Aerie tightened her grip around him, as he ran his fingers through her long hair. She thought of that day, the day he’d first kissed her, and felt that same longing inside of her stir. “You’re right. Hope grows here, and God knows we don’t deserve any of it.”
Exton took her hand and lead her back to the house, as the pristine peace of the moment was ruined by Callen and Emberly, as they once more woke up. “Come on,” he said. “Our children need us again from the sound of it. How about a deal? I’ll change them while you take care of the feeding?”
Aerie allowed her gaze to fall over her various flowers. In the center of the garden was a tiny tree, one that she’d planted when they first came to live in Exton’s old community. It was a seedling from the Memory Tree, one that Emery had given to her, and as she watched the sunlight peek over the mountaintops, she reminded herself all over again that she had survived war, even as much as she hated it. Now, here in this place, with the right people by her side, until the end of the world, she was determined to thrive.
Aerie smiled. “You know there’s no one I’d rather make a deal with than you.”
C. S. Johnson is the author of several young adult sci-fi and fantasy novels, including The Starlight Chronicles series, the Once Upon a Princess saga, and the Divine Space Pirates trilogy. With a gift for sarcasm and an apologetic heart, she currently lives in Atlanta with her family. Follow her on Twitter at @C_S_Johnson13.
AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Dear Reader,
There is nothing like the rush of finishing off a good book, and this one is extra special since it is the end of a complete trilogy as well. I feel so happy to have something written, something that people can slip in and out of as time goes by. Part of me is sad, too, to say farewell to the world I’ve come to enjoy so much, but I know I’ll get to visit it again; all it takes is the turn of a page, after all. It also makes it easier since I have no doubt that, as with my previous series, Aerie and Exton’s love will go on long after I have finished writing their story.
For The Heights of Perdition, I started out with the question of love and trust, wanting to show how they intertwine in relationships and in life. I like to see people fall in love, grow in love, and remain in that greater love, which is the general goal of the whole series, really. It can be hard, to prune our hearts of obstacles of pride and self-reliance, as Aerie and Exton do in this book.
In The Breadth of Creation, truth and honor were at the core of Aerie and Exton’s relationship; in this book, it is humility more than anything else, ensconced on either side by truth, loyalty, and purpose. To love someone else is to commit to truth, and to trust someone often means laying down our preferences, sacrificing our needs and wants (and for those of us who follow after God, we need to sacrifice and kill our natural inclinations) for the sake of the one we love. In The Price of Paradise, I felt that there had to be more emphasis on truth and how that translates into action, and how we appropriate the things we learn into our own characters. I said at the beginning of this that parts of the book were inspired by Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy, and I hope no one will miss the true irony at the heart of this series; true love will give you a taste of Heaven, even if it takes you through Hell, that the things of the past still have a place in shaping the future, and that we struggle with gaining the knowledge of our self and the truth of this life because they are, ultimately, woven together inside of us, changing and nonchanging at the same time.
In my other book series, the Starlight Chronicles, I wanted to focus on the issue of belief, because our beliefs, coupled with honor, dictate our actions. The Divine Space Pirates trilogy is the first time I’ve written something more futuristic, and this is the first time I’ve considered the question of truth—not whether or not it is real, and not what the truth is—but whether or not it actually matters in today’s culture. That’s the more terrifying question: What is more important, the truth or narrative, and does it really make a difference? That’s the more terrifying question to me, anyway. I wish I had a better answer, but even if I did, I don’t think my answer would automatically make sense to other people. It helps to know that truth matters, because, if nothing else, dishonesty never comes without cost. Truth builds trust, while dishonesty destroys any real ability of people to come together.
I hope you have enjoyed the world of the Divine Space Pirates. I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon, in my other work and in my upcoming series, The Order of the Crystal Daggers. Read on for a sample of Kingdom of Ash and Soot, the first book in this historical adventure series, where you’ll get to meet Eleanora, a young woman whose determination to make a better life for herself and her brother will play a role in securing her kingdom’s future—and capturing a prince’s heart.
Until We Meet Again,
C. S. Johnson
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
EDITOR
Jennifer C. Sell
Jennifer Clark Sell is a professional book editor and proofreader. She works from her home in Southern California. With her years of professional and personal experience, she offers several quality packages for authors. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/JenniferSellEditingService.
Photo Credit: Savannah Sell
AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
BOOK COVER ARTIST
Reiseei, Manga Illustrator
An artistic force to be reckoned with, Reiseei is an illustrator with an impressive body of work specializing in different manga and anime styles.
Check out her online portfolio at http://reiseeiworks.wixsite.com/reiseei.
THE DIVINE SPACE PIRATES TRILOGY
SAMPLE READING
Chapter 1from
KINGDOM
of
ASH and SOOT
BOOK ONE OF THE ORDER OF THE CRYSTAL DAGGERS
C. S. Johnson
*1*
◊
“Nora.”
