A Thousand Word Thursday Story from Tam Ames

Late … Again

The light from the sun shining on my face was what woke me, I think. When I sat up with a jolt, I literally gasped in pain. My head felt like it was about to disconnect from my body. I grabbed my hair as if I could physically hold it on. I was swearing off tequila … and killing Marcus. Yeah, I could blame Marcus; he’d been buying all night, not my fault.

When my head had firmly reattached itself to my shoulders, I looked at the clock. Eleven fifteen. Not so bad, considering it was after four when we left the last place, and I didn’t have to be … Holy fucking shit! I was going to be late! This time my stomach gave a heave, and a lurch, and my head was suddenly a minor problem. Fuck fuck fuck! Why hadn’t someone woken me? Alan would never forgive me if I was late - if he even stuck around to see if I showed up.



I untangled myself from the hotel sheets, and raced straight into the shower. I took the time to shave, because it had to be perfect, perfect for today anyway. I grabbed the garment bag out of the closet, and groaned as the pieces in the bag came out one after another. Who the hell made tuxedos so damn complicated? What was wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?

When I had most of the outfit on, I thought properly, I was left with only the tie, and ten minutes. There was no way I could get the tie done up, and down to the courtyard in ten minutes. I shoved on my shoes, bunched the tie in my hand, and raced out of the room, realizing I’d left the room key and wallet in my other pants. I hesitated for a moment, but I had no time, and I began furiously pushing on the elevator button willing it to come faster.

I slumped against the back wall of the elevator, and ignored the knowing glances from the family with young kids. The doors opened in the lobby where I resisted the urge to hurdle over the youngest kid, then raced down the hallway to the courtyard waiting area. I had - I glanced at the large clock in the lobby – three and half minutes. I could make it. I grimaced at the untied tie in my hand.

Oh, Alan was going to be pissed. He was always early, I was always late. It was the way it worked for us. As I flew into the room, Alan turned and looked at me, his arms crossed. He, oh so casually, looked down at his watch.

“What? I’m on time. Almost.” I held out the tie. “I was, um, having issues, and I … oh shit. I’m sorry. I know you said be on time, and I planned on it, but then Marcus said we had to go out since it was my last night, and then I was sure I set the alarm, but maybe I set it for PM not AM, and no one came to find me, and I tried to hurry, but this damn suit as so many pieces, and my head hurts, but the tie makes no sense.” The whole time I’d been babbling, he’d crossed the room toward me, holding my gaze. Oh shit, he was going to change his mind. I just knew it.

That threw me into another bout of babbling. “Please Alan, don’t go. Just wait, can’t you forgive me? I’ll try harder, I will. I’m getting better.”

He stopped right in front of me, placed his hands on either side of my face, and looked into my eyes. “Hush baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

I think I physically sagged when I heard that. “You mean it? Really?”

“I’ve waited over two years for this day, I’m not about to leave now.” He leaned in to kiss me, and I thought my heart would explode. I grabbed him, and squeezed him so tightly he grunted. I heard snickers from the other side of the room, and realized both of our fathers, and our two best friends - including a damn smug looking Marcus - were standing watching us. I felt myself flush, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

Alan gently pried the tie from my hand, and put it around my neck. “Come on. Let’s get this on, and get the show on the road.” He stopped, and stared at me for a minute. “I meant what I said, Cam. I’ve been waiting for this moment for over two years; since I saw you knock down that kid on the skateboard as you tried to catch the bus, which you missed by the way. Now today, I get to fulfil a dream, every day with you for the rest of my life.”

I started to get teary eyed. Oh shit. Not in front of my dad. When I heard a sniffle, I saw my dad discretely wiping his eyes. Huh. Who knew he was a softie?

Alan finished with my tie, and straightened my tuxedo. “Okay baby. Let’s get this show on the road. We’re only ten minutes late, that must be a record for you.” I gave him a pouty face, and he laughed. “We have over a hundred friends out there, some anxious mothers, and a minister all waiting for us. Are you ready?”

