Showing posts with label Maps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maps. Show all posts

Oct 25, 2014

Vaccine-Preventable Outbreaks





Vaccinations are one of the of most incredible aspects of modern medicine. They can make previously lethal diseases disappear from society and save countless lives. There is, however, a chance that the vaccines work a little too well and our collective memory is too short to remember the devastating effects some of these diseases caused just a few short decades ago. Recently, for reasons that are not based on science or logic, many parents have outspokenly rejected vaccinating their children. Unfortunately, this has caused a reemergence of easily managed diseases. The Council on Foreign Relations has released an interactive map detailing the catastrophic outcome of these poor choices. 
The interactive map gives a gut-wrenching tour of global outbreaks of measles, mumps, rubella, polio, and whooping cough from 2008-2014. These diseases -- all of which are easily prevented by vaccines -- can have dire consequences. The CDC estimates that 164,000 people around the world will die from measles each year, and it is experiencing quite a resurgence in the UK. The United States has recently seen a drastic increase in whooping cough, which causes around 195,000 deaths per year. The majority of these deaths occur in impoverished regions with very little access to vaccines. In the case of developed areas like the US or UK, they shouldn’t be happening at all.
Update (10/24/2014): CFR's map has now been updated to document attacks on health care workers, which have been increasing in recent years. These attacks are indicated on the map with red triangles. Additionally, these attacks correlate with increased instance of disease, including a polio outbreak in Afghanistan. Socio-economic trends can also be seen, as incedence of measles and whooping cough are increasing in wealthier areas like the US and UK, while poorer areas indicate lacking adequate supplies and give health officials a clear idea of where efforts need to be increased.
But how did it all begin?
In 1998, Andrew Wakefield released a paper claiming to have linked the measles, mumps, and rubella (MMR) vaccine to the onset of autism. No other scientist was ever able to match Wakefield’s findings, and in the coming years, it became known that Wakefield had a financial conflict of interest. In 2010, an ethics review board found that he had falsified the data in his report, causing an immediate retraction of his original paper and revocation of his medical license. Despite the fact most scientists opposed Wakefield’s “findings” from the start, some were all too eager to jump on the anti-MMR bandwagon.
Among those leading the charge against vaccines is Jenny McCarthy, the Playboy Bunny-turned-pseudoscience advocate. McCarthy began speaking out against vaccines in 2007, as she believed they caused her son’s autism. Based on her son’s symptoms, some believe the boy actually has Landau-Kleffner syndrome. She has written a few books (including one with a foreword by Wakefield himself) continually claiming that vaccines cause autism and that she cured her son’s disorder with alternative treatment, without a shred of credible medical evidence. In the face of a possible misdiagnosis and absolutely no scientific evidence to support the claim that vaccines cause autism, she remains unchanged in her opinion. Unfortunately, her celebrity status has given her a platform to use anecdotal (not scientific) evidence to urge parents against vaccines.
Of course, absolutely nothing is without risk and there can be side effects from vaccines, but those are incredibly rare. Some people are unable to be vaccinated due to allergies or other medical conditions. This makes it altogether more important for those who can get vaccinated to do so, creating a herd immunity for our most vulnerable members of society.
The full version of the map is available on CFR’s website.

Aug 17, 2014

Betrayal by Lara Morgan blog tour - My Review



Welcome to the world of Saranthium, a place of flying serpents, forgotten gods, myth and magic.
The Publisher - Escape Publishing

Published: 1 August 2014

Format: eBook

ISBN: 9780857991720




From fantasy writer Lara Morgan comes the second in her engrossing, enchanting, exciting Twins of Saranthium trilogy, perfect for curbing Game of Thrones withdrawals.
Shaan and Tallis have escaped from the fallen god, Azoth, but his dark shadow stretches over the enslaved the people of the Wild Lands and the terrifying army of human‐serpent warriors. War is coming, but the Council of Nine turn from the twins and their tales of Azoth's menace, focusing instead on a war on the Free Lands.

Meanwhile, the Four Lost Gods have awoken, ready to reclaim the Birthstone currently in Azoth's possession. But rather than the saviors Shaan and Tallis needed, the Four begin to exert terrible control over the people of Saranthium. With Tallis struggling to control the might power within, and Shaan attempting to resist the pull of Azoth, the twins are under assault from all sides. Victory may still be possible, but only through a devastating act of betrayal.

