Book Release: Princelings Revolution, by Jemima Pett

 The chronicles of the Realms are concluded!

 

Princelings Revolution is out today! The day has finally come for the last in Jemima Pett's Princelings of the East series. She started writing it in the dim dark days of 2008, thanks to inspiration from some guinea pig friends. Today's post has an extract and a Giveaway, so there's a lot of reading! 

In 2008, the series was just meant to be a trilogy. But the characters wouldn't accept their fate and demanded more. And so the saga of the Realms wound its way from south to north, and even into Germany before returning to the east.

1. The Princelings of the East
2. The Princelings and the Pirates
3. The Princelings and the Lost City
4. The Traveler in Black and White
5. The Talent Seekers
6. Bravo Victor
7. Willoughby the Narrator
8. The Princelings of the North
9. Chronicles of Marsh
   and...
   
10. .......

Princelings Revolution

Jasmine's birthday party ends in disaster. George seems to have lost a phial of highly dangerous liquid. And King Fred is battling politics, relatives and self-seeking dignitaries in his aim to give the people a better way of living. But can Fred keep the promise he made to an engaging chap from another time when he was just a princeling? Or will all their hopes fail?

Jemima's favourite quotes from the book

• "Hector, in charge? Couldn't lead a file of caterpillars, that one!"
• The way Jasmine said it made Fred raise an eyebrow. It was exactly how Kira said it when she wanted to say something privately.
• "The usual suspects are people we know. I reckon these are people we don’t know. And who don’t know us."
• “Oh.” George considered all the other uses he had found for it. This was not a good one. “It’s called duct tape,” he said.

About the series

Ten books take us from 2009 through to 2021, with a prequel at Book 4, explained from Lord Mariusz's point of view. The feudal structure of the Realms, the changes wrought by new technology, largely promoted by Princeling George, Fred's brother. The demise of paranormal creatures, thanks to George's use of garlic in the fuel cells; the rise of an anti-monarchist group called the Causists, and the resilience of characters great and small, trying to keep their pleasant and friendly society together in the face of so-called freedom fighters. One simple book at a time creates a world of change that will be somewhat familiar to every reader on today's uncertain planet. Suitable for good readers 8 years and up, although some parental guidance may occasionally be needed. Generally listed as age 10 and up. The first three books in the series are also available as Audiobooks.

 

Jemima at Bloggers Bash 2018

About the author

Jemima Pett started writing stories when she was eight. By ten she was designing fantasy islands, complete with maps and railways timetables. There was no call for fantasy island designers then, so she took the science route through university and went into a business career, then retrained for environmental technology. Once in a policy research organisation she started writing again, reports, papers and briefings. She didn't believe she could write fiction until her guinea pigs came along, and inspired her to write The Princelings of the East. Now she enjoys writing short stories and science fiction novels, and has been published by Third Flatiron Press, among others. She lives in Hampshire with Roscoe, Neville and Biggles, who all appear in Princelings Revolution. Jemima is on Twitter.... Amazon.... Goodreads.... Facebook.... Website

 

 

Buy The Book

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Enter the Giveaway!

Entries close at 11.59 23rd October, New York time. Open for entries in all countries and states where this type of raffle is legal. Some additional entry options may be added: please check back if this is important to you. a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Extract

George overhears a plot

The harbour at Castle Wash included a large store full of bits and pieces for ships as well as sails and larger fittings. George was ferreting around in the aisle of wing nuts and clips when he heard some people talking together on the next aisle, just the other side of the box he was checking in. 

“So, full moon, on the spring tide, then.” 

“Exactly. Bring the goods ashore, hand them to the party waiting for you, they’ll have blue sashes on. Low tide before dawn, poof! Up goes the causeway.” 

“And all for the Cause, I like that.” 

