ILONA ANDREWS

Thank you for kind comments and support this week. Usually we post scene by scene, but today we will do the whole chapter.

Hugh stepped out of the woods and started up the road to Baile. The old castle rose atop the low hill like some ancient fort built by a Norman knight intent on keeping all he surveyed clenched in his iron gauntlet. It had been born in England, then transported stone by stone to Kentucky and reassembled on a whim of a man with too much money. The Shift had restored its original purpose. It was both a fortified base and a symbol of power.

He once told Elara that the point of the castle wasn’t to hide within the walls but to be worthy of it. The man who controlled the castle controlled the lands around it.

He needed to be that man. Not because he wanted the headache but because maintaining control of their immediate surroundings was the only path to safety. They were too far from any regional authorities, and in the great scheme of things, his fighting force was laughably small. By the latest count he had 348 Iron Dogs. During his time as Roland’s warlord, he commanded 2,400 trained soldiers. Almost seven times what he had now.

The familiar rage shivered deep inside him, hot and angry. He had built the most elite force on the continent and Roland had dismantled it out of cowardice.

Hugh pushed it aside. He needed a cool head for what waited ahead.

Aberdine presented a problem. The small town controlled the only leyline point within twenty five miles. The magic current was the fastest and safest way to reach Lexington or any of the other cities, and Baile depended on trade. Herbs, cosmetics, medicine, all of that flowed out through the leyline and returned as cash and supplies. In the past, Aberdine proved less than cooperative, despite relying on Baile’s medical supplies and booze.

Given a choice, he would have done whatever he could to take charge of Aberdine. In the old days, when Roland’s magic seared all doubt, guilt, and compassion from his mind, he would’ve set the town on fire, built a fort on the ashes, and put a detachment of Iron Dogs into it.

Those days were behind him now. He was a different man, less powerful, without immortality or backing of Roland’s magic, but he had his freedom. It was hard won. He could still feel the void, swirling on the edge of his consciousness, ready to sink its teeth into him if he faltered.

He was also married and charged with defending about 5,000 civilians who depended on his protection and ability to negotiate. The fact that Aberdine sent someone over and asked to see him meant both would be required.

His lovely wife was waiting for him by the castle gates.  She wore a light lilac dress today, and her white hair, gathered into a plait, wrapped around her head like a crown.

He’d half expected her to have been deep in negotiations with whoever Aberdine sent. For some reason, he was happy that she waited for him.

Hugh walked through the gates. She gave him a weary look.

“I heard we have guests,” he said.

“Nick Bishop and two others,” she said.

She looked like something had been eating at her. It bothered Hugh.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“Waiting inside.”

They started toward the keep, walking side by side. The bailey was crowded with people hurrying back and forth.  A team of villagers hung fall garlands on the walls.  Another trio had brought a cart filled with bright orange pumpkins and were now arguing over the most picturesque location to position it while an old pinto horse patiently waited for them to make up their minds. A gaggle of tweens carried baskets of chestnuts. The castle was getting ready for Harvest Day.

“What do you think they want?” Hugh asked.

“I don’t know, but Bishop’s arm is in a sling and the other two have bruises on their faces. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Nick Bishop was Aberdine’s chief of police, National Guard Sergeant, and Wildlife Response Officer, all of which put him in charge of the same six people. He’d met Bishop during the battle of Aberdine. The man kept a cool head and was capable.

If Bishop had showed up, Aberdine had a problem. One that required an Iron Dog kind of solution. This wasn’t about herbs or beer. This was about violence.

Ah. “So it’s that kind of visit, then.”

Elara didn’t respond. She was walking fast, her gaze dark, her lips a thin firm line.

“The herbs?” he guessed.

“That too, but mostly it’s Aberdine.”

They entered the main keep and Elara turned left, down the hallway leading to the visitor room. He remembered it well. When he first came to Baile a few months ago, half-starved and only barely sane with the void gnawing on his soul, she’d put them in that room. And then she made them sit in there, smelling delicious bread baking in the kitchen for half an hour before she came to negotiate.

“What about Aberdine?”

“They sent their Chief of Police. They’re going to ask you for help. They’re going to expect you to take the Iron Dogs, leave the castle, go source alone knows where, and fight.”

“That’s what people usually want from me.”

She stopped and turned to him. “I don’t want you to go.”

Interesting. “I seem to remember a certain woman who demanded that I drop everything and take our troops to defend Aberdine not that long ago. And when I argued against it, she tried to shame me by pointing out that Aberdine was full of babies.”

She raised her head. “That was then and this is now.”

“I’m going to need a little more than that.”

Elara sighed. “Then Aberdine was about to be wiped off the face of the planet. You saved them because it was the right thing to do. But now, since Aberdine survived, they should have the decency to handle their own problems.”

“That depend on the type of problem. There will be times when Aberdine’s issues could become ours.”

“And that’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want you getting hurt, I don’t want any of our people getting hurt, and I don’t want to take in anymore of their people. I just want to celebrate Harvest Day in peace. I’ve had enough of blood and gore.”

Ah. He got it now. For him, blood and gore were business as usual. The battle with Nez, terrible as it had been, was just another fight. He had personal stakes in that one, and he’d almost died, but at the core he was a soldier. An enemy attacked, they fought, they won. Next.

Elara didn’t fight those kind of battles. She avoided them unless she was backed into a corner, which was why she and her people migrated from place to place until they found Baile. Any time they came in conflict with the locals, they picked up and moved on. She married him to break that cycle.

His prickly wife, as tough as she pretended to be, was scared.

“They’re here,” he said. “Let’s hear them out and then we can decide, together, if we’re going to do anything about it.”

She gave him a suspicious look.

“I promise you that if you really don’t want me to go, I won’t.”

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and put her hand on his forehead. Her fingers were cool and dry, and he had the absurd urge to take her hand and kiss it.

The swirling, writhing chaos spreading, engulfing him…

Nope.

“I don’t have a fever.”

She stepped back. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“Noted.”

They looked at each other.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Wait, are we acting like a married couple?”

“Oh, shut up.”

She turned and stomped down the hallway. He followed her.

The scent of freshly baked bread floated on the draft. He could practically taste the crispy crust.

“Loving couple in three, two….” He murmured.

“One,” she finished.

The doors of the visitor room stood wide open. He let her enter first and stepped inside behind her. The long rectangular room held an oversized table built with old wood. The Aberdine delegates, Bishop and the two other men, sat at the table, helping themselves to a platter of fresh bread, cheese, sausage, and fruit.

There was a subtle psychology at play here. She brought them in, she made them wait, she fed them. It wasn’t just hospitality. Elara was positioning Baile as the benefactor of Aberdine. There was something almost feudal about it. The lord and lady of the castle receiving vassals in need of assistance. If they chose to grant their ask, the relationship between Baile and Aberdine would be cemented. Not neighbors. Not equals. Protector and protected.

Hugh hid a smile. That’s my girl.

He couldn’t let all of that effort go to waste.

#

Hugh raised his large arms and gave Bishop a big toothy grin. “Bishop! It’s been too long!”

Elara almost winced. She should have been used to him by now, but his instant transformations still took her by surprise. A moment ago, in the hallway, he was quiet and serious, and he sounded sincere. And now he’d turned into a loud, affable, slightly oblivious bro host with the emotional depth of a wooden spoon.

Hugh squinted at the table. “Love, couldn’t we get the guys some beer?”

“Of course, honey.” She nodded at Natasha waiting in the other doorway.

Hugh landed in a chair and spread out. She stood next to him. The nervous energy inside her roiled. Sitting down wasn’t in her right that second. She could barely keep from pacing.

Hugh grabbed a bread roll, tore it in half, stuffed some cheese into it, and took a bite. “So, what are you guys doing here?”

Bishop gathered himself, as if preparing to jump over a pit studded with spikes. His left arm was in a sling and his face was bruised, his dark brown skin almost purple over his left cheek. The other two didn’t look much better.

The unease spun inside her like an animal with sharp claws. When Nez captured Hugh at the end of the battle, his vampires had dragged him to some old building in an abandoned town miles away. She had gone to get him, and when she tore into that building, she found him chained and bleeding. They had hung him by his arms, and his body looked battered beyond repair. They had beaten him to the very edge of death. When she wrapped her power around him, he was almost gone and she carried him, limp like a ragdoll, all the way back to Baile hoping against all odds that he would live. He was so strong, the strongest man she’d ever met, and she had felt his life slipping through her fingers. He could have been gone forever.

Never again.

Hugh frowned. “Wait a minute. Bishop, what happened to your arm? Have you guys been having fun without me?”

Fun? You ridiculous oaf. She almost clenched her fists and forced herself to smile instead. “Hugh, dear, maybe we should let them tell us why they’re here?”

“Oh, yes.” Hugh rearranged his face into a serious expression. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The two men with Bishop stopped eating. The Chief of Aberdine’s police cleared his throat.

“We’re being extorted.”

Her stomach dropped. She hated that, hated the anxiety and how it made her feel. It was so much simpler before, when Hugh was an irritating but necessary jackass she had to tolerate. Somehow he had become her jackass. And now they would try to drag him into their mess.

“Extorted by whom?” Hugh asked.

“The Drakes. Mercenaries from Indianapolis,” Bishop said.

“They came down from up north three weeks ago,” the man to Bishop’s left said. He was in his forties, broad and blond. “At first they asked if they could pitch their tents in the fallow field by the wall. Now they want us to put them up and feed them through the winter.”

“How many?” Hugh asked.

“Seventy to eighty people,” Bishop said. “They’re armed and trained. Apparently the other half of their outfit is on its way.”

Eighty people. Even if they minded themselves, Aberdine couldn’t support that. And they wouldn’t mind themselves. Aberdine didn’t have a police force strong enough to keep them in check. They would start to swagger. They would start to demand and take. There would be theft, there would be assaults and rape. Then there would be murder. Here, isolated in the Knobs, there line between mercenary and bandit was very faint.

“Have you petitioned Lexington?” Hugh asked.

Bishop nodded. “National Guard won’t come unless there is an incident. Right now, it’s just squatting. A civil matter. Non-violent.”

Elara knew exactly where Aberdine stood. She and her people had been in a standoff just like that more than once, when someone wanted them to leave. Somebody would have to die or be seriously injured before the authorities intervened, and it wasn’t worth it. Her people were precious. She had chosen again and again to just move on. But Aberdine didn’t have that option. Where would the whole town go with winter a month away?

They would have to rescue Aberdine. She saw it with crystal clarity, and she hated it. First, they couldn’t allow the Drakes to control the leyline. Second, they couldn’t permit Aberdine to turn into a mercenary town. Those places popped up from time to time, lawless settlements that drew every lowlife in the state until it became too much and either National Guard or DCI, Department of Criminal Investigations, busted them. If they let Aberdine devolve into that, sooner or later the mercenaries would start eyeing Baile. They would need space and a good defensible position, and the castle would prove too tempting.

All that aside, morally they couldn’t allow Aberdine’s people to be run off their own land. As Hugh pointed out, there were children in that town. Families. They didn’t deserve any of that.

A careful knock sounded through the room. Lamar paused in the doorway. Hugh waved him in without turning.

“Who is running the show?” Hugh asked.

“A man named Polansky,” Bishop answered.

“Calls himself the Falcon,” the dark-haired man to Bishop’s right said.

Lamar leaned to Hugh and murmured something in his ear. Hugh nodded.

“Ex-marine, big guy, always sunburned, looks like he bites bricks for a living?” Lamar asked.

“That’s the one.”

“I thought once you were a marine, you were always a marine?” Hugh said.

“They kicked him out,” Lamar said. “Conduct unbecoming.”

“Meaning?” Hugh asked.

“His definition of acceptable civilian casualties was too broad for the Corp.”

Hugh looked at the three men. All humor had disappeared from his face. His gaze was hard and heavy. “And what would you gentlemen like us to do about this unfortunate development?”

“We’ve been authorized by the town to pay you a substantial sum to help us resolve this crisis,” the blond man said.

A mistake, Elara thought. They should not have opened with that.

Bishop gave him a warning glance. The man clamped his mouth shut.

“We are not for hire,” Hugh said.

He spoke in an unhurried, almost lazy way, but the temperature in the room had dropped by about ten degrees.

The blond man paled.

“And if we were, you couldn’t afford us.”

Silence claimed the room, siting on the table between Hugh and the Aberdine men like a cement block.

Bishop cleared his throat again. “We know you’re not for hire. The money would be just to offset any costs.”

That was her cue. “We don’t need Aberdine’s help with that.”

Hugh reached for her hand, took it, and brushed his lips on her fingers.

Ridiculous. She’d make him pay later.

He was still holding her hand and showed no signs of letting go. “My wife is quite right, gentlemen. We are not destitute. We can cover our own costs.”

“We would be happy come to an agreement regarding our western woods,” the dark-haired man said.

She knew exactly what they were talking about. The land between Baile and Aberdine was almost all dense forest, but there was a stretch of meadows right near the property border, on Aberdine’s side. The meadows produced particularly good blueflower.

It was one of those plants that popped up after the Shift, nourished by magic. Blueflower provided relief from arthritis. They had tried to cultivate it before and failed. It could only be gathered in the wild and no matter how long they searched, they never found another spot on their own land. She had tried to license foraging rights, and Aberdine had turned her down cold. They hadn’t been pleasant about it, either.

It would be nice to have that plot. But there were bigger things in play. Aberdine always viewed them as unclean and lesser. There was a reason why they opened with the money. If they agreed to be hired, it would put Aberdine and Baile in employer and employee positions, with employer holding power. Now that that attempt failed, they were trying to bargain as equals.

No, this could not be a transaction. It had to be a favor. Aberdine had to owe them. That was the only way they would be secure.

High squeezed her hand gently. She looked at him and saw a silent question in his blue eyes. It almost killed her, but she gave him a tiny nod.

 A hint of a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.

“Do we need any more woods, love?” he asked.

“Not particularly.”

“You’ve tried to get foraging rights before,” the blond man said. He had to be their comptroller or something.

“I did. As I recall, Aberdine doesn’t want dirty, pagan witches in its woods. Isn’t that right?”

The delegation winced in unison.

“That was the old mayor,” the dark-haired man said. “He has left town. Aberdine doesn’t not condone that sort of small-minded prejudice.”

Since when?

“As I recall, we tried to help you before. We sent people to reinforce your magic wards, and you blocked their way and threw rocks at them,” she said mildly.

The delegation stared at her. At least they had the decency to look uncomfortable.

“We apologize,” the dark-haired man said.

“That’s very nice of you,” she told him. “I will let Will know. He has a scar from the rock on his forehead. Your apology will be a great comfort.”

More silence.

“That was then, this is now,” Bishop said.

Hugh looked at her.

Don’t even think of saying anything.

“Look, I’ll level with you,” Bishop said. “We can’t get them out ourselves. We’ve tried.”