You can purchase Betrayal at the following Retailers:
 

My Review

I have to admit  didn't read the 1st book in the series, but I was tempt by all those next element - flying dragons (serpents), a city by the sea, a god returned to his world after thousands of years to seduce those serpents into fighting against the people who rely on them, in order to bring the populace under the god's dominion, Twins separated at birth a heroine whose troubled dreams are just the start of things to come...How you can resist this kind of stuff?
The story had been told from alternate perspectives, Shaan’s and her twin - Tallis’, as they fighting to understand who they really are and struggled with the powers within them. We find that the Birthstone ( The one that she forced to give to Azoth)  has left Shaan with very special healing skills.
They also keep trying  to save their world from Azoth a god gone mad with his terrifying army of human‐serpent warriors.
To this Boiling cauldron the author add ,four Lost Gods.They have just awoken, ready to reclaim the Birthstone currently in Azoth's possession. But rather than the saviors Shaan and Tallis needed, they begin to exert terrible control of their own, over the people of Saranthium. It seems that on this world, the gods are totally insane.
To defeat Azoth, Shaan must take a devious route, one that appears to set her against the very people she is trying to help. Meantime,Tallis,, grows in strength as a warrior and a leader, and by the end of this book we see him as a potential savior. His growth into power contrasts cleverly with Shaan's apparent descent into confusion
I loved the feeling that projected from the lines of the story. You actually. can feel the heat and the humid of this world, the colors are strong and bright and the thoughts and feelings... it so rich with them like a good gravy.
Here a sample from the 1st book-
The sky was washed pink with the dawn. Beyond the flat topped roofs of the city, the warehouses and jetties of the Great Port jutted out into the dark water of the bay. The massive main pier was like a stone arm pointing to the rim of the world and the sea a sheet of dark silk. The ships at anchor barely moved in the low swell
Here's another samples from the 2nd book -
Night as Fallen over the ancient city and with it came the rain, drifting like a mist over the walls. The moon was hidden behind the cloud and street lamps guttered and flared in the wet, casting a dim, orange-hued light.
Or 
It been raining all day and the scant of wet sand and decaying leaves filled the air, the palm fronds dripping water onto her head as she passed beneath them. Beyond the trees she could hear the sea pouring relentlessly against the shore...
 On either side, where homes must have stood, were churned and smashed areas of stone and wood, some marked by charred circles of ash, some of the trees that still stood had their brunches slashed one one side as if something flying past had swiped at them;others simply been uprooted...
Anyway, let go back to the book... I don't know if if it the 2nd sequel, but I had the feeling that Lara still building things for the pick that will come at her 3rd book... so many things felt like explanations and introductions. Beside discoveries about their growing powers the twins get to know about their family and the whys - who is their mother? father? clan? gods? and their world in general.Thier love live dimensions expanded and got deeper .... and in this the reader can mature alongside with them.
Maybe the pace seem to slow because of it but, the if i can predict correctly all will be answered at the end of the day and all this pieces will fall into their places.

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Music Playlist for Betrayal
I don’t listen to music that much when I write as I can find it distracting, but for some scenes it can help to set the mood, such as battle or love scenes, and it’s usually classical music when I’m writing fantasy.

When I was working on Betrayal it was the soundtracks for the movie Gladiator and for The Lord of the Rings; Return of the King I had on the most.

Both contain some very beautiful and moving work.


There are two especially haunting songs on The Return of the King: 


One called Aragorn’s Coronation in which the actor Viggo Mortensen who played Aragorn sings in Elvish 

Billie Boyd, who played Pippin , singing The Steward of Gondor. 


Sometimes it was also a mix CD of Adagios just to quiet my mind.
 
Tales of the resurrection…. The Propet’s Scrolls.

Book 1: Awakening

For two thousand years the serpents of Salmut and their riders have kept the lands of Saranthium safe, but the pact between human and serpent is failing.    

An orphan, thief and survivor,  Shaan works in the serpents yards and her dreams are filled with visions of blood and death. The discovery that she can speak with Nuathin, the oldest serpent of the yards, brings her to the attention of sept leader, Balkis. Handsome, arrogant and seductive, Balkis is a man with powerful and dangerous alliances and Shaan becomes the target of the city’s most feared arms men: The Faithful.  
Meanwhile, in the deserts, a young man named Tallis defends his clan against rogue serpents, driving them off with supernatural  force.  When he faces becoming an outcast because of his power, the truth of his birth is revealed and he embarks on a journey to understand the strength locked within his mind.
Drawn together, Shaan and Tallis become ensnared in the resurrection of an ancient conflict, but on whose side that of the serpents or the people?  

