Roxanne Rhoads's Blog

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

Spells and Rituals: A Beginner’s Guide to Magic (According to Maeve… and Mischief)
https://paranormalists.blogspot.com/2...

Book Review: Maiden Tomb by Cynthia Sally Haggard
https://crandomblog.com/book-review-m...

Transcendence by Katrina Kimball
https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

Spells and Rituals: A Beginner’s Guide to Magic (According to Maeve… and Mischief)
https://paranormalists.blogspot.com/2...

Book Review: Maiden Tomb by Cynthia Sally Haggard
https://crandomblog.com/book-review-m...

Transcendence by Katrina Kimball
https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...

What inspired you to become an author?
I’ve loved books my entire life. I was the girl that stayed up reading all night instead of sleeping. I wrote poetry as a teenager which was a perfect vessel to capture the emotions of those tumultuous years, but I didn’t think about writing a book until I was almost 40. I had a mid-life crisis of sorts, wondered what exactly I was doing with my life, and had a lightbulb moment in the shower that led to the idea for my debut horror novel, Transcendence. I’ve always been drawn to horror and the supernatural, so writing a horror novel seemed like a good idea. Once I started writing Transcendence, I became obsessed with the telling of the story. I can’t imagine writing not being a part of my life at this stage of it. I feel like I’m finally doing what I should be doing. 
Do you write in different genres?
I’m drawn to horror and envision most of my writing falling into that genre. However, I’m pretty sure there’s a romance novel somewhere inside of me that will come out one day, maybe under a pen name, maybe with horror elements to it. 
How did you come up with the title for your latest book?
I have no idea. It just came to me one day early on when I was writing  Transcendence  and it felt right. It’s been the title ever since. 
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
There are quite a few messages buried in  Transcendence . Some might be more obvious than others. The overarching theme is that love always wins. No matter how messy life can be, how hard and cruel it can feel, there’s also moments within it of breathtaking beauty. Life is about experiencing both, never giving up hope, and always, always, always, hanging on to the love. 
Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life?
Alexis’s first few meditation scenes are loosely based on my personal experiences when I started meditating. When she’s visualizing her chakras, the color and the mantras, those are methods that worked for me. The very first time I meditated and saw something I knew was not the workings of my own brain, I saw the universe, spread out in all it’s glory (just like Alexis). They say, “write what you know.” In some ways, I did. Although I’m happy to say, no demonic entity followed me ‘home.’ 
If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?
It was when I was reaching the end of writing Transcendence that I realized the story didn’t end there. It feels like a trilogy and probably will be. I’m currently working on  Convergence,  the sequel to Transcendence. It focuses on two side characters, Linda and Mrs. Bates, their messy relationship and how what transpired between them 30 years ago ties into the events at the end of Transcendence. It’s heavy on the witchcraft, dives deep into why Mrs. Bates is the way she is, involves a murderous and angry god, and continues Demetria’s story as well. I have a feeling the third story in this series focuses primarily on her, but things may change as I write the second book. 
Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
It’s important to me to capture the emotional complexity of my characters. I don’t want you to just read about them, I want you to feel them. Sometimes, digging into that emotional complexity can be exhausting. In the sequel I’m working on now, not only are we dealing with present day, we also time jump to 30 years ago, so I’ve set myself a difficult task of not only capturing who Linda and Mrs. Bates are today, but also the different people they were 30 years ago. It’s a struggle but a rewarding one when I think I’ve gotten it right. 
Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?
90% of Transcendence was written to the soundtrack of Tron: Legacy by Daft Punk. Highly recommend! 
What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?
Aside from being a writer, I’m also a psychic medium. Much like writing, I didn’t discover this ability until I hit my 40s. Much like my main character Alexis, I questioned the shit out of it until I couldn’t question it anymore. Writing is my passion, but there’s nothing quite like connecting with the spirit realm to help people process trauma and pass on messages from loved ones. It’s a gift I wouldn’t trade for anything. 
When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?
I actually have a day job as an analyst. When I’m not doing that, parenting, or writing, I enjoy using my mediumship abilities to channel messages for people. I’m lucky enough to live near the ocean and find myself at the beach as often as my busy schedule allows.  
TranscendenceKatrina Kimball
Genre: Paranormal Thriller, Dark FantasyPublisher: Rowan Prose PublishingDate of Publication: April 28, 2026ISBN: 978-1-961967-80-9ASIN: B0F711QN1BNumber of pages: 348 pagesWord Count: 85,482Cover Artist: Rowan Prose Publishing
Book Description: 
When a demonic entity seeking revenge starts tormenting her family, a young woman must rediscover their shared past and embrace her own divine power in order to save not only those she loves, but the creature bent on her destruction.
If you asked Alexis Ferelli what her biggest challenges are in life, she’d say it’s parenting her daughter, Luna, running her masseuse practice, and deftly avoiding conversations about marriage with her partner, Jack. At least, that was the case before she attended a séance. Now, the spirits are trying to contact her and there’s a demonic entity in her daughter’s closet.
Determined to find answers, she turns to the psychic from the séance and the spirit world for help. As she dabbles in the hereafter, she not only discovers another dimension filled with angelic guides, magic, and wonder, but also learns the shocking truth of her connection to the creature tormenting her daughter.
As the dark entity grows bolder and sets its sights on Jack as well as Luna, Alexis realizes that to save them all, she has to face the creature she once betrayed to bring it out of the darkness and back into the light.
Fans of Alix Harrow’s Starling House or Neil Gaiman’s Coraline will enjoy Transcendencs by Katrina Kimball.

