The blood was barely washed from his face when she heard the men shout, struggling to bring in another body. Eluned did not turn, knowing who they had found and not wanting to see his corpse. Not yet. But then came Master Edmund’s voice, calling urgently for mead and light, telling them to be gentle as they carried him under the shelter. It was no corpse.

She turned from his father to him. His chest labored to bring in air, his gray eyes unfocused. “Madog,” she said, and clasped his hand to her breast.

Fair, Bright, and Terrible is available now.

Acknowledgements

I used to read acknowledgement pages and wonder how the heck SO MANY people deserved to be thanked for just one measly book.

Then I wrote this book, and realized I was an ignoramus.

So here they are, briefly, the people who kept me going in one way or another through the long and often dark years this book tried to get written:

• Snezana Pavlic, first and foremost, for reading every word and unfailingly knowing what worked and what didn’t.
• Susanna Malcolm, for showing me how to never give up on writing.
• Laura Kinsale, for inspiration and camaraderie and for being the best fairy godmother a girl could ever hope for.
• Charles R. Rutledge, for help with plot twists and sword fighting (and e-burritos).
• Thunderpussy, my companion in all the silent moments where writing gets done. I miss you.
• Amanda Dewees, for generously sharing all the e-pub knowledge, and the time it took to communicate it all.
• Lyssa Menard, Rebeca Barroso, writing buddies extraordinaire, and all my fellows at Just Write Chicago.
• Next Door Chicago, for providing the perfect atmosphere for getting shit done.
• Kate Rothwell, Rachel Wallace, and Tracy MacNish for reading it when I needed it most.
• Dr. Dawn Zapinski, for the medical advice on dislocated shoulders. (Sorry if I got it all wrong.)
• Colleen Seville – she knows what she did.
• All the above friends and more, for believing in me and making me better: Agnes and Rita and Monica and Megan and Randi and Sarah and Heather and even Paul.
• Snookie Pavlic, again, because I can’t thank her enough and also she promised to be my first sale so thanks for that, too.

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About the Author

Elizabeth Kingston lives in Chicago, where she can be found gleefully subverting tropes and inventing new ways to make fictional people kiss. When there's time for it (hint: there's always time for it) she shouts loudly about the intersection of historical romance and white supremacist narratives. Lipstick, skincare, and baked goods all rank high on her list of Other Interests. She sincerely hopes you enjoy her writing, and that you'll share it with others.

Read more at Elizabeth Kingston’s site.