QSFer Mell Eight has a new MM fantasy out, Princes of Toval book 2: The Prince.
Captured as a prisoner of war, Prince Clament expects rough treatment. However, the extent of torment he endures is beyond even his expectations. When Prince Braxton frees him, Clament knows it’s only a farce meant to coerce him into finally spilling all his country’s secrets. Except, despite all his efforts—magical and common—Clament finds himself helplessly drawn to Braxton, wishing he could believe the tantalizing promises Braxton makes.
Unfortunately, the war continues to be fought. When the ongoing battle spills into Clament’s healing ward, resisting Braxton takes a backseat to simple survival. And yet, Clament knows he must make a terrible decision: believe in Braxton and betray his country, or betray Braxton and possibly get him killed. That is, assuming Clament is allowed to live long enough first.
Get It At Amazon | Publisher | Universal Buy Link
Giveaway
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
a Rafflecopter giveawayDirect Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/555033ec1059/?widget_template=589504cd4f3bedde0b6e64c2
Excerpt
Prince Clament of the country of Namin walked through the campsite on the shores of Lake Estaral only half listening to the mercenary captain bitching in his ear about how long they had been left to wait with dwindling supplies. He tried to keep the sneer twisting his lips in place, but all he really wanted was to roll his eyes and go back to his own campsite where he could get some sleep. He really, really didn’t want to be here.
The whole plot was a harebrained idea doomed to failure, but no one back in Namin had wanted to hear Clament’s opinion. Instead, they had assigned him to lead these sorry excuses for mercenaries. The plan was simple: the mercenaries would descend from the Spikehorn Mountains into the lush northern farmland in the foothills less than a day’s ride from here, where they would pillage the local villages into oblivion. The country of Toval, within whose borders those villages were located, would be forced to respond to protect their people by sending a large military contingent to repel the mercenaries. The military would be focused on rescuing the people and on rebuilding whatever was left of the villages. While Toval was distracted by what was happening in their north, Namin planned to invade in the south, using their forces to establish a new border where Namin could claim the land in those even lusher foothills.
There was no damned way such a moronic plan would work.
A glance around at the maybe two hundred mercenaries in the camp told Clament exactly how poorly the plan was going to go. Not a single mercenary had a properly maintained set of armor or weapons. Also, none of them would be particularly pleased with the idea of having to work together and split the spoils.
Assuming the mercenaries even agreed to participate—rather than just cutting their losses and heading out to find a better job—Clament knew what would actually happen. Should this ragtag group descend into Toval’s northern farmland, the result was very likely going to be the exact opposite of Namin’s grand, hairbrained plan: the mercenaries would attack and pillage the villages and Toval would respond. If Namin was lucky, Toval might send one full contingent of forces in response. A full contingent was probably overkill to defeat the mercenaries, if Clament was being honest. The rest of Toval’s large and extremely well-trained army would remain in full readiness, completely able to respond to an incursion in the south.
Clament would probably be killed by Toval’s forces in the battle, which, in hindsight, might explain why he was sent to lead the mercenary part of the plan. A convenient way of getting rid of him—having Toval remove his head. Clament would go from the hated bastard prince to a martyr killed by the great enemy of Toval, a dead figurehead used to unify the people of Namin under the king’s call to arms. He was much more useful to Namin dead than alive, for this part of their grand plan, at least.
Two soldiers held open the flaps of the command tent as Clament ducked the low awning and stepped inside. The complaining mercenary captain followed, his mouth still running with yet more complaints. One by one the rest of the captains entered, each of them scowling and trying to look more intimidating than the others. Clament tried to out sneer them, in hopes that acting haughty would convince them to obey his orders. Last of all came the captain wearing the red patch on his piecemeal leather armor, denoting he was in charge of the Blood Lions. He ducked into the tent and looked up, immediately catching Clament’s eyes.
Prince Fenwick of Toval, Commander of His Majesty’s Royal Forces. Clament recognized him immediately.
And then all hell broke loose.
Author Bio
When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.
Website: http://melleightfiction.weebly.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MellEightFiction/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MellEight