Amazon       Barnes & Noble    Booktopia     Kobo       Escap

Book 2: Betrayal 

Azoth – the fallen god – has enslaved the people and amassed an army of human-serpent warriors. The Four Lost Gods have awoken and begin to exert their terrible control over the people of Saranthium . As Tallis struggles to control the mighty power within him and Shaan  tries to resist the pull of Azoth they are challenged on every side. Victory may be possible but only through a devastating act of betrayal.

Book 3: Redemption 

Saranthium is enslaved by the power of The Four and the people’s only hope lies with the twins, but Shaan is trapped in the Void, and Tallis can no longer find the serpents. To save his sister, Tallis must capture the Prophet’s Ring from the stronghold of the gods, but to do that he may have to lay his life at their feet. While Shaan embarks on an odyssey  through the Void with only a bitter and defeated Azoth at her side. Tasked by the Guides with discovering Ogia’s Shore, Shaan must fight to find her way for if she fails she will be trapped and all hope will be lost.

Saranthium Maps

The land of Saranthium took many years and countless hours of fun and frustration to unearth.
I say unearth because it has often seemed to me that it is as real a place as any I have visited, as are the people who populate its cities and deserts. At times, when writing, I was sure I was merely recounting the history of a place that existed somewhere just beyond the corner of my eye, the reach of my breath, and that if I turned my head quickly enough I would see Shaan or Tallis disappearing around some tantalisingly distant corner.
These two maps are much better editions of the original pencil sketches I made to help illustrate my world and keep track of the characters moving within it. Thank you to artist Darian Causby of Highway 51 Design Works who made them into something publishable and legible to other people.
click to enlarge click to enlarge

About the Author:



Lara Morgan has loved fantasy since her mother first read her The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings (those Dark Riders still give her the shivers) and her book shelves are stacked precariously with more fantastical adventures than she will probably be able to read in one lifetime. She loves feisty heroines and heroes with depth and prefers to create villains in shades of grey rather than black and white, taking a tip from one of her personal heroes Joss Whedon who said: “All villains believe they are the hero of the story”.

Lara also writes for young adults and you can find her online at www.lara‐morgan.com or blogging when she has time at www.laramorgan.wordpress.com and on twitter @Lara_Morgan.
She lives in Geraldton, Western Australia, with her husband and son.

Social Media
   

Writing

The road to publication is full of potholes… or how I became a ‘real’ author

Like just about every other writer you may meet, my road to being published was long and consisted of plenty of stops, side roads that led to nowhere and extended periods of inactivity. I’m sure there are exceptions to this rule, but I haven’t met any yet and I’m not convinced I would like them if I did. I mean it would be like being in high school again surrounded by all those taller, thinner, prettier girls with bottoms like Russian gymnasts who always smile smugly whenever you try to complete one of those trampoline spring things.

Anyway…

I decided I wanted to seriously write books in 1997. Like everyone else I spent years collecting the required amount of rejections and cultivating a lot of angst staring at the computer. I wrote short stories, I made lots of false starts and went to festivals and I read as many ‘writers on writing’ books as I could. Then I entered the Australian Women’s Weekly short story contest in 2003 and won.

That competition was really the turning point as it got my name ‘out there’ and led to an invitation to contribute a short story to Girl’s Night In 4 (published by Penguin) which I wrote under the name Lara Martin and also, four years later, to my getting an agent.

The very hard working woman who is now my agent was actually a judge for that Women’s Weekly contest and we were both amazed when, just like serendipity, I sent her a query letter and a few chapters of Awakening. She loved it, took me on and a few months later had done a deal with Pan Macmillan Australia in late 2007. So it only took ten years. But if you measure it in galactic terms I’m sure it’s much shorter.

Advice? 

The amount of advice for writers available in books and on the net is immense, and some of it written by such luminaries of literature that you are much better off searching for some of their erudite and wonderful words of wisdom (see below) than listening to me waffle on. I will offer this though: I keep a quote above my desk by E.L. Doctorow and I have often found it very comforting when I feel like I’m slogging away on a scene that seems to be making very little sense. It really gets to the heart of what it can be like trying to make it through to the end of your work.

“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” E.L. Doctorow

Then there is always the immortal Yoda: “Do, or do not, there is no try.”

