Based on the ancient Irish fairy tale, the Children of Lir.
In pre-Celtic Ireland, Fionnuala was a fae princess, born to a life of luxury. She knew her duty and loved her family. She missed her mother, who died in childbirth when Fionnuala was but ten years old. Still, she had hopes and dreams of love and a full life.
All her dreams were stolen from her, ripped away in a torrent of envy and magic.
Now she must care for her three brothers while learning to live under an evil curse. Will she find a way to break the spell, or would they remain swans, tethered to three places for nine hundred years?
Excerpt
460 BCE
Mother screeched in pain as she gripped my hand. The blood dripped on the soaked floor, splashing the midwife’s skirts. I hummed and pushed my healing will through my hand into hers as the ravens taught us, but she blocked it.
“No, Fionnuala, my special child,” Mother’s voice was raw but firm. “You must stay… stay and guard the children.”
The dank dimness of the round room closed in on me as she screamed again. The rough flesh of her throat had little power left after two days of labor. Heat and sweat battled in that small space and the urge to flee was almost irresistible. Yet I couldn’t leave. Mother needed me.
Another scream raked my ears, the wattle and daub walls and the very air around us. The pain and regret of a lifetime echoed in that scream.
Her hand grew flaccid in my own. My eyes grew misty as her life force escaped and faded into the Otherworld.
A crusade against an ancient evil.
A brotherhood bound by oath.
A victory that will cost everything.
This chivalric epic, lost for centuries, now in the refurbished language of Malory. A crew of disenfranch
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