The King indeed has never met anyone like her. In fact, no one had, nor would they for another 1250 years. Being ahead of their time doesn’t make Gen ahead of their ways. A twenty-first-century mind in a first-millennium female doesn’t necessarily guarantee happiness, peace, or success so much as it does headaches, misunderstandings, fear, and danger. Of course, stirring intrigue in a curious king’s mind may be of great help; if you are careful. Unfortunately, being careful is not one of Gen’s strong suits.
Extract
Sleek pounding hooves tore across the meadow; behind came the thunder of warhorses, crushing and obliterating everything in their path. Before them, stride after stride, the mare flew; her rider low, and balanced.
Straining her ears, Gen tried to listen past the harsh rhythmic snorts from the mare, past the rush of wind. How close are they now? One length, maybe two? Close enough to snatch her from the saddle?
She bent, sinking further into the saddle and chanced a quick glimpse over her shoulder. The mare lurched to the side and suddenly, there were birds everywhere, the flock bursting all around, rising into the sky; the roar of flapping wings deafening.
Terrified, the horse reared, its long legs clawing at the air. Gen’s startled scream died in her throat as she shifted her weight, trying to move with the animal as it twisted and lunged, charging off on a new heading.
They hurtled down toward the river and there was no more time for thoughts. Her pursuers had stationed themselves, blocking and intercepting no matter which direction she chose. Along the river, sand muffled the hoof beats and from the corner of her eye she glimpsed two more knights. Converging, from either side, they were maneuvering in unison, funneling her away from the river and toward the embankment.
The embankment! She lost her breath.
Ahead rose a steep, almost vertical wall of boulders. Frantically she swept a look behind, then left, then right. There was only one choice; up.
Crouching, Gen rocked into position, ready to rally the horse. She froze. A hideous image flashed in her mind; a sleek leg, wedged in a crevice, snapping like tinder.
Horrified she pulled at the reins, leaning back, ushering all her might, desperately trying to stop. Oh God!… No!… NO!
It was too late. The animal had already committed. Regardless of its rider, the small mare leapt, landing hard on the craggy bank. Again and again, its clambering hooves scraped off the smooth rounded rock and caught against broken rifts. Relentlessly the horse drove forward, sliding back then lunging upwards in a slow, agonizing advance. Finally, one mighty push caught traction, then another, and it was airborne; up and over the crest. A second later, they were splashing down onto the wet turf of the meadow.
The men below hauled their sweating mounts in. Gawking, they stared up at the rock face.
It was a masterful ploy, one which should have given a considerable lead. The mare was still making good speed when the others appeared, spread out like tentacles. They took up the chase, angling in and forcing Gen to veer off course. This time she wasn’t fast enough. The trap was sprung.
Even as the glistening black mare skidded to a halt, Gen was reaching low, her hand finding and closing on her sword’s hilt. They were not taking her without a fight. One swift movement pointed the thin sword over the horse’s head and then snapped it out to the side. She spun a tight circle, eyeing each of the knights, her wrist locked the blade at the ready.
Her twenty-first century mind was reeling; projecting, analyzing, evaluating. Somehow, this whole thing didn’t seem like a dream anymore. How the hell did I manage to be the only one caught?
The heavily armed men had swooped down from the hill, separating, then surrounding her as easily as wolves cutting a calf from the herd. The question shouldn’t have been how; it should have been why?
Kyler! She looked across the meadow. They must have all made it to the woods, she thought. He was probably there, with his men, just inside the tree line.
An unnerving quiet settled and Gen fixed a steady glare on her stone faced captors. Seconds ticked by. The air was heavy, hard to breathe.
She waited. The sun beat down; hot, relentless. The meadow was absolutely still; except for the honey bees. Laden with pollen, they floated in the air, their ponderous flight slow and undulating.
Still, no one moved.
Sweat dripped, and Gen’s pulse pounded in her ears. There was no doubt in her mind that they were going to rush her. She could see it in the set of their jaws and the anxious way they were pushing against their saddles; like stiff tight rubber bands stretched to the limit.
Desperately she searched for a way out; a distraction, a weak link, anything that would give her a chance. The bees… maybe there’s a way to use bees…
Marian Beland resides with her family in the horse country of northern Connecticut and is the author of the “Here and Now” trilogy.
Her lifelong passion for history and adventure are the foundation of her captivating novels.
When Marian isn’t writing, she is likely training or deploying her search & rescue K-9 partner on missions to find the lost and missing.
Everything Is Better With Dragons 
Thanks so much for sharing the extract and being part of the tour, Rosie!
Meggy from Love Books Tours xx