Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

  First and foremost, I’m grateful to God for giving me this story, my love for writing, and the community I needed to publish it. He has taught me so much through this story, not only about love but about His love for me.

  Secondly, a huge thanks to my family—especially my parents. They’ve encouraged me when I felt like my writing was complete crap, listened to me talk through my plot ideas, covered my editing costs, and paid for me to attend nine writing conferences. They’ve supported me emotionally and financially in every way I could possibly ask for. If I had normal parents, they probably would have told me to start looking for a real job. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with parents of a less sane variety.

  I’d like to thank my mom and my little sister, Anne-Marie, in particular. My mom started attending writing conferences with me when I was 16. She has a habit of making friends with most everyone she meets, and through her, my writing community is twice as big as it would have been otherwise. She not only took the time to read early drafts of Captive and Crowned, but she was instrumental in helping me hash out plots for the rewrites and she was one of my proofreaders for this final draft. My little sister is extraordinarily talented and was kind enough to design the ornamental breaks for the chapters (which are drawn to represent the compass rose symbol on the diadem) and she drew all the maps in the front of this book. Should you be interested in commissioning her for art in your own book, I may be able to put in a good word for you.

  I met Jamie Foley at my very first writing conference. I didn’t know it at the time, but she’s a freaking angel. Honestly. She has critiqued my book, called me for two hours to help me replot it, and read it again to give me an endorsement. Aside from that, I’m perpetually running to her with all of my publishing questions. Her generosity continues to inspire me, and I hope that one day I’ll eventually become as amazing as she is.

  I’d also like to thank my editors, Nadine Brandes and Barry Napier. Both of them really helped polish my manuscript. Nadine in particular had to deal with some of my earlier drafts, and her comments both encouraged me to improve my story and to keep writing. It takes a particularly talented editor to do both.

  Suzanne Kuhn has been patiently working with me for several years, and I don’t know what I’d do without her guidance and publishing expertise. She is constantly encouraging me to dream bigger, and I’m so glad we connected all those years ago at Realm Makers.

  Thank you to everyone who read that very first crappy draft I wrote in 2015: Justin, Brita, Mary Michele, Phaedra, Sophie Overton, and Hosanna.

  A huge thanks to my initial critique partners: Hannah Duggan, Hannah Phelps, Laurie Lucking, and Bethany Baber.

  My WattPad beta readers are amazing. Aside from their critiques, they all regularly read my WattPad stories, and I’m honored to have them on my team. Thank you to Reyna-Reads, Psycho_Mia, ChristianOtaku, TinkerbellinaApfel, ArielMasters, and Anitka_1404.

  Finally, my fabulous proofreaders deserve a huge round of applause. This is no small novel, and they were all very thorough. Thank you to Cooper Ezell, Elizabeth Kitchens, Rolena Hatfield, Lucy Nel, and my mom.

  Thank you for my print proofers, Brenna, Taylor, and Allison. I’m so glad that I have a group of girls I can share my love of reading with—and that all of you have been there for me when I need you (i.e. when I needed someone to read my proof my print copies!).

  Thank you to Kiff for my gorgeous cover. I’m so lucky to count her as my friend and cover designer.

  Thank you to Allison for being my very first editor and reading all of those LOTR fan fictions I never finished. And thank you, Gracen, for reading some of my very first stories and telling me how professional my writing was. Your opinion was—and still does—mean a lot to me.

  Thank you, Candace Cormie, for helping me draft my NDA. Thank you, Lisa Jordan, for that encouraging critique you gave me so many years ago at ACFW. And thank you to my amazing cousin, Isabella. Given that my main character likes dancing, and I knew nothing about it, that six-page dance questionnaire document you sent back to me was extremely helpful.

  Thank you Warren/Starry Night Reader for taking the time to read and review this for your YouTube channel. And thank you to Jamie Foley, Morgan Busse, and Sarah Grimm for generously taking a chance on my book to write me an endorsement.

  Thank you to the Shaw’s for the use of their dead turtle’s name.

  Finally (see, I told you it took a village), I’d like to thank several women that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting through ACFW: Joy Massenburge, Kristen Heitzmann, and Tamara Leigh. Though you haven’t been directly involved in Captive and Crowned, each of you has encouraged me on my writing journey, and I’m deeply thankful. I’d also like to include Allen Arnold. While he isn’t a lady, he has taken the time to provide me with spiritual mentorship and give me some publishing advice when I need it. He’s a busy guy with a big heart, and I’m honored that he makes the time to talk to me.