He pointed to his arm.

“They’ve stopped pretending to be polite. They’re going to start looting and pillaging next, and there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop them. Will you please help us?”

Silence stretched for a long moment.

Hugh grinned. “All you had to do was ask. Of course we’ll help you. After all, we’re neighbors, aren’t we, honey?”

“We are,” she said.

 “There you have it. My wife is a very forgiving woman.”

He would leave right away. She could feel it. “Will you be back in time for dinner?” Go there, do your Hugh thing, and come right back.

He kissed her fingers again and gazed at her, his face a picture of adoring devotion. “Will you make me something delicious to eat, love?”

“Of course.” She had plenty of poisonous herbs left over…

Hugh rose to his full height. “Let’s go see about these mercenaries of yours.”

The post It’s Hughday Again! Chapter 3 first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

It is freezing here in Texas. We had a 40 degree temperature drop, and now we are sitting at 24 degrees. You know my prayer. Hold, grid, hold.

The Price of Printed Books

Is it true that the price of printed books will rise?

Yes. Most of the books are printed in China or on paper imported from China. When the new tariffs go into effect, the prices will increase. It is very difficult to shift that production chain. The publishers tried during the pandemic and we had delays across the board. The Ingram Spark, print-in-demand publisher used by a lot of self-published authors, already announced the anticipated price hikes.

How much more will they cost?

We don’t know. Could be a couple of bucks, could be more. There is no way to tell yet. Nobody is happy about this situation, but that is the way it is. The cost of tariffs is passed onto the consumer, and we have to make at least $1 off each printed self-published book, or we cannot afford to continue.

A reminder: the political ban is still in effect.

Kindle USB

Let me say upfront, before there is a panic: this will not affect most people, because most of us do not bother with it. If you are wondering if this will affect you, then you probably haven’t used this feature before.

Most people either read their Amazon books on Kindle or on Kindle app. I use the Kindle app primarily, because I tend to read on my iPad or search the books for work on my computer. My books sit in my cloud library until I’m ready to download them to my device.

Some people back up their books to a USB device, meaning they download those files to a storage drive or a USB stick. A loose equivalent would be buying a movie on Amazon and burning it onto a DVD to keep.

Amazon is doing away with that ability. It goes away on February 25th.

Let me reiterate: most of the users will not be affected. You can still email the book files to your kindle, you can still download the books to your kindle, and they will still be available in app. If you haven’t downloaded books to store them somewhere else before, you will not notice.

Why is Amazon doing this?

Although we buy books on Amazon, our actual ownership is more similar to renting. We buy access to that book for as long as Amazon has it available. Amazon wants to make sure you continue to give it your money. If you delete your Amazon account, all of your books will disappear with it.

We have seen this model before with Audible, which is now owned by Amazon. When you buy audiobooks on Audible, you accumulate credits and if you cancel your account, you lose access to all of your purchases and credits. It’s an effective way to keep consumers tied to you. (Please see correction on this in the comments. Apparently, deleting the Audible account doesn’t prevent access.)

It does afford some flexibility. Amazon periodically pushes updates to these books. We have updated our books before because of typos or some inadvertently poor word choice or something the readers pointed out. If a publisher pulls out and takes their titles with them, Amazon wants to be able to disappear them from your library so not to be in breach of contract, etc. But mostly it’s about money and keeping you locked into the Amazon ecosystem.

Downloading these books to a storage device safeguards against that. If this is a concern, you have until February 25th to download your titles.

How?

Here is a video explaining how to do it. We have no idea if the software he recommends for bulk downloads is good, so we do not endorse it. Please do your research: Amazon’s New Kindle Rule.

Thank you to Jennifer Thomas from the Facebook Fan Group for bringing it to our attention.

Please do not email to Mod R asking her how to download your books to the storage device. The gentleman explains it in the video. We love you, but we cannot serve as Amazon tech support. We are not qualified.

Maggie Updates

The final content edit pass for Maggie’s book has landed. So much work has gone into this monster of a manuscript, and if it was printed, I would be lifting it above my head the way Moses in the movies lifts the stone tablets.

It means we are close to the manuscript being accepted for publication. It also means Gordon and I have a ton of work ahead of us to try to clean the story up. This is kind of our last chance to make large edits.

It is very exciting. We had a title conference and a cover conference, and now we are waiting to see what the art department is going to come up with. It is almost a book. Woo!

The post Kindle USB, The Price of Books, and Other Things first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Update: Thank you so much for all of your support, guys. You are genuinely awesome and kind people. We are both lucky to know you. We finished the scene, it worked out well, so we are going to keep going and hopefully will stay on track for Friday.

There was a post here about something someone said, but it doesn’t seem important anymore. We are driving on.

Comments are locked because Mod R is working on something else and I do not have the time to devote to moderating at the moment.

The post Stupid Rubbish first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

I built the coziest keyboard ever.

You might remember that earlier I was looking for a better keyboard. Whenever I searched for a keyboard, I always ended up with the gaming keyboards. HyperX. Razer. Black, lots of RGB, that type of thing. I’ve tried ergonomic keyboards, I’ve tried unorthodox keyboards, I’ve tried a lot of things.

Then, as I was browsing Instagram, I stumbled on to a video showcasing “the coziest keycaps ever.”

Computer keyboards consist of 3 main parts:

• The keyboard case and the electronic guts inside it
• The switches, which are small chunks of electronic in a plastic housing with a couple of contacts sticking out and a spring. When you press the keyboard key, that’s what you actually feel.
• The keycaps, the little pieces of plastic that your fingers make contact with when you are typing

The keycaps are supposed to be removable but I’ve never messed with them. However, it occurred to me that I would like the cute keycaps. And these weren’t just cute, they were cozy.

There is an entire genre of games, like Stardew Valley, that specializes in creating a cozy, comforting feel. These games are usually farm-based, but sometimes you make potions or run a magical bakery.

These keycaps were objectively cozy. I googled “changing keycaps” and promptly fell down the rabbit hole.

Modern keyboards are modable. Meaning, you can mix and match keyboard base, switches, and keycaps. You can add or remove foam to change the sound. And if the keyboard is marked as hot-swappable, the switches just pop right in. No soldering required.

The volume of information about modding keyboards is staggering. I was aware of different switches before. Red switches were tactile, meaning they had a little bump when you press them, and they were loud. Brown switches were linear and quiet. Or was it the other way around? Blue switches were ….. something eh? What the hell is a holy panda switch? What is a creamy switch? What does thocky mean?

I have watched a ridiculous amount of instructional videos, and I’ve learned that it’s all about preference. Some people love silent keyboards; others want ASMR sound. Some want tactile switches with a bump; others want smooth linears. Some people want specific features like volume knobs or certain features like weightier keyboards. Some want full layout with the number pad, other like TKL without it, or 75 or 65 keyboards. The whole point of this exercise is to customize your typing experience.

I decided that I like keyboards that made comforting sounds, loud, but not too loud, and not that clacky. The jury was still out on switches at that point. I also wanted a volume control and at least 75 layout. I consulted with Gordon, who pointed out that keyboards are our primary work tool so I might as well get the keyboard I want. Thus emboldened, I bought all the things.

I started with the keycaps. But I also needed to put those keycaps into something. My first keyboard purchase was a Keychron, which is kind of a good starting point to learn about modable keyboards. It is a decent keyboard, no amazing, but it felt a lot better than my previous keyboards. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have bought it, but it gave me a baseline.

Keychron V3 Max TKL

Finny thing – I do not recall making this purchase. I was online late at night and although I must’ve bought it, I have zero recollection of it. This is a TKL layout, meaning everything except for the number pad, which I do not use. It is programmable, it has a bit of rgb, and the volume knob – which I really love – and it came with Gateron Jupiter banana switches. These are tactile switches that give you a little bump to let you know the key has been pressed.

Here the sound of Keychron in action as I’m writing this post. Not super amazing. The sound on all of the videos is up. The keyboard and all others are not quite that loud.

But I ordered my cozy keycaps and I wanted a proper keyboard for it. Also I didn’t want to spend a butt ton of money on it because this adventure can get expensive fast. I started looking around at “budget” modable keyboards and came across this one from Akko.

It is wood. It is very elegant, too, but I didn’t care about the elegance. I was all about the cuteness.

Not only this wood go beautifully with my keycaps, but I suspected that it would also match my sound preferences. The entire point of modding a keyboard is to make it exactly the way you like it and sound is a big part of that. I like a little bit more resistance in my switches and I wanted a pleasant typing sound. Keychron wasn’t doing it.

As an aside, people get super-serious about this. Keyboards can sound clicky, or creamy, or thockky, or clacky. Some switches have longer travel distance, some shorter. Some have to be pressed harder. Some are silent. I will have some links for you down below.

Anyway, I ordered the Akko.

Here it is on my desk.

It is a lovely keyboard. It is solid, and heavy, and I love everything about it. It came with rosewood switches, which have a deeper typing sound. I listened to them and promptly yanked them out to try all the other stuff I ordered. There was a slight learning curve, but after some trial and error, success was achieved. I swap switches like a champ now.

I tried Asura switches. I tried Akko creamy blue and lavender. I tried Gateron Bananas. I tried a lot of things. So far the best switch I’ve tried is HMX Butter. It is surprisingly a linear switch and I seem to prefer tactile because I type with some force, but it is just a very nice switch. It is smooth, and it feels very nice to type on.

Full disclosure: I have more switches coming. There is no hope for me. The Pandora’s box has been opened. I have also modded a keyboard for Kid 2.

And then, yesterday, my keycaps arrived. They arrived in a beautiful box with a handy keycap removal tool, so switching them was a breeze.

Behold, the coziest keyboard known to man.

Click to enlarge Froggie left Froggie right

I love it, I love it, I love it!

But what does it sound like? Please keep in mind that half of it is still rosewood switches and half HMX butter. I’m still deciding. (Link for email readers.)

I want this!

I’ve got you:

• Link to the Youtube channel where I got my education: Hipyo Tech and in particular this video is good to start: 50 keyboards
• Akko wood keyboard available from Amazon.
• KiiBOOM Cozydiaries Rainy Froggy Day Keycap set

Now, please excuse me. I have some typing to do.

The post The Coziest Keyboard Ever first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

The lavender was dying. Elara surveyed the wilted stalks, with drooping leaves and sagging buds. There were five main causes of lavender wilt: overwatering, underwatering, poor drainage, not enough light, and too much heat. None of it applied. They had grown lavender in this greenhouse for years.

Next to her Jean Bradshaw twisted her hands. A plump, middle-aged woman, with golden skin and a gathering of freckles on her nose, Jean was the aromatics master. Basil, mint, rosemary, all of it was her domain.

Behind Jean three of her gardeners waited, their expressions pinched.

“It isn’t anything you did,” Elara told her.

“I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.” Jean rubbed her face and pressed her hands, palms together, to her lips, as if praying.

They both knew what this meant. They were going to lose this lavender harvest.

Lavender was a staple. It wasn’t exciting, rare, or expensive, but they used it constantly in all sorts of ways. It was a go-to aromatic for cosmetics and bath products. It soothed headaches, calmed nerves, prevented the formation of scars, and it was slightly antiseptic. It was employed in child blessing rituals and for sun invocations. Magic users who meditated bought it by the sack. A big chunk of their income depended on lavender. There was a reason why they grew it year around.

Elara resisted the urge to rock back and forth. Why was this happening? Why?

“And the thing is, the lavender in the Red Greenhouse is perfectly fine,” Jean said. “Same soil, same watering schedule, same light conditions… The two greenhouses are next to each other. You’d think if one went bad, the other would too, but no, it’s this one and the Blue and the Yellow. And the Yellow is almost fifty yards away.”

An idea tugged on Elara. She turned and strode out of the greenhouse into the gardens. The fall air mugged her, dry and cool after the humid warmth of the greenhouse.

The Red Greenhouse with its perfectly healthy lavender was to the left and behind her, about twenty yards down the path. The Blue Greenhouse, full of dying mint, stood about twenty yards in front of her and to the right. Then the Yellow Greenhouse, where oregano had turned to near dust, was all the way to the left and forward…

Ismael came running down the path, flying as fast as his ten-year-old legs could carry him. He crashed to a stop in front of her and struggled to catch a breath.

“Take your time,” she told him.

“People from Aberdine are here,” he announced.

What now? “Did anyone send a word to the Preceptor?”

Ismael nodded frantically.

Ever since Hugh took his Iron Dogs and saved Aberdine, they treated him with a respect bordering on reverence. She had been supplying them with beer, medicine, and cosmetics for years, and none of that mattered compared with Hugh riding in to save the day in his black armor. She provided them with necessities, and he had given them a hero. A big strong man in black armor on a giant pale horse.

In some regards, it was a proof of her success. She’d done her best to appear as a good, reliable, non-threatening neighbor. They had no idea how scary she could truly be. They would never see her as a possible savior. But Hugh? Oh yes. When that man wanted to, he could be damn impressive.

Individuals were complicated, but people were simple. Hugh understood that. He knew by some uncanny instinct what people needed him to be and then he became that to get what he wanted. Even now, she had no idea if the Hugh she saw every day was truly who he was or if he’d just assumed the role for some secret gain.

One thing for sure – Hugh could turn on a dime, and when that mask came off, he unleashed shocking brutality and he did it without hesitation or doubt. If Aberdine was very unlucky, it would learn that today.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“Johan put them into the visitor room. They are beat up.”

“The Aberdine people?”

Ismael nodded.

Beat up Aberdine people was the last thing she needed right this second.

“Johan gave them drinks and sandwiches.”

“Go back and tell Johan to keep them occupied. Then go to the wall by the front gate and wait until Hugh comes back. Come and get me as soon as you see him ride out of the woods.”

Ismael nodded again, turned around, and took off like a deer back up the road toward Baile.

“Maybe it’s him,” Jean said.

“Who?”

Jean hesitated. “The Preceptor.”

“What about him?”

Jean paused.

“Say what’s on your mind,” Elara prompted.

“The herbs started dying after the Iron Dogs showed up.”

The three gardeners went very still.  Clearly, this theory had been discussed. By now it had probably spread all through the gardener crew.

She had to nip this in the bud, or it would fester.

“When do you think the first wilt happened?” she asked mildly.

“Jimsonweed field,” Jean said.  “A month after they came.”

Elara shook her head. “You’re thinking in terms of fields and greenhouses. Think before that, to something much smaller. What was the first batch of plants that died just like the lavender?”

Jean pondered it, frowned, looked at the sky, and turned to her. “The kitchen garden!”

Elara nodded. The cooks maintained a small herb garden for the Baile’s kitchens, a few rows of onion, garlic, dill, and parsley. One day it had simply withered.

“When did it die?” she asked.

“The end of July,” Jean said. “We thought the fertilizer had been contaminated with something.”

“And the second wilt? Who can tell me?”