“The causeway for the Cause, he-he.” the second one chuckled, but it was an ugly sound. George stayed still, his hand poised over the wing nut he wanted. It didn’t sound like these people wanted to be overheard. How could he see what they looked like without being seen himself? If they checked down this aisle when they exited theirs… There was a shelf behind him just above his head height, with bundles of netting on it. He grabbed hold of the sides of the shelving and dragged himself onto it, grateful that he’d had to use a top bunk from time to time, and the technique hadn’t escaped him. He scrambled over the netting and peered through a loose bit of it. 

The two conspirators reached the end of their aisle, and sure enough, checked out George’s one for anyone listening. Why didn’t they do that before? George wondered. Was it a chance meeting? Maybe they’d had to move out of another aisle, and he’d been too quiet, inspecting the contents before he rummaged in the boxes. 

He saw their faces. One was a regular seadog, unmarked coat, dark brown, but with a spotted scarf around his neck. The other seemed vaguely familiar. But was he someone he’d met in the past, or did he just resemble someone he knew? He listened to their conversation as they left, chatting about eateries in the area, and realised. The second looked just like Py, proprietor (with Archi) of the Cheeky Parrot, Castle Wash’s famous inn. But Py wouldn’t be involved in conspiracy. Would he?  

Princelings Revolution © J M Pett 2020 

Why there isn't a review:

Regular readers will know that I usually like to review books, not just announce them. I have stopped reviewing Jemima's books because as an active beta reader I don't think I'm very objective... but I will say that I thought this was a fantastic conclusion to the series! I have thoroughly enjoyed all the books, and look forward to seeing what Jemima will do next! 

Launch spotlight: The Chronicles of Marsh

The Ninja Librarian is delighted to announce the release of a new addition to the Princelings series!

 The Chronicles of Marsh, by Jemima Pett (#9 in the Princelings Series) was released Nov. 14!

Genre: fantasy/history/memoir/MG/crossover (yes, it really is all of these things!)
Length: 59,000 words
Triggers: one sad death scene
Recommended: for children over 10 with advanced reading skills

Publisher's Blurb:
The Princelings of the East are now King Fred and Prince Engineer George.  Gone are the years of innocence when they travelled for adventure and uncovered time tunnels and pirate plots.

Now Fred, assisted by his queen, Kira, has the responsibility for his people, his lands, and for persuading the lords and kings of the Realms to act together for the common good.

George just has to work on his inventions, always thinking of a final goal: to fulfil the promises made to Lord Mariusz so long ago.

Neither has an easy task.

Fred decides to write this history of his reign. He starts with the joy of his inheritance, but quickly shows us that developments in the Realms are not leading towards a settled and happy future.

Review:
Ordinarily, in this kind of post, I'd insert my review here. In this case, that doesn't seem quite right, as I was a beta reader/editor on this one and might not be wholly objective. So I'll just say that it is a must-read for anyone following the series, though not the place to start the series. I love the Princelings, and encourage anyone who likes Erin Hunter's Warriors, Brian Jacques, or Narnia to take a look at the series. This one fills in a lot of important bits and breaks your heart a little.

Excerpt:

Chapter One
Spring came subtly to the marsh. The reeds stood at odd angles, however the snow and winds had thrown them, beige against the black of the water and green of the new grass. The stubby willow bushes showed fluffy silver buds cracking out of chestnut-brown casings. On the more open wetlands, the peeping of wading birds made an incessant whistle against the wayward breeze.

The banners on the castle towers fluttered, halfway up the flagpoles. The castle stood proudly on a rock, surrounded by miles of reedbeds. To the east ran a line of dunes, then the sea. To the west, a thinly wooded meadow area gave way to dense forest. To north and south, reeds continued as far as the eye could see. 

In the castle, the entire population had gathered round a wooden box, set on a trestle in the middle of the upper square.

Fred watched as six members of the 25th Rifle Brigade, smartly dressed in their dark green jackets, hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders. They followed their captain, a huge person named Haggis, towards a gateway that led to the castle’s crypt. Fred felt the warmth of his wife next to him, warding off the chill in his heart. It was not just the death of his uncle. He wasn’t ready to be a king.