Amazon     Books2Read

Excerpt:

Luna woke to a tapping sound coming from her closet.She knew closets weren’t supposed to make tapping sounds. She also knew that’swhere monsters hid, in the back of dark closets or under your bed. Maybe that’swhere aliens hid, too—waiting to catch you in your sleep.

The silvery light spilling through her parted curtainsand pooling on the floor did little to soften the shadows. Through the gloom,she could see the outline of her closet. The door was shut. She cast a waryglance at the windowsill and the visible line of salt that gleamed in the faintmoonlight. The salt was undisturbed, her window still closed against the night.

Tap, tap, tap.

She ducked under the covers and scooted to the farside of the bed. Tucked into the corner with her back pressed against the wall,she peeked out from under the blanket, her eyes glued to the closet.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound came again, swiftly followedby the soft click of the closet door as it started to inch open.

As she lay there, huddled in the darkness, too scaredto breathe, a tall shadow, darker than the shades of night in which it hadhidden, slowly stepped forward. Its red eyes reminded her of Aunt Dani’s cawingraven, the one with eyes like fire that scared you when you walked in the door.But these eyes were worse. Bright red flames surrounded a pupil an even deepershade of red. And they were looking straight at her.

Frozen in fear, she watched as it glided closer, itsfootfalls silent, its eyes terrible and bright.

“Hello, little doll,” it whispered. 

Luna couldn’t tell if the thing had a mouth, for itsentire face was black except for its terrifying eyes, but she heard the wordsjust the same. A little voice in the back of her head was screaming at her tomove, but it was too late, the thing was now between her and the door.

She remembered the bowl of salt on the nightstand nextto her bed and finding her voice, tried to be brave.

“I am not a doll.”

“Oh, sweet child,” it sighed as it stepped into thepuddle of moonlight, impossibly tall and darker than the nighttime shadows, “Ishall make you my little doll. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

Its long arms ended in hooked fingers that looked assharp as claws. Beneath eyes of flame ran a jagged slit where its mouth shouldbe, as if someone had tried to draw a mouth, but had gotten it all wrong.

The scream that had been building for some time in theback of Luna’s throat finally worked its way free as the creature reached forher, talons grasping, eyes of flame leaping in the night.

She lunged for the salt next to her bed. Flinging thebowl itself at the creature, her eyes widened as it sailed right through it asif were truly just a shadow. Grains of salt flew through the air as the bowlshattered violently against the hardwood floor.

