When Anwyn heard her best friend cursing over a letter from home, she thought it would be nice to give her a hand. A quick trip to a new country to protect Iola from an unwelcome marriage would be a chance to have fun while doing a good deed.
But the trip revealed plots against the Dana that Anwyn could never have anticipated. The simple trip became a complicated political trial that threatened not just the family’s fortunes but Anwyn’s safety as well. Stopping the Delbhana’s plot might be the hardest thing Anwyn had ever done but failure wasn’t an option.
Storm over Archaelaos is an epic coming of age fantasy set on the matriarchal world of Muirin. People of all ages will enjoy this thrilling adventure.
Storm Over Archaelaos
By Meyari McFarland
Dorcia Decharas was every bit as difficult as Aravel and Iola had said. Anwyn sat on one of the big couches in the great room, watching as Dorcia fussed at everyone and everything. Aravel had insisted on wrapping Anwyn up in a blanket, not that Anwyn objected all that hard.
The hurricane overhead was like an animal trying to tear its way into the house. Gusts rattled the shutters every few moments. She could hear the roof creaking and groaning in time with the wind. Worse still, the wind had torn the roof up. Buckets sat in several places, catching the steady drip of water. Given how hard it was raining outside Anwyn was surprised that the entire house wasn’t wet. Everything smelled damp even if it wasn’t wet to the touch.
Through it all, Dorcia fussed at them all. It was strangely like watching Caddie when he was in one of his really bad moods. She snapped at everyone whether they were interacting with her or not, glared constantly and obviously didn’t approve of anything that happened around her. She was wrapped up in a big shawl rather than a blanket. If Anwyn wasn’t sure that Dorcia would insist that her blanket was somehow polluted, she would have given it to Dorcia.
The only real differences between Caddie and Dorcia were her painful coughs and the fact that she was a plump woman rather than a skinny boy. It was odd enough that Anwyn alternated between amused and annoyed. The eye of the storm had passed over them while Anwyn slept. Fortunately, Philotheos’ house was high enough on the hill and tucked deep enough into the hillside that they weren’t too affected by the storm despite the leaks and creaking.
“So do we know how the port is doing?” Anwyn asked Philotheos, grateful that his whole family understood Aingealese. It was so much easier than struggling with her poor Archaelaosian.
“That’s not something that a young girl should ask about,” Dorcia snapped before Philotheos could open his mouth.
“Yes, it is,” Anwyn said, raising her chin to stare at Dorcia. “I’m not staying on this island. I want to know if the Little Bird will be able to get into port or if we’ll have to take long boats out to her when it’s time to go.”
Dorcia glared back. “You should let your brother worry about that. Girls don’t concern themselves with such things.”
Anwyn couldn’t help but laugh at that. Dorcia gasped. For the first time since Anwyn had gotten up, color came to Dorcia’s cheek. It was a splotchy flush but at least she wasn’t so pale. Her illness might not be as serious as she’d pretended in the letter to Iola but it was fairly bad.
“Really?” Anwyn chuckled. “Oh my. You’ve really got things backwards. Aravel’s the one who lives a female life. I’m a sailor and a brawler. Treat me like a boy and you’ve got it straight.”
“That’s obscene!” Dorcia squawked.