Yesterday, Princess Kira had been showing the children of the castle how to make a sound like a bittern by blowing across the neck of a jar. Today, Queen Kira was giving Fred moral support as he addressed his people.

“So, as we send our beloved King Vladimir on his way,” Fred said to his audience, “I ask each and every one of you to support me as your new king, to help me uphold the best traditions of our castle, and to help me serve you in the best interest of our community.” He paused for a couple of seconds, then added, “ I believe we have refreshments ready in the lower square.”

“Long live the King!” cried FGP, the castle’s long-serving steward. He’d never had any other name, and nobody knew what the initials stood for.

“Long live the King!” the people responded. Then they hurried off to the corner of the upper square and down the stairs. A feast was laid out for all at the tables set out in front of the tavern.

Chronicles of Marsh, Ch 1  © J M Pett 2019

Buying Links

iTunes, B&N, Kobo, Smashwords Amazon   (universal link)
Paperback: ISBN 9780464454038 – coming soon to your favourite store.

About the Author

Jemima wrote her first book when she was eight years old. She was heavily into world-building, drawing maps, building railway timetables, and dreaming of being a champion show-jumper, until schoolwork got in the way. Then she went down the science path, reading all the scifi in her local library, writing papers, manuals and reports, as well as editing the newsletters for her sports clubs. She changed career aged 42, to a new and exciting cross-cutting science called environmental technology, and worked in energy efficiency and climate change. A few years on, she was writing stories based on the personalities of her first pets, guinea pigs named Fred and George, after the Weasley twins. Then her other guinea pigs demanded starring roles….

Jemima Pett lives in Norfolk, UK, and first started writing fantasy adventures for young teens over ten years ago.

Connect with Jemima Pett:  Blog ** Amazon ** Goodreads ** Facebook ** Twitter ** Pinterest ** Smashwords

Now enter the Giveaway

~ one $20 or £20 or €20 gift card~

Runners up prizes:
~free ebooks of Chronicles of Marsh~
~1 UK winner gets a Princelings Notebook worth £16~

Note that only 3 entries are permitted per day to avoid spam. You may return to use other ways to enter at any time during the period of the giveaway.

Giveaway ends at 23.59 on December 6th, UK time. Open worldwide. You can come back to complete all the entries at other times but only three entries are available to you each day. Just visit Jemima Pett's page and make your entry! 

And just because I love the series and love the covers, here are all the rest!

Middle Grade Monday: The Shadow of the Minotaur

 

 
Title: The Shadow of the Minotaur (Shadows from the Past #2)
Author: Wendy Leighton-Porter
Publisher: Mauve Square Publishing, 2012. 234 pages.
Source: Purchased from Amazon

Publisher's Blurb:
Ten-year-old twins Joe and Jemima Lancelot continue the search for their missing parents who are trapped somewhere in the past. Together with their friend, Charlie, and their unusual talking cat, Max, they are whisked back in time to ancient Crete and the palace of Knossos, where the fearsome Minotaur resides in its labyrinth, feeding on human flesh. Can they help Prince Theseus of Athens overcome the terrifying monster before it devours them all? And will the children survive the terrible storm which threatens to wreck their ship as they attempt to flee the island?

My Review: 
This is such a great series! The adventure ramps up right from the start, and doesn't quit. It helps that this time, the kids know what's happening, and what to expect (they learned fast from their first adventure!).  There's no time lost in trying to figure out what's happening. It's also nice that Max can communicate. I love his outsized ego and decidedly cat-like personality. Max may be one of the great cats of literature.

The author does an amazing job of balancing the scary aspects of the story--there are real threats to the children--with a level of humor that keeps it "safe" for younger readers (Max is a big help here). Leighton-Porter also makes good use of the myths that are out there for the reading, not changing "history," but filling in some of the, er, shadows around them. In particular, she gives personality to the mythical characters [minor spoilers!], so that we find that Theseus is a bit of a jerk, and Ariadne, to my delight, is shocked out of her infatuation with a little help from Jemima, and her ending may not be quite what the more ancient sources thought. Nice to introduce a little feminism to the early civilizations!