Caro, one of the gardeners, raised his hand. “The raspberry bushes. They died on the fifth of August. I remember this because it was Savannah’s birthday.”

The patch of raspberry bushes had sprung up by the castle walls completely on its own.  They didn’t know if someone planted it or if some raspberries had been discarded there.  In any case, the bushes grew wild until one day they wilted to nothing.

“Hugh d’Ambray didn’t even know we existed until September,” Elara said.

Jean opened her mouth and closed it.

“The Iron Dogs fought and died for us,” Elara said. “This is their home. The Preceptor has no power over plants, and even if he did, why would he interfere with our herbs? The Iron Dogs depend on us for their shelter, food, and equipment. They’ve been salvaging metal from the forest to help us offset the costs. What would they gain from causing us to lose money?”

Silence answered.

“I need the four of you to go back to the people you gossiped with and let them know what I said,” she told them. “There is no more us and them. We stand as one. Do you understand?”

Heads bowed. 

“Yes, my lady,” Jean told her.

“Thank you. Now let’s see the other greenhouses.”

The post Chapter 2 Part 2 first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Despite my best efforts, I finally managed to make a cardigan. I bought this really cute yarn last year.

This is Rainbows and Airwaves from Bad Sheep Yarn. It is a gorgeous yarn, so I wanted to make a fun cardigan with it. I usually make stuff for the kids, but I wanted something for myself and all the colors made me happy. I tried knitting it first, but for some reason the stockinette came out very yellow and underwhelming. Then I tried knitting a textured stitch, but I still didn’t like it.

One of the interesting things about Bad Sheep Yarn is that the skeins are remarkably consistent. They look just like that and one skein is very similar to the other. This is quality dying – love it – but it also causes the yarn to pool a bit. So this was unraveled twice.

I finally settled on a heavily textured crochet stitch alternating skeins with each row.

This is a row id hdc followed by another row of 2 hdc, a double crochet around the post in the previous row, 4 hdc. It helped a bit with the pooling. The sleeves are hdc just for fun. I finished it with knitted rib because at the time my hand hurt too much and the rotation of the crochet hook was not fun.

And here it is, ta-da!

It still pooled a little, because the yarn is just that consistent, but I kind of love it more this way.

It is basically done. It just needs pockets. I love it!

While we are on the subject, thank you so much for all of the yarn recommendations. I ordered samples and will report on success or failure.

The post A Happy Cardigan first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

If you liked roleplaying computer games in the early 2000s, you knew that Bioware was synonymous with cool games. The studio started out as a Canadian game developer and made some awesome things. Baldur’s Gate. Mass Effect. Dragon Age. Eventually they were bought by EA and went downhill. Apparently, the latest Dragon Age, Veilguard, sold 50% below its targets, and EA gutted the studio with massive layoffs.

But I digress. At some point one of the Bioware’s developers, Mike Laidlaw, who was the creative director of the Dragon Age series, left, got together with some ex-Ubisoft developers and founded Yellow Brick Games. Their first title is out now and I bought it.

The Story

There once was a magic city where the weavers, magicians, created wondrous archons. Things went horribly wrong, a bloody war broke out, and the city sealed itself and the lands around it from the rest of the world. Now the few remaining weavers are despised, and they drift from settlement to settlement.

Our heroine is a new addition to a weaver caravan, a band of magic experts that include a smith, an atelier, and an alchemist among others. This particular caravan is heading straight for the city to surveil the barrier.

Things go horribly wrong once again, and the caravan ends up trapped within the barrier. They must now explore this new land.

This game gives you that unforgettable feeling of being dropped into a very good fantasy book. It’s weird. It has a feeling that is entirely its own. It’s the difference between Oblivion, which felt generic, and Skyrim, which had its own strange atmosphere. Eternal Strands has a vibe.

Launch Trailer (linked for the email readers.)

First things first: the game is gorgeous.

My merry band of companions.

Relaxing moment in camp with the caravan’s quartermaster and whatever that owl bear critter is.

Oh noes.

So great story, great graphics, how is the combat?

You know how in some games, you can occasionally get somewhere high and drop a rock on your enemy and you feel super accomplished? Or when you set some flammable barrels that have no business lying around the battlefield on fire? Okay, the whole game is like that. Except there are no random barrels. It’s mostly explosive plants.

Gameplay Trailer (linked for the email readers.)

Everything is climbable.

First, you can climb anything. Everything. Tree? Yes. Weird obelisk sticking out of the ground? Yes. Mountain cliff? Yes.

You have your sword and a bow and all that, but you also start out with two magic powers called strands: ice and telekinesis. You are a weaver, after all. Ice makes ice, self explanatory. It slows down enemies, puts out fires, and it will damage you if you stand on it. Telekinesis lets you pick up things and yeet them. (To yeet (slang) means to throw something with a lot of force disregarding the consequences.)

Everything is yeetable, if it’s not too heavy.

So, if you suck at combat games, like yours truly, this opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

Here is how my gaming session went:

Me, mumbling to myself: Can I yeet this rock? Can I yeet that rock at this monster? Oh I missed, and the rock hit the tree, and now the tree broke? Can I yeet the tree? Ha! Can yeet the monster? Ha! Do I have anything else to yeet…

Gordon: What is your obsession with yeeting things?

Me: You do not understand this game.

You can freeze the enemy, yeet them at a mountain wall, drop a steel-rich rock on them, the rock will break, and then you can collect all the materials from the rock and the fallen enemy. I found a cave with ice, and since I do not have any fire powers and there were no explosive plants around, I bombarded the ice outgrowths within the cave with rocks, until I broke all of them, and then the ice melted, and I went in to get the treasure.

Everything is valuable.

The crafting system is so interesting. It breaks all crafting materials into 4 broad groups: forged, carved, woven, and tanned. So basically ore, stone, fabric, and leather. You can make weapons and armor, and every item requires a set number of resources. So if the armor requires 6 tanned resources, you can either put basic leather in, or dense akala fur, which better, or another resource that is even better, and what you slot in there changes the bonuses and stats.

And it changes the color of the armor.

Dragon Age Inquisition, I see you! You remember when you would add one random piece of weird leather to your Inquisition outfit because you wanted the straps on the armor to be white or something? Hehe.

If you have a surplus of low level resources, you can turn them into camp supplies, which allow you to upgrade the caravan crafting stations. The inventory management is limited to materials. You are not going to be carrying a bunch of armor and weapons in your bag. It’s more mission based, meaning you equip yourself and head out.

I haven’t made it very far, because I have to work, but I did manage to beat the first boss on the first try, despite my gaming shortcomings, and I have made it to the Zone #2. But I’ve only played for four hours. My take on it right now – there is no grind. Like none. You’re not going up the levels, the progression is gear based, and it is all about exploring and finding weird loot stashed somewhere behind a rock, and looking for creative ways to nuke your enemies. There is much more that I could prattle on about – the weather, the day and night cycle, etc, etc.

So what are the negatives?

Well, no character creation, and while there is branching dialogue, I’m not sure the responses affect the story over all, but it does add the RPG flavor.

For some reason this game hasn’t been promoted as much as some others. I know the Avowed is coming, I’ve known about it for months, and this just popped out of nowhere. But now you also know it exists. There is a free demo on Steam that walks you through the prologue. The tutorial is very handholdy, but once you make it through, the game lets go and you are freeeee!

Have fun and let me know if you like it.

The post Eternal Strands first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

I know that the previous post was Chapter 2 Part 1 but it actually should be Chapter 1 part 2.

Chapter 2 Part 1

Druidism was a strange religion, Hugh reflected.

He stood on the edge of the hollow, his arms crossed. Around him the woods were waking up.  Golden sunshine spilled from the early morning sky, setting the fall leaves aglow. Squirrels dashed through the branches, chittering at each other. A small herd of deer peeked through the gaps between the tree trunks.

On the other side of the hollow, Aidan Zhào, Dugas’s chief apprentice, studied the twine wrapped around the oak. He rubbed the twine between his fingers, smelled it, and rubbed it again. In the hollow, Fiona, another of the senior apprentices, lay down flat in her white robe, looking at the bones from the side, her face in the dirt. A third apprentice, whose name he couldn’t remember, crouched by some bushes.

Lamar came striding through the trees, carrying a thermos. The tall, lean centurion took in the scene, shook his head, and passed the thermos to Hugh. Hugh screwed the cap open and took a gulp. Coffee. Good, real coffee. Just what the doctor ordered. He saluted Lamar with the thermos.

Lamar nodded at the druid by the bushes. “What is he doing?”

“A rabbit showed up about ten minutes ago,” Hugh said. “They’ve been staring at each other ever since.”

Lamar blinked and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you think he’s talking to the rabbit? Are they communing?”

Hugh just looked at him.

Aidan pulled the twine back from the tree trunk and released it like a rubber band. The twine sagged. Aidan tilted his head to the left, studying it.

Bale marched up. Five foot nine, with dark red hair and skin that burned from prolonged exposure to table lamps, Bale was built like a tank. Lamar, despite having four or five inches of height on Bale, was at least fifty pounds lighter. Standing side by side, they made an odd pair – one looked like he could scale a mountain without a rope and the other like he would punch his way through it.

The druids turned as one and waved at Bale.

He smiled and waved back. “I told you these guys were good.”

“Define ‘good’,” Lamar said.

Bale pointed to the druids. “Clearly they know their business.”

Aidan hugged the oak, thought for a moment, then turned around and splayed himself against the tree in a kind of backward hug.

“Yes, if that oak had arms, it would be hugging him back,” Lamar observed.

“These are my culture’s sacred traditions,” Bale growled. “Show some respect.”

Hugh raised his hand. The two centurions shut up.

Bale and Lamar never saw eye to eye. Lamar was a strategist who thought a lot and said little, while Bale blurted out whatever came into his head as soon as it occurred to him. Left unchecked, they would bicker, and Hugh didn’t have time for that.

He’d taken Elara and Savannah, their head witch, to the site in the middle of the night. Neither his wife, nor Savannah, had any idea what the bones were. After some discussion, the three of them agreed that at first light, they needed to get the Dugas’ druids on site. He had gotten zero sleep.

The druid by the bushes went down on all fours, lowered his head, and swiveled it side to side. A large rabbit popped out of the bush, rubbed its head on the druid’s head, and scampered off.

“Bale, I swear by all that is holy, if they start singing to the woodlands creatures, I’m out,” Lamar said.

“If you don’t want to be here, just go.” Bale shrugged his massive shoulders. “Otherwise, be quiet. You might learn something.”

The druids came together, spoke in hushed tones, and then approached, Aidan in the lead.

Hugh braced himself. “Yes?”

“It is druidic,” Aidan said. “It wasn’t done by any of us.”

“How do you know this?” Hugh asked.

“It is druidic because druidic implements were used in creating this site,” Aidan said. “It is not any of us, because they used stinging nettle twine. I am allergic to it.”

He held up his hand, showing reddish fingers and welts on his palms.

“We use dogbane twine,” Fiona said. “Stinging nettle is an invader, while dogbane is native to the continent.”

“So does this mean it’s a European druid?” Hugh asked.

“It could be,” Aidan said. “We tend to use what’s natural and familiar to us.”

“However,” Fiona said. “Some people are traditionalists. They import their supplies.”

“If someone bought stinging nettle twine, we would know,” Aidan said. “All of our supplies are locally harvested and communal. Unless someone is hiding covertly purchased twine under their bed, it wasn’t one of us.”

“So the culprit could or could not be a European druid and they are probably but not certainly not one of you?”

“Yes,” Fiona confirmed.

Wonderful.

“It’s bad,” the rabbit druid said.

Hugh looked at him.

“It goes against Dugas’ teachings,” the rabbit druid elaborated. “We’re meant to be one with nature, not to tame or conquer it. This magic is imposing human will onto nature. Changing it, twisting it. The rabbits do not approve.”

Bale nodded sagely.

“Did the rabbit see who might have done it?” Lamar asked.

The rabbit druid looked like him as if Lamar was a toddler asking to drive a car. “We all look the same to them. They are only rabbits, after all.”

Hugh rubbed his face.

“Could you come with me?” Aidan asked.

Hugh followed him to the oak.

Aidan pointed to a shallow scratch on the bark. “We know that the twine was wrapped around the tree right here, about thirty-two inches off the ground.”

The senior apprentice nodded, and the two other druids wrapped the twine around the trunk matching the scratches on the bark and held the edges of the twine together. Aidan hooked the twine with his fingers and pulled it from the tree.

“As you can see, it is wrapped exactly twice around the trunk. But we have all this slack.”

And there it was, the worst-case scenario.

“Is the twine lubed with fat?” Hugh asked.

“It is. I’m so sorry,” Aidan confirmed.

Figured.

“Fuck,” Bale said.

“Exactly,” Aidan said.

“Was something bound to the trunk?” Lamar asked.

“Show him,” Hugh told them.

Fionna sat by the roots of the tree, her back against the trunk. Aidan wrapped the twine around her neck and wound it back around the tree. The cut ends matched perfectly.

“Human sacrifice.” Lamar hissed the words.

“We must confer with our master,” Fionna said. “This is not permitted in our domain.”

Sacrificing a human was done primarily for two reasons: as a tribute or a trade. The first was done as an offering to the gods; the second, to acquire a massive boost in power, usually for a specific purpose. And they had no idea what that purpose was.

An Iron Dog came running through the woods.

“Yes?” Hugh asked.

“A messenger from Aberdine, Preceptor. They are waiting for you.”

When it rained, it poured.

Hugh looked at the druids. “Tag it, bag it, and undo as much of this as you can. Bring it all to Bailey and quarantine it.”

The druids nodded in unison. He turned around and headed back toward the castle to put out whatever new fire was waiting for him there.

It was going to be a long day.

The post Happy Hughday! first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Not long ago, I made this blanket for Kid 2.

It was made with Stylecraft DK yarn. I don’t really care for acrylic normally. If you ever felt a skein of Red Heart, it’s rough and scratchy and it kills my hands. But Stylecraft, although it is acrylic, is buttery soft, cloud-like, and shiny, and it comes in a million of colors, which is why I bought it from UK.

It is now time for Kid 1’s blanket, so I confidently ordered a bunch of yarn for it. Imagine my surprise when it arrived, and I felt it, and it feels like a horrible, scratchy mess. I am squishing this yarn and blergh.

So here I am, staring at the yarn and wondering if I have lost the whole bag of my marbles. Given all the things that are happening right now in my life, that was a distinct possibility.

I ended up googling it and guess what? Stylecraft moved their production from Turkey to West Yorkshire. Yarn produced in Turkey? Super-soft. Yarn produced in West Yorkshire? Scratchy mess.

I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

I’m actively controlling my irritation right now, because this is a tiny drop into a very full cup.

So I need a new yarn.