I held his hand tightly. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.” We got in formation, with the best men and our dads, and I took a deep breath. I meant it. Alan was the best thing to ever come into my life, and I wasn’t going to ever let him go, and I swore I’d work harder on being on time. Really I would. Sheesh, why does no one ever believe me?

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Aw, poor *snicker* boy! *snort* That was cute Tam!

Tam has more cuteness for us -- her new story, Winterlude, is out now from Torquere Press, and I have a shopping trip to make!

Eric hates the cold weather and his broken down car, which means venturing out on foot into the sub-zero temperatures. Navigating the icy sidewalks, he runs into Omar, literally. An impromptu hot coffee on the cold day finds that tattooed and pierced Eric, and government IT guy Omar might have more in common than they expected. When Omar is called away, before he can get the guy's number, Eric believes it may only have been a pleasant winterlude to temporarily distract him from the cold, or is there a possibility his winter will get a lot warmer?

Buy it here. You can check out Tam's news here on her blog.

Looking at a Trope

Now and then I have to push myself in a new direction. Reexamine why I think a certain way or like or dislike something. The unexamined life is not worth living and all that. Elsewhere in my ramblings here, I've mentioned that I don't care for soul mates as a trope.

So, in this new reviewing mode, I had to think about that. I've been running from the trope if it's explicitly stated ahead of time, and gotten grumpy if it popped up late.  Soul mates gets used a lot, especially with vampires and were creatures, and I come from a fandom background of  vampires and weres, so I don't really want to leave all that behind. Maybe I'm being too harsh.

Two books I've read recently have used the trope in wildly different ways. More extensive reviews to follow on both. Sorry about the reviewing silence, BTW, Dark Divas and I have been getting the details worked out, and I have a few reviews uploaded for editing, so hopefully we'll be back on track here shortly.

One book uses the trope so subtly that I didn't even realize it had gotten in there until just now. Very likely because the association of the two characters in certain ways was required by the greater plot arc, but getting sexual was their idea. They are fated, in a way that is about as big as it's possible for FATE to get, to deal with one another, but they are choosing how to do it. So I feel like the author did something truly new and unusual here. I'm waiting for more, not running away.

The other has vampires and werewolves, and you've seen the story before. So have I. Lots of times. One vamp, one wolf. Much sex. But it did make me think -- why exactly does this bother me?

Short answer -- because in all the "you are meant for me" posturing and sex, the probability  for the characters to do something magnificently stupid in terms of the greater plot is really, really high. Stupidity is not something I find attractive.

It happens a lot. And the rest of the time, I'm braced for it.

So, I guess I need to be more open about the concept in general, because I've just proven to myself that if it's done well, with something new and different, I'll like it. And if it's tired and obvious, I still probably won't. If it's the traditional method, even if done really well, I'm not sure I'll get over being braced for something preventable, but the surprise could be good.

Thousand Word Thursday

I still have some hope for an adventure for our jockey and owner couple from last week; we'll just have to be patient.

Now, this young man -- what's yanked him bolt upright? An author with 100 to 1000 words to explain will have it posted here with cover's links, and news.

Thanks to all who have swung by this last week. Getting ready to work with Dark Divas has messed with my timing, but next week, when all the details are ironed out, we should be back to a frequent review schedule.

I'm reviewing at Dark Divas!

This has been a very exciting week, because the lovely reviewers of Dark Divas have asked me to join them! I will still be posting here -- some things may be here that are not there, but not many, I hope. And my reviews will still post to Goodreads. All you kind souls who are still waiting to hear from me will have your patience rewarded by the cross-posting. And now, of course, it's all on me to do a really thoughtful job, better than before. It's a little scary!

Thousand Word Thursdays will continue as before, so please don't stop looking at the eye-candy and dreaming up stories. Everything will continue here as before, with the addition of Dark Divas.

