Hey all! COPPER RAVENS, sequel to COPPER GIRL, will be released in just over three months. To celebrate, here's the first chapter. Enjoy!
My
name is Sara Elizabeth Corbeau, and I’m an Elemental.
I’m
also a fugitive.
For
most of my life, I did everything I could to appear ordinary. I avoided magic
like I avoided large spiders and stepping on cracks, and not just so I wouldn’t
break my m other’s back. After the Magic Wars had ended, in which magic had
been the definitive loser, it was just too dangerous to be caught using. That was
how my brother, Max, got arrested and turned into a science
experiment at the Institute for Elemental Research. That, coupled with the fact
that my father had gone missing during the wars, meant that I went through life
claiming a total and complete ignorance of magic.
Then
Micah appeared in my life (technically, he first appeared in my car, even
though I was dreaming at the time), and everything changed. And I mean everything. Micah is a metal Elemental
like me, although he’s of silver whereas I’m a copper girl. Together, we
rescued Max, destroyed the Iron Queen, and put a serious dent in the military
branch of the Mundane government’s (the inappropriately-named Peacekeepers)
operation. So, yeah, that would be how I became a fugitive, along with the rest
of the Corbeaus.
All
of that had happened about three months ago. Micah, kind soul that he is, had
offered my entire remaining family—Mom, Sadie, Max, and even the
Raven—sanctuary at his home in the Whispering Dell. So far, no one had died,
though a few of the silverkin had come perilously close. Officially, we all
understand that the silverkin are manifestations of the massive vein of silver
that runs below the Whispering Dell, and only exist to serve Micah, the
reigning Lord of Silver; I had called Micah a king once, and had been rewarded
with one of his rare frowns.
While
not truly sentient, the silverkin are the most well-meaning of creatures.
However, the critters do come up short in the common sense department. A prime
example of their lack of self-preservation skills was when they had insisted
upon bringing Mom a few snacks and a cushion while she was meditating in the
garden, despite her many refusals.
Luckily,
Micah was able to mend the dented ‘kin, and after a stern lecture the silverkin
agreed to only speak to Mom when spoken to, and Mom—amazingly—agreed to not
damage any more of the servants. For now.
Destruction
of the help notwithstanding, Mom was having a far easier time adjusting to our
new life in the Otherworld than Sadie or Max were. Now, I could understand
Sadie’s issues, being that she had been ripped from her safe, boring life as a
college student (studying to be a librarian, of all things), informed that she
was the Inheritor of Metal, and thrust headlong into the magical reality that
was now our lives. Yep, I understood how that could be a bit disconcerting.
Max,
on the other hand, had no such excuses. He’d lived in the Otherworld for over
ten years now, and all of this strangeness should have been old hat to him.
Yeah, so what if most of his time here had been spent in the Institute? He was
still here. He should know something.
I
wish I could say that I was gracefully taking on my new role as Micah’s
consort, but that would be a lie. And fey don’t lie, you know? Not that I’m a
fairy. Well, not completely, and only on my mother’s side.
Anyway,
it turned out that politics in the Otherworld were just as maddening as
politics in the Mundane realm; if anything, the addition of magic and factions
of perpetually bickering Elementals made it more so. Not that anyone cared what I had to say, mind you. I
was expected to appear on Micah’s arm at these varied events, perfectly coiffed
and perfectly silent, since, as a mere consort, I was viewed as little more
than a decoration. A mute, compliant decoration.
Yeah.
I’m about as mute and compliant as a howler monkey.
I
didn’t blame any of those misconceptions on Micah. He had never treated me as
anything other than his lover and his equal, but the fact remained that I was
not Lady Silverstrand, nor would I be until I bore him a child. Which I hoped
wouldn’t happen for a long, long time.
What’s
worse, these events that demanded our presence were becoming all too frequent,
since the sudden death of the Iron Queen had left a gaping void in the
Elemental power structure. Being that we were responsible for said royal demise
(technically, I’d cashed in a favor owed to me by the Bright Lady of the Clear
Pool), Micah’s attendance was required at each and every Gathering of the
Heavies, as Sadie had so eloquently termed these functions. His opinion was
sought out in all matters, while I was only expected to stand there and nod.
Couple that with the strange and varied formalities that I was required to
commit to memory, and it was enough to drive one mad.
“How
was I supposed to know that Old Stoney couldn’t drink wine?” I grumbled after
one such gathering. Old Stoney was the de
facto ruler of the earth Elementals, at least until the as yet unknown
Inheritor of Earth surfaced. Speaking of surfaces, Old Stoney was of granite,
specifically. Apparently, those of earth—or granite, at least—do not ingest
liquid refreshment, since it rolls right on out of them like so much rain on
asphalt. Little things like these were what I was expected to know, and I
managed to come up short more often than not. Exasperated, I flopped down on
Micah’s bed. I was still a little weirded out calling it our bed.
“Old
Stoney?” Micah repeated, quirking a silver brow.
“I
can’t remember all these foolish names,” I muttered. Old Stoney’s actual name
was Something Greymalkin, or maybe it was Something Greymountain. “Why isn’t
anyone named Todd, or Jim?”
“Because
we are not denizens of the Mundane World.” Micah crawled onto the bed beside
me, and smoothed the hair back from my face. It had been done up in one of
those elaborate confections that were a silverkin specialty, but by now it
looked less like sleek waves and more like a bird’s nest. A ratty, lopsided
bird’s nest. “You think those of the Otherworld do not have trouble with
Mundane names?”
“There
are no Mundanes here, besides me and my family.” I snuggled up to Micah,
enjoying a moment’s peace. “I really screwed things up, didn’t I?”
“Between
me and Old Stoney?” Micah asked. I laughed, hiding my face against his throat.
“Not likely. Remember, we of metal still have the upper hand.” Micah wrapped
his arms around me; as I moved to encircle his waist, my hand bumped his sword
belt.
“Can
you really use a sword?” I asked. I’d seen Micah perform a few incredible
feats—such as ripping the head off an iron warrior with his bare hands—but I’d
never seen him in a swordfight.
“I
can,” he replied.
“I
bet you’d look pretty hot chopping someone’s head off,” I murmured. Micah, who
struggled with Mundane idioms as much as I struggled with Elemental names,
rolled me onto my back.
“Hot
is good?”
“Very
good,” I affirmed. Micah laughed, the gentle rumbles in his chest once again
making everything right in the world. After a fair bit of snuggling, I asked,
“Have you heard anything new about the queen?”
Oriana,
the Gold Queen, had been captured by Ferra, the Iron Queen (the one we had, um,
rusted), and had spent the past few
years as a prisoner in the Iron Court. After Ferra’s demise, Oriana had been
promptly rescued, but her health was hanging on by a thread.
“She
is convalescing,” Micah said, to my relief. If Oriana died, my life would
become immensely more complicated. You see, next in line for the metal throne
is Micah Silverstrand, the man whose bed I sleep in. And I do not want to be a queen.
Preorder COPPER RAVENS
here.