Books to help and inspire:


  • Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott. – full of humour and insight into all your writer neuroses, 
  • On Writing, by Stephen King – a classic including tips on writing and life. 
  • Steering the Craft, by Ursula Le Guin – a workbook from one of our greatest writers 
  • The Elements of Style, by Strunk & White – a writer’s bible for grammar and style 
  • Self Editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne & Dave King – a super helpful guide




  1. August 4th Monday: A Dream Within a Dream DREAM CAST
  2. August 5th Tuesday: Books, Authors, Blogs THIS OR THAT
  3. August 6th Wednesday: Blissful Book Reviews FAVORITE BOOKS
  4. August 7th Thursday: Coffee Books & Art REVIEW & MUSIC PLAYLIST
  5. August 8th Friday:CBY Book Club GUEST POST
  6. August 9th Saturday: Curling Up with a Good Book TENS LIST
  7. August 10th Sunday: Book Bliss REVIEW & INTERVIEW
  8. August 11th Monday: Sabrina’s Paranormal Palace REVIEW
  9. August 12th Tuesday: Cassandra M’s Place REVIEW & EXCERPT
  10. August 13th Wednesday: TTC Books and More REVIEW & RANDOM THINGS
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The Giveaway
2 Winners will receive a $25.00 Amazon Gift Card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*JBN is not responsible for Lost or Damaged Books in your Nerdy Mail Box*

Jul 9, 2014

Cover and Map Reveal: Second Daughter (The Dharian Affairs #2)

7/7 – 7/21Third Daughter (Book#1) on sale for 99cents
7/7Second Daughter (Book #2) launches

Twitte it:

  • NEW RELEASE: Second Daughter (Dharian Affairs #2) Assassins, skyships, royal intrigue #steampunk #fantasy #romance http://bit.ly/SDAmazon


    Second Daughter

    (The Dharian Affairs #2)

    IT HAZ A COVER!!!!

      Launch Date: July 7th
     
    The sequel to the steampunk fantasy romance Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs #1) is coming soon!
    Assassins, skyships, and royal intrigue...

    With plans for a second skyship exposed, Third Daughter Aniri fears her sister, Seledri, will be caught in a war between the three Queendoms. Seledri is the Second Daughter of Dharia, which means she had no choice in her arranged marriage to the First Son of Samir—a country with whom they may soon be at war. As Aniri fights to free her sister from a husband and a country she does not love, she questions her own rushed betrothal to Prince Malik, the noble barbarian who controls the skyship—and whether a love pledged in the heat of adventure can survive the looming threat of war.

    Second Daughter is the second book in The Dharian Affairs trilogy (Third Daughter, Second Daughter, First Daughter). This steampunk-goes-to-Bollywood (Bollypunk!) romance takes place in an east-Indian-flavored alternate world filled with skyships, assassins, royal romance and intrigue.

    From the author of the bestselling Mindjack Trilogy, The Dharian Affairs is a new series filled with equal doses of action-adventure and romance, meant to appeal to fans of Mindjack.
    And... it haz a map!

    *map will be included in all the Dharian Affairs books once Second Daughter launches
    A huge shout-out of thanks to Steven Novak for the amazing cover and to Ali Cross for making the inside of both the ebook and the print version GORGEOUS. With details like steampunky footers and east-Indian chapter headers... I love all my books, but I just drool over this one.

    The print edition is available (and gorgeous).
    Ordering through Amazon is fastest, if you want it for the holidays. You can order signed copies, but those won't come until after the first of the year

