Beckoned

Hey peeps....um, pretend I said something cooler than peeps, something awesome. Anyway, we told you we're writing a book? Well, in an exciting endeavor, we're posting up our synopsis, prologue, and a very teeny tiny bit of chapter one. Please, PLEASE, leave comments, that's what we really need here. While I do admit that encouragement is what we're hoping for, constructive criticism is also appreciated. Well, without further ado, here's Beckoned! Enjoy!

--Love, Kelsey Leigh

P.S. Image above is originally from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwac9m6SkWCxzSMoKgPRu5bfRWTtvU3CvIHrdPRYHxcP9kVgFSWzSQLC3X9Sj0RQkW6Fm7-zxOsDi-JRuv3FSpzUiMV9FkgJjuA7q6SGG-tyFnsIKvFhpOV3srkQjDsI5j05FdhKL4xs/s400/hand_reaching_out_thumb3.jpg.

P.S.S. Things in parentheses are supposed to be italicized. Don't worry, it doesn't happen much.


Synopsis


Faelynn Kendrick has spent her life babysitting her mother, which wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. Her mother was eccentric, to be sure, but she was also her best friend. But no matter how much she loved her life - the faded yellow house on the edge of the woods, the sweet simplicity of a small southern town, the unexplainably wondrous smell of the books in her mother’s store - she had always wanted more. She wanted to wander, to explore, to do things she had never done before……but worry for her mother had always kept her hanging back.
Until one day, a fight with her mother sparks a fire in Faye that commits her to one decision - leaving. Which makes it the perfect time for other forces to reach out and draw her in… When Faye is beckoned into another world by a mysterious and alluring stranger, a royal rogue named Gage, she finds everything she ever wanted: adventure, magic, and freedom. But is it really as perfect as it seems? Can there be another motive for Gage’s unquestioning affection? When the magic surrounding her threatens to close in, Faye must rely on a deeper, more primal magic to get back home - her own.


Prologue


There, in the depths of the castle where she hoped no one would think to look for her, Emma squeezed herself into a small alcove, scrunching up to sit on the floor. The paper she clenched in her hands crinkled up at the edges, the picture fading from so much recent use. She stared at the muted colors again, tracing their images with fingers that had grown too thin. Tears made their way down her face, discoloring the page as they dripped down. “Tomorrow,” she told the photograph, “I marry a king.”
Sobs shook her frail form until she finally drifted into sleep, where hauntingly beautiful images chased her in her dreams. She woke up much later to the sound of footfalls, clacking slowly, getting louder with each step. It was him. She shivered, pushing herself further up against the wall and tucking in the skirts of her elaborate dress around her. She all but stopped breathing, willing herself to become a statue. All too soon however, those perfect sapphire eyes lit on her, and a small sob escaped from her throat. That horrible, beautiful monster.
He sighed, as if he could read her mind, or at least the fear on her face. “Emma,” he whispered, lowering himself to meet her gaze. “I am afraid that we need to talk. It seems that I was wrong about you.” She whimpered. That horrible, beautiful monster.


Sneak Peek of Chapter One



She was walking through the woods. Now, there was nothing particularly wrong with that, except she should have been at home in bed. She should have been asleep. But instead, she was traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night like some sort of flower-child, wearing this long, flowing gown and no shoes! She looked down at the delicate lace covering her legs and feet in disdain. Even on her least sensible days, she knew better than to go tromping through the brush and brambles without flip-flops on at least.
She stopped walking and looked around. The moon was brighter than she had ever seen it before, low and glowing silver in the sky. She could see a narrow trail stretching through a grove of oak trees ahead of her; wooden boards were set into the dirt path like steps leading up. She hesitated. Where was she? She had never been here before, and a feeling in her stomach told her she was very far from home.
(You know where to go. Just keep on following the path, mon cher.) She shivered. So she was hearing voices now? An incredibly charming, utterly convincing, undeniably male voice at that? She found herself moving towards the path, willingly pulled by some force she couldn’t identify . She climbed up the wooden steps, looking down almost absently as she felt the slight sting of a splinter lodging itself in her right foot. It didn’t matter - there was something wonderful at the top of that hill.
She could see a glowing up ahead, like concentrated sunlight, golden and intense; she couldn’t look directly at it. But she caught the outline of things: a huge, majestic but oddly shaped tree; something whose shape gave the faint hint of gates; and a man, who she knew was staring directly at her, though she couldn’t see his face. It was his voice she had heard whispering across her mind, his voice she could hear now. (Take my hand.) The stranger extended his arm, palm up and towards her. (Take my hand and follow me, mon cher. Come back with me.) She almost did, almost reached out to clasp those mysterious fingers… when she remembered.
What about Emma? Her steps faltered - she couldn‘t leave her mother behind. The thought was barely formed in her head when she was already turning away, leaving that mysterious stranger reaching for her, that welcoming glowing light pulsing at her back. She could feel him calling for her, but it was a frustrated sound without words. The shock of it radiated through her, and she stumbled, lost her footing, and fell headfirst down the hill. She closed her eyes, bracing herself as her stomach flew up into her throat and…
…she woke up flinging her tangled limbs in a fit, pillows flung across the room and comforter nowhere to be seen. Faye’s eyes were opened wide as she panned her room frantically, looking for the silhouetted man. She could still feel him in her mind, could still feel that frustrated cry. But she didn’t see him anywhere, and slowly the paranoia faded - it was only a dream. As the panic inside her died down, exhaustion crept back in, till her eyes closed and her body relaxed. She faded off to sleep, thinking of that warm golden light and her irritated stranger. But when sleep came, no dreams followed.