Sharp-eyed readers will notice a name change in the header. It was pointed out to me that the name, which was a holdover from when this was a general yappy blog, was a credibility problem. I do take what I read seriously, but the old name made it look like I didn't. So I apologize to anyone who thought I was trying to belittle the genre, I'm not.

If I ever figure out what to do about links that already exist, I will update the url as well. Ideas are welcome, because neither Pam nor I are sure what we can do without inconveniencing a lot of people. Would it work to start another blog with the right addy, and then do duplicate posts? Is there an easy way to do that?

Thanks to all the readers, and all the authors who have had some faith in me.

A Picture is Worth...

A Gentleman By His Racehorse With Jockey Up On A Racecourse

Last week's picture of jazz players brought us a perfect excerpt from Azul: Bailame from Lee Benoit, who matched the text to the illustration so well.

This week's pic is brought to you because Ruler on Ice won the Belmont Stakes on Saturday. Tell me you don't love the horses flying at top speed and wiry men in bright colors atop them. Maybe a winner at 24 to 1 makes you feel rich and that all things are possible... (My horse did not win.)

Any author who has a little story, 100 to 1000 words, to tell about this gentleman and the jockey can have it posted here, with news, links, and covers.

Mr. Plum by Sue Brown

Dave picks up coffee every morning at the train station on his way to work. He can't help but notice when the man in front of him is given a plum-colored cup holder, as it goes perfectly with his own tie. There are other things he can't help but notice, like how hot "Mr. Plum" is.

When Mr. Plum hands over a cup of coffee, exactly how Dave likes it, the morning he's late getting to the station, it's the start of a beautiful friendship. Or is it?

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The opening paragraph of this sweet short story tells you a lot -- two men who dispute the small stuff but agree on the bigger issues have come together over coffee and commuting.

It's a slow build-up -- Dave, who fixates on small details, goes from noticing the color of the cup sleeve on the stranger's coffee cup to noticing the stranger, and from chatting to making dates. The fragility of taking such a casual acquaintance as a morning commute to something deeper seems to keep both Dave and Tom from asking some basic questions, or perhaps the underlying regularity of meeting a morning train with coffee in hand lulls them into thinking no day would be different.

Then the changes they are trying to make with each other collide with the changes life thrusts upon them. Dave has a lot of trouble rolling with the punches. Described as nearly OCD and certainly worried about details at the wrong moments -- honestly, finish the orgasm, enjoy it, and THEN start cleaning up! -- he's going to be a bit of a challenge for more laid back Tom, but there's hope.

The big events happen to Tom offscreen, so Dave is left to hear about them later rather than share them, making the story a little flat. The struggle is for them getting together anywhere but on a commuter train, so it's very low key, and doesn't really perk up until the last third, when they can finally interact outside the train.

Overall, this is sweet -- they both mean well, though Tom has no way of knowing how invested Dave is, and that his actions have more impact than he thinks. You have to cheer (softly) for them when they finally do get together.

The convention of an HEA in romance takes the spoileriness of starting at the present moment in the relationship and going back to the beginning, as this story does, because it's the journey more than the destination. This journey is cute but not intense, it's made of small disappointments and small triumphs. 3.5 marbles




Buy here.

A Thousand Word Thursday Story from Lee Benoit

Lee Benoit sent an excerpt from Azul: Bailame and it really fit this picture!
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Though its chief custom came from overseas, the Café Montuño was no tourist trap. The musicians were the real thing, old school guys from Oriente province and young Nueva Trova pioneers. Lola recalled Valdez' words about dancing to a Cuban tune, and let his hips start to sway like breeze-kissed palms in response to the trumpet's blatted call to move, man, move.

Valdez at the piano wore the same clothes he'd had on at the rehearsal the day before, and his companions were no better attired. No mambo shirts, not even matching jackets and ties, but the motley group hung together in a way Lola had to stop and think about. Old, young, handsome, homely, and playing their hearts out for a scattering listeners, they were essentially, inescapably Cuban, right down to their dusty shoes.

