Excerpt from The Broken Court, book 2 in the fantasy series Stolen Away.

This scene is very much a nod to a book I read and loved as a young girl, “A Net To Catch The Wind” by Margaret Greaves.

It was a library book, and I wanted to own a copy so much. Of course, back then (pre-internet) it was sooo much harder to find books. If it wasn’t in a book store then you were kind of out of luck, and there was really only one bookstore in my town at the time. Say what you want about Amazon, but it has made it much easier to find and buy books, even ones long out of print. I have hunted down several books I remembered from my childhood and added them to my library with great glee.

The Broken Court was definitely written for a much older audience than “A Net To Catch The Wind” but it also has a character that has to learn to love unselfishly. Want to read more about the eld woman and Hoax? You can find their story on Amazon or B&N as well as many other online retailers.

The Broken Court is now available for preorder on Amazon and Barnes & Noble! To celebrate, I posted an excerpt below. Of course, if you can’t wait for it to be released on May 30th, or if you just like to be in the know before everyone else (and you like free books) you can get an advanced reader’s copy here. I have also made a copy of Lumina and the Goblin King available here.

Reviews are a book’s best friend! So please, if you enjoy a book, any book, even just a little, take the time to write an honest review. Thank you.

And now for an excerpt. Hoax is deviling the eld woman, but not in his usual way.

Excerpt from The Broken Court, Chapter 2 – On the Breath of the Storm

Look for it on most online retailers, May 30th!

One story’s ending is just another’s beginning…

The Fairy Queen has fallen, doomed with a mortal heart, and the eld woman’s two dearest friends, the Lady of the Glade and the Goblin King, are now wed, whole and happy. 

But even happy endings come with consequences, and for the eld woman, life has changed irrevocably. Mortality now hangs over her like a shroud, and her entire world has been turned on its head by a broken little boy newly returned from Faerie. Ill portents fill the air, the seasons themselves seem out of step, and it might be that she has been very, very much mistaken about a certain roguish phooka she thought she knew so well.

This is a story of found family and love finally realized; a thoughtful tale of magic and choices and the consequences that come with both. It is also a story about someone often seen in fairy tales, though rarely celebrated. She is called by many different names: henwife, spaewife, wise woman, witch. 

She is the herb woman who gives the heroine just what is needed to escape her fate. The old woman in the cottage at the edge of a dark wood who advises the hero on which path to take. She is the giver of good advice and the keeper of secret knowledge. The wise crone who guides the maiden, helping her win love and happiness. She is not the one who finds love and happiness herself… but why shouldn’t she be?

“Reading the first paragraph was like slipping into a comfortable chair with a glass of good wine and relaxing with an old friend…” Kath Macfarlane, editor

Thom sat amidst the frigid beauty, barefooted and without a coat, singing to the wind and laughing at jokes only he could hear.” – excerpt from The Broken Court, Chapter 5 – The Lost Ones

Changlings, Kilmeny, Rhys ap Morgan, True Thomas, Tamlin – many a tale has been told about those who were spirited away by fairies; of the beauties and delights they saw while in fairyland and the often sad fates that awaited them upon their return to the mortal world.

They walked through a land where there were no shadows. Where slender boles of crystalline trees rose up like pillars from a floor of malachite. Their spreading branches held aloft a sky made of lapis. The trees opened up to a great circle where the Fairy Queen’s round danced. Two rings of dancers there were, one within the other. The inner ring spun widdershins as sunwise spun the outer. In its center, rising above all, was a dais. Upon it was a throne, where sat the Fairy Queen.

She was dressed in mist and sunlight with hair like a golden waterfall, and eyes the deep blue of a winter sky. At her feet sat a boy who was as beautifully golden as she, save that he was mortal. A very strange thing indeed.” – excerpt from Lumina and the Goblin King, Chapter 5 – The Fairy Queen’s Round

When you first meet Thom in Lumina and the Goblin King, he is sitting at the feet of the Fairy Queen. A beautiful mortal boy whom she had stolen away to use as a pawn against the Goblin King. By the time The Broken Court begins, he has been returned to the mortal world and is being cared for by the eld woman. But then I asked myself, now what? What was his fate to be? How would he see the mortal world? Not as others do, for sure.

