Today
on First Kiss Friday, we welcome romance author, Sylvie Grayson, and an excerpt
from her SciFi/Fantasy Romance, “Prince of Jiran, The Last War: Book Five.”
Shandro, Prince
of the Penrhy tribe of Jiran, disagrees with his father, Sovereign Pollack, on
nearly every issue that arises between them. But his goal is to uphold the
family values in spite of Pollack’s conniving moves as he deals with the hotbed
of competing nations surrounding them.
Then Shandro is
sent on a mission across the mountains into Khandarken to bring back Princess
Chinata, a bride for Emperor Carlton’s Advisor. In exchange, Jiran and the
Penrhy tribe are given a peace agreement, protection against invasion by the
Emperor’s troops. This seems a good trade, as Carlton is hovering on their
borders with his need for more land. However, not far into the journey, it
becomes apparent someone is not adhering to the terms of the peace accord.
Near the tribal
border, Shandro and his troops have come under direct attack from unknown
forces. He digs deeper into Chinata’s background to find strong ties to the New
Empire. Is it too dangerous to bring Princess Chinata into Jiran? Or as her
escort, does Shandro become her defender against the Emperor’s troops?
First Kiss
Excerpt
As
the Penrhy riders approached the foothills, it began to snow. The flakes came
down like feathers, lingering in the air and landing leisurely on leaves and
branches, ending with a flourish on the bare ground. Shandro rode with
Haggskyll in the centre of the troop, the women following in pairs behind them,
surrounded by mounted guards.
The
falling snow was beautiful, and Chinata seemed particularly taken with it.
Shandro heard her soft voice among the cries of the other women, and reined in
to glance around. Her head was thrown back as she tried to catch a flake on her
tongue. He laughed and she glanced his way, colour flooding her cheeks.
His
smile widened. She self-consciously looked away as Haggskyll nudged his horse. Yah, best to mind his business and not get
too attached to the woman. But he couldn’t resist looking back now and then
as the flakes came faster, covering the ground in a pristine white blanket. As
late afternoon approached, the boughs of the trees held a light dusting and the
wind became stronger. They rode on, the women less excited, tucking their
cloaks tighter and pulling shawls and scarves close.
By
dusk it was a full-blown blizzard. He couldn’t see two feet in front of him.
Kiggundu had already called a halt, fixing his sights on a clearing at the side
of the track in front of a deep cave. It looked like a good spot. They
immediately began to set up camp, the men rushing to get shelters erected
before it was completely dark.
The
cooks arranged their gear in the entrance to the cave and lit the fireheat.
Soon water was bubbling and hot drinks were available. It was one of the few
times Shandro ever saw his men line up and patiently wait. It was damned cold.
Where
was the Princess? He glanced around and saw Haggskyll talking to Lena outside a
small tent. That must be where the women were. He walked in that direction,
watching Kiggundu set the guards and work out the night shifts among his men.
It was a rough night to do guard duty, but they had to remain alert. There had
been too many signs that all was not right on this journey.
Haggskyll
raised his head as Shandro drew close. His cheeks were red. From the cold? Perhaps not. He had the
distinct impression his guard had been about to kiss the woman. By the graves.
Didn’t he have a discretionary bone in his body? Bad enough that he cut a wide
swath through the women back home.
“Hagg,”
he growled in irritation. “Take Lena to fetch some tea for the Princess. The
cooks have the fireheat going and a line is forming already.” The guard turned
away and held out his hand. Lena placed her fingers in his big fist and walked
by his side toward the cave.
Shandro
stared. So that’s how it was. Hagg moved damned fast. Turning, he lifted the
tent flap and stepped inside. Chinata was removing her cloak, the fur covered
with an outer layer of snow.
“Let
me help,” he said, stepping forward and removing it from her hands. He gave it
a good shake through the tent opening before handing it back to her. “That
should do it. It’ll be dry by morning.”
Her
cheeks turned a becoming pink and her gaze skittered to the side. “Thank you.”
Her voice sounded soft, breathless. But that’s how he felt when he was near
her. Breathless.
“Can
you make yourself comfortable here? It’s just until you’ve had dinner. We’ll
bed you down in the cave. It’s warmer and better protected. Some of the men
will sleep here.”
“Oh,
I see. I wondered…”
“Yah,
we don’t want you sleeping in the cold if we can help it. We won’t always find
a shelter, but we’ll do the best we can.” He pushed a damp strand of hair back
from her cheek. “Has it been a hard day?”
She
shivered at the touch of his fingers.
“Are
you cold?” His voice was low. “Can I warm you?”
She
glanced quickly away. “No, no. I’m fine.”
“Chinata.”
She looked up as he lowered his head. It was just a fleeting kiss, no more. A
mere meeting of mouths, yet his heart was galloping in his chest by the time he
lifted away. She remained motionless, as if frozen in place by his action, so
he lowered his head again.
Her
skin was tender to the touch, long dark lashes brushing her cheeks as her eyes
slowly closed. He pressed his lips to her soft mouth, then to a suddenly red
cheek and against each eyelid. Moving back, he knew he’d stepped over some
line. This woman was promised to another, and it was his job to bring her
through the border without harm. His breath came in and out harshly as his
lungs laboured in confusion and regret. He was worse than Haggskyll. “I’m sorry
Princess. It won’t happen again.”
Was that
disappointment he saw in her eyes? He ducked under the tent flap just as
Lena appeared with a covered tea bowl. “She’s waiting for you,” he said in a
surprisingly steady voice and walked away.
“Prince of Jiran” is available through:
Connect with Sylvie Grayson
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