Announcement: Urban Fairy Tale, by Lex Chase

QSFer Urban Fairy Tale has a new MM urban fantasy book out:

Modern-day fairy-tale princess Taylor Hatfield has problems. One, he’s a guy. Two, he’s an insomniac Sleeping Beauty. Three, his practically perfect brother, Atticus Hatfield, this generation’s Snow White, has been irrevocably corrupted by the Witchking. The Library, a clandestine organization, seeks to write “The End” on Atticus, and Taylor is given the impossible task when his own parents endorse his brother’s demise. With his true love, the huntsman Corentin Devereaux, at his side, they once again set out to find Atticus, but Atticus won’t go down without a fight.

The quest ends how it began. But instead of the quirky, corkscrewing Americana road trip, Taylor and Corentin must contend with the dangers of the urban jungle. With an unexpected ally at their side, they’re forced to question all they know about the legacy of Snow White.

As the world of the Enchants and the mundane hang in the balance, Taylor knows what he must do: go pick an apple.

Screw-up Princess and Skillful Huntsman Trilogy: Book Three

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Excerpt

“I’M GOING to throw up,” Taylor muttered, standing rigid before the chapel doors. His stomach bubbled. “Ringo, I’m seriously going to throw the fuck up.”

It wasn’t dignified for princesses to vomit; female ones probably never did. But as a guy, Taylor was a special case. There was no limit to the undignified shit he got away with. All of Enchant high society clutched their pearls before the hotheaded, upstart princess.

He lost count of the number of raised eyebrows when he petitioned for his marriage to be held at the Midas Citadel—a sacred space of the greatest reverence to all Enchants. The Citadel had been ground zero during the turning point in the Great War where Princess Zellandine, the Sleeping Dragon, Taylor’s ancestor, had been responsible for turning the tide against Idi the Witchking and his army.

As Zellandine’s descendant and the new Sleeping Dragon, Taylor was by far the worthiest to walk the holy grounds, despite what the nobility and gentry whispered behind his back. He and his true love, Corentin Devereaux, had saved the world for Enchants and humans alike countless times and never got so much as a thank-you. Taylor’s own father, after all these years, refused to extend the offer to mend fences. Lord Hatfield had been the Dragon before Taylor had taken up the mantle and wielded the briar lance, yet he refused to give any helpful guidance.

Taylor carried the emptiness of metaphorically losing his father on that fateful day he came out in spite as an angry teenager. Taylor had learned to let go. A tragedy his father couldn’t do the same. His father took his bitterness to the grave. Taylor had attended the funeral with Corentin at his side, and they’d remained long after they lowered his father’s casket into the ground. Only a month to the day before his wedding.

He shook his head as the anxiety gnawed at him, his thoughts swimming with dread. He was marrying Corentin. And every Enchant would be forced to recognize it, whether or not they accepted a princess could fall in love with a Cronespawn. It was too much to ask for their people to respect it, as they cursed their saviors yet praised Mother Storyteller for their enduring prosperity.

Taylor and Corentin were just microscopic cogs in a grand magical machine, and no one questioned how it worked. In the end, it was better that way. At least no one came pounding down their front door for every fucking thing.

But that was insignificant as he stood before the stained-glass chapel doors, fully aware his destiny waited on the other side. All he could think about was trying not to expel his breakfast. Which, of course, only made him obsess about it.

His fairy godfather, Ringo, a grizzled old pixie the size of a tubby housecat, sported outrageous, gigantic, pink butterfly wings. He stood atop a vase on tiptoe to check his bushy gray ponytail and then adjust his green tie. Ringo nodded to himself, seeming self-assured in the midst of Taylor’s runaway terror.

“You got this,” Ringo said, his tone confident. “You say ‘I do,’ he says ‘I do,’ you kiss, you drink a little booze, you kids go off and do what you do, and I pretend I don’t see those epic hickeys on you in the morning.” He busied himself by smoothing the long train of Taylor’s coat. “And please. You may be royalty and all, but for the love of Storyteller, don’t be slipping Corentin tongue at the ceremony. We gotta pretend we’re classy for today.”

Taylor swallowed again as he broke out in a cold sweat. “I’m not kidding. Seriously. I’m going to puke.”

Ringo punched him in the arm with a tiny fist. “Not in a Brave Little Tailor original you’re not.”

Taylor straightened his shoulders and sucked in a slow, even breath. His skin tingled as every pore sparked with agitation. The dragon that slept within his soul, his beloved ally, Zee, remained silent. He had mastered soothing her through the years. It had gotten to the point that Taylor barely perceived her presence inside him. Zee had become content as a lazy tabby, but was a force more horrific than chaos itself when Taylor summoned her.

The cheerful sunlight shone through the stained-glass panels of the doors before him. Despite the happy faces of the fairy-tale figures captured in pastel pinks, blues, greens, and gold, from Little Red Riding Hood to the Little Mermaid, the colors only reminded him of the technicolor yawn churning in his stomach.

His knees wouldn’t stop shivering.

Taylor’s nerves revolted.

Run! his inner voice screamed. Wake up! it screamed louder.

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