Rise of the Sea Witch by Stacey Rourke - Book Tour + Giveaway
Rise of the Sea Witch
Stacey Rourke
Publication date: June 19th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Stacey Rourke
Publication date: June 19th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Details of the sea witch’s banishment have been exaggerated. The body count that preempted it was not. Once an illustrious princess, her hands and tentacles were stained with the blood of thousands. No one could comprehend how the hooks of madness dragged her down from her life of privilege.
Born Princess Vanessa of Atlantica, the ambitious young royal was one of two children born to the great King Poseidon. She and her brother, Triton, were groomed from birth to rule. Yet only one would ascend that coveted throne. While carefree Triton flits through his training with a cavalier demeanor and beguiling charm, Vanessa’s hunger for her father’s acceptance drives her to push herself to the limits of magic, and combat to become a leader worthy of her people.
When war against the humans ravages their once regal kingdom, political sides are chosen. Factions from the seven seas challenge the existing leadership, pitting Vanessa against her brother in a vicious battle for the crown. Traitors are exposed, dark family secrets revealed, and a once strong sibling bond is strained to its breaking point.
Only when the ink black waters from the ultimate betrayal rescind, will the truth be known of how the villainous sea witch rose with one name on her vengeful lips–Triton.
Excerpt
“Sire,”
respectfully bowing her head, Loriana readjusted her hold on Prince Triton, “I
hate to interrupt.”
My father, King
Poseidon, pushed his chair back from the desk in a swirl of water and sand, and
rose in greeting. To the rest of the kingdom, he was known as simply the
supreme ruler of Atlantica. To me, and my juvenile ignorance, he was the God of
the Sea who towered over us all. I envisioned all of his enemies, and anyone
that ever wished me harm, falling to their knees and trembling before his
commanding presence. His hair and thick beard were the red of Precious Coral.
Muscle rippled over every inch of his exposed torso. His narrow waist tapered
into an emerald green tail that perfectly matched the shining jewels of his
eyes. Countless times I had examined the lines of his face in search of some
similarity between the two of us. None could be found. Triton had his smile,
and later—when adolescence hit—he would inherit his strong chin. Me? Every inch
of me was a lackluster shadow of my mother’s regal beauty. Where her eyes and
tail sparkled like freshly polished amethyst, mine seemed dull by comparison. Or,
perhaps the lighting from the pedestal I’d built for her in my mind shone for
her with a more flattering shimmer.
“The hour is late.
I welcome the interruption.” Poseidon set his fish bone quill onto the desk
top, and positioned its stone cradle on top of it. “How can I be of service,
Loriana?”
“It’s the
children, Your Highness.” Her face a mask of maternal sorrow, Loriana gave my
hand a quick pulse of comfort. “This is the first night they have ever tried to
go to sleep without a lullaby from their dear mother. I’m afraid I can’t seem
to calm their troubled little hearts.”
Poseidon’s broad
chest expanded with a deep inhalation, and tipping his head he exhaled a flurry
of rushing water and bubbles. “This is a troubling time for us all,” he agreed.
Crossing the room with one stroke of his tail, he extended his hands to receive
Triton. My brother waved his arms in eager delight, wriggling into the security
of Father’s strong embrace. Inching forward, I blinked up at the mighty king.
He floated past without so much as ruffling my hair. “I’m afraid I don’t have
your mother’s gift of song, but perhaps we could sit a spell and find peace in
our togetherness.”
Honoring her
position outside of the room, Loriana gave me a gentle push forward to follow
my father. Casting a tentative glance over my shoulder, I did just that.
Poseidon swirled Triton around, eliciting a giggle that crinkled the corners of
his ocean blue eyes, before the king collapsed on the sea sponge sofa with his
darling son on his lap. I perched on the very edge of the far cushion,
uninvited and unnoticed.
Before that moment
our father had been more of a … hmm, how to put this delicately? A figurehead
in our lives. We knew of him and regarded him fondly, but unfortunately his
kingly duties allowed our primary interactions to be those staged for political
potency. Our mother, the lovely Queen Titonis, spent her days caring for my
brother and I with only Loriana to aid her. Now, Poseidon had no choice but to
pick up the yolk. For Triton this transition seemed to be going swimmingly. I,
however, was getting as much attention as the Orca-bone end table.
Hands under the
little prince’s pits, Poseidon turned Triton to face him. “I was so proud of
how you behaved during the processional today,” he gushed. “You honored not
only me, but your mother’s memory when you clasped your tiny fist over your
heart and held your head high as her carriage passed.”
“Follow Nessa.”
Triton looked to me with love, his tailfin a muted clap when connecting with
Father’s lap.
“Your sister has
two whole years of further training and experience than you, my boy.”
Poseidon’s shoulders raised, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“You exhibited the poise of a true leader.”