The creature jerked its head in the direction of hermother’s room and stared, its slash of a mouth widening into a gaping smilethat made her stomach hurt. She could hear her mother’s footsteps racing downthe hall.

Its head swiveled back in her direction, eyes alightwith fire as its hideous smile somehow grew. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I’ll be seeing you little doll,” it whispered as itglided soundlessly back into her closet and snapped the door shut.

 

About the Author:
A horror enthusiast and lover of all things mysterious and unknowable, it was only a matter of time before author Katrina Kimball picked up her pen and mashed the paranormal, fantasy, and horror genres into one with her debut novel “Transcendence.” When she isn’t working on a novel or binge-watching shows about Bigfoot, ghosts, or aliens, she’s probably thinking about any one of those three things. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her two children and her adorable Boston Terrier, Beaux.
Author Website https://www.katrinakimball.com/novels 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kimkatwrites/ 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/Katrina-Kimball-61565177587429/
Rowan Prose Publishing: https://www.rowanprosepublishing.com/katrinakimball 
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/222448865-transcendence

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

Author Advice with Cynthia Sally Haggard #AuthorAdvice #IndieAuthor #bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/TanQz0u


Transcendence by Katrina Kimball @bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/423qn7a


Gossiping About Grimoires by Mildred Abbott #ParanormalMystery #bewiitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/GqSJrlh


Which Transcendence Character Are You?
https://take.quiz-maker.com/Q8NQ8FLOL


Knitting with Cynthia Sally Haggard #ArtsandCrafts #Knitting #AuthorGuest
https://creativelygreen.blogspot.com/...


INTERVIEW WITH KATRINA KIMBALL (Trancendence)
#bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/rEwgm6D

Gossiping About GrimoiresWhispering Witch Book OneMildred Abbott
Genre: Paranormal MysteryPublisher: Wings of Ink Publications, LLCDate of Publication: March 10, 2026ISBN: 979-8243417433ASIN: B0GJTS4272Number of pages: 400Word Count: 103,600
Cover Artist: Christian Bentulan 
Book Description:
Maeve Hawthorn writes about witches for a living. They want her to stop.
When a book signing ends in her abduction, Maeve’s only priority is escaping with her corgi, Mischief, alive. That urgency deepens when she learns her captors are real witches, furious that Maeve has been exposing their secrets to the world.
Before Maeve can make sense of how her fiction has become reality, she’s caught in the middle of a murder that leaves her marked by magic she doesn’t understand. When a dying witch’s power floods into her, Maeve becomes the prime suspect in a crime she didn’t commit—and a target for every supernatural being certain she knows too much.
Turns out, magic isn’t a gift. It’s a liability. And clearing her name may cost Maeve far more than her safety.
With danger closing in and no clear allies other than Mischief, Maeve must navigate a hidden supernatural world that wants her silenced… or dead.

Amazon

Book 2 ReleasesApril 30,  Book 3 Releases June 30

Excerpt:

Turningfrom dawn breaking over the Quarter, I crossed over to the canopy bed whereMischief was having a completely different experience.

Aftermy thousandth time pacing the room, Mischief had crawled on top of the mountainof decorative pillows placed against the headboard and fallen asleep. Asnormal, she’d started off in a dignified little ball, resting her head on topof her fluffy tail. Barely ten minutes had passed before she flipped onto herback, front legs curved at her chest and hind legs spread in a most un-ladylikemanner.

Withoutthinking, I mimicked her—flopping to the mattress on my back with a cry ofterrified frustration.

Mischiefsnorted in surprise and tried to twist around onto her feet. Instead, she sankbetween the pillows. She only disappeared for a heartbeat before she thrust herhead through a gap at the bottom and shook off a little trail of drool leftover from her nap.

“Sorry,sweet girl.”

Mischiefonly groaned, yawned.

Despiteeverything, she could still make me laugh. I curled onto my side, snagged underher front legs, heaved her free from the pillow avalanche, and pulled her to mychest.

