stephaniedraven.com » RITES OF PASSAGE

Excerpt Monday: Rites of Passage Part IV

Stephanie Draven — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 05:52:38 +0000

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don't have to be published to participate–just a writer with an excerpt you'd like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.

I wasn't going to post any more of RITES OF PASSAGE but since I've had special requests, I've skipped forward a bit from Part I and Part II and Part III. This month's snippet is from the scene in which our "hero" finds out that he's about to be the fall guy...

Taleo was an expert when it came to beauty, and the Ista Aldrik women were all beautiful. Every, single, untouchable one of them. Petrina's lush lips. Gellina's auburn tresses. Junia's ice-blue eyes. Aldrissa's enticing curves. Even little Fidelia's impish ears had their charm. Yes, the queen's nieces were as lovely and unique as snowflakes, but they all had one Ista Aldrik trait in common—an unflinching ability to poison your tea and smile at you across the table as you drank it.

"I'm not thirsty," Taleo said. "But thank you for the invitation. I've been riding for days and I'm no fit company for noblewomen."

Excerpt Monday: It Happened One Day in the Forum

Stephanie Draven — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 06:00:46 +0000

I've skipped forward a bit from Part I and Part II. This month's snippet is from RITES OF PASSAGE and is the first time our "hero" (and I use that term extremely lightly) meets our heroine.

CHAPTER THREE

"Have you ever seen a lovelier ass?" Taleo asked.

The maiden pretended not to hear him, swirling her red palla over one shoulder, so Taleo urged his horse to follow. It was a bright winter's day and the spring thaw couldn’t be far away, so Taleo was in the mood for a bit of sport.

His brother rode beside him, his horse’s bridle adorned with jingling bells. "Actually,” Kester said, his breath puffing steam in the cool air. “I have seen a lovelier ass and so have you. Yasmina's backside is legend. Her frontside, too, truth be told."

"Don't tell me you're still mooning over her,” Taleo said, navigating the crowded streets of Anarinuell with the kind of authority only a mounted nobleman could bring to bear. “You're like a lovesick cow. It's shameful."

"You're one to talk.” Kester laughed. “Why not give Yasmina up? You know she loves me, so why not let me have her to myself."

"Because Yasmina is a prostitute; you'll never have her to yourself." Besides, Taleo didn't give up anything or anyone that belonged to him, even fleetingly, and his brother should know that by now. “If you're so sure of Yasmina's love, just ask her to refuse me."

Kester shot him a sullen look. "For reasons that completely escape me, women don't refuse you."

"Probably because I give them no opportunity." After all, he was a Firan nobleman. If he chose to press the matter, a common woman couldn't refuse him by law nor could she invite his attention without inviting censure. The injustice of it was one of the many reasons he preferred whores, who were freer to do as they liked.

Excerpt Monday: Rites of Passage Part II

Stephanie Draven — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 06:33:03 +0000

Last Excerpt Monday I baffled, weirded out, and possibly tantalized readers with my creepy prologue to one of my many novels-in-progress. A fantasy novel with romantic elements, this story is founded on ancient medallion magic and features a young heroine who is married to a foreign lord against her will and learns that her worst enemy may be the one man she can trust. (Or something like that. I've still not mastered the logline to this story.)

CHAPTER ONE

As the shamans chanted, Taria tried not to choke on the stench of burning flesh. The flames beckoned with a promise of warmth, but these fires offered no comfort against the cold. They were funeral pyres, so Taria shied away so the spirits of the Ticanee dead could escape to a better place. A much better place.

She watched her tribesmen sway in grief beneath the totem poles, closing their eyes against every gust of frigid wind. But Taria’s eyes remained open, her blue gaze following the pillar of soot up into the winter sky. Overhead, Republic pilots held their griffon mounts in tight military formation on the wind. From so far away, the wings of the great creatures looked tattered and frayed, and she could barely see the men that rode them. She could not imagine the courage it would take to climb upon such a beast’s back and take to the skies, especially since, in Taria’s experience, nothing good ever came from above...