The women walked. Constance’s calm and graceful movements contrasted strongly with Meri’s agitation. Meri made her points with a yanking of her wrap and a general demeanor of aggression. Despite the physical signs of a disagreement, their voices never rose to the point I could hear them above the noise of the wagons and horses.
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