Feast
of Dreams
Four
Feasts Till Darkness
Book
Two
Christian
A. Brown
Genre:
Fantasy Romance
Book
Description:
As
King Brutus licks his wounds and gathers new strength, two rival
queens vow to destroy each other’s nations.
Lila
of Eod, sliding into madness, risks everything in the search for a
powerful relic, while Queen Gloriatrix threatens Eod with military
might—including three monstrous technomagikal warships.
Far
from this clash of queens, Morigan and the Wolf scour Alabion,
hunting for the mad king’s hidden weakness. Their quest brings them
face to face with their own pasts, their dark futures…and the
Sisters Three themselves.
Unbeknownst
to all, a third thread in Geadhain’s tapestry begins to move in the
wastes of Mor’Khul. There, a father and son scavenge to survive as
they travel south toward a new chapter in Geadhain history.
Feast
of Fates
Four
Feasts Till Darkness
Book
One
Christian
A. Brown
Genre:
Fantasy Romance
Date
of Publication: September 9, 2014
ISBN:
978-1495907586
Number
of pages: 540
Word
Count: 212K
Book
Description:
"Love
is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us
soar with desire.”
Morigan
lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named
Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly
mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long
buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to
understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague
her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the
Immortal Kings who rules the land.
With
Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon
realize that this young woman could hold the key to their
destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and
she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.
EXCERPT;
Menos
was darker than usual: its clouds as black as the shadow of fear that
haunted Mouse. The city felt more menacing to her. She saw shadows in
every corner, noticed the glint of every ruffian’s blade or slave’s
chain as though they were all intended for her. The warning of
Alastair played inside her skull on a loop of nightmare theater.
A
hand over her mouth startles her awake, and she twists for the dagger
in her pillowcase until she recognizes the shadowy apparition atop
her, who hisses at her to calm.
“Alastair?”
she gasps.
The hand
unclenches and the willowy shadow retreats to more of its own; she
can only see the scruff of his red beard in the dark.
“Get up, Mouse.
Get dressed.”
Her mentor sounds
annoyed or confused; she is each, but finds her garments quickly
enough anyway.
“I don’t like
good-byes, so let’s not call this that,” Alastair says with a
sigh. “But it will be a parting, nonetheless. You need to go low.
Lower than you’ve ever been before. A new name won’t be enough.
You’ll need a new face. I don’t know how or who, but the sacred
contract of our order has been broken. Your safety has been bought.”
Mouse knows the
who and how, and as she glances up from her boot-lacing to explain to
her mentor her predicament, she sees that he is gone. Just empty
shadows, echoing words, and the sound of her heartbeat drowning out
all the rest.
She expected the
dead man and his icy master to emerge from the dim nooks and doorways
of the buildings she passed at any instant. With a hand on her knives
and a fury to her step, she swept down the sidewalk; no carriages for
her today, as they were essentially cages on wheels—too easy to
trap oneself in. With its sooty storefronts and their wrought-iron
windows, its black streetlamps that rose about her like the bars of a
prison, Menos was constricting itself around her, and she had to get
out.
You’ve
survived worse than the nekromancer, she
coached herself, though she wasn’t certain that was true. She
hurried through the grimness of Menos, dodging pale faces and
quickening her step with every sand. By the time she arrived at the
fleshcrafter’s studio, she was sweating and stuck to her cloak. She
looked down the desolate sidewalk and up the long sad face of the
tall tower with its many broken or boarded-over windows. When she was
sure she wasn’t being pursued by the phantoms that her paranoia had
conjured, she pulled back a rusted door that did not cry out as it
should have, given its appearance, but slid along well-formed grooves
through the dust. She raced through the door and hauled it closed.
It was dark and
flickering with half-dead lights in the garbage-strewn hallway in
which she stood. Mouse picked through the trash with her feet,
tensing as she passed every dark alcove in the abandoned complex.
Hives, these places were called, and used to house enormous numbers
of lowborn folk under a single roof. In Menos, even the shabbiest
roof was a desirable commodity, so the building’s ghostly vacancy
meant that it likely was condemned by disease at one point. Soon the
stairwell she sought appeared, and she tiptoed down it, careful not
to slip on the stairs, which were slick with organic grunge.
Couldn’t
have picked a nicer studio,
she cursed. I’ll
be lucky if this fleshcrafter leaves me with half a lip to drink
with. Lamentably,
speed and discretion were her two goals in choosing where to have her
face remodeled. Such stipulations cut the more promising
fleshcrafters off the list and left her with the dregs. She hadn’t
put much thought into what she would have done, or even if she would
end up hideously disfigured. Monstrous disfigurement could even work
in her favor, as she bore an uncanny resemblance to that
crow-eviscerated woman whom she suspected was the object of the
nekromancer’s dark desire. I’ll
take ugly over dead. Over whatever he has in mind for me.
About
the Author
Bestselling
author of the critically acclaimed Feast of Fates, Christian A. Brown
received a Kirkus star in 2014 for the first novel in his
genre-changing Four Feasts Till Darkness series. He has appeared on
Newstalk 1010, AM640, Daytime Rogers, and Get Bold Today with
LeGrande Green. He actively writes a blog about his mother’s
journey with cancer and on gender issues in the media. A lover of the
weird and wonderful, Brown considers himself an eccentric with a
talent for cat-whispering.
