StoneKing
by Donna Migliaccio
February
20, 2018
Fantasy
The
Gemeta Stone Book 3
Fiery
Seas Publishing, LLC
They call him StoneKing: the lord of four countries, the
vanquisher of the Wichelord Daazna, the man who will restore his people to
prosperity and peace.
But there is no peace for Kristan Gemeta. Already weighed down
by the cares of his new realm, Kristan carries a secret burden – the knowledge
that Daazna is not dead. He isolates himself in his ruined castle in Fandrall,
where he struggles to control the destructive Tabi’a power that may be his only
hope of defeating the Wichelord once and for all.
And there’s trouble
elsewhere in his realm. His Reaches are squabbling in Dyer, Melissa and Nigel
are experiencing heartache in Norwinn, and Heather’s command in Hogia is in
jeopardy. Unaware of this turmoil, Kristan receives an unexpected gift – one
that forces him, his knights, an inexperienced squire and a crafty young
shape-shifter into a hazardous winter journey.
Excerpt from Chapter 5
She
stared at her toes, lost in thought. At last Bayla’s voice broke through her
reverie.
“Would
you like to change for dinner, my lady?”
She was
about to say no, but remembered telling Ravelin that she could wear whatever
she
wanted.
Her response had been bold, but after the incident with Staub she wondered if
he was
right.
“I think I will,” she said. “It’s been ages since I’ve worn a dress.”
Bayla’s
mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered her composure. “Any particular
gown, my
lady?”
“Oh, it
doesn’t matter. You pick one.”
As Bayla
rummaged through the big storage chest, Heather stood before the fire and
pulled off her padded tunic and bulky leggings. She had designed the clothing
herself, for warmth and
ease of
movement, but now she wondered if she had made herself look freakish. “But you
are a
freak,
lady commander,” she muttered to herself.
“Let’s
try this one,” Bayla said, pulling out a russet gown. “It was big on you last
summer,
but
maybe it’ll fit now.”
“Have I
gotten fat?”
Bayla
grinned at her consternation. “Far from it, my lady. Your waist and hips are as
slender
as a
boy’s. But your shoulders have gotten broader.”
She
helped Heather into the dress, and then stepped behind to lace it up. Heather
stood as still
as she
could against Bayla’s yanking, but after spending so much time in her work
garments, the
dress
felt odd – constricting through the chest and disconcertingly airy around the
legs.
“How do
I look?” she asked, as Bayla came back into view.
Her
maidservant surveyed her with a critical eye. “Well… perhaps you should see for
yourself.”
Heather
turned to the mirror on the far wall. She rarely looked at herself and was
startled by
what she
saw: a dress that sagged at the waist and hips but was so tight through the
bodice that it
mashed
Heather’s modest breasts flat. The muscled expanse of her shoulders and neck
were
exposed,
along with the thick scars left by Iele’s teeth.
“The
dress barely meets across the back,” Bayla said. “It was all I could do to
fasten it. I’m
afraid
your other dresses will be worse. You were so thin last summer.”
Heather
raised her hand to the scars, grateful that the marks from Iele’s knife were
low on her
back. “I
look like a grizzled old warrior.”
“Not at
all. Look here.” Bayla worked Heather’s hair loose from its coronet of braids
and
shook it
out across her shoulders and breasts, veiling the scars and ill-fitting bodice.
“No man has
hair
like yours, my lady. Such a beautiful color, and so thick.”
Heather
flicked at the fringe across her forehead. “And so unbecomingly cut.”
“There
are women in Needwood who’ve cut their hair the same way, in your honor.”
“And were no doubt sorry for it
afterward. I know I was.”
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About the Author:
Donna
Migliaccio is a professional stage actress with credits that include
Broadway, National Tours and prominent regional theatres. She is based in
the Washington, DC Metro area, where she co-founded Tony award-winning
Signature Theatre and is in demand as an entertainer, teacher and public
speaker. Her award-winning short story, "Yaa & The
Coffins," was featured in Thinkerbeat's 2015 anthology The Art of Losing.
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