Prologue to Tyalbrook

I am slowly working on Never Without You the third, and presumably final, book in the Tyalbrook series. 
The story has morphed through the years. Originally it was a bit of a dare—Hey, Michele! I dare you to finally write that book you've always planned on writing.
So, write a book I did. Then a funny thing happened. I wrote another and another. Now I'm planning release #11 for February and I'm still trying to finish that first series up. 

I didn't plan for a trilogy when I started Tyalbrook. I planned on a standalone story. My husband's excitement as I plotted, is what turned it into something more. My love of good stories and other fantasies is what has made it difficult to finish. I'm not the same writer I was when I wrote Never Let You Fall. I've grown. I took a small idea and published it not realizing people would actually read it! So here I sit trying to craft a story that will make both you—the reader—and me—the creator—happy.  

Here is a little something I wrote a while back that is no longer going into the 3rd book. It's a prologue between Skye and Xander's mom's pre-attack on Castle Montibello. Not edited and very rough ... just something for fun :)

“Look at them,” I smiled. “So beautiful, so peaceful. No idea of what is to come.” 

“Kerra . . .” 

“Perhaps we should rethink this plan, Delia. Perhaps I should bring her to Griffin.”


“He could bring her to Hivernia, protect her there—”

“Kerra! That will not work. We have discussed this.” Delia reminded me.

Smoothing a dark curl from Arabella’s forehead I stood and wandered to the window. The sky was dark this morning. Heavy, foreboding clouds blotted what little light the sun provided. The dreary weather caused chills on my arms as below my chamber window, a band of men rushed across the bailey. 

I spoke my thoughts. “I do not know if I can let her go.”

A hand settled on my shoulder. “Maybe it will not come to that.”

“It will. I can feel it. Here—” I pressed a palm to my chest, trying in vain to hold the pain at bay. 

“You must keep hope alive,” Delia coaxed as her hand squeezed my shoulder affectionately. “If we have to run I will protect her with my life, you know I will. We will. Until then let us enjoy them.”

She perched on the edge of the bed, where I’d been but a moment before, and smiled. Arabella and Xander lay sleeping side by side. Their dark heads tipped toward each other. Xander’s fingers touched the white sleeping gown Arabella wore. Only toddlers and yet their connection was already more powerful than anyone had ever seen.

Skye and Xander

(Source: fyelenandamon, via 7rf-9amet)