  Honestly, I probably haven’t covered everyone, but I’d like to think I’ve covered most everyone. Oh, wait! There’s one more person I’d like to thank: YOU. Thank you for taking the time to read my first novel—and to go through all of the acknowledgements. Honestly, that’s quite impressive. And if you enjoyed this book, I hope you’ll take the time to review my book on Amazon and Goodreads. Reviews are immensely helpful, and they’re worth their weight in gold (figuratively speaking, since they don’t weigh anything…). I’ll leave the links to Captive and Crown’s pages on Amazon and Goodreads down below.

  [Amazon link]

  [Goodreads link]

  Overall, this has been an amazing journey. Thank you for traveling alongside me.

  Coming In 2020…

  Selene suppressed a curse as the thread once more missed the eye of the needle. She would much rather be out in the city gambling, hearing the clatter of dice as they bounced against the table and jingling a handful of jewels and coins in her palm.

  At least, that’s how it used to be until two weeks ago.

  Selene had always been an excellent gambler, from the first time she stole away from her house in the middle of the night. It was simply a matter of weighing the odds and reading one’s opponents. But two weeks ago, her skills had failed her, and now she found herself deeper in debt than she could have imagined—by 500 aurum, to be exact.

  Shame washed over her. Five hundred aurum of debt was completely unacceptable. She was still disappointed in herself for allowing it to happen in the first place. Were her mother still alive, she would likely be disappointed too.

  Thoughts of her mother tempted her to touch the ring at her throat, which hung from the delicate chain of her necklace. But the clasp had broken recently, and she feared that doing so would make the necklace give way entirely, causing the ring to fall from its perch.

  The night her mother had given Selene the ring was the last time Selene ever spoke with her. And she hadn’t even thought to say goodbye. Hours later, her mother supposedly died in her sleep. But Selene knew better. Her mother had never given her a present before. To do so the night before she died was too strange to be a coincidence.

  Stranger still, her mother had urged Selene to make her a promise before she received the ring. Not just any promise but a soul-binding promise. With her mother’s insistence, Selene had vowed to speak to no one about the ring, even from those she most trusted, and to make her mother proud. Even now, she felt the magic of the promise tight and firm beneath her chest. It was a reminder that she had yet to fulfill her promise, and as she’d grown older, the magic had squeezed tighter.

  It was said that a soul-binding promise kept the recipient’s spirit in this world, unable to rest, until the promise was fulfilled. She needed to fulfill the promise before her mother could be released into the After World.

  While she wasn’t sure if the legend concerning the soul-binding promise was real, she knew that the magic inside of her was. She had succeeded in keeping the ring a secret, but she knew the tightness in her che
st wouldn’t dissipate until she upheld the second part of the promise: making her mother proud.

  And knowing that she had failed in that hurt more than the magic in her chest, caused more shame than her looming debt.

  Selene finally managed to thread the needle through and finished the alteration. As she’d grown, her figure had refused to mold itself into a standard female Torvan figure. Her stomach was flat, not overhanging as it would were she inclined to eat excessively, but she hadn’t the narrow waist of most Torvans. And her frame sported fuller hips and thicker upper arms—much to her father’s and step-mother’s dismay. She was now past adulthood, so hopefully this was the last alteration she would make.

  Selene’s hands trembled as she tried to make the stitches as small and delicate as possible. The dress material was silky, threatening to slip past her fingers like water, and Selene pinched the fabric together until her fingertips paled from the pressure. She would have had a servant repair the dress, like she did for most her other clothes, but then there would be questions.

  Selene snipped the thread and knotted it. She strode to the full-length mirror before holding the dress against her figure.

  The fabric at the top of the dress was maroon, fading to a burnt orange at the hem. Black stripes of varying length curled around the waist and skirt of the dress. A slit ran up the side, exposing her leg up to mid-thigh when she wore it. The dress would have been sleeveless if not for the delicate strips of fabric that would fall just off her shoulders.

  The dress was scandalous for a lady. But for one of the few female gamblers in the city—and a successful one at that—it was perfect. The design of the dress, and the mask she wore with it, were among the reasons many in the gambling den knew her as the Tigress.