My lips clamped
shut to stifle a sob, his words stinging like a slap. I had just as much right
to the throne as Triton, but this was the first moment I became painfully aware
of who he longed to see succeed him. It would not be the last … or the most
painful.
“She held her
curtsy so long, merfolk threw flowers!” Alastor, a year and a half older and
far more eloquent than Triton, darted into the room to brazenly interject.
Mahogany waves curled over his earlobes, adding dimension to his round little
face that resembled a bubble. The boldness of his gesture quickly shriveled
under Father’s menacing glare.
“The son of a
servant entering the king’s quarters?” Father boomed, one eyebrow raising in
question. “One might question your upbringing, lad.”
“A thousand
apologies, Your Majesty!” Loriana blushed from her neck clear up to her
earlobes and snapped her fingers at her wandering boy. “Alastor, come here at
once!”
Shoulders sagging
like a stone cast to the depths, Alastor returned to his rightful place in the
hall. The heat of his topaz stare bore into me as he paddled along, searching
for even the slightest acknowledgement of his noble deed.
I had none to
offer.
My own gaze had
drawn away from my brother, laughing while Father tickled his cheeks with his
beard, to scan the items neatly arranged on father’s desk. Inanimate objects
which earned his attentions daily just by being. On the right side, closest to
his scrawling hand, sat the quill. Its fat little ink pot was perfectly
positioned perpendicular beside it. In the center of the desk, weighted by
stones carved with the royal crest, rested a stack of scrolls awaiting the
king’s notice. On the left-hand corner, Poseidon’s late night snacking needs
were met by a plate of rolled and seasoned seaweed puffs.
The ink pot lured
my attention back as if calling to me.
I had never had to
work for attention in any capacity. My mother had always given it freely, and
in limitless supply. Since she had been taken from me, I had unquenched needs:
hugs, stories, and all of that … drivel. So, yes, I thought about acting out. I
toyed with the idea of knocking over that little clay pot and letting the ink
flow to ruin the staged perfection of father’s space. More than that, I wanted
to. I wanted to hear him shout out my name in his menacing vibrato, because at
least then he would have to acknowledge me. While my hands stayed folded neatly
in my lap, as the good little mergirl I was, something within me I had never
felt before reached out. Palpable energy, only I seemed privy to, crackled
through the water to cradle the pot in its hold. I could feel it, poised and
ready, awaiting my command. Biting my lower lip to fend off a threatening grin,
my essence gave barely a nudge and the ink pot tumbled. A thick black cloud
exploded over my father’s desk, staining the scrolls and ruining the once
delectable wraps.
“Vanessa!”
thundered my father, rocketing off the sofa. “Look what you’ve done!”
I turned toward him
with feigned remorse … and screamed. The howl of terror tore from my chest
until my gills ached and my throat was raw.
There was a buzz of
activity: Poseidon calling to the nursemaid, Loriana swimming in as fast as her
fins could carry her, Triton wailing in fear, Alastor trying to shush his
friend from the doorway to which he’d been banished. I neither saw nor heard
any of this.
Floating in the
center of the room, bobbing with the current, was my mother.
Not the serene
vision of loveliness I had known her to be that was full of life and love.
Heck, I even would’ve happily settled for the slumbering beauty she appeared to
be during her funeral. In vast contrast, the entity hovering before me had
chunks of flesh gnawed away by assorted sea beasts. Cracked, ashen lips curled
into a snarl. Black ooze bubbled through her teeth, dripping from her chin and
clouding the water. My scream reached a fevered pitch, spots dancing before my
eyes. The ghoul, who in life sang me to sleep, reached for me with one hand
that had been gnawed to bone.
You see, by using
magic I opened a door and allowed the darkness in. The cost being more than I
could bear, I vowed to myself—as my consciousness waned—never, ever to dabble
with such things again.
Oh, the lies we
tell ourselves …
Author Bio:
RONE Award Winner for Best YA Paranormal Work of 2012 for Embrace, a Gryphon Series Novel
Young Adult and Teen Reader voted Author of the Year 2012
Turning Pages Magazine Winner for Best YA book of 2013 & Best Teen Book of 2013
Readers’ Favorite Silver Medal Winner for Crane 2015
Stacey Rourke is the author of the award winning YA Gryphon Series, the chillingly suspenseful Legends Saga, and the romantic comedy Reel Romance Series. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two giant dogs. She loves to travel, has an unhealthy shoe addiction, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people that live in her head.
1 Comments
Thanks for being on the tour! :)
ReplyDeletePlease try not to spam posts with the same comments over and over again. Authors like seeing thoughtful comments about their books, not the same old, "I like the cover" or "sounds good" comments. While that is nice, putting some real thought and effort in is appreciated. Thank you.