I greatly enjoyed the first book in the series, and I think this one might be even better. I have #3 queued up and look forward to continuing the series--I think there are 8 books, and since this is one of my choices for the GMGR "Finish the Series" challenge, I have a lot of reading to do!

Note: Wendy Leighton-Porter has a story in the BookElves Anthology, as do I. This association may have influenced my decision to start reading the series, but it did not influence my review, and the decision to continue with the series is purely the result of a great reading experience.

My Recommendation:
This is a great series for readers 8-12. A bit of exposure to mythology, in the wrapping of an exciting adventure with a touch of humor. What more could you want?

FTC Disclosure: I purchased The Shadow of the Minotaur, and received nothing from the writer or publisher for my honest review. The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising." 

Flash Fiction Friday: The Silent Dragon

I used a random title generator this week to give me the title, and I knew it needed to go along with a couple of other stories I've written about the Dragon Emissary. If you wish, you can check out One Dragon at a Time and The Second Dragon before you read today's installment. It's just under 1000 words.

The Silent Dragon (A Dragon Emissary story)

Calla gazed at the parchment in her hand, her mind working overtime. She had fished the packet from a secret compartment in the back wall of her semi-secret workroom. Someone had wanted it to be found only by the right people.

And no wonder. It contained a secret that changed a great deal, if not everything, about her job. Calla was the 23rd Dragon Emissary of the Kingdom of Battorn, and she had taken over the job rather abruptly when her father’s skills had proven unequal to the task.

That was how most of the Emissaries got the job. None retired to warmer climes, and very few had lived to fully train their successors.

Calla read the document again. It told her something she needed to know, but it did not tell her how she was going to manage the issue of this attack by the dragon WindDancer. If it was in fact WindDancer who had done it. That was one thing she had learned from the piles of books and scrolls she had read before stumbling on the key to the secret parchment: dragons lied. Especially they lied about who did what, and they liked getting each other in trouble. The dragon SkySoarer had made the accusation, and that made it at least as likely that she had burned the border farm as that WindDancer had.

All this was making Calla’s head ache. She had to be a detective as well as a diplomat and a warrior, and she was beginning to wish she’d had an older brother to inherit the job. Failing that, she wish she possessed the gift of seeing the truth, as she suspected the first Dragon Emissary had. It was an inheritable gift, but only cropped up occasionally.

Calla, alas, had no magic of any sort, let alone that most useful of Gifts. Her first dragon had nearly killed her, in part because he lied and she couldn’t see it. She meant to be better prepared for the second dragon. If she couldn’t see lies, she could at least assume that the dragons were lying.

All of that was secondary to the difficult terrain she had to negotiate at home, thanks to what she had just learned. The parchment had contained a royal lineage…which showed that King Kor himself had dragon blood. No wonder Battorn, unlike the other kingdoms that surrounded the dragon lands, maintained a Emissary rather than just sending in a lot of knights to slay wayward dragons.

Take this WindDancer. Not only did she need to figure out if he had really done the crime, but she needed to know if he was, in fact, the king’s uncle, or third cousin twice removed, or what. And how did dragon blood enter the royal line, anyway. Surely humans and dragons couldn’t…well, how did it? There must have been wizardry involved somewhere. Probably a dragon had been turned into a human at some point.

More complications.

Calla leaned back in her chair, stuffed the last sausage roll in her mouth, and thought about what to do. After thinking a long time (she might have napped part of that time. She hadn’t slept in two nights, and there was the matter of her first Dragon Emissary job, which had involved fighting her way out), Calla got up. With immense care, she restored the parchment to its wrappings and placed the whole thing back in the hole in the wall. She re-set the booby-traps, and sealed the stone back in place with her congealed porridge, which shared many of the properties of mortar.