It was actually my daughter who helped me the most when it came to writing about Thom. Being on the spectrum, she also sees the world in very unique ways, and though it was never my intention, there is much of her in him. Just as the inspiration for many of the eld woman’s fears and trials come from my own concerns and experiences. (I guess that means my husband is to blame for the phooka’s incorrigible nature :D)

Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com

You see her in many fairy tales.

She is the herb woman who gives the heroine just what she needs to escape her fate.

The old woman in the cottage at the edge of a dark wood who advises the hero on which path to take.

She is the giver of good advice and the keeper of secret knowledge.

The wise crone who guides the maiden, helping her win love and happiness.

She is not the one who finds love and happiness herself, but why shouldn’t she be?

So often, the main characters in stories are young, especially in fairy tales. They’re just starting out on their journey in life, new to the world, to love, and to all the trials that come with it. I see that tendency changing more and more though, and that’s not a bad thing. “The world needs more variety in protagonists” to quote a good friend of mine, and I whole heartily agree! But to be honest, I did not set out with the express purpose of adding diversity to my story. In fact, I never set out with intentions of writing any particular kind of story, just the particular story that is already in my head. However, I realized as I was writing the epiloge for Lumina and the Goblin King that the banter between Hoax and the eld woman was more than just verisimilitude for Lumina’s story. Suddenly, the eld woman was no longer just the old woman living in the house at the wood’s edge. She was someone who was about to have her whole world change and she was not the only one. Hoax’s world had also been stood on its head. One, a person who for centuries had only herself to care for. The other, someone who has watched over someone else for so long that now that he has his freedom, he is lost. Once I understood that, their story grew of its own accord with very little help from me and it spoke of a deeper friendship than you have a chance to see in the first book.

Being of a certain age, and having a somewhat prickly nature myself, made looking through the eld woman’s eyes infinitely relatable for me. I also understand the trials and maelstrom of emotions that come with taking care of a child that doesn’t always see the world as others do. It will be interesting to see how many you will also feel a kinship with the eld woman as you read her story.

After the prologue, this is the first chapter of The Broken Court, the novella directly following Lumina and the Goblin King.

It has not seen my editor yet and so is subject to all the warnings that come with such. Still, I hope enjoy reading it!

Chapter 1 – A Summer Crown for Winter’s Head

Hoarfrost had turned the trees around them into a forest of spun glass. The eld woman made her way through the ebony trunks, stopping every few steps to cut evergreen and holly boughs. She tossed them over her shoulder into the large basket she was carrying on her back, to be woven later into garlands for the winter solstice.

Glancing around, she saw the boy, Thom, walking just a little ways away. The silver cat followed beside him on little prancing feet, as they crossed over the frost-covered ground towards her. The boy’s eyes were bright as he looked at her, but she knew it was not her that he saw. His absent gaze looked right through her. Perhaps, he was watching the sylphs as they danced through the glittering white wood around them. Or perhaps, it was an entirely different wood that he saw, one where crystal trees grew and the queen of fairies ruled. Or had once ruled, as it was.

That did not stop her from smiling at him anyway, and speaking to him even though she knew he would not answer. She did not take his silence personal. In the past month, since he had come to live with her, she had taken up the habit of explaining what she was doing and why even though it seemed as if his attention was elsewhere. She understood what it was like to see what others could not, and how difficult it could be to walk in that space between two worlds. Unfortunately, she suspected that for Thom it was the mortal realm which appeared as if it were a dream, and the hidden one that was his reality.

They came to a small dell where the air felt warmer. She stopped, staring at the patches of color around her. The flowers, in their confusion, had sprung up from the ground despite the sparkling frost, making themselves into a summer crown for winter’s icy head. Had it been early spring, she would have thought nothing of it, but it was only just midwinter. She frowned. She could not say why, but a feeling of unease whispered through her.