Iddi sashayed to the "bar" which was little more than a big aluminum cooler on a wheeled stand, and chatted up the bartender while he waited for their drinks. There were empty tables, but Lola didn't want to sit just yet. He loved the music of the ballet, and the modern classical compositions that accompanied the more avant garde choreography his company was known for. He enjoyed the overproduced salsa and cumbia the DJs used to spin in the clubs before most of them closed. But this raw, street-level music, only a beat or two away from Santería rites and sugar-cane slaves? These earnest comments on the beauty of a woman or the plunging faces of the Sierra Maestra? Listening to it, letting it move his body in a subtle dance, felt to Lola like coming home.

"But I've been here all along," he murmured to himself.


Iddi pressed a drink into his hand. "They're making mojitos tonight!" he exclaimed delightedly. Even after several years in Cuba, Iddi was still infatuated with the cocktail. Lola took a sip -- it was the real thing, made with fresh mint and cane juice.

The band took a break and circulated a bit or sat smoking at a small table beside the low stage area. Iddi and Lola said hello and then found a table for themselves. While Iddi tried to remember the names of particular songs he wanted to request, Lola watched the crowd grow from sparse to respectable.

"What's that song about the two mountains?" Iddi asked.

Lola turned to answer when Iddi interrupted with a gasp. "There she is!"

"Who?"

"The girl, the one from outside your snooty doctor's office."

"He's not snooty," Lola said. How ridiculous to defend the man who clearly wanted nothing to do with Lola besides heal his shoulder. But he kept talking. "He's shy, and new to the job, that's all." His words trailed off when he saw Iddi's girl.

"I'm going to ask her to dance," Iddi said and sailed away. The band wasn't even reassembled yet, but that wouldn't matter to Iddi.

Lola smiled as he watched his friend frantically signal Valdez, who smirked and nudged one of the guitarists, who laughed out loud as he reached for his instrument. Who but Iddi could call a bunch of jaded old troubadours back early from a break with nothing more than calf-eyes? Lola settled back in his seat to watch.

The guys struck up the intro to "Quiero Estar Cerca de Tí" just as Iddi reached the girl, who was every bit as lovely a slip of a thing as a boy could desire. Sipping his mojito, Lola was forced to admit to himself that he felt a tug of desire. He shook his head and drank deeper. Iddi's feelings were infecting him, that was all. The girl inclined her head as she extended her slim hand to Lola's friend.

A few other patrons joined Iddi and his girl on the floor, but by unspoken agreement left the pair more than their fair share of the center. Valdez and the guitarist nodded together as one of the singers joined them. Slowly, the full complement of players finished their drinks and their smokes and waded into the sweet chorus. Their raspy voices lent the sentimental lyrics a bittersweet tinge, and Lola found himself singing along under his breath, alone at his table. "Yo no puedo estar lejos de tí, tus besos, tus carisias..."

Iddi danced well, without showing off, solicitous of his companion. The girl danced much more hesitantly, holding her shoulders very square and her head very straight, as if she were unaccustomed to dancing at all. It was too bad if that were true, for she was slim as a willow and graceful as one, too, in her simple Mexican blouse and trim dark skirt. More than once, Lola saw his friend move to say "it's okay, relax." She wasn't really Iddi's type, Lola thought, but then until very recently he'd had sworn Iddi's type was boys, so what did he know? As long as his friend was happy.

© Lee Benoit
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Learn "Adina's" true identity and find out if Lola finds true love in post-Soviet Cuba in Azul: Bailame, available now from Torquere Press and enjoy other of Lee's multicultural stories -- I did!

....

And keep watch for Lee's new novel, Servant of the Seasons, coming this July 13 from Torquere.

