It is with the greatest of pleasure that I can finally reveal the cover of The Du Lac Princess (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles). The Du Lac Princess has been an absolute joy to write, and I can not wait to share the next instalment to my award winning series, The Du Lac Chronicles, with you!
Briton 500 AD
The ink has dried on Amandine’s death warrant.
Her crime? She is a du Lac.
All that stands in the way of a grisly death on a pyre is the King of Brittany. However, King Philippe is a fickle friend, and if her death is profitable to him, then she has no doubt that he would light the pyre himself.
Alan, the only man Amandine trusts, has a secret and must make an impossible choice, which could have far-reaching consequences — not only for Amandine, but for the whole of Briton.
“Soon I will be entertaining some very important guests. I am celebrating my victory over Budic and his broth—”
“I need to know this because…?” Amandine queried, interrupting him. “Do you expect me to take part in the celebrations? Do you want me to dance on Merton’s grave? Will that satisfy the masses?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Philippe scoffed. “You are not invited. It is your skill I desire. You were married to Garren. You know how such celebrations are organised.”
“You want me to plan it? Go to Hell.”
“I saved your life,” Philippe reminded her again.
“No you didn’t,” Amandine disagreed. “Don’t you understand? I died the same day he did.”
“I know that you are an exceptional seamstress, and you can make even the mundane look beautiful,” he continued as if he had not heard her.
“You are out of your depth, aren’t you?” Amandine realised, and a smile pulled at her lips. “You don’t know how to be a king, do you? You don’t know how to act, or how to entertain such influential people. You have no idea about the proper etiquette.”
Philippe raised his head and looked calmly into her face. “If you don’t help me then I am sure the Church would love to take you back under their wing,” he threatened.
But the threat did nothing to dampen Amandine’s amusement. “There are others you should ask. I am not the only one who knows how such things are organised and besides, no one would listen to me. You forget…I am damned,” she continued to giggle at the irony.
“I wasn’t expecting you to leave this room.”
“I see,” Amandine scoffed.
Philippe surprised her by kneeling down on the floor in front of her. Everyone knew that Philippe had a thing about cleanliness. He was obsessed with it. Kneeling on the floor was surely a no no, up there with petting the castle’s dogs. He must be truly desperate, Amandine thought but did not say.
Philippe’s hand reached for hers and then he paused, thought better of it, and his hand dropped away. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but Merton was a cruel, evil man and with time, you will come to see that. I saved you from him. I saved you from the consequences of loving him. I need your help. I have invited many dignitaries. I have to impress. Please, show me how and I swear,” he placed his hand on his chest, where his heart rested, “I will protect you forever.”
“Protect me?” Amandine laughed, although there was little humour in it. She watched as Philippe rose back to his feet. “I am a du Lac. You and I, we will always be enemies.”
Copyright © 2017 Mary Anne Yarde
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Born in Bath, England, Mary Anne Yarde grew up in the southwest of England, surrounded and influenced by centuries of history and mythology. Glastonbury — the fabled Isle of Avalon — was a mere fifteen-minute drive from her home, and tales of King Arthur and his knights were part of her childhood.