A warm hand slipped into hers, and she was surprised to find Thom standing next to her. He was looking down at the flowers as well, his brow furrowed in the same way she suspected hers was. She smiled at the top of his head.

“A few more and we will be finished,” she told him, squeezing his hand.

She continued on with her gathering, but it was not long after that she turned them towards home. Thom held her hand the whole way back, while the silver cat, declaring his paws half-frozen, rode in the basket atop the evergreens.


That afternoon found her standing at the table, the evergreens she had gathered earlier stretched out before her like a miniature forest. The warmth of the hearth was at her back as she deftly wove the fragrant greens into garlands, wrapping them in red thread and stringing them with silver and brass bells. She watched the snow blow past the window in front of her as she went about her task; its multi-hued panes making a kaleidoscope of the flurries as they swirled by.

In only a few hours, the weather had turned bitter. The snow, which was at best only a light dusting at this time a year, was even now piling up into tall drifts. Usually, she did not mind being snowed in, enjoying the hush of the world outside as the snow blanketed the house. As long as the water butt and pantry were full, there was little need for her to go much further than the spring cellar door. But this year was different.

Looking back over her shoulder, she found Thom sitting on the hearth-rug watching the fire, the silver cat curled up next to him, fast asleep. Checking on him was something else she found herself doing often now. An increasingly familiar weight settled on her shoulders even as she smiled at the boy fondly.

She had not had a name for that feeling of heaviness the first time she felt it, but she did now. Strangely enough, it was loneliness. The loneliness of caring for Thom on her own, and the uncertainty of what the years ahead would bring for him. And for herself as well, if she were honest. It was a foolish feeling perhaps, but she felt it all the same.

Once the garlands were done, she set about hanging them above the windows. The sharp piney scent of them tickled her nose as the bells strung throughout winked merrily back at her in the firelight.

She had just finished hanging the last one when there was sharp tap, tap, tapping at her window. Opening it, she found a snow-covered raven perched on the sill. He wasted no time in shaking off his feathers and hopping inside.

“Fah! My wings are nearly frozen,” the phooka declared gliding from the table to a spot on the floor, closer to the hearth.

“What did you expect, flying out in such weather?” she asked, closing the window behind him.

“Tch! Cold-hearted! That’s what you are. All of a sudden, the weather outside seems balmy,” the phooka said, shedding his feathers and holding his hands out to the fire. “And here I am, having braved the elements, riding on the very back of the Northwind no less, all the way here just to tell you…”

There was a knocking at the door.

“…to expect visitors,” she said, finishing his sentence for him as she made her way towards it.

“Just so,” he grinned.

Answering the knock, she found a golden-eyed Lumina standing there smiling at her, snowflakes strewn through her hair like a string of stars in a blue evening sky. The sprite’s arms were full of snow-dusted bundles which she began to hand to Hoax, who appeared as by magic from inside the cottage. Lumina turned again to the pale stag standing behind her, unloading the last of the bundles from his back before stepping inside. The White Stag, now relieved of his burdens, followed in on his bride’s heels, changing to his more human seeming as he ducked his head to cross the threshold.

“Welcome,” the eld woman said, kissing first Lumina, then Lorne on the cheek as they passed by her. “What is all this?”

“We’ve come to spend the solstice with you,” Lorne said, walking over to where the various bundles had been piled. “And, we brought gifts.”

He began unwrapping them one by one. The first held a warm coat for Thom. The ones that followed were filled with shirts and trousers and a sturdy pair of shoes, all just the right size for the boy.

There was also a great deal of food to be had: wheels of cheese, loaves of bread, a cold ham, and small bags stuffed with sugared fruits and nuts. There was even a tightly tied basket of cranberries sitting off to one side, which she immediately set Thom to stringing.

Leaving them to the unwrapping, she pulled on her old shawl and made her way through the narrow door that would take her to the spring cellar. Just as she had hoped, there was still a jug of cider left from the batch she had made out of last season’s apples. They had been gathered from the progeny of the old apple tree, and though they did not contain the same virtue of immortality as their parent, they were tasty and made excellent cider.

