Winds of Destruction
The Palace of Winds Book 1
Ancient pacts have been broken and powers greater than anything is about to be released and threatens to swallow the world. Life wants vengeance, and the Wind freedom. The Spirits will fight for their justice and only the thunderous Storm can lead them to victory.
But the war her ancestors have started is too much for her to handle alone. To break the Lord of Life's dynasty and set the Spirits free she needs help from her uncle; a long-lost war hero now wasting the remnants of his broken life in ale.
Once he was the Lord of Winds, but the Wind, people whisper, cannot be killed.
Winds of Desolation
The Palace of Winds Book 2
The thrilling continuation of Storm and Mareau's fight to free the Wind.
The Heir to the Sun
The Princess of Light
Coming late 2021/early 2022
A witty portal-fantasy with a hint of dark romance.
. . .
A thoughtful silence followed where all eyes, even Mish and Mash’s, were on Aura and Aura stared intensely at the glass in her hand. She desperately wanted to drain it but was certain that on the pedestal she’d currently been placed on, she’d choke on it if she tried. She swallowed down a stab of fear instead with the sudden worry of being deemed unworthy.
“Ask your questions, Aura, this is the time for it,” Jackie said and placed a careful hand on her shoulder.
“Who the hell are you people?!” she exploded and glared around the table. Dorian chuckled.
“Wrong question.” He smiled, and Aura’s eyes came to rest at him. Her hand clenched around the glass and tears suddenly prickled in her eyes.
“Who am I?” she tried, and Dorian winked. To her surprise it was General Shaou who answered her.
“To your first question: We are what is left of the Council of the Sun and representatives of some of the eleven Kingdoms of Eshea,” he said, and Aura was pleased to hear his voice didn’t always sneer.
“You –“ he continued, and locked his eyes on hers, “ – are the Princess of Light, soon-to-be Empress of Eshea, sole Heir to the Sun and Eshea’s only hope to restore light and live past midsummer.”
“But no pressure,” Dorian grinned and clinked his glass on hers.