    The cloudless night whispered sweet promises to Aniri.
    Below her stone rooftop, the shadows of the forested grounds danced in the summer’s breeze, their small rustlings calling to her like a lover. The sound was the perfect cover for escape into the darkness and the warm arms she hoped to find there. No one should notice her absence. Of all the guards, handmaidens, and many silent keepers of the royal household, none would venture up to her private observatory this late in the eve. But she still had to be careful. Even this close to her birthday, the Queen would not be forgiving if she was caught.
    Aniri scanned the palace grounds to make sure it was clear of any witnesses. The manicured lawns were empty: the only sign of life came from the distant embassy windows where gas lamps flickered and soft music trilled from late-reveling partygoers. Aniri pressed the leather eyecup of her aetherscope to her face, slowly turning the brass knobs to bring the party into focus. The instrument was meant for watching the rise of the twin full moons, but it worked well enough for spying on the Samirian ambassador and her assemblage of guests.
    Their shiny new automaton was thick-legged and awkward, but the Samirian tinker’s design was still clever: the steam-driven mechanical wonder actually danced, albeit just one clumsy pirouette after another. When it came to a graceless stop, the guests snapped their fingers in appreciation. The faint sound of their applause drifted over the lawn, but the party continued on. With the grounds still empty, Aniri swung her aetherscope to the forest. The broken edges of the river snaked through the darkened trees, slipped under a stone bridge, and then flowed past the red sandstone walls of the Queen’s estate. A black shape darted out from under the bridge, then disappeared into the shadows between the trees.
    Time to go.
    She peered over the edge of the balcony. No sense in being caught by someone who snuck out for a dalliance in the dark. With the way clear, she opened the leather satchel at her feet and uncoiled the sheet she had twisted into a rope. Always check your knots, Aniri. Her father’s voice accompanied her on every climb, but she had to wonder what he would have made of this particular one. She rechecked the knots. It would cause quite a stir if she plummeted to her death while climbing down the palace wall.
    The massive stone lion that guarded the parapet served as an excellent anchor. She looped the rope around it, then stood on the edge of the wall and leaned out over the blackness. Loop the rope under and between your feet, Aniri. It will carry your weight. Practical advice, but the knots would impede her progress, and speed was of the essence. She lowered herself, hand over hand, bracing her feet against the wall. A mossy spot, hidden by the dark and slick with dew, sent her silk slippers pawing rapid-fire several times before she found purchase between the giant stone blocks.
    Always use the proper equipment. She took a deep breath. Her father would probably disapprove of her attire. Silk nightclothes were hardly climbing wear, and she couldn’t find any plausible excuse to wear her climbing shoes to bed. Her handmaiden, Priya, was far too clever for that—and already suspicious when Aniri wanted to retire to her observatory alone. At least she had her fingerless climbing gloves, and on every climb she wore the thin, braided bracelet her father gave her. For luck. She thought he would approve.
    Hand over hand, Aniri continued her descent. Halfway down, a sudden clacking broke the quiet and rose above the scrapings of her slippers on the treacherous walls. She held still against the cool stone, hands gripped tight on her rope of sheets. A lone two-wheeled surrey ambled out of the shadows of the Samirian embassy and headed toward her dark corner of the Queen’s estate. Aniri held her breath and silently cursed the full two-moon night. If the carriage came much closer, the occupants would surely see her clinging to the side of the palace like a spider on her thread.
    The six-hooved beast pulling the surrey slowed as it neared the giant stone statue of Devkasera. The mother goddess of ancient Dharia loomed larger-than-life, threatening the carriage with a sword and a scroll—the powers of destruction and creation—clasped in two of her six hands. The Queen loved the ancient traditions, so the goddess held a place of respect in the middle of the palace lawns. Aniri preferred the clean streets and steam-driven inventions of modern Dharia to the unwashed feet and mystic religion of her country’s past, but that didn’t stop her from sending a silent prayer to Devkasera—for invisibility for herself or perhaps a sudden loss of sight by the persons in the carriage.
    The surrey paused at the statue, then veered right and headed for the far wall that enclosed the estate. Aniri repressed a laugh—perhaps she should pray to Devkasera to bring her birthday sooner as well. Her arms ached from holding her position, but she waited until the carriage had passed through the palace gate. Beyond it, the lights of Kartavya, Dharia’s capital city, winked through the coal-smoke haze as if giving her an all-clear signal.
    Her muscles rejoiced when she moved again, working her way down the last half of the wall and dropping the final two feet. From there, she scampered over the surrounding manicured hedgerows as if she had fled the palace a hundred times before. Her unbound dark hair flapped behind her, and the cool night breeze fluttered her black silk nightclothes against her skin like a thousand butterfly wings. It was the feeling of freedom breathing against her, and she had to clamp her teeth against the giggle that threatened to ruin her escape.
    She slowed and picked her way through the darkened brambles of the forest grabbing at her legs. The first time, she slipped away from dinner in her normal evening attire—a midnight-black corset latched with brass clasps, a starched skirt of blood-red silk, and a sweep of silk over her shoulder for the traditional touch the Queen required. Aniri thought the dark colors would ease her escape, but she had stuck to the needled branches like a royal pincushion. The second time, she cast aside the bodice and most of the silk, keeping only her short bloomers and camisole—essentially running through the forest in her unmentionables. That had been deliciously decadent, but also very chilly. This time, her nightclothes were proving the most suitable costume yet for midnight escapades.
    She smiled and slipped through the forest like a phantom, black on black, silent and stealthy. The faint trace of coal smoke gave way to the fresh scent of leaves mixed with river mist. She breathed it deep: the lushness of it always captivated her. The Queen had imported trees and beasts from the barbarians in the north to recreate the Dharian forests long ago swept away by agriculture. Fortunately, her majesty favored the gentle animals sacred to the gods. Aniri was careful not to disturb a long-tailed bandir hanging from a branch, eyes closed and peaceful. She didn’t believe the superstitions about waking one, but she couldn’t afford the screech it would let loose.
    Aniri broke out of the forest and onto the wet rocks bordering the river. The footbridge ahead was a silent sentinel over the constant chatter of the river. There was no sign of movement. Was she too late? But then Devesh stepped from the shadows, showing his face to the moons as if he had nothing to hide.
    She skittered over the slippery rocks and flew into his arms.
    “Aniri,” he said, but she was uninterested in wasting precious moments with words. She shut him up with her lips pressed fiercely to his. He closed his dark, humor-filled eyes, and wrapped his arms around her. Being a courtesan, he was well-trained in courtly conversation, but the artistry of his lips moving slow yet urgent against hers made her forget her own name.
    The silk of his jacket was smooth under her hands, the steel studs of his collar cool on her wandering fingertips. When she broke their kiss, the moonlight bleached the color from his Samirian diplomat attire: the deep russet brown of his jacket turned black, and the parade of buttons across his chest shone like stars against it.
     Devesh smiled, and his lingering hands traced silken lines along her back. “You look... enticing this evening. Although I must admit to preferring the bloomers.”
    She grinned and flushed with the memory of their fevered kisses. Their grapplings were still innocent, but that night, they had ventured closer to the passion they would share one day. Her skin prickled, her clothes even now a thin barrier between his hands and her bare skin.
    “Some activities require a certain type of attire,” she said.
    “Indeed.” His smile grew. “I didn’t know if you would come tonight. Sneaking out of the palace is dangerous business, and you’re quickly becoming a repeat offender.”
    “No more dangerous than sending a note through Priya. What if she had read it?”
    “I’m sure that she did.” His smile was bright against his bronzed skin. “But what could she make of a poem declaring your beauty in the moonlight? I imagine she thought it quite romantic.”
    She no doubt did. Priya was constantly gaming the odds of one match or another at court.
    “You should take care in feeding her overactive imagination.” But her admonishment was weak. Devesh’s kisses were like a smoky drug, leaving her hazed and blissful afterwards: three days was far too long to go without them. “If she suspects our romance is real, and not just your earnest fantasy, word could get back to the Queen. And if we’re caught before my birthday, the Queen will throw you out of the embassy simply to spite me for flouting her rules.”
    A wild strand of her hair tangled with the evening breeze. Devesh brushed it from her face, then cupped her cheek. “A moment with you, even stolen, is worth the risk.”
    His words were as intoxicating as his kisses. She reached up, eager for more. Devesh slowed and deepened their kiss, taming her feverish passion with a deliberation that made her even more crazed. Waiting to be with him was like a slow torture of endless minutes. But the day was coming: she could almost taste its nearness like the mouth-watering scent of a long-hungered meal just outside of reach. Soon she would be free: free of the court, free to kiss in broad daylight, free to leave Dharia behind and find the vermin who killed her father. Devesh had promised to help her search his country until they found the men responsible. She ached for that day like she did for Devesh. Soon she would have both.
    When the intensity of their kiss made her gasp for breath, she broke it and leaned against him. “Two weeks, Dev,” she whispered. “Just two. And I’ll be eighteen.”
    “I’m counting the days, my love.”

