Happy March, everyone! This is often my favorite month of the year — not just because of my birthday, but because March is when I published my first book (2017) and my second (2018).
In the hopes of continuing that tradition, I am planning to launch my next book, The Borrowed Daughter, by the end of this month! I want to do this book launch the right way, so I’m getting the word out there now to build some momentum.
To help all you fine folks get excited about this new story, I want to give you an EXCLUSIVE sneak preview of the first chapter! Check it out below:
The Borrowed Daughter
Chapter 1: Sideways
The rock and metal dug into Stella’s clenched hand as she dashed through the crowd at the town square. She ducked down behind a loaded oxcart, where – as promised – her best friends were waiting.
“Alright, I got ‘em!” she panted, holding out the shiny metal curve and smooth black stone.
Jessie jostled her shoulder. “Well done!” She nudged her glasses up her nose.
Suppressing a grin, Stella dumped the items in Warren’s hands. “What’s this for again? I can’t be gone long.”
“Just a little jape,” Warren replied, his green eyes glinting above his crooked smile. The glow of the Founder’s Festival gave his stocky form an orangish hue, and the chant of the crowd along with the music made him seem like just another part of the entertainment.
Stella scooted closer to the front of the cart for a better view. Tucked under the front wheel were a couple of foot-long wooden tubes. Warren adjusted one of them to line up with the marching band’s knees. “What are those?”
“Spark sticks,” Jessie whispered, her coy voice tinged with pride. “I learned to make them from the journal of a traveler who went all the way to – ”
“Merrill tried one last night!” Warren burst in, giddy. “The blasted thing spit embers a hundred feet!”
Stella huffed impatiently. “Didn’t you learn from last time? You went half-blind settin’ that barrel o’ dry fish on fire!”
Jessie put a hand on Stella’s arm. “That won’t happen again. I tamed these accordingly. There will be a bang and some smoke, but no harm done.”
“Dunno if you’d say that if you were on the other side of this.” Warren fine-tuned his aim. “Grennett’ll blow her top once her precious parade gets mucked up!”
Stella winced. “She’s grand marshal again?”
“Well, she does pay for the entire event.” Jessie scanned her friend’s reactions and lowered her eyes, trading her matter-of-fact tone for an apologetic one. “I mean, she still deserves what’s coming to her … ”
“You’re gonna prank the grand marshal?” They all winced at Stella’s loud tone, so she brought her voice down. “You’ll wreck the festival for the whole town!”
Warren sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s a bit o’ flash and rattle. We’ll spook a few horses and break up the music, but that’ll be it. Just enough to put a wrinkle in that old bat’s britches.”
Eyeing the flint and steel she had given him, Stella frowned. “But it’s fire,” she pressed, her throat getting tighter. “You could set something ablaze!”
Warren waved her off, returning to his adjustments. “Run off then, like ya always do. No one’s forcin’ ya to stay.”
Her temper flared at that jab – Stella never backed out of a proper lark – but she bit her tongue. I only ran last time cuz Merrill took ducks-and-drakes too far, tossin’ that rock at the merchant ship. Speaking of, it wouldn’t hurt to have a cover if this all goes sideways.
She searched Jessie’s eyes; the worry behind those glasses drew out Stella’s courage. Someone has to plan the escape, she concluded. Otherwise, Warren’ll get us all nabbed again, and the watch is through giving out warnings. Stella doubted they’d toss children in the dungeon like they said, but Father’s stories about the depths under the castle remained frightening enough to make her not want to risk it.
She did a quick scan of the area to map out some escape routes. Most of the townsfolk were on the other side of the cart, cheering and singing with the parade. This lead-up to the annual spring festival always filled the streets, everyone eager to get outside after another long, lean winter. Across the street, Stella could make out dozens of familiar faces, shopkeepers and laborers, parents and their children, smiling at the procession as it passed.
Still, a scattering of villagers hung back from the mob, mostly folks who wanted nothing to do with crowds. Old Man Watts lingered outside the pub, stooped over his cane and staring hard at the oxcart, but she doubted he could see past his crooked nose. Some older boys and girls gathered in knots here and there, sneaking off to steal a drink or a kiss. Luckily, the few guards still on duty were lined up on the far side of the square, or dotted the long, steep road up to the massive castle beyond.
Plenty of escape routes the other way, Stella thought, smiling to herself. The alley behind the bakery and the gap in the stable fence seemed like their best bets; they’d have to dash across the open street, but the approaching twilight should make it hard for anyone to make out who they were if they kept their heads down as they ran.
“Fine.” Stella huddled closer under the cart. “But be quick. And when I say so, you all follow me. Fast.”
Relief spread across Jessie’s face. “Aye aye.” She pushed her glasses up again. “On your mark.”
“Here she comes!” Warren waved the girls over. “As soon as her cart draws level with ours … ” He poised the flint and steel over the back end of one wooden tube.
Jessie crept past him to get a clearer view. “It’s a long fuse,” she rasped. “Strike it now!”
With a sharp clack, Warren struck the flint with the steel. Sparks jumped from the stone, but missed the wick at the back of the spark stick. He smacked them together again, twice, then a third time, and the bit of cloth caught fire right at the base of the tube. Smoke soon began to puff out.
“Look out!” Warren cried, lurching backward and pushing both girls behind him. The spark stick sizzled and coughed black plumes.
BANG!
The tube kicked up and split apart, clattering back to the ground and billowing smoke.
A few people nearby turned their heads toward the noise, buzzing with curiosity. Stella held her breath and made herself small, her heart hammering out the seconds. Then another tune began, and everyone returned their attention to the parade. The band continued past, and the next cart rolled into view.
“That was it?” The dismay in Stella’s chest surprised her. All rattle, no flash …
“The other one!” Jessie insisted, crawling under the cart to fetch the second spark stick. “I know I packed that one perfectly!” She propped the tube through the bottom of the front wheel and straightened its wick along the ground. Wriggling her fingers toward Warren, she insisted, “Gimme!”
Without a word, Warren scrambled over and handed her the flint and steel.
Stella peered around the back of the cart and then crept beside Jessie. “She’s comin’ up!”
“I’m trying!” Jessie fumbled the stones, her breath shallow and fast. She swiped the steel at the flint a few times, glancing off or missing altogether. On the fifth or sixth time, she whacked her thumb. “Ow!” she cried, dropping the tools.
“She’s right there!” Warren grunted, jabbing a stubby finger past their faces.
The parade marshal’s festival cart, swathed with garlands of flowers, trundled past their hiding spot, the six horses in the lead clopping along in smart rhythm. The music had moved along, but the townsfolk grew louder, chanting and cheering.
Lady Grennett waved to them from her cushioned seat, her lips pursed beneath her uptilted nose. Behind her sat Onya Grennett, her pale face decorated with only a pleasant (though forced) smile. Stella almost felt bad for her, waving from her mother’s shadow yet again. Then she remembered how Onya lorded her position over the other girls every time they gathered in the square. She deserves this as much as her stuck-up mom …
To read more, hop on over to my Substack for the full first chapter! 🙂
M. J. Lau 