Oastomin, a university freshman and the newest Crimson
Knight, consents to rigorous training so he can follow in his father’s
footsteps and be accepted among his peers. A few months into his preparation,
his dad, King Natro of Jacmuir, dies. Oastomin
soon discovers his father’s power came at the high price of a long buried
secret.
Seventeen year old Maia has a daily habit of pushing the
“gray” boundary between right and wrong, but when she secretly rallies
college-aged young men to undermine her father’s petitions for an alliance, her
parents to deliver a harsh punishment.
Maia is forced to leave home but she decides to use her eviction as the
perfect time to learn the secrets of the Crimson Knights.
Oastomin and Maia must decide if they are willing to
sacrifice their principles in order to preserve their way of life. They will
discover if it’s possible to slide across a moral line and openly challenging
their parents’ expectations, while trying not to be held accountable for their
powerful fathers’ mistakes.
Author:
Angeline Bishop writes contemporary romance fiction and has a
growing fan base. Angeline’s novels are
thought-provoking, refreshingly entertaining, fast paced, and with a strong
romantic elements. She was born in Washington, D. C., but lived most of her
life in New Jersey and considers the 'Garden State' her home. Her childhood
passion for writing led to a degree in English Literature and a membership in
Romance Writers of America.
Aside from writing her own novels and blogging, Angeline is
the Vice President of the Cultural, Interracial, and Multicultural Special
Interest Chapter of Romance Writers of America and enjoys helping authors
strengthen their craft. She co-hosts the
AMB Talk Radio podcasts each Fall with her pop-culture loving, college-aged
daughter. And she’s the founder of the AMB Ovation Awards (The Angie) which
provides honor and recognition of authors’ outstanding achievements in the
multicultural romance literary profession.
She is looking forward to partnering with Astraea Press to
present the Jacmuir Series, a multicultural New Adult series inspired by her
college-age reader fan base.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
OASTOMIN
I hate my father...most of the time. I know a prince should
never utter those words to another living, breathing soul, but it’s the truth.
My ears often bleed at the sound of his imperious voice
because his tormenting commands swim in my head constantly. Every waking hour,
he tells me how to act, what to say, and how to say it. When I get a moment
alone, I don’t even recognize the sound of my own thoughts.
If I were an ordinary teenager, I could put in my digital
music system earbuds and zone out to American music imports like Imagine
Dragons or Bruno Mars, but I’m far from ordinary. See, even when I was in my
mother’s womb, my father was determined to make me the splendid symbol of a
modern monarchy.
So no one knows I daydream about what it would be like to tie
him to a chair, gag his mouth, and hold his head back while I pour water up his
perfect royal nose. The same nose he enjoys declaring he gifted to me. Some
part of me always believes, in order to remedy my agony, he needs to feel some
of my suffocation.
What a detestable wicked thought, yes, I know, but thinking
of milder therapies never eases my suffering. Locking him up and forcing him to
hear his own voice forever parroting lectures is too wimpy. He would thrive on
the physical pain he orders me to face every training day since I’ve reached
the age of eighteen.
Sometimes I still can’t believe my own father tortures me
every day at the crack of dawn, except on worship days, because he believes
this training is part of my royal duty. It’s the fifth month of this ritual.
“Take the blow or avert it, Oastomin,” my father, King Natro,
exclaims in irritation from the far corner of the arena. His instruction always
makes me tense when I should relax and hesitate when I should strike.
He stands in front of his royal box seat scrutinizing me,
dressed in a formfitting silver and burgundy sparring jacket and black
trousers. His appearance is reminiscent of his former battle days and a bit
different from American fashion. I guess you would call Jacmuiran fashion
cutting-edge or ethereal.
The Jacmuiran crest is displayed on the left side of his
jacket close to his heart. To most people, the only thing denoting his majestic
rank is the ring on his hand, but for me, it’s his arrogant stance.
He always stands erect with his hand under his chin when he’s
watching or thinking. He believes it’s the best way to display his ring and
make his eyes appear more piercing, but I sense it’s his preeminent way to be
perceived as intimidating and pompous.
My mother wants me to believe he wasn’t always so robotic,
void of some emotion. He used to be carefree and more empathic, but becoming a
ruler changed him. He’s more private now, cautious of the paparazzi and the
stalking of glory seekers.
I kind of believe the power of the crown corrupted him, just
as it does many kings, presidents, and emperors.
When a man gains power over others, power to force them to do
his bidding when they don’t believe it’s right, a moral weakness will always
develop within the person who exercises absolute power. It may take time for
this flaw to become visible to the public, but their family members will see it
first. And my everyday torture is a glaring indication of his unreliable moral
compass.
“Stay alert and aware of your surroundings.” My father sounds
terse, exasperated.
He is a dark, striking figure of a man, tall and majestic.
When he ventures out of the castle’s walls to royal functions, children’s
mouths drop open in awe because he seems larger than life. They wonder what it
would be like to be his heir, to be so close to the power of the throne, but
I’m telling you right now, the enchanted façade only masks hellish royal
expectations.
No comments:
Post a Comment