• Preferably DK weight
• Very soft on hands
• Must have many colors
• Should be durable enough to be washed and dried frequently, because Kid 1 will wash that blanket all the time. That’s the way she rolls.

It can be a blend of cotton and acrylic or acrylic. I don’t mind paying more as long as it’s soft, because if I’m going to invest that much time in it, I want it to be nice from my daughter and I want my hands to survive. Right now crocheting is off the menu for a bit, because the hands hurt, but I would like to buy the yarn and be ready.

The post A Dirty Betrayal first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

I did promise you last week that I would have more surprises from Graphic Audio and I am here to deliver.

Magic Triumphs has an official release date and a preorder link here – the 19th of May! Audible and all other third party retailers will have a live preorder sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Nora and team are working hard to ensure we’ll have the complete main series Kate by the time summer rolls around – we’ve just gotten Magic Shifts and Magic Binds is also on preorder for March here.

The last installment will be a tour de force for all the voices we’ve come to know and love, and the majesty of those final battles will be done full audio cinematic justice.

And that’s not all!

The Hidden Legacy series has started recordings and we have a release day for Burn for Me as well- 25th of April! You can already preorder the book on the Graphic Audio website here. You will be able to order on Audible, Chrip, Hoopla etc in the next couple of weeks.

The director for the Hidden Legacy series is Megan Hastie. Megan has a strong background in sound design, and comes heartily recommended by Nora, with whom she has worked before, including on the Innkeeper Chronicles and Kate adaptations, so she is in no way a stranger to the world of Ilona Andrews.

Megan and the lovely people at Graphic Audio had creative meetings with House Andrews before the holidays, and the authors had input in the casting choices for the main roles. The usual collaboration when it comes to adapted script feedback, pronunciation, fan-favorite scenes, etc will also continue. We are in very safe hands!

And speaking of, because I’ve been listening to Magic Shifts on repeat since it came out on Friday, I wrote to Nora and she generously sent me another snippet to share. Behold, our newest prezzie:

Butt + Bee snippet in Ghastek’s office hehehe.

For those who aren’t yet fans and might have some questions, Graphic Audio produce full-cast dramatic adaptations of the books, with each character being interpreted by a different actor, with immersive sound effects and cinematic music. Their tagline is “A movie in your mind!” and I believe most of us agree they deliver on it.

I have covered in more detail how to buy and the accessibility of the GA app in this post, which you can also supplement with the Graphic Audio Help FAQ on their website.

Also a reminder that adaptation rights for a series/book are sold to Graphic Audio upon them showing interest in it, not upon author commission, and the company make their own business decisions. Whilst there is a lot of collaboration and advice about pronunciations, characters and canon etc, House Andrews don’t control any of the scheduling or creative choices.

It is an entirely separate business venture, and it will not be replacing the traditional one-narrator audiobook format, which is produced directly by either House Andrews or the publishing house on each book release.

The post Hidden Legacy and Kate preorders on Graphic Audio first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Hey guys. Do you remember when I said this in a blog post?

So, for the foreseeable future, we are going to have something fun here on Friday. Something that will give you a break from the constant stress and daily grind. For now, it’s Hughday. Some Fridays, it might be something else.

What this meant: there may or may not be a snippet of Hugh on Friday. There will be something fun on Friday. It might be Hugh. It might be other free fiction. It might be a fun quiz or a merch giveaway.

What some people read: there will absolutely, definitely be Hugh snippet every Friday, and it’s not here. WHERE THE HELL IS IT?

You know I love you, but please chill. We are human beings, with some health problems at the moment, and while we are doing our absolute best to be productive, sometimes life gets in the way.

Especially with this book, the progress is slow, because we are having to backtrack and add/change things. It’s a complicated story, and it is a sequel. So please mentally prepare yourself that there will be Fridays where you get a funny story or a quiz instead.

::hug:: We well get through this week together. Let’s start with cute squirrels.

Chapter 2 Part 1

Thud-thud-thud.

Elara’s eyes snapped open. 

In her dream she was trying to figure out why the lavender was dying, and as she crouched in the herb bed, a squirrel ran up and hit her head with a wooden mallet.

Thud-thud-thud.

Only one person in this castle knocked on her door like that. 

“What do you want, Hugh?”

“Open the door,” he growled.

Her head felt like someone stuffed it with wet cotton. She wanted to go back to sleep.

“It’s the middle of the night and I’m tired.”

“Elara, open the damn door.”

She groaned, kicked the blanket off, pulled a robe on, and marched to the door, flicking the lamp on in passing. When the magic fell, her powers went with it. Sometimes she didn’t mind, but right now every iota of her attention was directed at keeping the plants alive. She needed her magic. Without it, with all of her senses dampened, she felt helpless. It made her listless, tired, and irritable, and Hugh seemed to be on a mission to irritate her further.

Ever since Monday, he kept turning up in unexpected places when she happened to be there. Yesterday he showed up just as she was about to settle down for the night to debate whether or not they should repair the outer pasture wall. When she pointed out that it was outside of his duties, he claimed the broken fence was a security risk. He was incredibly obnoxious about it, too, and she had to resist the urge to brain him with something heavy before finally shutting the door in his face.

What had gotten into him? 

Elara swung the door open. He stomped inside, pushed the door shut, and leaned against the table, looming like some dark wraith. She realized he was completely dressed. Alarm pierced her.

“Mrogs?”

“No.”

She almost sagged in relief, then remembered he was still there.

“What is it?”

He fixed her with his stare. His eyes were blue and dark.

“What kind of a druid is Dugas?’

She blinked. “What?”

“Is Dugas a dusk druid?”

“You came here at-” she glanced at the clock on the wall “-two in the morning to ask me what kind of druid Dugas is? What is wrong with you? Are you bored, Preceptor, or do you enjoy annoying me?”

His face was grim. “Answer the question.”

She dropped into a chair and rubbed her face trying to wipe some of the fatigue off. “He doesn’t like labels.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Dugas will do whatever is needed to keep us safe.”

“Us?”

She waved her hand. “Us, the Departed, the Iron Dogs, everyone here and in the village. Us.”

“Would he ever betray you?”

“Absolutely not. Why are you asking me these things?”

He stared at her for a long moment, pulled a Polaroid from inside his jacket, and handed it to her.

She took the picture. Animal bones arranged in an odd pattern lying in a shallow grave of sorts… She’d never seen anything like it. How strange.

She squinted, trying to make out the minor details. “Are they bound with wire?”

“Twine.”

“What kind?”

“Natural fiber. Bone beads.”

“Where is this?”

“Less than a mile north of here. It’s laid out by a large oak, and whoever made it used wolfsbane to cover the scent. The twine was wrapped around the oak as well.”

The presence of the oak was a tell, so he defaulted to a druid. She would have too. A witch would’ve left an offering and there would be other materials, like herbs and stones. There were other European neo-pagans out there, but most of them associated the oak with the god of thunder: Thor, Perun, Zeus… It was a large tree that was frequently struck by lightning, a symbol of longevity and masculine power and vitality. Neo-pagans would’ve left offerings, gifts, maybe ribbons, but not a shallow pit that looked like a mass animal grave. Bones and lightning just did not go together.

The oak was a crucial part of many Native American spiritual traditions, but they wouldn’t have dug a hollow and filled it with bones either. 

No, this felt like the deeper side of druidism. Unease stirred inside her.

I don’t want this. There is already so much on my plate. It’s full and overflowing.

“Dugas…” Hugh started.

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have used wolfsbane. Baile is his druidic domain. Our druid doesn’t need to hide here.”

She put some emphasis into that our. The sooner he began thinking of her people as his, the better off they all would be.

“In that case, why don’t we ask him what he thinks about it.”

He phrased it like a question, but it didn’t sound like one. A familiar irritation flared inside her. He thought he could give her orders. She needed to cure him of that mistake.

Hugh sacrificed himself for their sake, she reminded herself. He had climbed on his white horse, told her to shut the doors behind him, and rode out of the castle to pretty much certain death, all to keep them safe. She had repaid that debt, but still, it bought him a little more patience.

Elara sighed. “We can’t ask Dugas.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the herbs are dying.” It tore out of her with more force than she intended. “We lost two of the twelve greenhouses. The second crop of borage is gone. Oregano is sickly. It even affected mint and lavender. Mint is damn unkillable. As long as you have water and sun, it spreads like a plague, and yet it’s withering at the root as if something is draining it and we don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry.”

She was ready for questions or demands, but not for that. For a moment, she simply stared at him.

“Thank you.”

“Dugas?” he prompted.

“Took soil samples to Lexington yesterday morning. There is a lab there and he wants to consult the Lexington Grove to see if they can sense something we can’t.”

“So, this could be one of his apprentices.”

And they were back to suspecting her people bit. Our people.  She couldn’t very well demand he stick to it if she wasn’t meeting him halfway.

“It’s difficult for me to imagine that one of our people could be doing this.”

“But it is possible?” That was a question.

“Yes,” she admitted. “It is possible. Our people have free will. One of them could’ve done this.”

He focused on her. “Could one of the Remaining have done this?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because the Remaining are witches, Hugh. When I left, I took all of the druids with me.”

“At some point I’m going to need an explanation,” he said. “About the Remaining and the Departed.  All of it.”

Something inside her kicked like an angry horse. They had kept their secrets for so long. The very idea of talking about it with him made her recoil. She wasn’t ready to cross that line.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

His face was unreadable. “How many druids do we have?”

“Three hundred and forty-eight.”

“So the chances of this being the work of our druids are high.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.”

“When will Dugas be back?”

She shrugged. “A few days. Definitely by Monday.”

“Why Monday?”

“Thanksgiving, Hugh. We celebrate it as a harvest festival on the last day of November. We already missed most of Samhain and Halloween rites because of the mrogs and Landon Nez. We must have Harvest Day. It must be big and bright and full of food and warmth. The winter will be cold, the herbs are dying, and we are still mourning our dead. The people need this in the worst way.”

He nodded. “Would you like to see the bones?”

She would’ve like to crawl back into bed.

“It can wait till daylight,” he said.

That did it. “I’ll get dressed. Let’s get Savannah, too.”

He nodded and stayed where he was.

“Leave, Hugh. I need to get dressed.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, then he went to the door, stepped out, and shut it behind him.

The post It’s Hughday! first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

“I heard Realtors have to disclose if the house is haunted,” Leon said.
I looked at Mom in the driver’s seat. She gave me an amused smile. No help there.
“Apparently only four states require you to disclose paranormal activity,” Arabella reported. “Nine states require you to notify the buyer if a death occurred on the premises. And Texas does neither.”
“There were no deaths on the premises. Nobody died in the house, so it can’t possibly be haunted,” I told them.
“How do you know nobody died?” Leon asked.
“Because I checked the records,” Bern rumbled.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Arabella said.
Clearly, there were two teams in this vehicle: Team Facts and Team Facts Be Damned.”

Andrews, Ilona. Ruby Fever, Hidden Legacy 6. Avon HarperCollins, 2022. Kindle edition, page 3

The Book Devouring Horde, the name for Ilona Andrews fans, stand united as a force to belove. Our fluffiness lies in the way we balance each other’s strengths and weaknesses, quirks and extremes. We remind each other of what is real and what is absolutely, gloriously NOT. And in the end, all that matters is that we all come together in appreciation for the same wonderful books.

But a quick stroll in any BDH comment section will quickly make you understand the reality of the Baylors conversation above. Following several requests and fan group polls, let’s find out which brand of chaos you bring to the Horde table!

Take the quiz below and embrace your destiny.*

*Disclaimer: not your actual destiny. As usual, the results are just for fun because I’m not the real Sorting Hat, I just look like it #wrinklelife. Please don’t take the quiz if this month has taken everything out of you and it could make you real-life upset. Hug(h)s!
Also, the quiz plugin doesn’t play nicely with the newsletter. If you’re getting this in your email, you can click here to come straight to the blog and take it.

885

Which BDH team do you belong in?

Ah, the Book Devouring Horde. Whether you're sprinting off into the wilderness of speculation, hold firmly to the foundations of fact, vibrate with anticipation, or discuss everything into the ground- we are a force of nature. Where do you stand, when you stand with us?

1 / 9

Someone shipped Julie and Saiman. Your first instinct is:

Metal Rose Metal Rose Metal ROOOOOSE! That’s interesting. I want to hear them out. Burn it! With FIRE! Burn it with BEAVERS! Yu Fong? Sure. Ascanio? Maybe. Derek? Most likely, based on all the evidence. Saiman makes no sense. Explain yourself.

2 / 9

A BDH colleague posts a theory you don’t agree with:

That’s interesting, I like the way you think. I would even agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong. Your first mistake is that you haven’t taken this far enough! What you first need to understand is that every.single.shifter is a First... Live and let conspire. I’ll watch how it plays out, and maybe even get a House Andrews answer out of it. Ever considered doing the action known as “putting two and two together”?

3 / 9

How do you react to the three words most dreaded by the Horde: w*it, p*tience, d*lay?

Steady ON. You know there are kids around, right? It’s not the best, but life happens. We are still beloved. House Andrews have quit writing. It’s because of all the graphic novels. They'll never go back to real books. We will murder the words. Patience is futile! Waiting is the mind killer! Delays are the enemy!

4 / 9

A serial or snippet you want to reread has been archived on the blog. How do you react?

We wish to discuss! Vociferously! That’s what the Snippet Dark Web is for. I meet with the underground BDH in absconded corners of the internet, and we make the relevant snippet/spoiler trade off. The Void is darkness, the Void is peace, I am within it, wrapped in its cold embrace... The authors had their reasons. Hopefully we'll see a final edit of it published.

5 / 9

Ilona has posted an April Fools' joke about a new book. What do you do?

I’ve already requested it from my local librarians and added it to Goodreads, where it has over a thousand reviews so…good luck on keeping this a prank lol I immediately checked the date and figured out it’s a prank. But you know, they say in every joke there's a kernel of truth… I go on an emotional rollercoaster before realizing the truth. And another one after realizing the truth. No backsies. You said it, you write it, we read it. It is known.

6 / 9

House Andrews tell us that "The next Innkeeper book will be the end of the missing parents series arc". What does this mean to you?

There will never be any more Innkeeper books. We won't find out about Maud! Orro will never cook again! PAPERCUT TO MY SOUL! I told you they sold the series to the muskrats! End of the series arc doesn't mean the end of the series. They can have several adventures after that, it's a wide Galaxy out there. Proposal: You write several Gertrude Hunt novellas. Then a Klaus novel. Followed by Helen's series. How Dina met Beast. An Arbitrators Saga, the Jack Camarine spin off, heavily featuring Gaston’s Baha-char business ventures. How Caldenia came to the Inn and other Dominion misadventures and then a Drifen trilogy. Do you wish to discuss? I do want to know what happens and all the answers, but I don't want it to end. But I’ll preorder it as soon as it’s available!

7 / 9

There's a new snippet on the blog. How do you react?

