Can a man born a slave change his destiny with one secret mission?
Troy
A Crown of Stones Origin Story
by C.L. Schneider
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Born of the Shinree, an enslaved fallen race, Ian Troy is magically bound to protect the kingdom of Rella. Since childhood, he trained to be their champion in a seemingly never-ending war. Called to the battlefield a brash young man of seventeen, Troy is anxious to show off his prowess with both magic and blade. He believes his role is vital to the realms of Mirra’kelan finally knowing peace.
Only, war is nothing like he thought.
After a year of being mistrusted and shunned simply for the blood in his veins—his magic restrained by an authoritarian queen—Troy has grudgingly learned his place. He follows orders and suffers their abuse in silence because the cost of insolence is a chain around his neck.
When Queen Aylagar handpicks him for a mission deep inside enemy territory, he thinks his time has come. Fate willing, he will prove to them all: Ian Troy is more than the “witch” they believe.
*Troy is a prequel story and takes place fifteen years before The Crown of Stones Trilogy.
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**Find the Crown of Stones Trilogy on Amazon!**
Born in a small Kansas town on the Missouri river, C.L. Schneider grew up in a house of avid readers and overflowing bookshelves. Her first full-length novel took shape while she was still in high school, on a typewriter in her parent's living room. Though Schneider has been writing all of her life, Magic-Price (the award-winning first installment in The Crown of Stones Trilogy) was her first published novel.
While her main focus is epic and urban fantasy for adults, she dabbles in all areas of speculative fiction. Her stories tend to be dark, conflict-laden tales full of magic and mystery, action and intrigue, antiheroes and villains, monsters and myths, friendship, love, loss and sacrifice—with enough twists to give you whiplash.
Learn more about C.L. Schneider, and the magical worlds she creates, at clschneiderauthor.com, where you can read reviews, excerpts, sneak peeks and teasers, subscribe to her newsletter, and join her Street Team. An active part of the online indie author community, you can connect with her on social media, or visit the News and Events page on her website for a full list of C.L. Schneider's in-person appearances in the NY, NJ, and CT area.
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Leaning heavily on my sword, I got to my feet. I took my first tentative step, and a resounding noise caught my attention. My perceptions dulled by discomfort; I assumed the sound was thunder. The source became clear, as two dozen Langorian soldiers rushed into the room.
Even if they were ignorant of my name, by appearance alone they knew I was Shinree. I wasn’t a “normal” man, and what to do about it gave them pause. The men hesitated, cursing under their breath, discussing options and odds. Still, they had orders. They would attack.
Wounded, or not, I’d never survive so many opponents with steel alone.
Magic it is. But I couldn’t afford to burn through my supply of stones. My target wasn’t dead. I had no idea if the others were safe, captured, or even alive. And there was still the matter of our escape. Something that was becoming infinitely more difficult with each passing moment.
I limped over to the unconscious slave and removed her necklace. The Shinree woman’s bloodline was still a mystery, but she carried a nice variety of stones; more in number and diversity than what my swords contained. More than I’d seen in one place in a long while.
I didn’t need to channel them all.
I wanted to.
Stroking their rough edges, I roused the auras, one by one, and placed the glowing necklace over my head. Wispy colored tendrils emerged and fell inside, sinking beneath clothing and skin. Power combined and coursed, hurling like a hot wind through my veins, caressing nerves, overpowering senses, masking pain and fatigue, boosting confidence and fortifying resolve—erasing caution.
Gods, there’s much….
Trembling, ensnared by the pleasure running through me, I wasn’t certain I’d ever been allowed to hold such an array of magic before. Possibly, years ago, under my mother’s watchful gaze, but I couldn’t think straight to remember. Either way, I liked it. Far more than I should.
Far more than is safe, I thought, knowing the effects.
Not only would casting in abundance weaken me, it would amplify my hunger for magic for a time, as my body sought a return to the same level of bliss.
Such an imbalance was already a concern, with how liberally I’d been casting spells since leaving camp. I was about to make it more so.
A problem for later, I decided. Now, there was an unbridled flow of vibrational energy moving through me, raw and invigorating, dimming the notion of repercussions and restraint, erasing the world and restricting my focus to one notion: unleashing it.
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