“Oh,Mischief, what have I gotten us into?”

Shesnuggled against me and in answer issued a long, relaxed sigh.

“Youknow, I’m always amazed how much you understand what I’m saying and what’sgoing on around us. However, you seem completely clueless at the moment, whichis surprising.” I buried my face in the large white patch of fur at the back ofher neck, tears stinging my eyes. “Although I have to admit, I wish I wereclueless right now too.”

Mischiefexhaled, sounding annoyed, then squeezed her way out of my embrace, trottedabout a foot across the mattress, and plopped down, staring at me.

Ilaughed again. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to insult you or anything. I only…”

Theexpression in her eyes brought me up short and ushered back the memory besideEudora’s body. How in the world had I forgotten?

“Icould have sworn you talked to me earlier.”

Herannoyed expression deepened.

Ileaned closer. “Are you irritated because that’s ridiculous or because I’vebeen too busy being a stress-mess to remember until now?”

Sheglared, though not necessarily angrily, but more like another flash of what Ithought was annoyance. She leaned closer so her nose almost touched mine andheld my gaze, staring so hard had it been anyone else, it would have feltinvasive and too personal.

Butit was Mischief, so I stared right back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’retrying to tell me.”

Sheblinked, then stared again.

“Youare!” I gasped at the realization. “You are trying to tell me something.Actually, trying to say something… right?”

ThoughI couldn’t hear even the faintest reply, the expression in her dark eyes was aresounding Yes. Truthfully, it was probably more of a Duh!

“Okay.”In my excitement, I attempted to push aside being captured and my probablepurging and scurried up into a sitting position on the bed.

Thatwas instantly too high, so I repositioned to my knees, leaning forward andresting on my forearms, returning our faces to eye level.

Again,I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I got the impression she was laughing.

Strange.Although I suddenly realized how I must look spread over the bed with my rumpup in the air. “Kind of like you when you want to play, huh?”

Hereyes twinkled.

Anotherthrill shot through me.

Ihad always felt a bond between us and frequently had the impression we couldread each other’s thoughts and feel each other’s emotions. But I’d heard otherpeople who loved their dogs say similar. I figured every doggy parent feltthat. But this was different, even though I couldn’t hear any words like Ithought I had at the cathedral. This was new, even for us.

“Okay…what’s different from earlier?” I thought back to the moment at the cathedral,trying to recall. She’d been on my lap, and I’d buried my face in her fur, as Iso often did for comfort. But… I’d just held her a moment ago. Just had my faceburied in her fur while I tried not to cry.

BeforeI could sit up, drag her into my lap, and try again, Mischief drew closer oncemore and pressed her forehead to mine.

Istarted to argue, to tell her of my plan of recreating the scene. However, sheseemed to know what she was doing better than I did, so I held my position.

Mischiefpushed a little harder against my forehead and took a long, slow breath, thenreleased it. Her breath didn’t smell minty fresh or anything, but the warmthwashed over my cheeks and felt as familiar and safe as home.

Iattempted a slow breath of my own, but it shook.

Mischiefdid it again.

Sodid I—longer, deeper, and slower that time. The tightness in my throatlessened, and the claws gripping around my heart loosened ever so slightly.

Safe.

Iscrambled back, startled, as I hadn’t really expected it to work. “You saidthat, right? Not just my imagination?”

Herscowl was all the answer I needed.

“Okay,you did say it. That’s… amazing. And I love you think we’re…” My turn to scowl.“Wait a minute. Do you really think that, or is safe the only word you cansay?”

Herchuff upgraded from mild annoyance to exasperation.

“Allright.” Despite our situation, I chuckled, because talking or not, Mischief wasMischief.

Iwasn’t entirely convinced, but whether because of hope or delusion, I wanted tofind meaning.

“Allright, let’s say you really are talking and I can hear you. We’ll go a stepfurther and believe you’re choosing to say safe because you truly think weare.”

Sheblinked. Maybe confirmation? That seemed like a good sign.

“Great,so… you believe we’re safe.”