    His intense gaze made her suddenly shy. She turned her attention to toying with the collar that brushed his neck. “You will say yes, won’t you? When I ask?”
    He gently pulled her face up to look at him. “When you are free to marry for love, Third Daughter of the Queen, you had better not ask anyone other than me. I’ll have to hang myself from the nearest tree or else die of a broken heart.”
    Her shyness was banished in a stroke. “Aren’t courtesans supposed to be the ones breaking hearts?”
    “Truly,” he said with mock despair. “There’s nothing more sad than a broken-hearted courtesan. I would have to commit suicide just out of professional courtesy.”
    Her laugh was cut short by the realization that a man stood in the shadows behind Devesh, watching them with a look that would cut stone. She jerked in surprise, let out a small shriek, and only recognized the owner of the stare when Devesh turned to see.
    “Queen’s breath!” she exclaimed. “Janak, don’t startle me like that.”
    “It is my job, my lady.” His gruff voice and scarred, angular face held no apology. Janak was raksaka, the deadly protectors of the royal household for generations, known for their ability to move unseen and unheard and for their unwavering loyalty to the Queen. Less so for their tact.
    “Your job is to protect me, not frighten me halfway to my grave.”
    His hardened face was impassive except for the small lift of one eyebrow. “Sometimes one requires the other, your most royal highness.”
    She glared at him. His lack of respect was less concerning than the fact that he stood before her at all. His standard all-black raksaka attire was like one long piece of light-stealing fabric continuously wrapped around his body, and he nearly blended with the forest, even now as she was looking straight at him. His soft-footed boots had served him well in tracking her unnoticed. She turned to find Devesh had retreated, restoring a proper distance between them.
    “Arama, Princess Aniri.” He gave her a small bow, hands pressed together with the casual greeting as if they had not just been caught in each other’s arms.
    She sighed. The evening was ruined, but the greater danger was that Janak would report them back to her mother. He wasn’t simply raksaka, but the Queen’s informal advisor as well.
     “Wait for me,” she said to Janak with as much royal disdain as she could muster. “Over there.” She gestured with a single raised eyebrow of her own that he should stand apart by the bridge. Raksaka only retired when incapable of serving, but if he betrayed her secret, by the Queen’s breath, she would seek an early retirement for him. If there were any justice in the world, he would have been retired long ago.