Mèco is an architect driven from his safe, ordered Dome into the wilderness of a post-apocalyptic landscape and travels until he finds an abandoned riverside farm and contracts with a shifty neighbor to deliver a beast of burden to help him make a go of farming. When he finds himself instead in possession of a pair of slaves, he frees them immediately, and learns that they are Novigi, a people Mèco's never heard of. Their origins aren’t the only strange thing about them, and as Lys and Tywyll heal from the physical and emotional wounds of slavery, they begin to change with the seasons. Astonishingly, the land and its inhabitants begin to revive under their careful stewardship, its mundane and arcane aspects equally amazing to Mèco.

Mèco finds himself more and more drawn to the pair, and his sexual self, long suppressed, begins to assert itself for the first time. The arrival of a third Novigi, Cynar, raises for Mèco the possibility of true love in addition to a healthy sexuality. As the four men continue to work their land and become a family, they must face down an enemy from Mèco's old world, which they do with help from some very unlikely sources. The story ends with happiness as a work in progress, rather than “happily ever after.”

Keep up with Lee's news on her blog.

A Picture is Worth...

Jazz Rhythms

I didn't forget! Just, a late night at work...

Our last week's picture got a hot little fic from Juniper Gray -- check it out.

Now, these guys have to be playing some hot music, making feet tap and twirl, maybe mambo or rumba. What tale could they tell? Any author who tells us, in 100 to 1000 words, will be posted here, with their latest news.

Back in the Closet by KevaD

Sometimes the best-laid plans don't mean you get laid.

Chaz and Mike are inaugurating their life together as an openly gay couple. Bliss is inevitable, until a dead relative rises up and brings their plans to a screeching halt.

Chaz's not-so-dearly departed Amish Uncle Silas has bequeathed his nephew his farm . . . and a $60,000 tax bill if Chaz doesn't play by the rules.

With empty wallets, the duo and their kitten, TCT, head off for Iowa to live on the farm for ninety days - without electricity or plumbing . . . or sex.

While Mike finds trees to climb, horses to ride, and a big ax to play with, and TCT discovers a wide array of critters to chase and capture, Chaz faces a past veiled in mystery.

As a young boy, Chaz spent time on the farm. Why can't he remember the giant oak tree or the ancient barn? Each time he tries to enter the barn, terror stops him cold.

Chaz will need courage he's never had before, along with all the strength in his partner's lusciously muscled body, to solve the riddles plaguing him. Keeping Mike and his ax from chopping off the wrong piece of lumber might not be a bad idea, either.
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Chaz and Mike are back in another adventure -- they are only recently out, very much in love, and even the peculiar stuff is funny. Starting with the odd process server who announces they'll be going out on this agrarian adventure or else, to the comedic possibilities of a kitty turned loose in garter snake paradise, the couple has ninety days to figure out the mysteries of Uncle Silas' bequest. No sex in that time may or may not sharpen their minds.

Chaz spent a lot of time on the farm as a child but can't recall details, only emotions, and the teasing out of the memories is a major thread of the story. This is really the only serious issue, yet it is resolved with the innocent humor that runs through the rest; sometimes falling out of a tree is the right thing to do.

This was also my problem with the story, while it needed to be a big enough issue to create Chaz's memory problems, its also a triggery issue for a lot of readers including me, and kind of jarring in the context of a humor piece. It left me with some mixed feelings.

Best of all, the relationship between the Amish community and the two men is played as "just neighbors" and who cares if that would be the way of it in real life, this was refreshing. A lot of things are wrapped very sweetly, and the book left me with overall good feelings. (And Mike is adorable and needs to be smushed in a big hug.)3.5 Marbles

This was 2nd in the series but it read fine as a standalone too.

Buy here.

A Thousand Word Thursday Story from Juniper Gray

Half-naked. Half-naked already, skin prickling at the empty cold after a day spent beneath a warm, safe and familiar work shirt. Everything about this situation was new, uncertain – his shameless inspection by the woman at the entrance, the tight clothes and the knowing smiles of the people he'd passed on his way in, the smell of latex and leather from hot bodies locked in pleasure somewhere behind closed doors.