Realitybroke through. I was sitting here talking to my dog. Although I always talkedto Mischief—all the time—I’d never expected her to answer back with actualwords.

WasI losing my mind?

Mischiefgrowled softly.

“Okay,good point. We’re surrounded by witches. Plus, black cats, otters, alligators,and opossums while we’re at it. Not a huge leap that you might start talking.”

Hergrowling stopped.

“I’lltake that as agreement.” I couldn’t help but grin at her, then reached out andstroked her beautiful face. “So you think we’re safe. I guess that’s good, butthere’s not a single thing that’s happened that leads me to believe that. Whyin the world do you think we’re safe?”

Mischief’stail began to dance behind her head. Magic.

Igasped again. “You can say more than safe.”

Herwagging ceased instantly.

“Sorry.”

Shesighed.

“Youthink we’re safe because of magic. I don’t see how.” I continued to pet her andtry to parse through things out loud, attempting to make sense of it. “Don’tget me wrong. I’m over the moon it’s all real, but magic is what put us indanger—it’s definitely not protecting us.”

Mischiefshook her head, pulling away from my touch. She seemed to consider for asecond, then stretched out one of her white little paws and placed it on myhand resting against the bedspread.

Magic.

Myheart thrilled again at hearing her voice—which mostly sounded like my ownvoice, my thinking voice or conscience… but… different.

“Yeah,I get it. There’s magic. But it’s being used against us, Mischief, not—”

Magic.She batted my hand with her paw. Maeve. Magic.

“Yousaid my name!” I gasped again and yanked my hand away, covering my heart like aparent whose baby just said “Mama” for the first time.

Sherolled her eyes, which… wasn’t new.

“Sorry.”

Shescooted close enough to touch again.

Maeve.She glared again. Magic.

Mischiefshook her head in what looked like frustration. I didn’t get the sense she wasfrustrated at me that time, however.

Shegave a little hop, then looked back at me before covering my hand with her pawonce more. Magic. Maeve. She tapped my hand, one of her claws accidentally—ormaybe not so accidentally—scratching my skin. Magic Maeve. Magic Maeve.

“Uhm…”

Mischiefshut her eyes, and her tiny little caterpillar brows furrowed like she wasstraining. Maeve. Is. Magic.

Sheopened her eyes, looking deep into mine again. Maeve. Magic.

About the Author:
Mildred Abbott writes cozy mysteries filled with humorous and complex characters. Whether brimming with magic or simply an above-average dose of curiosity, Mildred's amateur sleuths solve murders with the cutest sidekicks ever. Fifteen years as a special education teacher and a lifetime of loving rescue dogs result in creating adventures with a ton of heart and the need for lint rollers.
Website: http://www.mildredabbott.com 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MildredAbbottAuthor/ 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mildredabbott/ 
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@mildredabbottauthor
Newsletter sign up:  http://www.mildredabbott.com/contact-mildred.html
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17347095.Mildred_Abbott

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

SPOTLIGHT ON KATRINA KIMBALL (Trancendence)
#bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/rEwgm6D

INTERVIEW WITH MILDRED ABBOTT (Gossiping About Grimoires-Whispering Witch)
#bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/ul18Eoc


Which Transcendence Character Are You?
https://take.quiz-maker.com/Q8NQ8FLOL

Knitting with Cynthia Sally Haggard #ArtsandCrafts #Knitting #AuthorGuest
https://creativelygreen.blogspot.com/...

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

SPOTLIGHT ON KATRINA KIMBALL (Trancendence)
#bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/rEwgm6D

INTERVIEW WITH MILDRED ABBOTT (Gossiping About Grimoires-Whispering Witch)
#bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/ul18Eoc


Which Transcendence Character Are You?
https://take.quiz-maker.com/Q8NQ8FLOL

Knitting with Cynthia Sally Haggard #ArtsandCrafts #Knitting #AuthorGuest
https://creativelygreen.blogspot.com/...