  Selene smoothed her hand down the striped red and orange fabric. Oftentimes, the thrill of gambling and fame had been enough to numb the area in her chest, to make her forget about her failing as a daughter. But it hadn’t always been that way. She’d initially wandered into the underworld and slums to find information about her mother. She suspected there was at least one bounty hunter or mercenary who knew the truth of what happened.

  And once she discovered the truth, perhaps she could finally make her mother proud.

  A sharp knock on the door scattered her thoughts. “Lady Selene?”

  The door knob twisted, and her heart surged within her chest. She’d forgotten to lock the door. She tossed the dress in a corner, where she kept her clothes in need of washing lumped together.

  A pretty servant girl peered in. “Lady Selene?”

  “In the future, please take care to wait for my response before entering.” Selene smiled to take the bite out of her correction. “After all, you never know what state of undress I might be in.” If the girl weren’t corrected now, she’d be corrected later, likely by her step-brother Shonn. And the lesson Shonn taught the girl would be much less pleasant.

  The servant girl flushed. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Now, what did you come for?”

  “Your parents have requested that you join them in the solar.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “They haven’t said, my lady.”

  Not because they suspected her of being the Tigress, she hoped. Selene nodded and strode out of the room without a backward glance. Hopefully a servant wouldn’t come in to launder her clothes while she was away. If so, she would have to invent an explanation.

  The servant girl trailed behind Selene, their steps muffled by the rice-straw-stuffed tatami mats underfoot. The lemony smell of incense wafted on the air, its scent intended to ward off Bloodskimmers. Even though it was the dead of winter and the floor-to-ceiling windows were tightly shut, the curtains hanging limply on either side, one could never take too many precautions against Bloodskimmers. The nasty blood-sucking insects were responsible for the outbreak of Bloodburn that ravaged the entire country of Taijeng.

  Selene slid back a wooden screen door and descended the steps until she’d reached the fourth floor. Sometimes she resented the cumbersome flights of stairs, but they were necessary. As the city of Renshi had grown more crowded, property taxes had soared. As a result, many had chosen to build their houses taller rather than wider.

  She rapped twice on the screen door, waited until her parents bid her to enter, and strode into their solar. They were seated on the silk divan, the window to their backs. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man’s figure against the wall, likely Shonn. A chill seeped through her bones, and she kept her gaze fastened to her parents.

  Her step-mother’s full lips spread in a smile, though her smile wasn’t so wide as to overly crinkle her face. Her step-mother was ever mindful to avoid wrinkles whenever possible and fought aging as if it were a pack of Malakrai after her child.

  “Selene, we wanted to introduce you to your new guard.”

  Selene’s mood lightened considerably, and her gaze darted to the man against the wall. It wasn’t her step-brother but rather the new guard.

  Though he stood where the light was dimmest, she caught a flash of his jade-green eyes. It was apparent he was an attractive man, with golden hair cropped close on the sides and curling on top and a trimmed beard darkening his jaw. His skin was tanned, though still fairer than that of many native Taijese. He was likely from up north. His height would have strained her neck had she been closer, and muscle roped his lean frame.

  But it would take more than strength to subdue her. She finished her observation with a smirk and turned her gaze back toward her parents. How long would this new guard last until her parents realized that—just like the previous ones—he wouldn’t be able to tame her?

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  About the Author

  Elizabeth Newsom is a marketing major at UTTyler. While she’s going to Texas for college, she visits her family in New Mexico over breaks. Elizabeth’s first complete work was a Jelsa fanfiction that she published on fanfiction.net, then WattPad. Encouraged by her small successes on those platforms, she then began to pursue a career as an author. While other authors typically use this part of the biography to talk about their husband and/or dogs, Elizabeth has neither of those. However, she does own a pretty great succulent that currently resides in her dorm room. Feel free to visit her at elizabethnewsom.com or connect with her on social media:

  Pinterest: @authorliznewsom

  Wattpad: @ElizabethNewsom

  Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Elizabeth Newsom

  Map Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Anne-Marie Newsom

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Summary: “Evelyn is captured by the King of Torva to become his bride. She attempts to escape back to Earth to find her long-lost mother, but she soon becomes involved in a plot of revenge that makes her the target of a guild of assassins. To avoid assassination, she allies herself with a handsome duke. But even he has secrets and an agenda of his own.”

  ISBN 978-1-949856-16-3

  First published in the United States of America in September 2019 by Brookstone Publishing Group.

  Library of Congress Control Number:2019908029

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  Cover design by Kiff Shaik

  Created with Vellum

 

 

 
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