Welcome to Tuesday Treat and today I offer you a snippet from my new book
from Liquid Silver Books
Serving the Serpent.
Available 23rd of November.
This is a sweet fantasy romance that I hope you will love.
On the first of November I’ll be posting Chapter One on the My Books page and hopefully a pre-order link, and we begin a month of posts for Here Be Dragons.
Enjoy this little snippet.
Herensuge flopped down so hard the sandy floor juddered. He curled his upper lip above his longest tooth and sucked in a deep breath. Dissatisfaction poured through every one of his ruffled scales. “I wish you could read faster, boy.”
“Do you know how hard it is reading Old Norse? There are no helpful little translations in here. I don’t know which bit of the manuscript deals with this particular problem.” The lad sat cross-legged some way off, the huge leather-bound book across his knees, well out of reach of the splashes of the water cascading down over the circular hole in the limestone roof of the cave. “I’m sorry, Heren,” Leif said. “I’m doing my best. I swear to you. I don’t want you to get ill. Here, have a cloudberry.” He flipped one over.
Mollified more by the use of his close name than the small berry he snapped up, Heren eyed the lad. “I apologize too. I know you’re working hard to find the answer. If only I could recall the cure. But it’s all so long ago, lad. Centuries of dreaming, and the world is a far different place.”
Leif nodded. “I know. Now, you relax, listen to the music, and I’ll keep reading. Try to stay calm. The last thing we need is a big burn-up.”
Resigned to the music and his continued suffering, Herensuge lounged. He tapped a claw in time to the drums and watched his diamond and gold claw ring send brilliant sparkles of light dancing on the cave walls. All very well, but the tingling itch remained. The uncomfortable itching got worse every day and forced him to roll and writhe against the thick rock pillars or lie with his belly submerged in the cool of the turquoise water, and yet even the icy chill of the pool didn’t soothe the heat. A fresh rumbling growl rose from his stomach.
Leif glanced up from the book. “Not again.”
“Sorry.” A cloud of smoke wafted from Heren’s open mouth, followed by a flash of red fire that licked toward the youth. The lad yanked the book away and grabbed the fire extinguisher he’d insisted on bringing into the cave for the last month.
“Loki’s balls! Please, Heren, I want to keep mine. Breathe the other way if you must flame.”
A wave of despair hit. Miserable, he shook his head, slithered so his hindquarters and the long length of his tail lay in the pool, turned his head away, and closed his eyes. If it weren’t for the terrible, dreadful urge to burn, the savage discomfort caused by all the itching, he’d have been singing with Leif or perhaps they might have enjoyed a game of chess. Oh, this was truly a cruelty inflicted by the gods. He’d do anything to end the suffering. Slowly, like a winter icicle melting under the first rays of the spring sun, the answer bloomed in his mind.