Maiden TombTwelve Cursed Maidens SeriesBook OneCynthia Sally Haggard
Genre: Fairytale Retelling, FantasyASIN: ‎ B0DNWVFZ81Publisher: ‎Cynthia Sally Haggard PressPublication Date: ‎ February 4, 2025
Tagline: Would you marry a stranger to free your sisters from imprisonment?
Book Description: 
In this retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses, sixteen-year-old Justice wants to release her sisters from the maw of Father's imprisonment. But what can she do? The easiest way would be to find suitors for them.
However, that is not so easy, for Justice's elder sisters are strange. What with All-Gifted's madness, Protectress's hair writhing with snakes, Death-Bringer's grief (not to mention her strange name), Shining's too-overt sexuality, Maiden's tart tongue, Shadow's crippling shyness, no sensible man would want her sisters as wives. Which leaves Justice, the seventh daughter, the one who possesses a quiet authority.
Justice has already acquired an admirer in the shape of Lord Nobody, who proclaims his undying love for her. But what does he really want? And doesn't he have a wife already?

Amazon      BN      Author Website      Google      Books2Read

 

P r o l o g u e ~ The TwelveMysterious Daughters

Playfulspeaks

 

Inthe past week or so since we’ve arrived, life has taken on a predictablerhythm. I spend the mornings entertaining the ladies of the castle, with thelyre, my singing, playing knucklebones, and listening to their gossip. Truth totell, nothing they say is particularly interesting as high-born ladies spendtheir time inside. When they are not diverting themselves with such pastimes asI provide, they are spinning, weaving, running the household, and caring fortheir children. They talk incessantly about their children. They know little ofthe outside world.

Iescape after the midday meal, taking advantage of the ladies’ habit of restingas the sun’s chariot crests at the highest point of the day. While they sleep,I head out into the scorching countryside looking for Father.

Wesit together in the shade, while Father does some task, usually repairingsomething, while I tell him everything I’ve learned the evening before. It isnot that hard. Because I am small, and people are now familiar with my face, noone pays me any mind as I take my seat at the bench that runs along the side ofthe huge table where all the working folk of the castle eat their meals.

Fatherhas told me never to be inquisitive, but I am dying to know more about thetwelve mysterious ladies locked up in the castle tower, the ones people whisperabout behind their hands when they think no-one is noticing.

Asthe light of the sun drains from the sky, as the king’s men sink lower ontowooden benches eating dish after dish, quail, pheasant, peacock, duck, eggs,bread, olive oil, wine, and olives, the noise of seven hundred men sharingjokes, laughing, and swilling wine reverberates around the hall.

Finally,I can take it no more."Is it true what they say about the King’sdaughters?"

Thegrizzled stranger on the bench next to me wipes the grease off his mouth withthe back of a hand and spits out an olive pit.

"Where’veyou popped up from? You shouldn’t be here. You’re only a young lad."

Iam used to these remarks. After I left home I took a ship that was blown offcourse, taking me west to the land of the Italoi. I had to beg for money in thestreets and in the taverns and it was not long before I heard news of Father,who was sailing to the west of this land.

Andso I made my way across steep mountains before coming down to a lush plain.Playing my lyre to entertain strangers I followed their directions to the sea,to a wide bay within sight of a simmering, high, conical-shaped mountain.

Andthere, in a tavern, I met Father.

Nowwe are traveling home together. But Father is not here on the bench beside me,as he should be, but outside at a nearby farm pretending to be a stable hand.

Thisis one of Father’s clever strategies. He is a master at extracting information.He calls his strategy "divide and conquer" and it means that I haveto use my lyre to find a berth for the night in some local chieftain’s house.This is not usually difficult, especially if there are ladies around becausefor some reason they always want to pet me.

Meanwhile,Father finds work on the outside as a shepherd, farmhand, or stable boy. Byconcealing his origins and pretending to be dumb, drunk, or both, Father isable to overhear a great many things. We have a plan to meet every day at noon,I escaping the blandishments of the ladies to visit the local farm for milk,cheese, eggs where I could happen upon the new stable boy, farmhand, orshepherd.