    Janak didn’t move. “Your Highness, as much as you clearly needed my assistance this evening…” He glanced at Devesh’s now properly attentive form. “…I’m here to deliver a message that your presence is required in the Queen’s chamber.”
    Aniri threw a nervous glance at Devesh. “What does my mother want at this hour?”
    Janak smiled, a look that was simply bizarre on his face. In fact, Aniri couldn’t remember ever having seen him smile. Until that moment, she would have said he wasn’t capable of producing one.
    “Prince Malik has made an offer of peace,” Janak said.
    Aniri blinked. “The barbarian prince?” They weren’t at war with the Jungali, but a recent raid on crops and farm animals at the northern border had been bloody and brutal. Several were left dead—Dharian and Jungali both—and tensions had been raised. “I thought the Queen dispatched some of her guard to the border. And the Jungali have made reparations. What more is there to—”
    “The villagers don’t want reparations, your most royal eminence,” Janak said. “They want justice. And the rumors of the Jungali being in possession of a new flying weapon leave the Queen with few choices. Even an increased military presence at the border runs the danger of provoking them.” He gave Aniri a withering look. “My lady might take care to learn more about the difficulties of her Queendom.”
    “I don’t need lectures from a palace guard.” But the truth was she paid little heed to the politics of her mother’s court. She was Third Daughter—there had never been a need.
    He bowed his head, a deference she was sure was meant to mock her. “My lady misunderstands my message. The barbarian prince has made an offer of peace. In exchange for your hand.”
    “What?” The horror in her voice was a beat slower than the small hairs rising on her neck. “An arranged marriage? But... he’s... Jungali."
    “Indeed.” Janak’s smile grew wider, and the panic in her chest bloomed even as she struggled to keep from giving him the satisfaction of seeing it.
    She was so close to being free, so close... Her eldest sister, First Daughter Nahali, had arranged her own marriage by choosing a respectable Dharian noble: she would carry on the Queendom. Second Daughter Seledri’s arranged marriage to a prince of Samir had forged another bond in the long-lasting peace between Samir and Dharia. That left her, the Third Daughter, free of royal obligation once she came of age. Free to marry for love. Free of the tightly scripted palace life that choked her like a silken gag.
    It was impossible that an arranged marriage would be asked of her now. And even if it were, no marriage had ever been arranged between a Dharian and the barbarians of the north. They ate with their bare fingers and killed each other with clubs—
    Devesh’s hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump. “Aniri, listen to me. You must refuse him.” He turned her toward him, his grip growing stronger, and she winced at its strength. A scuffle of pebbles told her Janak loomed at her back. He might wish to see her forced into a duty she never wanted, but he would protect her with his life. Even Aniri didn’t doubt the loyalty of raksaka to those in direct line for the crown. No matter that she was as likely to become Queen as he was.
    Devesh dropped his hold on her but didn’t move away. “I’m worried for you, Aniri.” His voice was soft again. “I must speak to you about this. Will you be at the Queen’s tea tomorrow?”
    “Yes.”
    “Afterward, can you meet me…” He glanced at Janak. “…in the place we first met?”
    They had met in the Queen’s training hall, where Aniri had accepted the handsome new fencing instructor’s offer of lessons even though she had fenced for years. The hall would afford them some privacy, whereas at the Queen’s tea, she could hardly look at Devesh without arousing suspicions.
    “I will meet you there,” Aniri said softly. But an ache already stabbed her chest: a fear that somehow it might be her last time with him.
    He stepped back. “Very well. Gods be with you, my lady.” He bowed deeply in farewell and turned to slip away into the darkness. The shadows swallowed him along with possibly her last chance of a carefree life. She stared after him, her stomach wrenching into knots tighter than the rope she’d fashioned to steal away to him. When Aniri had composed her face, she turned and marched to Janak, the slick rocks by the riverside cutting into her slippered feet.
    She stared up at the impassive face of her guard. Why her mother insisted Janak, of all the raksaka, attend her was beyond her understanding. It mattered little to Aniri that he had attained the highest rank among the raksaka, that he had served the Queen in many duties both at home and abroad, or that he was the Queen’s most trusted advisor. He had failed in the one duty that mattered to Aniri: protecting her father from the common robbers who’d killed him. And now Janak stood there, holding in his hands dangerous knowledge about the only man she had ever loved half as much.
    “You will not speak of Devesh to anyone. If you do, I will see that you serve the rest of your life guarding the royal stables.”
    “Trust me, your most royal eminence,” Janak said coolly. “If I could convince the Queen you were anything less than a reckless menace to yourself, I would gladly fulfill my duty elsewhere. The stables would be a welcome change of scenery.”
    She glared at him, not sure if her threat carried any weight at all. Finally, she brushed past him, marching toward the palace without a look back. He shadowed her all the way as though he expected her to bolt for freedom and disappear into the dark after Devesh.