When she returned she found there was barely room on the table for the jug she was carrying, so full of food was it. Which was fine because the cider was soon in a pot, set high over the fire to warm. Spices from her dwindling stores simmering serenely atop the golden liquid.

They ate and laughed while they hung the strings of cranberries. Taking care to light the candles she had waiting in the windows so that their warm glow would shine out into the darkness beyond.


She tucked Thom into bed just around midnight. The silver cat followed along, claiming that his hearth rug was too crowded. Which was true, for the rest of her guests were all sitting together on the floor in front of the fire, content in each other’s company, sipping mulled cider as they reminisced about the passing year.

And what a year it had been! It had seen her oldest friend, and her newest, find their deserved happiness together. It saw herself give up a gift beyond price when she gave the oldest tree’s last apple to Lumina. Which she did knowing full well that by doing so, she would once again age as any mortal would, for a time at least. And it brought her Thom, and with him, the changing of her whole world.

The shushing snow outside and the warmth of the fire in front of them lulled everyone into a dreamy contentment. Lumina and Lorne lay to one side of the hearth, heads pillowed on each other’s hips. The eld woman could not help but smile softly at the sight. Perhaps it should have seemed odd to have such beautiful, otherworldly creatures laying asleep, tangled together like two kittens on her hearth rug, but it didn’t. Seeing their happiness had chased away the loneliness of before, reminding her of when she was young. Of long nights just like this one, spent in front of a fire, keeping warm with friends or lovers.

She felt a soft weight settle across her back. The phooka’s chin came to rest on her shoulder, his breath warm on her cheek as he spoke low next to her ear.

“Do you wish that for yourself?” he asked, in a voice made for secrets.

“Why would you say something so foolish?” she retorted softly.

“Am I asking something foolish?”

How to explain the different aspects of love to a creature such as the one sitting next to her?

“Yes, you are. And if you understood the human heart, you would know how foolish a question it was,” she replied.

“Perhaps, and perhaps the question I am asking is not the one you are answering,” he suggested, smoothing his hands over her shoulders as he moved away.

He had left something behind. Her fingers, reaching up, brushed across fabric thick and luxuriant. Drawing it closer, she saw that it was a lovely green shawl, beautifully woven. The silken threads beneath her fingertips were cottony and soft, and unlike anything she had seen before.

“I don’t see why Thom should be the only one to receive gifts,” he said, wrapping the shawl more securely around her shoulders. “A gift freely given. To keep you warm, and to give me a soft place to rest my weary head,” he finished, laying his head on her shoulder, daring her to admonish him.

She sighed in defeat and fond exasperation, allowing him to stay where he was. Resting her own cheek against the top of his head, she watched the salamanders dancing in the fire. The furry tip of Hoax’s ear twitching ever-so-softly against her lips with each out-going breath.

“Do you want to see something wondrous?” a voice whispered quietly in her ear, waking her from sleep.

She opened her eyes to find herself looking up into Hoax’s face, her head now laying comfortably in his lap.

He gestured for her to stand, so she did, wincing as her stiff muscles complained. Hoax took her hand and led her to the window nearest the hearth, its glass panes, traced in frost, hiding the outside world behind icy lace. He undid the latch, opening it just a crack so that they might see out.

The night was clear now, sharp-edged and brilliantly cold. Just beyond the linden tree, she could see two figures dancing out on the snow.

Their feet left no prints to mark their passage. No music guided their steps, or at least no music that she could hear, yet they moved with sureness and grace. The moon was caught up in his silver antlers and the stars tangled themselves in her hair. With each sway and turn the world was made right around them. Spring was in every touch they shared, and autumn in every kiss. Every parting brought with it winter and every return summer. Their dance was eternal, and in that infinite moment, the music of the world revealed itself. It was a song not meant for mortal ears, though they themselves were a part of it. The endlessness of eternity filled her mind as she understood truths she knew she would not remember. She was but a mortal being and her heart ached as she watched the dancers. They were as stars in the sky, pure and beautiful and so very far above her.