The call to wake up was never a pleasant one, I decided groggily. Ben’s voice, though it had grown deeper over the years and changed according to his moods each day, was constant throughout the last decade of our lives; it was the precursor to the endless rounds of chores and errands.
It was a comfortable kind of discomfort.
My slumbering barrier against the real world was breached again, this time more urgently.
“Come on, Nora, wake up.”
I could hear the mix of impatience and compassion in his tone as Ben sighed.
“Cecilia’s coming.”
At that, I shot up, sitting upright on my small pallet. I groaned as I pushed back the loose tresses of my hair, allowing my eyes to find sunlight. It was a wasted effort; the sun had not yet risen. “Already?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “Why is she even up this early? You’d think that after so many evenings of dancing till dawn she would never again rise from sleep before noon.”
“Why else?” Ben asked. “She and Priscilla have rounded up more treasures that used to belong to our father, and she wants us to trade or sell them at the market before the neighbors can see how shabby they look.”
“Oh, no. Not more of Táta’s things!” I turned my face away from my brother and flopped back onto the small, soft bag I’d stuffed with cotton and feathers to use as a pillow. “I thought she’d finished searching for his stuff years ago.”
“Otec collected a lot of junk from his travels for the king,” Ben reminded me. His formal use of “Otec” snapped in the air between us, also reminding me of his animosity toward our father. “Máma’s stuff is nearly gone, too. Including all her lovely books from Paris.”
From the look on his face, Ben mourned the loss of those books more than I did, and it was likely only a little less than how much either of us missed our mother.
“I know, but still. It’s been over ten years since Táta died,” I moaned. “Cecilia wasn’t married to him that long.”
Ben gave me a small smile. “I know it hasn’t helped Cecilia that we’ve
hidden some of Father’s things. And there is her party tonight, don’t forget.”
“How in the world could I forget about the party?” I asked. I held up my hands. “My palms have been raw all week from the extra scrubbings she’s had me and the other maids do.”
“That’s probably how she managed to find some more of Otec’s collectibles.”
“She didn’t find anything under the floor in the pantry, did she?” I asked, my eyes suddenly wide with fear. “I put Máma’s locket there, along with Táta’s pocket watch.”
“I’m sure we’ll find out,” Ben said. “I just saw her hanging out the east tower window, yelling at the gardeners, and when I went to go pilfer some bread earlier, Betsy told me ‘Her Ladyship’ has to check on the barn’s repairs on her way over here to us. She’ll come for us last.”
“Of course.”
“Of course.” Ben mocked my tone. “So you’ll have time to shake the soot out of your skirts.”
“Huh?” I looked down and sighed.
Why was it so hard to find the time to read, and then to have the joy of reading itself tampered with the cost of Cecilia’s anger?
“Ben, help me,” I hissed, jumping up and batting the ashen dust off my apron. “She’ll kill me if she sees my dress like this. She hates doing laundry any more than she has to.”
“You mean she hates it when we have to do laundry any more than she wants us to,” Ben corrected. “It’s laughable to think she does any real work herself.”
“She does all the accounting work,” I reminded him. “I’ve seen her doing it, even very late into the night in the library.” I suddenly laughed. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. The other night, I actually saw her wearing her spectacles.”
Ben smiled as he pushed my pallet and homemade pillow inside a small chest and grabbed a broom while using his crutch to push aside the rug. “I’ll bet that was a sight,” he said. “What did they look like?”
“They were wire frames,” I said, “and they were perched on her nose like a chained bird, trying desperately to fly free. They made her nose look so big! I’d never noticed how long it is.”
“We’ll have to keep that in mind if we ever need emotional blackmail,” Ben said.
“Yes, most definitely—”
“Ouch!”
I flinched as Ben’s weak leg tripped over the book I’d managed to hide under my pallet; once I recovered, I hurried over and picked it up, quickly thrusting it behind my back.
“I see you were in the library looking for books again,” Ben said.
“I can’t help it,” I insisted. “Life is so dull without books.”
“Life also gets much worse when Cecilia realizes you’re reading these by the fire, getting them dirty, and demands we work more in order to earn back the cost.”
I lowered my eyes. “We only have each other, Ben. Can’t we have books, too?”
“Not while they’re technically hers, and we have to pay for them.”
The door snapped open with a melodramatic creak. “Pay for what?”
Instantly, we snapped to attention before our stepmother. While ten years had passed since our father died, and it had been eleven years since her marriage to him, Cecilia’s face was nearly as fresh and fair as it had been on their wedding day.
Unless, of course, she was frowning, as she usually was when she looked at us.
After the long years of working as her servants, Ben and I were well-acquainted with the flash of her temper and the guilt of her sermons.
“Good morning, My Lady,” I murmured delicately, curtsying in the fine manner Máma had taught me.
“Save your curtsies,” Cecilia snapped. “I have no time for your disruptions today. Tell me, what are you going to pay for?”