    She only wished that were possible.


    Kindle, Kobo, AllRomance  (also available in print)

    Third Daughter 

    The Third Daughter of the Queen wants her birthday to arrive so she'll be free to marry for love, but rumors of a new flying weapon may force her to accept a barbarian prince's proposal for a peace-brokering marriage. Desperate to marry the charming courtesan she loves, Aniri agrees to the prince's proposal as a subterfuge in order to spy on him, find the weapon, and hopefully avoid both war and an arranged marriage to a man she does not love.

    Third Daughter is the first book in The Dharian Affairs Trilogy (Third Daughter, Second Daughter, First Daughter). This steampunk-goes-to-Bollywood (Bollypunk!) romance takes place in an east-indian-flavored alternate world filled with skyships, saber duels, and lots of royal intrigue. And, of course, kissing.

    Reviews of the first book, Third  Daughter:

    • "The author fuses carriages, steam trains, airships and clockwork with the rich eastern culture that underlies Bollywood storytelling..." - Cherie Reich
    • "The political intrigue, the steampunk gadgets, and the beautiful costumes kept me in wonderment." - Tony Benson
    • "Third Daughter is vividly breathtaking. Quinn delivers royal intrigue, exotic locations, and sweeping romance. Not to be missed! Pavarti Tyler, author of Shadow on the Wall

    Susan Kaye Quinn is the author of the bestselling young adult SF Mindjack Trilogy. The Dharian Affairs trilogy is her excuse to dress up in corsets and fight with swords. She also has a dark-and-gritty SF serial for ages 17+ called The Debt Collector and a middle grade fantasy called Faery Swap

    It's possible she's easily distracted.

    Susan grew up in California, got a bunch of engineering degrees (B.S. Aerospace Engineering, M.S. Mechanical Engineering, Ph.D. in Environmental Engineering) and worked everywhere from NASA to NCAR (National Center for Atmospheric Research). She designed aircraft engines, studied global warming, and held elected office (as a school board member). Now that she writes novels, her business card says "Author and Rocket Scientist," but she mostly sits around in her pajamas in awe that she gets paid to make stuff up.

    All her engineering skills come in handy when dreaming up dangerous mindpowers, future dystopic worlds, and slightly plausible steampunk inventions. For her stories, of course. Just ignore that stuff in the basement.

    Susan writes from the Chicago suburbs with her three boys, two cats, and one husband. Which, it turns out, is exactly as much as she can handle.

    You can find her on Facebook way too often. Or you can reach her the old-fashioned way: susankayequinn@comcast.net

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