He'd wanted it to be this way. He'd asked for no nonsense, in and out without fuss. He'd made an appointment, he'd kept it (much to his own surprise), and now he needed to get what he came for and leave. That was how the world worked. How his world worked. He couldn't remember what had possessed him to come to a fetish club in the first place, but he was here and half-naked now so there would be no going back. They had something he thought he might need so he would try and take it, and that was that.

The man they'd given him was called John. He wondered if that was his real name. Not that it mattered or was remotely relevant to the situation at hand. He had a bad habit of getting distracted – his mind was wandering away already, sneaking back to well-trodden self-deprecating territory.

“Stephen,” John said, rich, deep voice washing off the hard concrete walls and making them seem just a little softer.

“Yes,” he replied, hating the waver in his voice, hating the fear in it. His own body was betraying him piece by piece – the chill on his skin, the increased pace of his breathing, the tremor in his hands that just wouldn't stop no matter how hard he clenched his fists. John was gazing at him, studying him with clever eyes and Stephen knew he was being figured out. He was fresh meat, blood in the water, out of his depth and desperate for something to cling to and John could see all this, Stephen was certain.

But this was what he wanted. What he'd asked for specifically. No nonsense. No fuss. John wouldn't be the type of guy to fuck around. John stepped towards him and Stephen fought bitterly with the urge to step away. He'd come for this, he was damn well going to go through with it.

“They told me you were new, but even if they hadn't it's easy to see.” A faint, lop-sided smile, caught half-way between sympathy and mockery.

Stephen lit up inside with a familiar flame, feeling himself straighten and broaden in response to the quip. “What's your point?” he asked, glaring over at John.

John's smile broadened. It was a smile of victory now, though Stephen couldn't see where the victory was. “No point,” John said, “just an observation.”

John was standing in front of him now. Stephen wasn't sure when he'd gotten so close.

“Here, I'll make another one,” John said, leaning in. “You're damn good looking.” He'd whispered it, but not in a lurid way. It was merely the best wrapping for the complement.

Stephen felt himself blush for the first time in a long time, but kept John's gaze. He needed to be strong here. He wasn't a weakling and he wasn't going to let himself be taken easily. At least this situation was simple – both he and John knew where they stood, and he had a better chance of getting something worthwhile out of this encounter than meeting some guy at a club and taking him home.

John punctured Stephen's ruminations by shoving him suddenly up against the wall. Rough, cold concrete scraped against his tingling skin. But it wasn't the concrete he was thinking about; it was John's hot palm, pressed to his chest.

“Normally it takes me a while to get a guy's heart racing this fast.” A knowing smile. They all wore that same smile like it was a fucking uniform.

“I'm fine,” Stephen insisted, eyes locked to John's. Pretty, deep-hazel eyes set in strong features. Stephen found himself distracted again.

John wasn't distracted. John had a goal and was working swiftly towards it. Stephen was a target he needed to meet, the more efficiently the better. Didn't matter what the workplace was, work was always the same. Endless deadlines and needs to be met; all other people's needs. And other people's needs were always the most important.

John's hand slipped up Stephen's chest, gentler than he would have expected. By the time it reached his throat it was almost a caress. Then John's palm was over Stephen's chin, fingers splayed possessively around his jaw as he tilted Stephen's head back against the wall. Stephen let him,  reluctantly.

“For a man who came here to be dominated you're remarkably resistant,” John told him matter-of-factly.

Stephen started a little at the comment, but John was calm, unmoving. A thumb slid over Stephen's lips, rolling his bottom lip down a little. Stephen refused to open his mouth. John leaned in, lips brushing Stephen's neck, his body warm and close. Stephen shuddered despite himself.

“Relax,” he was told, in that reassuring silk-smooth whisper. “I already know what you want without you even having to tell me.”

Stephen glanced at John uncertainly. They'd known each other ten minutes. He'd spent half his life packaging himself into nice sealed boxes, there was no way someone could figure him out in that amount of time.