I devour it immediately, thank you! I’m keeping it for a rainy day. What about the other series? Does this snippet mean there won't be any more from other series? Have you abandoned them? Nooooo, I forgot it was a snippet! I got so lost in it and then it was over! Please, House Andrews, may we have some more?

8 / 9

It’s release day of a new Ilona Andrews book, what do you comment?

I don't comment, I'm DEVOURING! A long review on the blog. Spoilers might slip. I'm emotionally compromised. Review on book review sites, questions on the blog release thread. When is the next one coming out?

9 / 9

House Andrews mention a new character in passing. What's your first thought?

I update my characters chart but wait for more concrete information before making any assumptions. Never heard the name before, so it's clearly Augustine’s long lost sibling. This means an Arabella trilogy is in the works, with this character as a love interest. And it sounds like an Innkeeper cross-over. I have to tell my friends! Does this mean a new book? Hope the wait won’t be too long! But aren’t you working on Hugh 2? If nothing else is put forth in the next 10 working days, I’ll be sure to drop a reminder on the blog. We must discuss! LinkedIn Facebook Twitter VKontakte

div#ays-quiz-container-8 * { box-sizing: border-box; } /* Styles for Internet Explorer start */ #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 { } /* Styles for Quiz container */ #ays-quiz-container-8{ min-height: 350px; width:400px; background-color:#fff; background-position:center center;border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px 1px rgba(0,0,0,0.4);border: none;} /* Styles for Navigation bar */ #ays-quiz-questions-nav-wrap-8 { width: 100%;border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px 1px rgba(0,0,0,0.4);border: none;} #ays-quiz-questions-nav-wrap-8 .ays-quiz-questions-nav-content .ays-quiz-questions-nav-item a.ays_questions_nav_question { color: #000; border-color: #000; background-color: #fff; } #ays-quiz-questions-nav-wrap-8 .ays-quiz-questions-nav-content .ays-quiz-questions-nav-item.ays-quiz-questions-nav-item-active a.ays_questions_nav_question { box-shadow: inset 0 0 5px #000, 0 0 5px #000; } #ays-quiz-questions-nav-wrap-8 .ays-quiz-questions-nav-content .ays-quiz-questions-nav-item.ays-quiz-questions-nav-item-answered a.ays_questions_nav_question { color: #fff; border-color: #fff; background-color: #000; } #ays-quiz-questions-nav-wrap-8 .ays-quiz-questions-nav-content .ays-quiz-questions-nav-item a.ays_questions_nav_question.ays_quiz_correct_answer { color: rgba(39, 174, 96, 1); border-color: rgba(39, 174, 96, 1); background-color: rgba(39, 174, 96, 0.4); } #ays-quiz-questions-nav-wrap-8 .ays-quiz-questions-nav-content .ays-quiz-questions-nav-item a.ays_questions_nav_question.ays_quiz_wrong_answer { color: rgba(243, 134, 129, 1); border-color: rgba(243, 134, 129, 1); background-color: rgba(243, 134, 129, 0.4); } /* Styles for questions */ #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 div.step { min-height: 350px; } /* Styles for text inside quiz container */ #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays-start-page *:not(input), #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays_question_hint, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container label[for^="ays-answer-"], #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container p, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays-fs-title, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays-fs-subtitle, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .logged_in_message, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays-quiz-limitation-count-of-takers, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays-quiz-limitation-count-of-takers *, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays_score_message, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container .ays-questions-container .ays_message{ color: #000; outline: none; } /* Quiz title / transformation */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-fs-title{ text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 21px; text-align: center; text-shadow: none; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-password-message-box, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-question-note-message-box, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question *:not([class^='enlighter']) { color: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 textarea, #ays-quiz-container-8 input::first-letter, #ays-quiz-container-8 select::first-letter, #ays-quiz-container-8 option::first-letter { color: initial !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 p::first-letter:not(.ays_no_questions_message) { color: #000 !important; background-color: transparent !important; font-size: inherit !important; font-weight: inherit !important; float: none !important; line-height: inherit !important; margin: 0 !important; padding: 0 !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-container, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field * { font-size: 15px !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-fs-subtitle p { text-align: center ; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question p { font-size: 16px; text-align: center; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question { text-align: center ; margin-bottom: 10px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question pre { max-width: 100%; white-space: break-spaces; } div#ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-questions-container .ays-field, div#ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-questions-container .ays-field input~label[for^='ays-answer-'], div#ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-questions-container .ays-modern-dark-question *, div#ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-questions-container .ays_quiz_question, div#ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-questions-container .ays_quiz_question *{ word-break: break-word; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-timer p { font-size: 16px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 section.ays_quiz_redirection_timer_container hr, #ays-quiz-container-8 section.ays_quiz_timer_container hr { margin: 0; } #ays-quiz-container-8 section.ays_quiz_timer_container.ays_quiz_timer_red_warning .ays-quiz-timer { color: red; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_thank_you_fs p { text-align: center; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='text'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='url'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='number'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='email'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='tel'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form textarea, #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form select, #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form option { color: initial !important; outline: none; margin-left: 0; background-image: unset; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='checkbox'] { margin: 0 10px; outline: initial; -webkit-appearance: auto; -moz-appearance: auto; position: initial; width: initial; height: initial; border: initial; background: initial; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .information_form input[type='checkbox']::after { content: none; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .wrong_answer_text{ color:#ff4d4d; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .right_answer_text{ color:#33cc33; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .right_answer_text p { font-size:16px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .wrong_answer_text p { font-size:16px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_questtion_explanation p { font-size:16px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_cb_and_a, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_cb_and_a * { color: rgb(0,0,0); text-align: center; } #ays-quiz-container-8 iframe { /*min-height: 350px;*/ } #ays-quiz-container-8 label.ays_for_checkbox, #ays-quiz-container-8 span.ays_checkbox_for_span { color: initial !important; display: block; } /* Quiz textarea height */ #ays-quiz-container-8 textarea { height: 100px; min-height: 100px; } /* Quiz rate and passed users count */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quizn_ancnoxneri_qanak, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_rete_avg{ color:#fff; background-color:#000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-questions-container > .ays_quizn_ancnoxneri_qanak { padding: 5px 20px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.for_quiz_rate.ui.star.rating .icon { color: rgba(0,0,0,0.35); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_rete_avg div.for_quiz_rate_avg.ui.star.rating .icon { color: rgba(255,255,255,0.5); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_rete .ays-quiz-rate-link-box .ays-quiz-rate-link { color: #000; } /* Loaders */ #ays-quiz-container-8 div.lds-spinner, #ays-quiz-container-8 div.lds-spinner2 { color: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.lds-spinner div:after, #ays-quiz-container-8 div.lds-spinner2 div:after { background-color: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .lds-circle, #ays-quiz-container-8 .lds-facebook div, #ays-quiz-container-8 .lds-ellipsis div{ background: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .lds-ripple div{ border-color: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .lds-dual-ring::after, #ays-quiz-container-8 .lds-hourglass::after{ border-color: #000 transparent #000 transparent; } /* Stars */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ui.rating .icon, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ui.rating .icon:before { font-family: Rating !important; } /* Progress bars */ #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-progress { border-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.8); } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-progress-bg { background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.3); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-progress-value { color: #000; text-align: center; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-progress-bar { background-color: #27AE60; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-question-counter .ays-live-bar-wrap { direction:ltr !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-live-bar-fill{ color: #000; border-bottom: 2px solid rgba(0,0,0,0.8); text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #fff; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-live-bar-fill.ays-live-fourth, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-live-bar-fill.ays-live-third, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-live-bar-fill.ays-live-second { text-shadow: unset; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-live-bar-percent{ display:none; } /* Music, Sound */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_music_sound { color:rgb(0,0,0); } /* Dropdown questions scroll bar */ #ays-quiz-container-8 blockquote { border-left-color: #000 !important; } /* Quiz Password */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-start-page > input[id^='ays_quiz_password_val_'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-password-toggle-visibility-box { width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; } /* Question hint */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_question_hint_container .ays_question_hint_text { background-color:#fff; box-shadow: 0 0 15px 3px rgba(0,0,0,0.6); max-width: 270px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_question_hint_container .ays_question_hint_text p { max-width: unset; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_questions_hint_max_width_class { max-width: 80%; } /* Information form */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-form-title{ color:rgb(0,0,0); } /* Quiz timer */ #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-redirection-timer, #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-timer{ color: #000; text-align: center; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-timer.ays-quiz-message-before-timer:before { font-weight: 500; } /* Quiz buttons */ #ays-quiz-container-8 input#ays-submit, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button, div#ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button.ays_restart_button { background-color: #27AE60; color:#333; font-size: 17px; padding: 10px 20px; border-radius: 3px; white-space: nowrap; letter-spacing: 0; box-shadow: unset; white-space: normal; word-break: break-word; } #ays-quiz-container-8 input#ays-submit, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 input.action-button { } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 a[class~=ajax_add_to_cart]{ background-color: #fff; color:#333; padding: 10px 5px; font-size: 14px; border-radius: 3px; white-space: nowrap; border: 1px solid #333; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button.ays_check_answer { padding: 5px 10px; font-size: 17px !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button.ays_download_certificate { white-space: nowrap; padding: 5px 10px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button.ays_arrow { color:#333!important; white-space: nowrap; padding: 5px 10px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 input#ays-submit:hover, #ays-quiz-container-8 input#ays-submit:focus, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button:hover, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button:focus { box-shadow: 0 0 0 2px #333; background-color: #27AE60; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_restart_button { color: #333; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_restart_button_p { display: flex; justify-content: center; flex-wrap: wrap; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_buttons_div { justify-content: center; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .step:first-of-type .ays_buttons_div { justify-content: center !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 input[type='button'], #ays-quiz-container-8 input[type='submit'] { color: #333 !important; outline: none; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 i.ays_early_finish.action-button[disabled]:hover, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 i.ays_early_finish.action-button[disabled]:focus, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 i.ays_early_finish.action-button[disabled], #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 i.ays_arrow.action-button[disabled]:hover, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 i.ays_arrow.action-button[disabled]:focus, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 i.ays_arrow.action-button[disabled] { color: #aaa !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_finish.action-button{ margin: 10px 5px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-share-btn.ays-share-btn-branded { color: #fff; } /* Question answers */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field { border-color: #444; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; box-shadow: none;flex-direction: row-reverse; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-answers .ays-field:hover{ opacity: 1; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field label.ays_answer_caption[for^='ays-answer-'] { z-index: 1; position:initial;bottom:0;} #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field input~label[for^='ays-answer-'] { padding: 5px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field { margin-bottom: 10px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field.ays_grid_view_item { width: calc(50% - 5px); } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field.ays_grid_view_item:nth-child(odd) { margin-right: 5px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field input:checked+label:before { border-color: #27AE60; background: #27AE60; background-clip: content-box; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-answers div.ays-text-right-answer { color: #000; } /* Answer maximum length of a text field */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question_text_message{ color: #000; text-align: left; font-size: 12px; } div#ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays_quiz_question_text_error_message { color: #ff0000; } /* Questions answer image */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-answer-image { width:15em; height:150px; object-fit: cover; } /* Questions answer right/wrong icons */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field input~label.answered.correct:after{ content: url('http://ilona-andrews.com/wp-content/plugins/quiz-maker/public/images/correct.png'); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field input~label.answered.wrong:after{ content: url('http://ilona-andrews.com/wp-content/plugins/quiz-maker/public/images/wrong.png'); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field label.answered:last-of-type:after{ height: auto; left: 10px;top: 10px;} /* Dropdown questions */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-container--default .select2-search--dropdown .select2-search__field:focus, #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-container--default .select2-search--dropdown .select2-search__field { outline: unset; padding: 0.75rem; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single { border-bottom: 2px solid #27AE60; background-color: #27AE60; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__rendered, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__placeholder, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__arrow { color: #d8519f; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__rendered, #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-container--default .select2-results__option--highlighted[aria-selected] { background-color: #27AE60; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .selection, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .dropdown-wrapper, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__rendered, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__rendered .select2-selection__placeholder, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__arrow, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field .select2-container--default .select2-selection--single .select2-selection__arrow b[role='presentation'] { font-size: 16px !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-container--default .select2-results__option { padding: 6px; } /* Dropdown questions scroll bar */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-results__options::-webkit-scrollbar { width: 7px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-results__options::-webkit-scrollbar-track { background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0.35); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-results__options::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { transition: .3s ease-in-out; background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0.55); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-results__options::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover { transition: .3s ease-in-out; background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0.85); } /* WooCommerce product */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-woo-block { background-color: rgba(39,174,96,0.8); } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-woo-product-block h4.ays-woo-product-title > a { color: #000; } /* Audio / Video */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .mejs-container .mejs-time{ box-sizing: unset; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .mejs-container .mejs-time-rail { padding-top: 15px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .mejs-container .mejs-mediaelement video { margin: 0; } /* Limitation */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-limitation-count-of-takers { padding: 50px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block span.ays-show-res-toggle.ays-res-toggle-show, #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block span.ays-show-res-toggle.ays-res-toggle-hide{ color: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block input:checked + label.ays_switch_toggle { border: 1px solid #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block input:checked + label.ays_switch_toggle { border: 1px solid #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block input:checked + label.ays_switch_toggle:after{ background: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_elegant_dark div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block input:checked + label.ays_switch_toggle:after, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_rect_dark div.ays-quiz-results-toggle-block input:checked + label.ays_switch_toggle:after{ background: #000; } /* Hestia theme (Version: 3.0.16) | Start */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .mejs-container .mejs-inner .mejs-controls .mejs-button > button:hover, #ays-quiz-container-8 .mejs-container .mejs-inner .mejs-controls .mejs-button > button { box-shadow: unset; background-color: transparent; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .mejs-container .mejs-inner .mejs-controls .mejs-button > button { margin: 10px 6px; } /* Hestia theme (Version: 3.0.16) | End */ /* Go theme (Version: 1.4.3) | Start */ #ays-quiz-container-8 label[for^='ays-answer']:before, #ays-quiz-container-8 label[for^='ays-answer']:before { -webkit-mask-image: unset; mask-image: unset; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .ays-field input:checked+label.answered:before, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .ays-field input:checked+label.answered:before { background-color: #27AE60 !