Showing posts with label Katie Clark. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Katie Clark. Show all posts

Thursday, September 22, 2022

Guest Post: A DIM HOPE by Katie Clark

My guest today is Katie Clark. She started reading fantastical stories in grade school and her love for books never died. Today she reads in all genres; her only requirement is an awesome story! She writes young adult speculative fiction, including her romantic fantasy novel, The Rejected Princess, her Beguiled Series, and her dystopian Enslaved Series. You can connect with her at her website, or on social media @KatieClarkBooks.

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     Katie's latest release is A DIM HOPE. It's the story of Amber and she is in trouble. Her sister is dying—and so is her homeland. The Lifeforce stones that power their world are waning, and no one knows why. When the rulers of the land prepare a scientific expedition to study the place where the veins of the Lifeforce run deep, Amber is forced to travel as a servant with the expedition. Though Amber has longed for adventure, her dream always included her sister. Now her only wish is to return home with a cure before it's too late.
     Crops are wilting, food is scarce, and sandstorms, avalanches, and earthquakes threaten to doom the expedition. Besides this, there are more sinister forces at work. Quiet arguments and missing supplies lead Amber to believe their efforts are being sabotaged. She uncovers clues, but the real source of their trouble—and hope—lies in places she never expected.


Read an excerpt!

Amber gripped the rocky cliff wall that rose at the edge of the governor’s pasture. Two horses grazed in the tall, pale grasses nearby. She had crept into the pasture undetected, and now she would do her best to scale the wall without disturbing the horses.

“What are you doing back there?”

Amber gasped and lost her grip. Skin met hard stone as she tumbled from her low place on the cliff and landed on her back on the ground with a thud. Her long brown skirts tangled around her ankles and her brown scarf slipped from its place around her head and into her eyes. Without the scarf, her unruly brown curls spilled around her shoulders.

Her sister stood above her, laughing. Apparently, Amethyst was better at sneaking than she.

“If you must know, I was perfecting my adventuring skills in case I have to take your place on the expedition tomorrow.” She glanced at the horses, who had skittered away several feet. She frowned. “Thanks for the interruption.”

Amethyst laughed and reached down. Amber clasped her hand to haul herself from the ground. “Madame Governor is calling for you. She needs you to go to the village for her. The flowers and milk were not right.” Her pale purple headwrap draped loosely over her left shoulder, concealing her own brown hair. Her long purple robes flitted in the breeze.

Amber sighed at her free time being cut short as they moved toward the house. She tucked her curls back into place and wrapped her scarf around them. The cooler temperatures of midyear gave way to the heat of summer. Soon, the well would run low and the water conservation would begin. The drought would last until next spring, nine long months away. Then the waters would again flow from the mountaintops, replenishing TerraQuadro.

She wanted to enjoy the nice weather as long as she could, but such was the life of a bond slave—her time was not her own. At least, not until she turned twenty-one, two years from now.

They reached the end of the pasture. “The flowers and milk? Why isn’t Mayville taking care of it?”

Amethyst shrugged. “Madame sent Mayville home early to prepare for the festival tonight, and I have to practice with the players, so I can’t go.”

Amber frowned as they reached the two-story wood house—the second largest in the township, bested only by the K’Luren’s. White walls rose toward the sky with dark beams crisscrossing the front, sides, and back. Sand and reeds serving as decoration adorned the perimeter.

“Flowers and milk.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose we could make do with the flowers the miller sent and add our own honey to the milk?”

Amethyst held up her hands in an uncertain gesture. “Madame likes things to be perfect as we all know. She is proud of the Servants’ Festival each year. Don’t blame the messenger.”

“Amber, is that you?” Madame’s voice reached them through the open doorway of the house.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m coming.” She gave her sister one last glance and glided through the doorway. “What can I do, Madame?”

