Thank you for writing in an expressing your opinions on our covers. We’re so grateful for the feedback. You pointed out things we hadn’t noticed. Thank you. And yes, for those who are wondering, we try to answer every email we receive within 24 hours. So check your spam folders if you don’t see our friendly faces in your inbox.
This week, we don’t have a cover update. We haven’t heard anything from the designers. They might be hiding from us. We are a formidable lot!
Before we dive back into the story so far, we’ll just give you a quick update on our books-in-progress, namely Sundered because I’m so excited about it. And I need a break from the battle of the covers.
This is so hard. I’m trying to give you regular, spoiler-free updates, but I’m living this right now. So these updates are from the fictional battlefield, and I want so badly to tell you the mother of a certain character from Falls, a character who might have sharp claws and person-sized teeth, might help Papa and I fight a many-armed monster. Might. 😉
But I can’t confirm that because that would be a spoiler, and I’m trying very hard not to spoil things. So you see my dilemma.
I better return you to our adventure-in-progress before I spill all the details because I really want to.
Last week, we picked on the Newsletter-Dragon, and now she’s mad at us. Well, she had it coming after she took a bite out of our cover. Bad dragon!
“Hold on,” Papa said.
I didn’t bother since his magic had me, and I had Bear, who’d been very quiet since his run-in with the Easter Bunny. I still had a lot of questions for Bear about that.
Auntie Sovvan shot Papa a sour look from where she hung half out of a giant flying book that extruded a scaly green arm to swipe at us. Its claws struck Papa’s shield when we fell past it, and his magic zapped that hand away. But Papa missed the intercept with Auntie Sovvan, and we slid down the opening book until Papa caught a page.
“Hang on. I’ll come to you.”
Auntie Sovvan tried to pull her lower half free, but she was still caught between those extra-thick pages.
“Give me your hand.”
“So we can both fall?” One corner of Auntie Sovvan’s mouth quirked up.
“Your wings are still bound?” I asked between coughs.
Auntie Sovvan had said something about that in Curse Breaker: Falls. The smoke billowing up from the fires below made my eyes tear as I blinked to focus them on the shiny creature twined around my aunt’s arm.
She nodded ruefully. “A certain guardian angel refuses to unbind them. Maybe in my next book I’ll prove she can trust me.”
“We can’t save our scribe from here. She’s still down there.” Papa inclined his head to the inferno below.
“You have a point there, brother-mine.”
Resigned to more falling, Auntie Sovvan stretched, and Papa reached for her hand. Given their uncommon height, Papa and Auntie Sovvan both had long arms–all the better to hug me with. So their hands caught, and Papa pulled.
The luminous creature wrapped around my Aunt’s arm glared at me as it came within reach. The winged lizard looked like a miniature pissed off dragon, but it was so cute with smoke coiling around its needle-sized teeth. It squawked when I poked it.
“Yeah, it keeps claiming it’s something called a ‘Newsletter-Dragon,'” said my aunt. “And it’s cutting my arm into ribbons.”
“I thought it would be taller. It’s pretty small for a dragon,” Papa said as he let go of the hole he’d gouged in a page on that giant book.
“I’m right here. I hear everything you’re saying about me,” squeaked the tiny dragon.
Our combined weight should have yanked Auntie Sovvan free, but the super-sized book had extruded more grabby hands. They seized my aunt by her ankles. She kicked and struggled, but they held fast as they reeled her back in.
Another adventure was trying to kidnap my aunt. I poked the blue dragon again. It looked like a glowing bauble.
“Shouldn’t you be helping?”
“I’m the Newsletter-Dragon reborn, not a suicidal do-gooder,” it snarled.
“Good help is so hard to find these days.”
Auntie Sovvan slammed her head back trapping the hand grasping her hair against the book’s binding. That did it. The flying book convulsed as its many hands retracted then it spat out the rest of my Aunt. We fell through choking plumes of smoke toward a hungry fire until the earth itself punched through the flames and caught us on the palm of its hand.
Dirt rained onto the fire and snuffed out some of it. Two more books rose out of the smoke holding our limp scribe between them.
“What I wouldn’t give for a sword,” Auntie Sovvan muttered between coughs as she reached for Melinda and the glowing threads weaving between our semi-conscious scribe’s fingers.
I always knew she had magic. Flames erupted on first one book then the other carrying our scribe. As they flew past, they screeched in outrage, and the hands holding our scribe disintegrated. Auntie Sovvan lunged and snagged hold of Melinda’s jacket.
“Got her. Now what?”
Find out next week.
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Until next time, dear reader
This is your host, Ran, son of Sarn, wishing you a great week!
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