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .ays-field input:checked+label.answered.correct:before, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .ays-field input:checked+label.answered.correct:before { background-color: #27ae60 !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .ays-field input:checked+label.answered.wrong:before, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .ays-field input:checked+label.answered.wrong:before { background-color: #cc3700 !important; } /* Go theme (Version: 1.4.3) | End */ #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_results fieldset.ays_fieldset .ays_quiz_question .wp-video { width: 100% !important; max-width: 100%; } /* Classic Dark / Classic Light */ /* Dropdown questions right/wrong styles */ #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .correct_div, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .correct_div{ border-color: green !important; opacity: 1 !important; background-color: rgba(39,174,96,0.4) !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .correct_div .selected-field, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .correct_div .selected-field { padding: 0px 10px 0px 10px; color: green !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .wrong_div, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .wrong_div{ border-color: red !important; opacity: 1 !important; background-color: rgba(243,134,129,0.4) !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .ays-field.checked_answer_div.wrong_div input:checked~label, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .ays-field.checked_answer_div.wrong_div input:checked~label { background-color: rgba(243,134,129,0.4) !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_question_result .ays-field .ays_quiz_hide_correct_answer:after{ content: '' !important; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-close-full-screen { fill: #000; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-quiz-open-full-screen { fill: #000; } @media screen and (max-width: 768px){ #ays-quiz-container-8{ max-width: 100%; } div#ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_modern_light .step, div#ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_modern_dark .step { padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; } div#ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_modern_light div.step[data-question-id], div#ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_modern_dark div.step[data-question-id] { background-size: cover !important; background-position: center center !important; } div#ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_modern_light .ays-abs-fs:not(.ays-start-page):not(.ays-end-page), div#ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_modern_dark .ays-abs-fs:not(.ays-start-page):not(.ays-end-page) { width: 100%; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays_quiz_question p { font-size: 16px; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .select2-container, #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field * { font-size: 15px !important; } div#ays-quiz-container-8 input#ays-submit, div#ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button, div#ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button.ays_restart_button { font-size: 17px; } div#ays-quiz-container-8 div.ays-questions-container div.ays-woo-block { width: 100%; } /* Quiz title / mobile font size */ div#ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-fs-title { font-size: 21px; } } /* Custom css styles */ /* RTL direction styles */ #ays-quiz-container-8 p { margin: 0.625em; } #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field.checked_answer_div input:checked~label { background-color: rgba(39,174,96,0.6); } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_light .enable_correction .ays-field.checked_answer_div input:checked+label, #ays-quiz-container-8.ays_quiz_classic_dark .enable_correction .ays-field.checked_answer_div input:checked+label { background-color: transparent; } #ays-quiz-container-8.ays-quiz-container.ays_quiz_classic_light .ays-questions-container .ays-field:hover label[for^='ays-answer-'], #ays-quiz-container-8 .ays-field:hover{ background: rgba(39,174,96,0.8); color: #fff; transition: all .3s; } #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button:hover, #ays-quiz-container-8 #ays_finish_quiz_8 .action-button:focus { box-shadow: 0 0 0 2px rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.5), 0 0 0 3px #333; background: #27AE60; } if(typeof aysQuizOptions === 'undefined'){ var aysQuizOptions = []; } aysQuizOptions['8'] = '{"quiz_version":"8.7.4","core_version":"6.7.1","php_version":"8.2.27","color":"#27AE60","bg_color":"#fff","text_color":"#000","height":350,"width":400,"enable_logged_users":"off","information_form":"disable","form_name":"off","form_email":"off","form_phone":"off","image_width":"","image_height":"","enable_correction":"off","enable_progress_bar":"off","enable_questions_result":"off","randomize_questions":"on","randomize_answers":"off","enable_questions_counter":"on","enable_restriction_pass":"off","enable_restriction_pass_users":"off","restriction_pass_message":"","restriction_pass_users_message":"","user_role":[],"ays_users_search":[],"custom_css":"","limit_users":"off","limitation_message":"","redirect_url":"","redirection_delay":0,"answers_view":"list","enable_rtl_direction":"off","enable_logged_users_message":"","questions_count":"","enable_question_bank":"off","enable_live_progress_bar":"off","enable_percent_view":"off","enable_average_statistical":"off","enable_next_button":"off","enable_previous_button":"off","enable_arrows":"off","timer_text":"","quiz_theme":"classic_light","enable_social_buttons":"on","final_result_text":"","enable_pass_count":"on","hide_score":"on","rate_form_title":"","box_shadow_color":"#000","quiz_border_radius":"0","quiz_bg_image":"","quiz_border_width":"1","quiz_border_style":"solid","quiz_border_color":"#000","quiz_loader":"default","quest_animation":"shake","enable_bg_music":"off","quiz_bg_music":"","answers_font_size":15,"show_create_date":"off","show_author":"off","enable_early_finish":"off","answers_rw_texts":"disable","disable_store_data":"off","enable_background_gradient":"off","background_gradient_color_1":"#000","background_gradient_color_2":"#fff","quiz_gradient_direction":"vertical","redirect_after_submit":"off","submit_redirect_url":"","submit_redirect_delay":"0","progress_bar_style":"first","enable_exit_button":"off","exit_redirect_url":"","image_sizing":"cover","quiz_bg_image_position":"center center","custom_class":"","enable_social_links":"off","social_links":{"linkedin_link":"","facebook_link":"","twitter_link":"","vkontakte_link":"","instagram_link":"","youtube_link":""},"show_quiz_title":"on","show_quiz_desc":"on","show_login_form":"off","mobile_max_width":"","limit_users_by":"ip","explanation_time":"4","enable_clear_answer":"off","show_category":"off","show_question_category":"off","answers_padding":"5","answers_border":"on","answers_border_width":"1","answers_border_style":"solid","answers_border_color":"#444","ans_img_height":"150","ans_img_caption_style":"outside","ans_img_caption_position":"bottom","answers_box_shadow":"off","answers_box_shadow_color":"#000","show_answers_caption":"on","answers_margin":10,"ans_right_wrong_icon":"default","display_score":"by_points","enable_rw_asnwers_sounds":"off","quiz_bg_img_in_finish_page":"off","finish_after_wrong_answer":"off","after_timer_text":"","enable_enter_key":"on","show_rate_after_rate":"on","buttons_text_color":"#333","buttons_position":"center","buttons_size":"medium","buttons_font_size":"17","buttons_width":"","buttons_left_right_padding":"20","buttons_top_bottom_padding":"10","buttons_border_radius":"3","enable_audio_autoplay":"off","enable_leave_page":"on","show_only_wrong_answer":"off","pass_score":0,"pass_score_message":"<h4 style=\"text-align: center;\">Congratulations!<\/h4>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">You passed the quiz!<\/p>","fail_score_message":"<h4 style=\"text-align: center;\">Oops!<\/h4>\r\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">You have not passed the quiz!\r\nTry again!<\/p>","answers_object_fit":"cover","quiz_max_pass_count":1,"question_font_size":16,"quiz_width_by_percentage_px":"pixels","questions_hint_icon_or_text":"default","questions_hint_value":"","enable_early_finsh_comfirm_box":"on","hide_correct_answers":"off","quiz_loader_text_value":"","show_information_form":"on","show_questions_explanation":"disable","enable_questions_ordering_by_cat":"off","enable_send_mail_to_user_by_pass_score":"off","enable_send_mail_to_admin_by_pass_score":"off","show_questions_numbering":"none","show_answers_numbering":"none","quiz_loader_custom_gif":"","disable_hover_effect":"off","quiz_loader_custom_gif_width":100,"quiz_title_transformation":"uppercase","quiz_image_width_by_percentage_px":"pixels","quiz_image_height":"","quiz_bg_img_on_start_page":"off","quiz_box_shadow_x_offset":0,"quiz_box_shadow_y_offset":0,"quiz_box_shadow_z_offset":15,"quiz_question_text_alignment":"center","quiz_arrow_type":"default","quiz_show_wrong_answers_first":"off","quiz_display_all_questions":"off","quiz_timer_red_warning":"off","quiz_schedule_timezone":"UTC-6","questions_hint_button_value":"","quiz_tackers_message":"This quiz is expired!","quiz_enable_linkedin_share_button":"on","quiz_enable_facebook_share_button":"on","quiz_enable_twitter_share_button":"on","quiz_enable_vkontakte_share_button":"on","quiz_make_responses_anonymous":"off","quiz_make_all_review_link":"off","quiz_message_before_timer":"","quiz_password_message":"","enable_see_result_confirm_box":"off","display_fields_labels":"off","quiz_enable_password_visibility":"off","question_mobile_font_size":16,"answers_mobile_font_size":15,"social_buttons_heading":"","social_links_heading":"","quiz_enable_question_category_description":"off","quiz_message_before_redirect_timer":"","buttons_mobile_font_size":17,"quiz_answer_box_shadow_x_offset":0,"quiz_answer_box_shadow_y_offset":0,"quiz_answer_box_shadow_z_offset":10,"quiz_enable_title_text_shadow":"off","quiz_title_text_shadow_color":"#333","right_answers_font_size":16,"wrong_answers_font_size":16,"quest_explanation_font_size":16,"quiz_waiting_time":"off","quiz_title_text_shadow_x_offset":2,"quiz_title_text_shadow_y_offset":2,"quiz_title_text_shadow_z_offset":2,"quiz_show_only_wrong_answers":"off","quiz_title_font_size":21,"quiz_title_mobile_font_size":21,"quiz_password_width":"","quiz_review_placeholder_text":"","quiz_make_review_required":"off","quiz_enable_results_toggle":"off","question_count_per_page":null,"question_count_per_page_number":"","mail_message":"","enable_certificate":"off","enable_certificate_without_send":"off","certificate_pass":"0","form_title":"","certificate_title":"<span style=\"font-size: 50px; font-weight: bold;\">Certificate of Completion<\/span>","certificate_body":"<span style=\"font-size: 25px;\"><i>This is to certify that<\/i><\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-size: 30px;\"><b>%%user_name%%<\/b><\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-size: 25px;\"><i>has completed the quiz<\/i><\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-size: 30px;\">\"%%quiz_name%%\"<\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-size: 20px;\">with a score of <b>%%score%%<\/b><\/span>\r\n\r\n<span style=\"font-size: 25px;\"><i>dated<\/i><\/span>\r\n<span style=\"font-size: 30px;\">%%current_date%%<\/span>","mailchimp_list":"","enable_mailchimp":"off","enable_double_opt_in":"off","active_date_check":"off","activeInterval":"2025-01-31 11:08:07","deactiveInterval":"2025-01-31 11:08:07","active_date_message":"The quiz has expired!","active_date_pre_start_message":"The quiz will be available soon!","checkbox_score_by":"on","calculate_score":"by_points","send_results_user":"off","send_interval_msg":"off","question_bank_type":"general","questions_bank_cat_count":{"1":""},"enable_tackers_count":"off","tackers_count":"","send_results_admin":"on","send_interval_msg_to_admin":"off","show_interval_message":"on","allow_collecting_logged_in_users_data":"off","quiz_pass_score":"0","send_certificate_to_admin":"off","certificate_image":"","certificate_frame":"default","certificate_orientation":"l","make_questions_required":"off","enable_password":"off","password_quiz":"","mail_message_admin":"","send_mail_to_site_admin":"on","generate_password":"general","generated_passwords":{"created_passwords":[],"active_passwords":[],"used_passwords":[]},"display_score_by":"by_keywords","show_schedule_timer":"off","show_timer_type":"countdown","progress_live_bar_style":"default","enable_full_screen_mode":"off","enable_navigation_bar":"off","hide_limit_attempts_notice":"off","turn_on_extra_security_check":"on","enable_top_keywords":"off","assign_keywords":[{"assign_top_keyword":"A","assign_top_keyword_text":""},{"assign_top_keyword":"B","assign_top_keyword_text":""},{"assign_top_keyword":"C","assign_top_keyword_text":""},{"assign_top_keyword":"D","assign_top_keyword_text":""}],"quiz_enable_coupon":"off","quiz_coupons_array":{"quiz_active_coupons":[],"quiz_inactive_coupons":[]},"apply_points_to_keywords":"off","limit_attempts_count_by_user_role":"","enable_autostart":"off","paypal_amount":null,"paypal_currency":null,"paypal_message":"","enable_stripe":"off","stripe_amount":"","stripe_currency":"","stripe_message":"You need to pay to pass this quiz.","payment_type":"prepay","enable_monitor":"off","monitor_list":"","active_camp_list":"","enable_slack":"off","slack_conversation":"","active_camp_automation":"","enable_active_camp":"off","enable_zapier":"off","enable_google_sheets":"off","spreadsheet_id":"","google_sheet_custom_fields":[],"quiz_attributes":null,"quiz_attributes_active_order":null,"quiz_attributes_passive_order":["ays_form_name","ays_form_email","ays_form_phone"],"required_fields":null,"enable_timer":"off","timer":100,"enable_quiz_rate":"off","enable_rate_avg":"off","enable_box_shadow":"on","enable_border":"off","quiz_timer_in_title":"off","enable_rate_comments":"off","enable_restart_button":"off","autofill_user_data":"off","enable_copy_protection":"off","enable_paypal":"off","ays_enable_restriction_pass":"off","ays_enable_restriction_pass_users":"off","result_text":null,"enable_result":"off","enable_mad_mimi":"off","mad_mimi_list":"","enable_convertKit":"off","convertKit_form_id":"","enable_getResponse":"off","getResponse_list":"","submit_redirect_after":"","rw_answers_sounds":false,"id":"8","title":"Which BDH team do you belong in?","description":"Ah, the Book Devouring Horde. Whether you're sprinting off into the wilderness of speculation, hold firmly to the foundations of fact, vibrate with anticipation, or discuss everything into the ground- we are a force of nature. Where do you stand, when you stand with us?","quiz_image":"https:\/\/ilona-andrews.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/03\/Knights-in-armor-e1600449341400.jpg","quiz_category_id":"1","question_ids":"66,65,64,63,62,61,60,59,58","ordering":"8","published":"1","intervals":"[{\"interval_min\":\"0\",\"interval_max\":\"25\",\"interval_text\":\"Team Facts be Damned calls you home!\\r\\nYou are a rumor-wrangling pioneer, living by the flickering glow of the blog fire pits, swapping wild theories like old legends, surviving on the sparse rations of snippets and off-hand author comments. You leap across canyons of logic, hunt for cryptic clues in the ashes of deleted posts, and wrap yourself in the tattered cloak of hope as you stare into the flames, waiting for a sign. \\r\\nYour natural habitat: Fandom spaces, frantically interpreting vague emojis from the authors.\\r\\nWithout the proud pioneers of Team Facts Be Damned, we\\u2019d have far less fun, and no comment section would ever reach its true, unhinged potential.\",\"interval_image\":\"https:\\\/\\\/ilona-andrews.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2021\\\/05\\\/Moonlight-path-werewolf.jpg\",\"interval_redirect_url\":\"\",\"interval_redirect_delay\":\"\",\"interval_wproduct\":\"\",\"interval_keyword\":\"B\"},{\"interval_min\":\"26\",\"interval_max\":\"50\",\"interval_text\":\"You are a member of Team Facts are King.\\r\\nAn anchor in the hurricane of fandom chaos, the watchtower of rational thought, you were basically Catalina Baylor in another life. You do not theorize wildly\\u2014you cross-reference. You do not blindly speculate\\u2014you fact-check, and you stand as the stalwart reminder that \\\"No release date yet\\\" means exactly that\\u2014not an apocalyptic prophecy. \\r\\nYour natural habitat: Making cautiously optimistic blog comments, while keeping a firm eye on those timelines!\\r\\nWithout the cool heads of Team Facts, we\\u2019d be running in circles, tripping over wild theories, and probably believe Klaus was actually a dragon.\",\"interval_image\":\"https:\\\/\\\/ilona-andrews.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2019\\\/12\\\/Frist-Scholar-Thek.jpg\",\"interval_redirect_url\":\"\",\"interval_redirect_delay\":\"\",\"interval_wproduct\":\"\",\"interval_keyword\":\"A\"},{\"interval_min\":\"51\",\"interval_max\":\"75\",\"interval_text\":\"You stand with Team Chalant.\\r\\nYou pride yourself on your p*tience\\u2014and yet, here you are, vibrating with barely contained anticipation. You are happy to go with the flow, but you would like to know what time the flow starts and how many pairs of socks you need to pack for it. \\r\\nYou refresh the blog just once (or 15 times) a day, just in case, and you want to be fluffy. You try to be fluffy. But\\u2026 have the authors considered maybe just one tiny little update? A morsel? A crumb?\\r\\nYour natural habitat: the featured release page, counting down the days on the tracker.\\r\\nWithout the emotional depth of Team Chalant, we\\u2019d lose the sheer passion, the longing, the desperate joy of waiting for the next book (while pretending we\\u2019re fine through dramatic sighs). They are our beating heart.\",\"interval_image\":\"https:\\\/\\\/ilona-andrews.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2024\\\/12\\\/Emotionla-support.jpg\",\"interval_redirect_url\":\"\",\"interval_redirect_delay\":\"\",\"interval_wproduct\":\"\",\"interval_keyword\":\"C\"},{\"interval_min\":\"76\",\"interval_max\":\"100\",\"interval_text\":\"You belong to Team Dushegub.\\r\\nThe Dushegub Division DEVOURS the books, tearing through stories like hungry, page-shredding beasts. You guys do not fear spoilers\\u2014they only make you stronger! Your natural habitat: The comments section, vibrating with energy, armed with Proposal #37: New Spin-offs and Why They Are Necessary.\\r\\nWithout the insatiable hunger of Team Dushegub\\u2014creeeek, hisssss, hissssss, knock\\u2014we\\u2019d probably accept things far too easily and discuss a lot less. Which would be tragic.\",\"interval_image\":\"https:\\\/\\\/ilona-andrews.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2024\\\/09\\\/Dushegub-featured.jpg\",\"interval_redirect_url\":\"\",\"interval_redirect_delay\":\"\",\"interval_wproduct\":\"\",\"interval_keyword\":\"D\"}]","author_id":"4477","post_id":null,"create_date":"2025-01-31 09:03:06","quiz_url":"","is_user_logged_in":false,"quiz_animation_top":100,"quiz_enable_animation_top":"on","store_all_not_finished_results":false}';

