May Announcement and a Bit of "Ravenmarked"
I'm taking a few weeks off, but I'm not going to abandon y'all...
Well, friends, to my great shock and horror, it is already May.
My friend Kristen shared similar thoughts on her Substack last week, and she included a very helpful chart of how time progresses throughout the year. The TL;DR summation is that y'all should get your Christmas shopping done now and pick up some bubbly for New Year's Eve while you're out, because that's all right around the corner.
Anyway, the fact that 2025 is now approximately 1/3 over made me revisit my plans for Soultainted. It was about two months ago that I expressed hope of finishing my new draft by the end of March.
That did not happen.
It also did not happen by the end of April.
And I have decided that, come hell or high water, it absolutely will happen by the end of May.
(Or mid-June, at the latest.)
The problem at this point is that I know which threads I need to pull together, tie off, and weave in--but I just can't seem to get the big chunks of time I need to focus on doing exactly that. Up till recently, I've been generating new narrative bits, and that creative part really only needs to know where I left off, not all the details that came before. In order to do a decent content edit, I need a few hours (or more) several days per week to dive deep into the story and make sure it hangs together.
So, in order to free up some time during the weeks, I'm going to take the month of May off from blogging/Substacking.
(Is "Substacking" a word? It is now.)
However--because I don't want to completely break my habits or leave you all without something to read, for this month, I'm going to publish some short excerpts from my already published works. I may also occasionally write up a book review for "Just Speculating," but only if I have the mental and temporal space to do so.
So--for the first excerpt, I am offering you one of my favorite scenes of Connor's character development from Ravenmarked. At this point, he's still fighting the Morrag, the spirit of vengeance that has taken up residence in his head, but he's also fighting his feelings for Mairead and realizing that his old life will never bring him peace.
Rough place to be for a guy who thought he had everything figured out...
Connor shut Mairead’s door and let out a deep breath. The Morrag fluttered, awakening slowly in his chest. He shook his head and rubbed his temples. I need to fight.
You want the girl.
No, this is you. This is you making me fight again.
She stirred as if preening. You could have the girl, the Morrag whispered. Submit to me, and she’ll be yours. You want her. She wants you. Why do you resist? I would give you strength. I would tell you when to fight and when to rest.
He stalked to his room and changed into leathers. I don’t care what you promise me. I will never submit. He offered the guards at the gates a skin of oiska in exchange for letting him out of the palace grounds and then made his way toward Galbragh’s commerce district.
The Morrag’s presence grew stronger as he walked, as if his tension over leaving Mairead’s rooms awakened her fully. Submit. Submit, raven.
He pushed the thoughts away and walked faster, flexing his hands in anticipation of tasting blood. I’m not yours. I won’t be yours.
You already are. You can feel the bloodlust. You want to kill. Submit to me, and I’ll make sure you only serve justice.
He shook his head. “No.” A couple strolling through the snow stepped out of his path, and the man put his hand on a dagger in his belt. Connor walked faster.
He walked until he heard the sounds of shouting, cheering, and fighting rumbling into the street from the lower floor of a brothel in the commerce district. A pretty brunette in silks and feathers met him when he entered the room. He gestured to the men fighting in the center of the floor. “Who’s taking the bets?” he asked.
She pointed to a stout man in woolens who stood leaning on a cane to one side of the makeshift ring. “Fat Flynn handles the lads.”
When the night was over, Connor had bested six men and made a lot of money for Fat Flynn. He was sweaty and bloody, but the men who’d taken him on were no match for his tribal training and size, and even the fair amount of oiska he’d had didn’t affect him. Cursed Sidh blood. Can’t even get drunk when I want. At least I know I can still fight. The Morrag rested, calm and settled in his chest. And at least I subdued you, he told her.
She cackled. I rest when I wish. I rise when I must.
The brunette brought his tunic to him. “The men are leaving. No one else wants to take ye on.” She winked. “Except me.”
He wiped his face with his tunic. “I only came to fight.”
“Ye’re certain? Ye can have your pick of the girls. We’ve been eying ye all night.”
He shook his head, but then he saw a girl with honey-blonde hair and green eyes a few paces behind the brunette. He nodded toward her. “What about her?”
The brunette grinned. “Ye like blondes, eh? She’s a pretty girl. One of the new ones, too.”
Connor stepped toward the blonde. “How much?”
She shrank back at first, but then straightened and swallowed hard. “For how long?”
“The night.”
“A silver.”
He thought about it. The soft curve of her neck tempted him. I could lose myself with her, call her any other name. He took out the handful of silvers he’d won fighting. “Take this.”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. “For how long?”
“Go home. You’re better than this.” He pulled the tunic on and left the brothel.
“Lad, wait.” Flynn puffed and panted to catch up to him. “Lad, ye’ve got a wicked punch and good footwork. Ye’d make a fair bit o’ coin if ye stay.”
“A fair bit of coin for you or for me?”
“For both of us.”
Connor shook his head. “Not interested.” He walked away before Flynn could say more.
When he arrived back at the palace, he fell onto his bed fully dressed, tossing and turning in restless sleep till morning. When he finally rose and went to Mairead’s room, she gasped at the sight of him. “What happened?” she asked, putting her hand up to a cut above his eyes.
He flinched. “Lucky punch. I’m fine.”
She ushered him into her room, retrieved a clean cloth, and poured water over it. “Where did you go?”
He sat down on the bed. “Just walked around the city.”
“You don’t get punched when you’re just walking around.”
“You do in some parts of Galbragh.”
He closed his eyes as she dabbed at the cut and cleaned it. She stood between his legs, his head just beneath hers. “It’s not bad. It just needs cleaning. Why didn’t you clean it last night?”
“I was too tired.” He sat very still, struggling to push away the lure of Mairead’s scent and the feel of her breath in his hair. “I don’t like keeping secrets from you anymore,” he said, quiet.
She lowered the cloth. “What secrets are you keeping?”
“Last night, I drank myself as stupid as my Sidh blood would let me. I fought for money and to prove to myself I can still best a man with my fists. I almost took a prostitute to bed, but I changed my mind.”
She waited, quiet, her hands resting on his shoulders. There was no condemnation in her eyes.
“Do you think less of me?”
“No. You’re still Connor.”
He put his hands on her hips and closed his eyes. “That life—drinking and fighting and bedding any woman I want—it’s not enough anymore.” His hands tightened, and she wove her fingers into his hair. “I know how pure you are, how much you have before you. I’m just a hired sword with a little money and a little magic. And then to have this thing in me . . . this ache, the Morrag . . . But all I want is to be with you.”
Her voice was a nervous whisper. “I’m nothing, Connor. Not a queen. Just a girl with the right blood.”
“You will be a queen.”
“A throneless queen.” She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “And you’re my tainted duke.”
Spoiler: they end up together.
But if you want to read more about that journey, check out Ravenmarked.
I'll be back next week with another excerpt.
And for the next few weeks, thoughts, prayers, and offerings to the Muse of Editing on my behalf are greatly appreciated.