“A new dress,” I said. I didn’t think God would mind the small misdirection. “I heard that Madame Balthazar down at the market has a bolt of new silk in from the East, and I’d like to try to earn some money to pay for it.”
Between dresses and books, I was more than happy to let Cecilia think I wanted the dresses more. She was appalled at the thought of servants knowing how to read, let alone actually reading.
Her nose reflexively sniffed. “I doubt you’d be able to afford it, Eleanora. It would be a poor investment besides, considering you ruin the dresses you have now by sleeping close to the fire.” She prowled around the room as she shook her head. She let out a disapproving tsk, tsk as she looked up and down at my servant’s outfit.
I turned along with her, keeping the book behind me and out of sight.
Ben coughed, effectively distracting her.
She turned her gaze on him. “Benedict, are you ill?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head down to her ever so slightly.
“I have some items I need you to take to the market.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like for you and Eleonora to take them today, and quickly. I also have a list of things you will need to pick up before His Grace arrives for the party tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“See to it that you are both back in time to help with the dinner preparations,” she said. “Betsy and Mavis are going to be extra busy, and we need all the hands we have to make sure the day is sufferable.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben repeated.
“Stop that,” Cecilia barked. “Don’t use that tone with me.”
Ben said nothing.
Part of me waited to see if Cecilia was going to give the same old lines to Ben:
You’re lucky I am able to keep you, as a cripple wouldn’t last long in the market streets or out in the fields.
I am more than willing to do my Christian duty to your father’s memory, but you’re enough of a man to know I could turn you out if you would ever indicate that was your desire.
You have no place here anymore; it is fortunate for you that you can be of some help, given your regrettable condition.
I should think you would be grateful to me, to keep you here with your sister, rather than thinking you deserve more.
Life does not guarantee you anything, and it’s time to stop acting like I should feel sorry for you, rather than embracing what my good choices have brought me.
It was almost as if she had branded those words on Ben, deforming his heart as much as his leg. A moment passed, and from the small smirk on Cecilia’s face, just barely peeking out from the thin layer of wrinkles, I knew we were all thinking the same thing.
I guess she knows that she doesn’t have to say it anymore.
Still, I held my breath as she turned to face me. Over the years, I’d learned to stop flinching; the one time I stopped her, back when she was more apologetic about the state of “poverty” my father left her in, she had me flogged. “As a servant girl should be,” were her exact words on the issue.
“See to it that you have at least one clean outfit to wear tonight, Eleonora,” she commanded. “I will need you to help with our guests tonight.”
Her impressive skirts swept around her, and before I could ask her who else besides the duke was coming to dinner, Ben cut me off with a stern look.
I shut my mouth and nodded to him.
“You’ll find the items to trade gathered in the back of the main house,” she called back. “Go, and hurry now.”
I finally allowed myself to wince. “She’s getting shrilly,” I said to myself.
“Old age comes to us all,” Ben said. “Hopefully, we won’t have to deal with her too much longer.”
“How is our goal coming?” I asked, lowering my voice by several degrees. “Are we any closer to Liberté?”
“Nora.” Ben sighed. “We will need another year, at least.”
I wanted to pout. But I gave Ben my best smile. “Only a year doesn’t sound so bad.” I almost hid my roughened hands in my skirts, before I recalled I was hiding the book I’d taken from the library.
“Do you want me to return it for you?” Ben asked. There was a playfulness behind his grin, and seei
ng it, I couldn’t help but give in to the temptation to run and pretend I was far away from home. “I’ll race you,” I offered. “Just let me get my shoes.”
“If I win, you have to go to town yourself,” he said. “I want to stay and help with the cooking.”
“Help yourself to the cooking, more likely,” I countered.
“The rich and fancy have people taste their food before they eat it,” Ben said. “They aren’t like us, Nora.”
I ignored the part about the fancy. Ben and I had known our share of a comfortable world, before Máma was lost at sea and Táta died. “Are you hoping you’ll get the job?” I asked.
“No, and that’s a shame. It might help us get to Liberté faster.”
“Ha!” I rolled my eyes. “I doubt Cecilia would let you be hired, even if it was her close friend and cousin, His Grace, the Duke of Slezko, that wanted you as his personal food taster.”
“Yes, where would she be without us?” Ben replied snidely. “She wouldn’t be able to get on her high horse and claim she’s doing her duty to our father’s memory.”
“I can’t imagine her on any horse at all,” I said, trying to add some levity. “Not in those gowns, with those horribly voluminous skirts. It’s worth it to be a servant just so I can walk without falling over and drowning in a puddle.”
Ben laughed, and I cheered at his mirth as I grabbed my shoes and laced them up. My brother knew little of joy in his life, outside of caring for me and working on his machines. It was only right that I tried to provide him with as much happiness as I could.
Especially since Cecilia seemed so determined to take it away, just as she’d taken our inheritance away.
“Ow,” I muttered.
“What is it?” Ben asked.
“My shoe.” I held up the small slipper. “It has a hole in the bottom.”
The Price of Paradise Page 29