A warm hand cupped her cheek, wiping away tears she had not even known were there.

“This is not at all what I intended.” And for once the phooka’s face was serious. “Forgive me, sweet witch, I did not think. Humble beings such as you and I are not meant for such lofty things.”

“Such lofty things?” she repeated, her ire growing unreasonably. “Do you think I wish for them? Only a fool tries to hold the sun. I, for one, would much rather bask in its warmth.”

“Would you? I thought you loved him once.”

“I do still,” she agreed. “But not as I think you mean it.”

“You sacrificed half your sight for him,” the phooka pointed out.

She had given up much more than that to see Lorne happy and whole, but she had no desire to bring the phooka’s attention to that.

“And when he was blind, you were his eyes for a century or more. Though you were no more obligated to do so than I was,” she retorted, annoyed at his interrogation, yet at the same time feeling perversely grateful for it. “You will admit that there are those who are deserving of such kindnesses. Ones like your king and his bride, who do for others with no thought of gain for themselves.”

“I will wholeheartedly admit it,” he said, closing the window. The dancers disappearing from her sight behind the frost-laced glass. “But your answer is really no answer at all.”

“It is as plain an answer as you could ask for, and certainly plainer than anyone you have ever given.”

“That may be, but I think I need it to be even plainer.”

“Even plainer?” she scoffed. “How can I be any plainer than ‘I love him still’? Is it the ‘still’ or the ‘love’ that I need to make plainer?”

“Oh ‘love’, definitely ‘love’. I think everyone could stand to have that made plainer!” he laughed softly. “And I am curious to know what you meant when you said ‘not as I think you mean it’.”

“I am not going to try to explain the different aspects of love to a twisty-tongued creature such as you,” she said, voicing her thoughts from earlier. “You would get too much pleasure out of spinning my words on their heads.”

“Explanations of love should set your head spinning,” he agreed, nodding sagely, but the twinkle in his eye told her he was taking great delight in teasing her.

“Ach! You make me tired,” she said.

“I could if you would only let me!”

“Enough, you ridiculous goblin,” she said with familiar exasperation.

Hoax held his tongue, smiling at her in much the same way as the silver cat did when he happened upon an unattended crock of cream. She eyed him suspiciously, wondering what mischief he was up to.

There was a shifting in the world around her; a turning of the tide. Though the darkness still held sway, the long night was over. The old year was passing, and soon the sun would rise, bringing with it a new year and new beginnings.

For the eld woman, life has changed irrevocably. Her mortality hangs on her like a shroud, and young Thom, newly returned from faerie, has turned her world upside down. Ill portents fill the air, and even the seasons are out of step…

Stories often have a mind of their own, don’t they? Take Lumina and the Goblin King, I was sure the story was finished. It wasn’t until I was in the middle of writing the epilogue that I realized there were other stories there, waiting to be told. That even happy endings aren’t really endings at all, just the beginnings of new stories. In this case, a story about the eld woman, Hoax and Thom, the boy who had been stolen away from Underhill.

So here we are, with The Broken Court set to come out early next year. It follows directly after Lumina and the Goblin King and precedes the final book, whose story is already whispering in my ear, but whose name has not quite revealed itself yet. I already posted one excerpt from The Broken Court in my post The first day of fall, if you find yourself a little curious and want to give it a read. And keep your eyes open for another to be posted later in December. Or better yet, come listen to me read at Strong Women-Strange Worlds’ Year-End Extravaganza on Sunday, Dec. 12th. I am reading a part of that same December excerpt at their Holiday-themed Quick Reads. And if you like Scavenger Hunts, there will also be a chance to win a copy of Lumina and the Goblin King, along with a box full of other books and swag.

If you think the idea of hanging out with over 30 authors for free, without even having to change out of your pajamas, sounds like fun, then here’s the place to register.