Madame held out a huge basket of flowers. The blossoms were purple—most of the blossoms in Nullaboro were purple—and they overflowed the basket to the brim. Their sweet scent filled the room. “These were supposed to be the larger flowers, not the smaller. I want them exchanged. And the milk.” She grabbed a woven sling from the table. Two jars rested inside, and they clanged together with the sudden movement. “The milk isn’t sweet enough. Have the milkman add more honey.”

“Of course, Madame.” Amber took the milk. Making it to the village without spilling the flowers or the milk would be no easy feat. Still, she wouldn’t question Madame. No one often did as they all loved her so. Besides that, Amber and Amethyst had no choice in the matter. They had worked for Madame Governor for three years, since their mother had died. Madame had taken them in to give them shelter and food—and so they could finish paying off their mother’s debt. Madame was a generous master, one who had allowed the sisters much freedom, even paying them small earnings that they could save for the future.

Amber arranged the milk in the sling across her back to be sure she would not drop anything.

“I’ll return soon.”

Madame returned making marks in her ledger.

Amber headed out of the house and down the lane toward the main village thoroughfare. A moment later, her sister caught up with her. “I can walk with you. The players and I will practice at the sanctuary.”

Amber frowned. “The priest allows that? The sanctuary is holy.”

“Let me amend my words, dear sister.” Amethyst, tall and thin, bested Amber’s shorter, curvier frame by at least three inches. “We are practicing in the yard of the sanctuary. In the back, enclosed by the fence, so as not to spoil the surprise for the servants and villagers tonight at the festival.”

“Ah. I see.” The milk seemed to be gaining weight as they moved. “Care to take these flowers, as we’ll be going the same way?”

Amethyst took the basket from her. “I should have offered. I’m sorry, Amber.” She sighed.

Amber studied her sister. Her best friend. Separated by only a year, they loved almost all the same things. Had almost all the same dreams. The difference between them was that Amethyst was disciplined enough to contain herself and her excitement, waiting patiently for the right opportunities to present themselves. She worked hard, gave generously, and gained love from everyone she met.

Amber, on the other hand, busied herself with making sure no one took advantage of her sister’s kindness. She stood up for her sister, and herself, and she did not keep her desires for travel and adventure to herself, much to the dismay of everyone in the village. Though they often indulged her with chuckles and good-natured compliance. It didn’t hurt that she made the best festival cakes in the whole township, and she shared them freely.

Now Amber looked to her sister. She hadn’t noticed before, but Amethyst did seem preoccupied. “Are you nervous for the expedition?”

Amethyst would be leaving in the morning to travel on a scientific expedition to the Basiin. Madame had allowed it as Amethyst’s service to the scientists would pay off one of Madame’s old debts. Amber longed to travel with the expedition herself, but Madame wouldn’t hear of both girls leaving. Since Amethyst was the oldest—and most likely because she was more disciplined—she was chosen to go instead of Amber.

Amethyst glanced at her. For a brief moment, Amber saw something there—something like fear, or maybe sorrow—but it was gone just as quickly. “I suppose I could be nervous.”


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Buy A DIM HOPE at these ebook distributors: 


Pelican Book Group

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kobo


 







Wednesday, May 08, 2019

Guest Post: Katie Clark with Whispering Tower

Today my guest is KATIE CLARK. She started reading fantastical stories in grade school and her love for books never died. Today she reads in all genres; her only requirement is an awesome story! She writes young adult speculative fiction, including her romantic fantasy novel, The Rejected Princess, a supernatural survival series including Shadowed Eden and Whispering Tower, which is available now, and her dystopian Enslaved Series. You can connect with her at her website as well as InstagramFacebook, or Twitter.

What's Whispering Tower about? It's the story of Skye Humphries who is stuck in London for one of her mom’s work trips. Skye can’t help holding a grudge when she ends up roped into a summer tour group with Philip-who-crushed-her-heart. But when Skye and Philip find themselves barreling through time after unsuspectingly opening the veil between the past and present, they’re thrust into a world where Skye’s very life is in danger. If she’d known her choices were between summering with Philip or being sacrificed to the god of the skies, Skye might have changed her attitude. Now she must figure out what’s most important to her—getting even for the past or having a future.

