Hearts in Exile (Tallenmere Book 3)
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In the distance all around us, I could see the rust-red walls of the rock cliffs. The inner habitat of the island was contained within. Xaxony veered left. After a while, the jungle below opened up to a meadow dominated by tall, dry grasses and twisted penuke trees.
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Wild snippets swung and hopped from branch to branch, chattering in high-pitched squeaks. A few long dragon necks of scarlet, gray, and indigo rose above the branches and followed our trajectory over the canopy. Xaxony circled right, a quarter mile or so from the southern cliff, and flew to where the meadow ended at the edge of a lake. Mysti Parker pseudonym is a full time wife, mother of three, and a writer. The highly anticipated third book, Hearts in Exile, has already received some great reviews.
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Her flash fiction has appeared on the online magazine EveryDayFiction. She resides in Buckner, KY with her husband and three children. Contest ends July Must be 18 years of age or older to enter. Follow the rest of the tour HERE. Filed under Blog Tour , Contest , Excerpt. Preview Powered by FeedBlitz. Skip to content. Pacing away, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I had to calm myself, to let the weight of this discovery, the improbability of her explanation to sink into my water-logged brain.
I begged the supply ship crew to bring my letters to you. They always took them, but never brought one in return. I suspect they destroyed them, but I had no way of knowing. Turning back to face her, I felt like a mindless beast.
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She cringed. Without a word, I leaned in and pressed my forehead to hers, allowing myself to breathe in her scent for the first time in a decade. We stood suspended like that for a while, lost in time, and emerging from a purgatory neither of us had imagined ten years ago. I would have been content to stand like that forever, but Loralee burst into tears and wilted to the floor. I followed her down and opened the quilt to wrap us both inside. I held her tight while she cried. I finally got enough breath to speak again. The weight of it all came crashing down on me.
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She made no attempt to wipe her cheeks, but shook her head and stared at the rafters as though entreating the gods. Not at all. The familiar weight of grief squeezed my chest, and a few more tears escaped before I could stop them. I know how much you loved him. We all did. Loralee took a few deep breaths and finally pulled away from me. She caressed my cheek and smiled weakly. And then, I think we should start at the beginning, back to the Great Plague and when we first met.
Do you remember that? Many, many thanks to my fantastic critique partners and my wonderful husband, Bryan, and anyone else who helped this story unfold. Douglas Barnaby kicked open the swinging door to the clinic, afraid Alina was already dead in his arms. Somebody, help her, please!
Rain poured off his hat brim, streaming onto his young wood-elf wife. He glanced down at her ashen face.
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She was still alive, but her once-sparkling blue eyes, now dull and weak, pleaded with him to save her. Rain soaked through her bloody cotton gown. The fabric clung to her pregnant belly. Red water dripped on the polished oak floor. He finally recognized Valene, matron of the clinic, as she ran toward them. Three assistants hovered nearby. She gestured toward one of the wheeled contraptions that lined the circular main room. In two quick strides, he reached it and gently laid Alina upon it.
Hold on, sweetheart, please hold on. She woke up screaming this morning. She tried He paused to catch his breath and choked on the words. She tried to push, and the blood started.
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Can you help her? Valene instructed the others, pointing to each one in turn. Nivell, Bonette, wheel her to room one. Willa, prepare the birthing kit. Alina, his treasure, his love, turned her pallid face his way as they sped her down the hall and disappeared through the first door on the left.
He followed, but Valene stopped him before he stepped through the threshold.
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Valene shut the door and pressed her back to it, scowling at Douglas as one might look upon a suspected criminal. Helplessness wobbled his knees. He fell limply against the wood-paneled wall, thankful it kept him from hitting the floor.
Valene placed a firm hand on his arm. We will do all we can. Her accusing eyes melted the last of his resolve, and he slid down the wall to the floor. For the first time, he felt like an outsider among this community of wood-elves. Guilt washed over him. How would he feed it, clothe it, raise it up to be a decent wood-elf? He was a mere human.