Theonly fly in the ointment is my age. I am only twelve years old and to my greatannoyance, I look it. So Father made me memorize some phrases to offer whenthis issue arises.

"Fatheris here with me, but is suffering with an ache to his belly."

Onesentence is usually enough for most people. Father has instructed me never tooffer explanations that are not asked for as it only makes people more curious.

Butthe fellow is staring at me, waiting for more.

Iturn my eyes down. "Father told me to eat supper and then berth with himin the stable yard."

"He’sthe new stable hand, is he?"

Inod.

"Muchgood he’ll be with a bellyache."

Ilook up. "Do you have a remedy for that good sir?"

Fatheralways stresses the importance of asking for advice when a conversation turnssour, as it flatters the vanity.

Thefellow hawks and spits, rising from his seat. "You’ll have to go to thekitchens for that, son." He ambles off.

Ireturn to my meal, hoping the others will forget about me and the conversationI’ve just had. Fortunately, it is that time of the meal when men turn tipsy.Pretty soon they are laughing, singing, and telling dirty jokes. One song goeslike this:

 "There once was a king with twelvedaughters—"

                        —"Twelvebee-yoo-tiful daughters," sing the others in an out-of-tune chorus.

"Buthe refused to marry them off—"

                        —"Twelvebee-yoo-tiful daughters!"

"Andwhy did he refuse to marry them off?"

                        —"Twelvebee-yoo-tiful daughters!

"Becausethey would make unsuitable wives—"

                        —"Twelvebee-yoo-tiful daughters!"

"Theeldest is mad.

Thesecond is bad.

Thethird is sad.

Thefourth too bold.

Thefifth too shrill.

Thesixth too shy.

Theseventh too just.

Whilethe eighth loves her father too much—Ha! Ha!

Theeighth loves her father too much!

Theninth is a boy.

Thetenth a mermaid.

Theeleventh a goddess.

Whilethe twelfth has only five years, five years,

Thetwelfth daughter has only five years."

"Donot touch!" yells someone to guffawing laughter.

Themen pick up their song again:

"Butthe one you need to watch for is number four, number four,

Theone you need to watch for is number four.

Forthe fourth daughter is a very naughty girl,

Withlarge bold eyes and a nearly naked form—"

Thisgoes on for some time. The fourth daughter seems to fascinate the men. I chewthoughtfully. Somehow, I must find a way of meeting her.

Iturn to another man. "Is it true he locked all twelve of his daughters upin a high tower?"

Theman nods.

"Whyare they going on about the fourth daughter? I thought it was the eldest whodishonored the family name—"

"Keepyour voice down," hisses the fellow. He looks around and then stares backat me from under bushy brows. "Your information is quite good, boy. Mostof what you say is true."

"Whichpart is false?"

Thefellow rises to his feet. "If you’ll take my advice, you’ll keep yourmouth shut. Folk pay with their lives by asking too many questions." Heglances around and draws his forefinger across his throat.

"But—"I gesture to the men singing lustily.

"They’redrunk."

"But—"I say again. But the man vanishes into the press of sweaty male bodies.

Outside,it is a lovely evening with a couple more hours to run before the sun dipsbelow the trees. The castle tower stands up like a finger, a beckoning, awarning, that people can see for miles around. If their eyesight is good, theywill see a window set high in the tower, just underneath the tiled roof. On afine day, the window unlatched, the wind carries the sound of voices, the highsound of girls’ voices gossiping, chattering, giggling. Now, on this latesummer evening, someone closes that high window shut. I catch a glimpse of aheart-shaped face with deep-set dark-grey eyes, and light-brown hair drawn backinto a braid. Which daughter could she be? Not number four, for she is dressedmodestly in a light woolen robe dyed a soft grey to match her eyes.

Ilift my head to the moon, a thin fingernail of a crescent. A shiver runs up myspine. Something is going to happen within the month, I can feel it. This placehums with suppressed tensions.