The post The Book Devouring Horde Quiz first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

We’ve been getting a lot of questions in the comments and emails of Hughday snippets, and since not everyone reads the replies, here they are in one convenient place.

Hugh 2– when does it happen?

The action picks up right after Iron and Magic (three weeks later according to chapter 1).

As the notice in front of Iron and Magic says, the entire Hugh series happens before Magic Triumphs. That has not changed.

The chronological order is: Hugh series (all installments) – Magic Triumphs- Sanctuary- Wilmington Years (all installments)- Blood Heir series.

How long will Hugh’s series be?

Currently, House Andrews are thinking of it as a duology, but since the manuscript of volume 2 is being written as we speak, things may change.

Does Hugh 2 have a title?

Not yet. We’ve been calling it Hugh 2, Iron Covenant 2, Iron & Magic 2, Elara’s book, the d’Ambray Bake Off – at the moment, whatever you recognize works.

Will Steve West narrate the audiobook?

The manuscript for Hugh 2 has not yet been finished. That means there is no known exact date when it will be ready for publication, how many pages it will have etc. Which in turn means we cannot yet go to the very busy Steve West and ask whether he is free to take on the project, this is how long it would take, this is when it’s needed by, and all the other necessary details.

What I can guarantee is that House Andrews, the agency and everyone involved believe as much as we do that Steve West is perfect for the role of Hugh and no effort will be spared to book him if that is at all possible.

Will it be a blog serial?

I think House Andrews will be generous with snippets up to a point, but not a traditional serial that shares most of the book in regular installments, as updated this past Friday.

Yes, admin, very interesting, very interesting, I’m not snoring at all. What about spoiler spoiler spoiler spoiler?

No one knows about spoiler spoiler spoiler spoiler yet in Hugh 2.

Stop mentioning spoiler spoiler spoiler spoiler in the comments and spoiling spoiling spoiling spoiling fellow Horde colleagues who want to follow the natural course of the story.

Your comment will be hidden asap, but it might be too late. W*it for questions to be answered by the book and PUT DOWN THAT SPOILER, you Dushegubs!

That’s a good point, what about Blood Heir and put down that cow?

Blood Heir is currently the furthest in time KD World has ever gotten, and it’s roughly a decade after Hugh 2. Whatever bovine developments took place will require our p*tience.

The story was published somewhat out of schedule, because of the pandemic, and the similarities between what we were going through and what Julie was called to do. Like us, she couldn’t go home and see loved ones, or risk losing them. House Andrews wrote it and shared it with us in weekly chapters, as another loving hug in hard times, and I am very grateful it came when it did, even if it jumped the publication queue.

It will be followed by Blood Heir 2, which will be a sequel.

Let me clarify that: Blood Heir 2 will not be the story of Derek’s missing years and Julie’s time with Erra. That rumor started around the fire pits of my people, the proud pioneers of Team Facts be Damned. Love you guys, but no.

What House Andrews said was that it will explain what happened to Derek, but it will take place after Blood Heir 1. That’s why we need Wilmington 3 to come first, so we can fully understand some of the developments in Atlanta. ::cough Pack cough cough:: Oh dear, I really must have that seen to.

Yes, what about Wilmington Years?

The Wilmington Years series, in its entirety, happens between Magic Triumphs and the Blood Heir series.

There is a Wilmington 3 in plan, but not in progress. We have been given a tiny snippet from it here.

Currently, though, IA are working on Hugh 2. As much as we want all these books at once, and that once better be right now, and actually with Maud’s Innkeeper wedding on top, and you know Puffles … – we must attain fluffy awareness that they each take time and effort to be written.

What about Sanctuary 2?

Not on the schedule right now.

Where can I find any extras to tide me over?

All of them can be found on the Free Fiction page, organized by series.

For Kate’s World, they are :
A Questionable Client – prequel to the main Kate series
A bit more Roman – prequel scene to Sanctuary
Purpose, No Heroes – Wilmington Years extras
King of Fire– prequel to Blood Heir
Sandra – Kate’s POV during Blood Heir
Damian Angevin– the Order’s report of the events from the main series

And the fun fan service fiction of Kate and Curran texts, Luther and Roman’s Frinnterviews, Don’t Mess with Fate (Hugh and Roman).

I have a very important final Hugh question. Very very adminy, you have to answer. Don’t think too hard though, first thing that comes into your head, just tell us. Does Puffles fly home?

Nice try.

The post Hugh’s Question Corner first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

It is Monday the 89th of January (or certainly feels like it) and if, like me, you need reasons to push through to the end of the month, I have them right here.

The dramatized adaptation of Magic Shifts will be released by Graphic Audio this Friday, on their website as well as on other third party retailers platforms (Audible, Chirp, Audiobooks.com etc).

Because the Horde is what? Beloved! I have 2 generous exclusive samples director Nora sent over just for us:

Why *does* Kate always hang out with weirdos? aka Luther in the hooooouse!

And car chases are a girl’s best friend. (Only if that girl is Dali)

For more, including the classic Apple + Bee moment and the heart-wrenching earring carrying scene, we’ll have to make it until Friday. Courage!

Nora and team are hard at work already on Magic Binds, unapologetically my favourite, so I preordered and can’t w*it for March. That means the main Kate series will be entirely adapted this year and we will potentially hear more about the dramatized fate of other books in Kate world.

I will also have more exciting announcements from Graphic Audio for you next week, if all goes well, but until then, the fun isn’t over!

Giveaway

The second volume of the Clean Sweep graphic novel is being released tomorrow by Andrews McMeel – this is the Tapas run comic book, turned into paperback and Kindle formats.

To celebrate, the publisher is running another Innkeeper sticker sheet giveaway for US-based readers, from now until February 2nd which can be accessed here – also includes an extensive list of retailers. Good luck all!

Disclaimers: This is not Sweep in Peace, a sequel to the Tapas episodes. It’s the second volume of Clean Sweep. The comic book has expanded the story and added new characters. Tomorrow’s date is the US release, please check your retailer of choice for international dates (Amazon, Bookshop.org, World of Books etc) – in the UK for example, we have to w*it until March.  

We have a lot of surprises coming, and we heard you about more quizzes, games and snippets each Friday. In the meantime, happy listening, reading and sticking!

The post Kate Exclusive Samples and Innkeeper Giveaways first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Is it a serial? No. It’s going slow, and we are having to backtrack, so it is probably not suitable for serialization. However, people are really stressed. We are seeing an uptick in “My emotions are frayed right now, and the snippets are helping” messages.

The political ban is still in effect, so Mod R will be removing comments that mention politics. We are committed to keeping this blog a place where everyone can come to decompress, especially because spaces like these are in short supply right now. However, I wanted to address some of these emails. We see you, we understand that life is hard and you are struggling and stressed, and we are so sorry.

When the pandemic started, the economists warned that recovery would take 15 years. You can’t just hit pause on the world for months and not pay the price later. We did it to survive, but now we have to collectively try to claw our way back out of the pit it created. This is a very difficult process. It’s slow and painful, it affects every aspect of our life, and it makes everything so much harder.

I’m with you. I’m creatively discouraged and stressed. We’re going to take a financial hit later in the year due to unforeseen circumstances, and I’m not wild about that. One of my children is choosing to return to college to get her degree, because the opportunities she had previously evaporated. Gordon will likely need surgery. It’s easier to say what isn’t wrong with his shoulder – it’s not broken. I was on the phone for 2 hours trying to get a referral put through and I know my nerves are frayed, because I had to take a few minutes after that.

However, we are all going to keep going, because rolling over and giving up is not an option. So, for the foreseeable future, we are going to have something fun here on Friday. Something that will give you a break from the constant stress and daily grind. For now, it’s Hughday. Some Fridays, it might be something else.

If you have any fun ideas for quizzes, giveaways, or articles, please leave us a comment.

Chapter 1 Part 2

The depression gouged the forest floor, about forty feet long, twenty-five feet wide, and two feet deep. It was less of a pit and more of a hollow, vaguely rectangular, but without the defined corners or sheer walls that would point at a human with a shovel being involved. The edges of the hollow sloped slightly, as if some giant pressed their palm into the forest floor, and the ground at its bottom was bare and soft like a plowed field.

Hugh crouched on the edge and frowned. Around the shallow pit, a dozen Iron Dogs waited, holding their torches over it. The flickering lights played on bare bones arranged in the dirt. A lot of bones. He recognized femurs from at least two horses, wings from what might have been a griffon, and paws from a bear. A freakishly large bear, too.

The bones had been carefully arranged into a pattern. Here and there, the different femurs, radiuses, ribs, and vertebrae were bound together by copper wire and twine with little bone beads. This wasn’t a mass grave. This was something else. Something malignant, with a specific purpose.

He passed his hand over it, just in case. Nothing. With tech up, the bones were inert.

Hugh looked up, past the hollow, at the massive tree rising behind it, soaked in night shadows. An Iron Dog had thrust a torch into the ground by its roots and the glow of the fire illuminated a fragment of twine hanging from the bark, its end frayed. Someone had wrapped the same twine that secured the bones around the giant trunk and then sliced through it and ripped it off.

Must’ve been in a hurry.

He rose and glanced at Sharif, waiting on his left. The dark-haired scout master met his gaze. Yellow fire rolled over his irises.

“How old is the site?”

“Three days.”

The end of the most recent magic wave.

“Any scents?”

Sharif grimaced. “Wolfsbane.”

Damn. The sense of smell was the most acute and accurate of a werewolf’s senses.  They memorized thousands of human scents. Normally Sharif would’ve identified the gender, possibly the age, sometimes even a chronic illness, and if he’d met them before, a name. Wolfsbane nullified all of that. It rendered shapeshifters nose-blind, and it stuck around for days after the other scent trails faded.

“Nothing useful at all?” Hugh asked.

“Their wolfsbane is very potent, so there is that.”

And the best producer of potent wolfsbane was a mile to the south, watching baking shows in her turret.

“Could it be someone from Baile?”

Sharif shrugged. “It could be. We followed the wolfsbane to a clearing a hundred yards to the north. It ended there.”

“What do you mean, it ended?”

“The trail stopped.”

“So the magic user disappeared in the middle of our woods?”

“I cannot say. The trail ended.”

Teleportation was possible, but it was inherently rare and extremely risky, and the magic was down. Yet another thing that didn’t make sense.

“So we have a magic user,” Hugh said. “The wave caught them mid-whatever this is.  Something alarmed them, and they took off, leaving all their toys behind, and then disappeared a hundred yards north.”

“It was Tatter,” Sharif said. “That’s how Karen found this in the first place. She was following the pack, trying to map their hunting patterns.”

Tatter and Gold were the dominant breeding pair of a local dire wolf pack, and they were a massive pain in the ass. Tatter, a huge male with a torn right ear, clocked in at two hundred pounds. His mate was only slightly smaller, and she made up for it with viciousness and cunning. They led about sixteen wolves, making circles around the castle and the adjacent village by the lake. They were smart and patient, sending out strike teams to bring prey back, while the aging generation watched the pups. The livestock herders were having the devil of a time keeping them away. If it hadn’t been for the guard dogs, Baile’s herd would be half of what it was in early fall. He had had to heal two of the hounds just last week.

With magic down, whoever put this bone mandala together would have no chance against Tatter and his hunting pack. That explained why the magic user split. It didn’t explain what they were doing here or why.

“Tatter left a mark on a tree about ten yards out,” Sharif reported.

Didn’t touch the bones though.

“Is this some kind of witch ritual?” Stoyan murmured.

Baile was home to seven different covens. It was a good guess, but this bone arrangement gave off a different vibe.

Hugh nodded to the huge tree. “That’s an oak.”

Stoyan squinted at it. “Druids?”

“Probably.”