Now read an excerpt!

Present Day 
Skye 

Skye stared at Big Ben in the distance, watched it tick away the time, taking her life with it. A few blocks from her hotel window, the London Eye Ferris wheel rose toward the sky. Tourists and locals mingled in the streets around it, preparing to start their day. Too bad she wouldn’t be starting hers down at the London Eye, instead of with breakfast in the hotel restaurant. 
“You’re not ready yet?” Mom’s impatient voice came from the door between their plush hotel rooms. 
Skye kept her mouth shut. She hated these trips, but she tried not to take it out on Mom. Most kids at school would kill for a parent who travelled the world and took their teen along, but long hours away from home, while Mom worked eighteen-hour days? Not fun. At least at home, she had the soup kitchen where she volunteered and the people who volunteered with her. The people who had become her friends. 
Here? She was on her own. Dad had offered to let Skye stay with him, and she’d almost said yes. Almost. 
“I’ll be ready.” She turned back to the window, her gaze going back to Big Ben. 
“Still working on homework?” Mom moved into the room. She glanced over Skye’s shoulder. Skye looked at her laptop screen. She’d been working through a lesson on ancient Mesopotamia from Mr. Kilpatrick’s class. Now, that was something to smile about. The rituals of the ancient peoples fascinated her. She’d gone over the information a few dozen times with her history teacher. He was great about video chatting with her, delving deeper into the customs, languages, and religions used four thousand years ago. He’d even helped her narrow down the best college choices if she planned to pursue archeology. Someone had to help her, since Mom never had the time. 
“I’m about halfway through.” Really, she should have been done hours ago. The time difference between Tennessee and London had jarred her, and she’d been awake forever. Besides, last time she’d slept was on the plane, and she’d had a bad dream she didn’t want to repeat. But Mom had mentioned breakfast with her business partner and his son, Philip Matthews, and Skye was hoping Mom would let her skip if she hadn’t finished her school work yet. 
“You’ll have lots of time to finish it later,” Mom said. OK, not skipping breakfast. “Go get ready,” Mom called over her shoulder as she moved back to her own room. 
Skye stayed put, her gaze going back to that clock. Big Ben, telling time for a hundred and fifty years. If only those fancy clock hands could wind backward. Back to a week ago, when Mom had announced the London trip. Back to just before she’d told Dad, and he’d invited her to stay with him and his new wife, Gloria. She’d asked Mom, and Mom had freaked. Yeah, she definitely would stop herself from asking that question. 
Besides, Dad had only invited her out of pity. His eyes had been anything but welcoming. She winced at the painful memory and quickly turned back to her laptop. After saving her work and shutting down the computer, she moved to the bathroom for a shower. Thick, plush carpet softened every footstep, and floor to ceiling windows lined an entire wall of her room. Three different shower heads blasted steamy water against the fancy tiles, and Skye took a deep breath. She would make it through this breakfast. Make it through this trip. As always. She’d already contacted All Nations Church, for whom she’d done benevolence work on past London trips. Keeping busy was the best way to keep her mind off of things like Mom yanking her around, and Dad patronizing her. And staying on the same hotel floor as Philip Matthews—for an entire summer. 
The hot water was good at burning away the bad feelings, allowing her body to relax and her mind to wander. Steam swirled through the bathroom, and Skye took another deep, cleansing breath. Everything would be fine. The billowing steam fogged up the mirror. It reminded her of something. Billowing sand? She frowned. The dream. She had been somewhere dry and dusty. Alone? No, not alone, but she couldn’t remember who had come. Mrs. Garrison, one of the women who frequented the soup kitchen where she helped out back home, would call Skye’s dream déjà vu. Skye always smiled along with Mrs. Garrison’s crazy beliefs, but she didn’t go for stuff like déjà vu. Seeing into the future--or past? A little too hard to believe.

Check out the book at Pelican Book Group, Amazon, and Barnes&Noble.