Fatherwill be so interested when I see him tomorrow.

 

About the Author:
Cynthia Sally Haggard was born and reared in Surrey, England.
About 40 years ago, she surfaced in the United States, inhabiting the Mid-Atlantic region as she wound her way through four careers: violinist, cognitive scientist, medical writer, and novelist.
Her first novel, Thwarted Queen, a saga set in 1400s England with a Game of Thrones vibe, won the 2021 Gold Medal IPPY Award for Audiobook. Her second novel, Farewell My Life, a dark historical about a hidden murderer, won the 2021 Independent Press Award for Women’s Fiction and was a 2019 Distinguished Favorite for the New York City Big Book Award. (Farewell is now a set of four novellas that make up the Grace Miller series.)
Maiden Tomb, the first of four projected novellas that will form the Twelve Cursed Maidens series, was a 2026 Distinguished Favorite for the Independent Press Award. Cynthia graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University, Cambridge MA, in June 2015.
When she’s not annoying everyone by insisting her fictional characters are more real than they are, Cynthia likes to go for long walks, knit something glamorous, cook in her wonderful kitchen, and play the piano.
You can visit her at: 
Twitter ~ https://x.com/cynthiasallys
Blog ~ https://cynthiasallyhaggard.com/blog/
Website ~ https://www.cynthiasallyhaggard.com
Facebook ~ https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.haggard
Instagram ~ https://www.instagram.com/cynthiasallyhaggardauthor/
Facebook ~ https://www.facebook.com/cynthiasallyhaggardnovelist
LinkedIn ~ https://www.linkedin.com/in/cynthiasallyhaggard/
Pinterest ~ https://www.pinterest.com/cynthiasallyhaggard/
Goodreads ~ https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5293171.Cynthia_Sally_Haggard
Newsletter ~ https://mailchi.mp/cynthiasallyhaggard/subscribe-for-email-updates 

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

Please Welcome Cynthia Sally Haggard as She Tells Us About Her Fantasy Fairytale Retelling Romance, Maiden Tomb, Twelve Cursed Maidens Series, Book One #bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/xXuM1Yq


“A tense psychological thriller, terse plotting, and Anna’s own uncertainty about who she is, what acts she’s committed, and whether she can trust her own thoughts, feelings, and actions, keeps this book a page-turner.”
—New York Journal of Books
https://bit.ly/3YDcQHB
#nicolasolvinic #thehuntersdaughter #mysteryauthor #crimeauthor #thrillerwriter #bookreview


Check in for chills, check out with goosebumps: Explore Michigan's haunted hotels with author, Roxanne Rhoads.
Haunted Hotels of Michigan
https://amzn.to/3Touz4p
#MichigansMostHauntedHotels #MichigansMostHaunted


BOOK TOUR: Maiden Tomb by Cynthia Sally Haggard #bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/avXFwmX

A Bewitching Tuesday

A Round-Up of Daily Virtual Book Tour Stops

Maiden Tomb (Twelve Cursed Maidens Series, Book One) by Cynthia Sally Haggard ~ #Excerpt #FairytaleRetelling #Fantasy @cynthiasallys #bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/cQCQvuU


“A tense psychological thriller, terse plotting, and Anna’s own uncertainty about who she is, what acts she’s committed, and whether she can trust her own thoughts, feelings, and actions, keeps this book a page-turner.”
—New York Journal of Books
https://bit.ly/3YDcQHB
#nicolasolvinic #thehuntersdaughter #mysteryauthor #crimeauthor #thrillerwriter #bookreview

Maiden Tomb Book Tour #bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/XfnIe3w


Check in for chills, check out with goosebumps: Explore Michigan's haunted hotels with author, Roxanne Rhoads.
Haunted Hotels of Michigan
https://amzn.to/3Touz4p
#MichigansMostHauntedHotels #MichigansMostHaunted


Knitting with Cynthia Sally Haggard #ArtsandCrafts #Knitting #AuthorGuest #bewitchingbooktours https://buff.ly/KPKjI4J