Pre-Shift Druidism was a folkloric speculation. A prevalent religion among ancient Celts and Gauls, Druidism relied on oral tradition, lost to time. What little was known about it came mostly from Roman records, written by biased invaders determined to conquer new territory. Historic druids revered trees, especially the oak, treated and induced diseases, composed poetry, and foretold the future by means of augury and sacrifice. That sacrifice wasn’t always chickens and rabbits. Sometimes they needed a little more juice.

Post-Shift, when magic became real, druidism, like other neo-pagan religions, returned with a vengeance. The modern practitioners patchworked it together from Julius Caesar’s journals, Taliesin’s poems, new age mysticism, and wishful thinking. Over the decades, the neo-druids codified their rites and holidays and set forth some fundamental philosophical tenets, but beyond that, the consensus on how to be a druid was rather shaky. Some of them waded neck-deep into the kind of evil shit that would get them exterminated if the public at large knew about it. He’d come across that kind of druidism before, and the experience was never pleasant. The dusk druids packed a lot of power. 

There were druids in Baile Castle, and their leader, Dugas, was one of Elara’s closest allies. She treated him like a surrogate father. On a scale from 1 to 10, when it came to dangerous opponents, Dugas was around 12. During the battle of Aberdine, the druid had stuck to support spells and then used his staff as a club–except for one time, when he was cornered by three armored soldiers and didn’t think anyone was looking. Hugh saw him tap his staff on the ground and then the three men in front of him vomited tree roots and died.

Dugas took care to appear less dangerous than he was. Hugh had no idea whether the man was a dusk druid, but if that was true, he wouldn’t be surprised. He had never seen him sacrifice anything; however, Stoyan and Lamar, his other centurion, had. Or almost had. Elara chased them off before the actual act, but the night she came to get him, they saw a line of cows painted in glyphs and Dugas with a knife.

He glanced at Stoyan. The centurion leaned closer.

“When you saw Dugas with the cows, what was he wearing?”

“A white robe.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Druids wore special robes for sacrificial rites. They were blood red. It could’ve meant something or nothing.

He didn’t know how territorial Dugas was, either. The overwhelming majority of druids felt that the way other druids used their magic was none of their business. If they knew that one of them was doing terrible shit, they wouldn’t prevent it, as long as it didn’t directly affect them.

This ritual site was about a mile from the castle. Too close for any kind of comfort. Either this was done by an outsider, who didn’t fear Dugas or was confident he wouldn’t care; or it was done by Dugas himself or with his blessing. Either way, whoever had done it didn’t want to be identified, otherwise there was no point in using wolfsbane.

If this was Dugas’s handiwork, he was trying to hide it.

It could be part of the darker side of Elara’s magic. Dugas could be doing something with her blessing and instruction to keep it from them.

Hugh still had no idea what she was. Her people called themselves the Departed – again, he didn’t know why – and most of the time they were friendly and straight-forward, going about their lives. But then he had seen a time when they acted together as one, their magic united into a frightening whole, and that power had an ancient bite.  The older the magic, the more power.

Hugh studied the bones again. If there was a choice between him and Dugas, he had no doubt Elara would choose the druid.

He could investigate it quietly, using just his Iron Dogs, or he could take it to Elara. If he took it to Elara, and this was something of hers that she wanted to protect, he would be putting his people at risk. But if it wasn’t and later she asked him why he found weird shit in the woods and didn’t tell her, he would have to admit it was because he didn’t trust her.

That would be the end, he realized. They would not come back from that.

She came to get him. She faced Roland for him.

Fuck it.

“Take the Polaroids,” Hugh ordered. “Sketch it, photograph it, and guard it. Nobody touches it while I’m gone.”

The Iron Dogs snapped to attention. “Yes, Preceptor.”

The post Wait, Is It Hughday Again? first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

We have snow! Only an inch or so, but still snow. The animals are horrified and excited. We got the semi-feral cat inside, and she is being very persistent about getting pets. If only she didn’t go to war any time she sees the other cats, we would be in business.

So far the grid is holding.

We also have a fire. If you are getting this through email, there is a video of the fireplace here.

Kid 1 asked why it was this funky yellow color. It’s that color because iPhone attempts to enhance colors. Look at this yarn I bought.

Pretty, right? I bought it because it looked like that in the picture.

This is what it actually looks like in person.

This shot was taken far away. I stood on a chair so I would get a wider angle and the iPhone color correction wouldn’t kick in on the yarn specifically. It was like magic: you hold the iPhone over it and look at all the colors. You can even see that the color of the island is different, more yellow, and there was no filter involved. I tried turning off HDR and all that, but the color correction is still happening.

I’m not a fan of that brown. Just no. I’m not going to return it. It’s a small business dyer. Their overhead is already low and shipping yarn back and forth is silly. When you buy small batch dyed yarn, there is a chance for stuff like this happening, so I decided to dye over it. I wanted to experiment anyway so we will see what happens.

On that note, Expression Fiber Arts has yarn kits at 17% off today, according to their newsletter. Not today, Satan. Not today. I do not need pretty yarn kits. I need to finish my happy cardigan. I need to find some white worsted weight yarn for the trim somewhere. For some reason I only have off-white. Also I need to work! Yeah.

Yesterday we plotted the next scene and I ended up measuring the living room with measuring tape to figure out how big of a hollow we need.

The depression gouged the forest floor, about forty feet long, twenty-five feet wide, and two feet deep. It was less of a pit and more of a hollow, vaguely rectangular, but without defined corners or sheer walls that pointed at a human with a shovel being involved. The edges of the hollow sloped slightly, as if some giant pressed their palm into soft sand, and the ground at its bottom was bare and soft, like it had been plowed.

I’m going to make a big old pot of stew for today. I have mushrooms and parsnips I need to use up. Get stew cooking and then work. Maybe I will bake it. That way I won’t have to keep checking it on the stove.

Hold, grid, hold. Must make words happen.

The post Snow on Tuesday first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

We are freezing here in Texas. I’ve thrown caution to the wind and made myself a second cup of tea. We started with Hot Apple Spice from Harney’s and now I have Christmas tea from Fortnum brewing.

Questions from readers have been piling up, so here is an interesting one.

What is a workshop burn?

A workshop burn occurs when writers overedit. One time I watched a documentary on beauty pageants and a hair stylist shared that hair looks best when it’s a little dirty, which is why we put product in it. Good writing is like that, a little dirty in a sense that it’s slightly rough and imperfect. There is texture to it.

In a workshop environment, you have a single manuscript being edited by a lot of people, and everyone is actively looking for imperfections. Even worse, everyone is also simultaneously attempting to perfect their own writing, and most writers concentrate on a single issue at a time. Meaning that if Bob became convinced that he is using the word “said” too much, he is going to scrutinize every occurrence of said in your manuscript.

The apartment below mine had the only balcony of the house. I saw a girl standing on it, completely submerged in the pool of autumn twilight. She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together. The way the profile of her face and body refracted in the soupy twilight made me feel a little drunk.

~ J.D. Salinger, A Girl I Knew

A gorgeous paragraph.

The writer sees the girl and forgets to breathe. It is a moment of profound loneliness and longing. You know that even if they never meet again, the writer will remember the girl for the rest of his life.

In a workshop environment, inevitably someone would want to fix “She wasn’t doing a thing” to “she wasn’t doing anything.” Then someone else will point out that it is too passive and it needs to be rewritten in an active voice, so it will become “doing nothing”: or “She did nothing,” and then someone else will point out that the girl has no description. Pretty soon you have “The girl leaned on the balcony rail, doing nothing, the curtain of her dark hair spilling over her shoulders” and the magic is gone.

Here is what Chat GPT did with it:

The apartment below mine was the only one with a balcony. I watched a girl standing on it, enveloped by the rich haze of autumn twilight. She wasn’t doing anything that I could discern, just leaning against the railing, as if she were holding the universe in place. The way the soft contours of her face and body merged with the hazy light left me feeling a bit unsteady, as though the world itself had shifted.

Ehhhh, no.

Does this mean you should ignore the workshop feedback?

It’s a complicated question. The stock answer is to use the suggestions that you feel make your writing better, but when you are starting out, it’s often hard to figure out what is “better.”

If you are in doubt, it helps to ask when the edits were made. Did the reader read the whole piece of writing first and then offered corrections because they are supposed to or was the need to correct strong enough to stop the reader? Only the second type of correction really matters. Did they stumble over something? Was the issue severe enough to interrupt the act of reading? If it was, it might be something to consider. But then again, we have Bob, who will highlight every “said” in the manuscript as he is going through it out of principle.

::raises her cup of tea:: Here is to Bob! Good luck with your writing this week.

The post Workshop Burn first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

The Dushegub Faction of the BDH informed us that today is a Hughday. Contrary to their initial statement, they were not willing to discuss.

First half here.

Three months ago, he had come to Baile with 332 soldiers, all that remained of the Iron Dogs, the elite army he once built and led for Roland, the sun around which his universe had revolved.

He’d thought of Roland as his god and father, the man who rescued him when he was a child, taught him the magic and secrets of a forgotten age, and granted him the gift of the bloodline bond, mingling their blood and sharing his power.  

For his part, Roland had thought of him as a convenient tool. When tools stopped working, they were discarded.

One failure. Just one. That’s all it took.

A gust of wind fanned him. He waited it out and resumed his trek along the ledge.

Roland had purged him, stripping him of everything: his power, his place, his purpose, and the immortality Roland’s affection promised. The bond that used to be a source of strength and reassurance turned into a burning void that gaped in his soul, gnawing at him with scorching, razor-sharp teeth. It nearly drove him out of his mind, and he’d crawled into a bottle to find oblivion. He would’ve died there, except his once-father hadn’t been contented with throwing him away. Roland also decided to dismantle everything he’d built, so he used the Golden Legion, his necromancers armed with hordes of mindless vampires, to exterminate the Iron Dogs.

For their sake, he pulled himself together enough to reshape the tatters of the best private army on the continent into a small, but powerful, fighting force. A force that needed to be housed and fed and had no means to pay for either. He needed food and housing, and Elara and her people required protection from Roland’s necromancers who desired their castle.

An alliance was formed. His reputation was shit, hers was worse, they married to make it believable and to buy time. He and Elara clashed the moment they met. They argued over everything: money, strategy, people… He rushed to fortify the castle against the attack he knew would come and she clung to her traditions and tried to cobble together enough money to keep up with his requests. He’d thrown himself into this tug of war, at first enraged and then looking forward to it.

He was almost to the window now.

And then they were invaded by an enemy like no other.

Somehow in the middle of it all, Elara became the center of his world. They slept together once, and those short few hours were the first time since the purge he felt a hint of happiness. A cruel glimpse of what life could be like.

They saved the neighboring town, but the enemy returned just as Landon Nez, the Legatus of the Golden Legion and Roland’s premier necromancer, came calling with his undead horde.

It was the kind of battle that spawned legends. In the end, he managed to turn the tide, but Nez had captured him, and he got to see his father one more time.

Roland’s image surfaced from his memory, wrapped in magic, with the face of a sage, radiating kindness and wisdom.

Take my hand, Hugh.  Take my hand and everything will be forgiven.  Everything will be as it was.

He’s laughed in his former god’s face. He thought he would die. Instead, his wife came for him. She appeared before Roland in her true shape, and it was so terrifying that the immortal wizard fled.

The memory of what she was lived deep inside Hugh as well, but he did not reach for it. There were no words to describe the chaos of teeth, mouths, and eyes wrapped in a cosmic cold. He’d tried to recall it before and remembering it stretched his sanity to its limit.

He had woken up in his bed three weeks ago. She came to visit him and brought him crepes she made.

You’re my husband, Hugh. As long as you want to stay here, you’ll have a home. I’ll never abandon you.

They hadn’t had a real conversation since. They nodded at each other, they resumed their petty bickering in a half-hearted way, but they did not discuss his past or what she was. She hadn’t come to his bed again.

And now she was not at her desk for the fourth day in a row.

He reached the window. The ledge had ended and there was no windowsill.

The woman was a fucking disease that took root in his brain and refused to leave.

He gripped the edge of the window and slowly leaned as far as he could, craning his neck to glance through the glass. She sat in an overstuffed chair with a knitted blanket on her lap. Her long white hair was down, and it dripped over her shoulders like a silver curtain.

The wind hit him again, and he pressed his back against the stone. This was one of the few times in life when being smaller would’ve been an asset.

The gust died and he leaned to the side one more time.

She was watching a computer monitor mounted on the wall and taking notes in a small notebook.

He focused on the muffled sound coming through the window. A soft male voice with a trace of London.

“… pastry week.”

What the hell.

“…the rough puff pastry… bakers… rolling out the dough and laminating it with cold butter. If the butter is too warm…”

Hugh took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall.

He walked across a narrow ledge a hundred feet above the ground in the middle of the night for a baking show. He had no one to blame but himself. He let the harpy get under his skin and this was the result.

A hint of movement at the edge of the forest caught his attention. He focused on it.

Three people emerged from the tree line, two in Iron Dog black and one a nightmarish meld of wolf and human, a shaggy monster seven feet tall. Karen. One of his best scouts.

The other two were Stoyan, one of his centurions, and Sharif, also a werewolf and the new scout master. The three Iron Dogs double-timed it to the castle.

Stoyan wasn’t fond of night adventures in the forest, especially their forest. Magic waves nourished the trees, speeding up the growth, but the woods around Baile defied all expectations. They felt ancient, as if they had been growing here for a thousand years, with old, rugged trees and undergrowth that spawned hungry things with savage claws and bear trap teeth. The Iron Dogs treated the forest with healthy respect and never went in alone.

Something happened. Something bad enough for Sharif to notify the centurion on watch and urgent enough that Stoyan didn’t wait until daylight to check it out.

The small door within the gate swung open, and the three Iron Dogs passed through into the bailey. Sharif inhaled and stopped. The three of them looked up, directly at him.

Stoyan squinted, as if he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

Hugh put his finger to his lips and pointed at the window of his study. Stoyan gaped at him for two seconds, nodded, and the three soldiers jogged to the keep’s door.

So much for the quite evening. The Universe must’ve decided that he rested long enough.

The wind pulled at him.

Hugh gritted his teeth and started back along the ledge to his turret.

The post Hughday first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

This morning, while I waited for Gordon’s MRI, my phone made this video for me complete with the overly sentimental music. Apparently I take a lot of pictures of the orange menace. He got in trouble yesterday because he was very pushy about shoving the dogs aside to sit in a specific spot on my lap.

Behold, Tuna the Cat.

He can never see this, or his ego will be even bigger.

The post Tuna’s Video first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

So I’ve been living under a holiday rock. The tree is still up. Yes, I know, but it’s pretty. I will take it down, leave me alone.

Anyway, I just now saw this.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Elisabeth Wheatley (@elisabethwheatley)

I think Elizabeth Wheatley is in Austin and I so owe her a lunch and a coffee. Thank you for making my day! You can find Elizabeth’s books at her online home, at https://elisabethwheatley.com/.

The post The Book Goblin first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.