Book: Peasant Princess
Series: Teller of Destiny #3
Author: A.H. DeCarrasco
Genre: Young / New Adult Fantasy
Tour Organized by: Indie Sage, LLC
Release: Mid-Late 2014
SYNOPSIS:
“I would do it again.” Lunule placed Raphere’s cold fingers between his hands, to warm them. “A thousand things I would do for your pardon.” Events in Paz Etur have taken an ugly turn. Whispers of conspiracy and censure echo within the city. Recovering from a near-mortal wound, Raphere can do little to shield those she has sworn to protect. As First Scout Otti embarks upon a journey east, to unravel Raphere’s past, Rant finds his own challenges waiting in Paz Ori. The dark deals he made as a mercenary cannot be dismissed, and Dark Lords are not known for patience. Even Tranquia is beginning to have misgivings where Raphere is concerned. As strange plagues spread over the plains, and wolves prowl forever closer to the kingdoms, will Raphere have the strength to calm the ill winds churning from all directions? Will she find her closest ally in the cruelest of princes?
Excerpt
…His expression softened
as he sat down beside her. Carefully, Lunule moved the chair and winced as it
creaked. He leaned closer to her. His elbow nearly touched her hand. His
fingers could almost reach her face. Raphere’s dark hair had grown quite long
since she came to the palace. He lifted a lock and held it between his fingers.
It was soft, like silk.
“Do you wish to pull
it?”
He released the curl and
leaned back. “No, not today.”
“Good,” she retorted and
turned her face away. But sleep was gone, and without a thought to his
struggle, she lifted her arms above her and slowly stretched out the kinks in
her limbs.
Could she take his weight? The nasty voice of his mind goaded. He
shook his head to clear away the persistent thought.
“I am not supposed to be
here,” he told her.
“Really?” She didn’t
seem to care that he was.
“My father has brought
me to task. Told me I shouldn’t see you unless you called for me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You didn’t want to see
me?”
“Hardly.” She scoffed at
him, cutting him to the quick with one word.
“But, of course, I knew
you wouldn’t want to see me. But I care little for other’s wants or needs, as
you’ve told me. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Lunule,” she snapped
angrily and made to rise but cried out in pain. Lunule leapt to his feet,
shocked that she still suffered, and watched helplessly as she seemed to shrink
under her blankets. Her breath rasped from her throat, uneven and harsh.
“Raphere.”
“Prince,” she whispered,
her voice strained. “Why must you torture me? Haven’t you had your fill?”
Lunule was quiet a
moment then ventured on another path. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For what? Taking the
wound you deserved?” she retorted hoarsely.
“I shouldn’t have come,”
he said. Suddenly very ashamed of himself, he retreated toward the antechamber.
“I am sorry, Raphere.” Again the apologies spilled from his lips. Ah! He was a
fool.
“No. Do not leave,
please.”
He turned around as his
heart lightened. He reclaimed the seat he had left and leaned near her. Her
captivating green eyes looked at him a moment.
“How is Rant? Is he
well?”
Lunule’s jaw tensed as
he felt the knife’s twist. His lips lifted into a smile to cover his wound and
he leaned back in the chair. “He is well. He returned to Paz Ori with his
mother.”
“Any word for me?”
His hesitation was
imperceptible even as his mind, quick as a bee’s wing, contemplated his
choices. He had left the note behind. Why make the journey to retrieve it
tonight?
He made his decision, if
only a postponement. “No,” he lied. “Not yet, anyway.”
He noticed her
disappointment but it mattered little. She wanted him near only to serve as a
messenger.
“I must have angered
him.” Raphere decided.
“No,” he reassured her.
It was the least he could do. “I think he had other matters to see to. Not that
you weren’t important. My father strictly forbade his seeing you, and he had to
leave that day.”
This did nothing to
soften her frown, however. Again, she averted her face from him.
“I freed the prisoners
for you, as you asked.”
She turned back toward
him. “I am glad, Lunule. It was the right thing to do.”
“I know that now,” he
admitted. “You are always teaching me…such things. I never realize how
stupid...” His words dwindled.
“Raphere,” he began
again, not knowing what his very next words would be—what chitchat could he
offer to change her mood, her heart. This was a failure. Almost accusingly he
continued. “Now you must forgive me.”
“I forgive you, Lunule,”
she told him but her heart was not in it. He could tell that much.
“That is not my only
penance, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “My father wants me to go to the Feast of
Second Harvest and wash the feet of ten peasants.”
This sudden information
brought a true laugh from Raphere but she winced in pain even as she chuckled.
“Their feet? Oh, Lunule,
what an appropriate punishment for you.” Her throat was dry and her laughter
turned to hoarse coughing. Lunule leaned forward and grabbed her hand. She
squeezed his fingers tightly as pain wracked her body.
“Dear Fate, Raphere,” he
said miserably. “I am so sorry. I never meant harm to you. Not like this.”
She continued to cough.
He grabbed the water pitcher and filled a cup, spilling the liquid in his
haste. The prince acted as servant, supporting her head and helping her bring
the cup to her mouth. She drank deeply. Her emerald eyes met his over the rim.
“The water tastes
bitter,” she noted when she was done, her voice yet hoarse.
He took the cup from her
and placed it on the bed’s night table, then gently fluffed her pillow.
He couldn’t help
himself, being so close to her, her breath on his face. He lowered his lips and
gently kissed her cheek.
She said nothing, not a
retort or insult. Again, he took her hand in his even as her eyes grew moist.
He watched helplessly as she blinked back tears.
“I would do it for you,”
he told her quickly. “I would wash their feet if you wished it.”
She didn’t say a word to
comfort him. She looked away just as a tear proved victorious against her
battle and spilled onto the cheek he had kissed, as if to wash it clean.
“You didn’t hear me that
night, Raphere, when Tranquia said you would die. She claimed there was nothing
she could do. I told her she must not let you die. I told her before all the
nobles and stable hands that you couldn’t die...because I love you. And I do in
my heart, as only I can know.”
Lunule squeezed her hand
tighter. Fearing she would draw it away from his, he clasped it with both of
his hands.
“I don’t expect you to
return my affection—”
“Affection?” she
countered bitterly. “Is that what you call your actions? Affections—?”
“I can only ask a chance
to prove my feelings are real. Only that. I would wash their feet for you,
Raphere. A thousand things I would do for your pardon.”
She pulled her hand back
and rolled onto her side, toward the balcony. Away from him. “Do it for
yourself, Lunule.” Her words dismissed him.
A. H. De Carrasco embarked upon the writer’s journey at a young age, writing illustrated fan fiction for her grade school classmates’ favorite shows. Several decades later, she is publishing her collection of fantasy novels for teenagers and adults. Lately, she writes beside a waterfall as her husband tests his goggles and flippers. Her cats look on in displeasure from the screen door, but purr happily when she writes at her desk.
Teller of Destiny Series
From Continue #1
Princes and Fools #2
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