Now to go do the job for which she’d spent her life training.

***

WindDancer looked down his nose—a nose that allowed for a great deal of looking down—at the puny human who insisted he owed damages to the border farmer.

“Who says that I, WindDancer of the dragon clan Whrrr, have done this thing?”

“So says Sky Soarer of your people, and so I have determined from my own investigations. King Kor of Battorn has issued the order that you must pay the damages.”

“And you will enforce this order?” There was a subtle emphasis on “you” that set Calla’s teeth on edge.

“I am the Dragon Emissary. I will enforce the order, by the authority invested in me by your kinsman, King Kor.” The words out, Calla held her breath. She had said aloud what had remained unspoken for generations. Depending on how WindDancer reacted, she might have achieved nothing, or laid the seeds for the destruction of the kingdom—or opened the door to a new relationship with the dragons.

If she had guessed wrong, the first part of the kingdom to be destroyed would be Calla, the Dragon Emissary. The rest would follow. She met the dragon’s gaze and did not blink.

WindDancer blinked. Several times, rapidly. Then he said, “Kinsman?” Recovering himself, he said arrogantly, “Kor is a human. That makes him no kinsman of mine.”

“That’s where you might be wrong,” Calla said. “It’s about time you dragons admitted that there are limits to your knowledge—and your power.”

“My power is certainly enough to squash you like a bug,” WindDancer pointed out.

“Ah, but what might my power do to you if you do that?” Calla spoke with more confidence than she felt, but it worked. The dragon stopped posturing and studied her in a new way.

“Perhaps we should discuss this.”

“Perhaps we should,” Calla agreed. She had a feeling King Kor wouldn’t like it, but that was his problem. She had already decided where her duty lay. Calla would do what was needed to maintain the peace with the dragons. With a bit of luck, and a few lies, she might even be able to put an end to all the raids.

That would be a task worthy of her title.

“Come. I’ll buy you a drink.”

****

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2017
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Friday Flash: Enchanted Blasted Forest

Chuck  Wendig gave us a new challenge this week: a series utterances from his preschooler, to be used somewhere in a story. As one might expect from Chuck's progeny, they were...interesting. I selected "there's a 3-headed flying werewolf in that tree," and the rest of the Enchanted Forest came into being.

Enchanted Blasted Forest

The Enchanted Forest is a punishment post, but never mind what we did to get sent there. They have to man the post, and soldiers don’t last long there, so you don’t have to do much to end up there. About half of those sent never even arrive.

There were six of us, and when the road entered the blasted Forest we divided up the watch.  Tomo watched left, Martin right, Jock ahead, Kora behind, Shea overhead, and I was back-up to them all, scanning every direction as thoroughly as I could.

The monsters weren’t bold. If Shea called out “harpy overhead!” we’d all raise our spears and the monster would sheer off. Or Tomo would yell, “there’s a 3-headed flying werewolf in that tree!” and we’d aim our bows that way and the thing would fly away.

We only had to fire once, when a flying monkey swooped in low and tried to grab Kora. She’s not very big, but tough as nails. Martin and I both loosed arrows, but they stuck in a dead monkey. Kora had already beheaded it. She’s fast with her sword.

We were still several hours distant from the outpost when we began to wonder something. In short, we started to ask ourselves if everyone who vanished on the way to Fort End had been carried off by monsters. Maybe there was a way to get out of a long hitch in the army. Joining up had seemed like a good idea when I first went in, but it didn’t take long to knock the stars from my eyes, and if a single night out on the town could get you in this much trouble, I wanted out.

There was a guard hut halfway, and we holed up there to enjoy our lunch without having to swat away monsters. That’s when Martin asked, “Why are we here, anyway?”

“We got taken up for drunk and disorderly on our last leave.” Dumb question.

