For all those who may be wondering, the second installment of my novelette series, Le Fay is in the works. I’m about two thirds of the way into it and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it’ll be ready for release mid April.
It is the prequel to Morrighan and tells the story of Morgan and how she met Prince Arthur and the domino effect that befalls her which follows in the wake of her father’s death and propels her mother, Igraine, into the arms of Uther Pendragon.
For those that are familiar with the Arthurian Legends of old, my version is a little different in that there is a paranormal undertone to this story, but to tell you more would be giving too much away. I do however hope you’ll enjoy it.
For now though, I’ll leave you with a teensy excerpt and a look into Le Fay.
Enjoy!
He was standing right in front of her; Morgan couldn’t move. She licked her lips that had all of a sudden gone dry and remembered to breathe, and blink, least she be accused of staring at his all too beautiful face.
“Hello Morgan.”
Morgan shook her head, momentarily breaking the daze. He was too pretty to be real. Too pretty by far to be a boy. None of the boys Morgan knew had hair down to their shoulders.
“H-how do you know my name?” Morgan stammered, taking one step backwards. She shouldn’t have been out on the sidewalk. She should have been inside, but the apartment was dark and cramped.
“I know a great deal about you, Morgan,” he said.
Morgan swallowed hard, as fear bubbled up inside. She felt as if she’d throw up any second.
“Who are you?” Morgan sucked air into her half-starved lungs.
It tasted like roses. The garden behind him was full of them. All white to match the fence that ran all the way along the street.
Morgan shouldn’t have been talking to him, she should have turned away and walked inside, but hopscotch was way more fun than playing inside by herself.
“Now, now Morgan, there’s no need to be hostile,” he said. “I thought you could do with somebody to keep you company. It must get awfully lonely playing by yourself all the time.”
“Who are you?” she shrieked, so loud, that he reached out to put a hand over her mouth to shush her.
“If you promise to be quiet, I will tell you,” he said. “Do you promise, Morgan?”
Morgan nodded, and he took his hand away from her mouth. “Yes… I promise. Now tell me who you are!” her voice, while practically inaudible, was pitched.
“I’m Arthur. Arthur Pendragon,” he said, his blue eyes shining like sapphires.
“Arthur Pendragon,” Morgan repeated.
Despite the presence of a lisp when she said his name, Arthur forced a smile. “Yes.”
“Are you real?” she asked.
“Of course, I am!” he said with an air of indignation. “Aren’t all faeries real?”
Okay, so I’m not that wicked, but I am weary.