But John persisted. “You want to give in willingly rather than have me take something from you. You want me to know what you need without you having to ask, and you want me to give it to you as though it's what I want so you're absolved of the responsibility for your own pleasure.”

Stephen just stared at him, feeling his own cock firming swiftly. That was everything he needed. Everything he needed so badly. Was he really that transparent? He wasn't sure he cared any more even if he was.

“But first,” John continued, smearing his thumb gently across Stephen's lips, “you want to know if I'm worthy of your submission.”

Stephen opened his mouth, and John's thumb slid inside. No nonsense. No fuss. Simple and straight to the point, just like he'd wanted.

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Oh my! Thank you Juniper, for sharing this with us! Juniper Gray's first novel will be coming out July 13 from Torquere, and I can tell already that I like her style. We'll keep an eye out for this mid-summer treat! Keep up with Juniper's news at her site, http://junipergray.blogspot.com/

Therse Bodan is a Navy Lieutenant of exceptional caliber, approached with an offer to join the upper echelons of Navy Command -- his dream position. He is on a transport cruise ship, returning from a far-flung region of space back to civilization with only his best friend and chronic under-achiever Genham Drisjic for company, trying to come to terms with the fact that if he accepts the offer, it's unlikely they'll ever see one another again. Therse is conflicted, wanting to confess his long-held feelings for Genham but afraid he might push him away.

The arrival of Meitou -- a member of the military's secretive elite -- aboard their quiet ship throws them both into turmoil, forcing Therse to confront events in his past, and making Genham face up to feelings of his own.

The ship itself is no stranger to dark secrets..."

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A Picture is Worth...

Our picture last week generated a wonderful little ficlet from Carole Cummings, and a bit of a challenge, too! Carole left those guys in the lurch, and offered to let another author sort it all out. Anyone up to the challenge? Take it from here.

Now, about these guys -- why are they shoving each other around? Are they shoving each other around? Anyone who has the answer to the question in 100 to 1000 words can have it posted here with links, covers, and news. (Check the link upper left for more info.)

The rest of us will watch these guys jostle for dominance.

The Dragon's Tamer by Megan Derr

Summoned to the royal palace by the King, Alaith spends his days either handling the dragons that plague the kingdom, or holed up in his lonely tower. Unusual in appearance, manner, and his method of taming dragons rather than slaying them, his only distractions from his painfully outcast state in caring for the tamed dragon who resides with him, and admiring the handsome Lord Trey—and arguing with the infuriating Prince Rythe.


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When the POV character starts out by scolding the dragon, you know this isn't going to be just any old story.

Alaith tames dragons, he doesn't slay them, though dragons are an almighty nuisance on this world. Opinions on dragons are all over the map, really, they might be useful or they might be pests, but only the Plainsmen are really capable of working with them, so Alaith has a post at this "soft, civilized" court to deal with them. He's an oddity, between his long blond hair, piercings, and refusal to give up his Plainsman ways; and he doesn't want to become like the courtiers. Some he almost likes, and one he'd like to strangle.

Prince Rythe, the fourth son of the king, is "lewd, rude, and in need of a beating" according to Alaith, though his opinion of Lord Trey, Rythe's companion, is much higher. The story goes on to demonstrate that Alaith's instincts are better on dragons than people.

But he can learn, and what he learns is that he doesn't know, and would do better to pay attention and not jump to conclusions.

The story is short and hard to review without spoilers, but the world building is lovely -- the author takes a few small details: dragons, magic, and courting customs, and manages to spend enough time on these few things to construct a world that lets the reader fill in the blanks on the rest. Some of the dragon details are contradictory, but a weed is any plant growing where we don't want it to, so it can make sense without being consistent, like a rose in a cornfield.

The love story is sweet and unconsummated on the page, but as with the world building, once you see where it's going, you can fill in the blanks for yourself...    4 marbles


Buy here.