“Yeah, but…”

“Martin’s right.” I looked at each of them. “We acted like soldiers on leave and for that they sent us where only half the troops survive to even reach the post? But maybe we don’t have to get hauled off by harpies to disappear.”

“Yeah,” Jock said. “We can get eaten by 3-headed werewolves instead.”

“Or,” I said, looking from one to another, “we can appear to have been eaten by 3-headed werewolves.”

Jock was the last to get it.  “You’re saying we could run off,” he said after we all looked at him for several minutes. “Desert.” We all turned that word over in our minds as he went on. “You know what they do to deserters.”

We knew. It was a great deal faster and more sure than a posting in the Enchanted blasted Forest, but they said it was painless, which this posting wasn’t likely to be.

We finished our lunch in silence, but when we left the hut, we took the wrong turning.

“That’s our story if anyone catches us up,” I said. “Just a bit of trouble navigating.” We were still nervous at the thought of being caught by a patrol, which was the wrong worry.

Our nerves lasted until the first harpy attack. After that we were too busy to worry about the army. It seemed the creatures of the forest were a lot less bashful about attacking travelers who strayed from the military road. I began to wonder how many of the disappeared had started as deserters, and ended as dead as they’d pretended to be.

It was farther to the edge of the forest this way than the way we’d come in, so we’d have to hurry. Trouble was, we were under such constant attack that we couldn’t hurry. By an hour or two after lunch, it was plain to all of us—even Jock—that we weren’t going to make the edge of the Forest before night.

“Now what?” Shea asked.  She would. Always expecting someone else to fix her problems, that one. We couldn’t take care of that right then. We were a team and we’d only make it if we stuck together.

“We find a place to hole up,” I said, just as Kora said, “We fight on through the night until we get out.”

Martin protested. “I heard there’s things out at night here that you really don’t want to me. Things that make harpies look like pet kittens.”

We thought about that. It might be lies told to keep soldiers from deserting the fort.

It might all be true.

We had no choice but to find out. There was no safe place to hole up for the night. No more huts, and any natural hole would surely be inhabited by orcs or dragons or ten-headed hydras.

It was nearly dark before we knew the extent of our folly.

“Keep fighting, move as fast as we can, and stick together.” It wasn’t a good plan, but it was the only thing we could do, and we all knew it, so I got no argument. We were too busy.

By dark every one of us was bleeding somewhere, and the attacks picked up. I put our chances of survival at less than 50%. Meaning I didn’t expect more than three of us to live, and I’d already picked out which three.

One of the flying werewolves got Shea before midnight. There was nothing we could do. We kept moving, and enjoyed the respite the feasting gave us.

The forest started thinning about the second hour after midnight, and I thought the rest of us might make it.

The harpies had other ideas. They attacked in force, with the flying monkeys darting between them wherever our guard was incomplete.

Martin went down under the assault, but he wasn’t enough. We broke into a full run, speed more important than battle.

We’d none of us have made it if I hadn’t tripped Tomo.

###

©Rebecca M. Douglass 2016

It's here!

Here we are--release day #2!

For all those of you who have been waiting with bated breath, Halitor the Hero released today!

I am a Hero! I AM a Hero!

Halitor has failed at every apprenticeship his parents can imagine. He figures it’s his last chance when they foist him on Bovrell the Bold as an apprentice Hero, and he eagerly studies the Hero’s Guide to Battles, Rescues, and the Slaying of Monsters. But Halitor infuriates his master when he drops his sword and gets rattled around Fair Maidens. When his master abandons him at an inn in Loria, Halitor is ready to give up and just be a kitchen boy. But Melly, the young kitchen wench, has other ideas. She wants to go find her father, and soon the two are battling monsters and worse on a wild journey to her home. Before they are done, Halitor has learned more than just how to be a Hero.

For ten-year-olds of all ages.

Read a great review by Jemima Pett!

And follow the links to get your own copy:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

And any e-reader format your little heart could desire, at Smashwords.com

While you are at it, don't forget to check out the BookElves Anthology!