{"id":8792,"date":"2021-07-20T18:59:36","date_gmt":"2021-07-20T23:59:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=8792"},"modified":"2021-10-12T19:10:27","modified_gmt":"2021-10-13T00:10:27","slug":"a-swift-and-savage-tide-first-chapter","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=8792","title":{"rendered":"A SWIFT AND SAVAGE TIDE — FIRST CHAPTER"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

She despised aristocrats, save one: the damned viscount.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Colonel Rian Grant, Viscount Queenscliffe, looked more soldier than member of New London\u2019s Beau Monde and was as honorable a man as she\u2019d ever met.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was no simpering miss herself, of course. Captain Kit Brightling was a member of the Queen\u2019s Own Guards and\u2014with Grant\u2014a new inductee into the Order of Saint James. Joining the order was both honor\u2014appreciation for their work on behalf of their home, the Saxon Isles\u2014and obligation\u2014assignment to the council of the queen\u2019s closest advisers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She and Grant had had one adventure together, uncovering a plot by Gerard to employ a magical warship. That adventure had featured one very good, and very dangerous, kiss. She hadn\u2019t expected to see him again, which was fine. Kit had no need of a viscount.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then she\u2019d seen his face across the palace\u2019s ballroom\u2014just before they\u2019d been inducted into the order\u2014and her heart had stuttered like she\u2019d put a hand directly into a current of magic. Broad shoulders, immaculate beneath his black tailcoat, and gleaming Hessians. He looked not unlike the roguish heroes in the penny novels she loved, the straight nose, the strong brow over eyes the color of a southern sea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d strode toward her, the crowd parting around him like the sea, and offered his hand. He was taller than her, forcing her to lift her gaze. \u201cCaptain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She thought she\u2019d worn her uniform but, when she glanced down, found she was wearing long white gloves and a dress of pale blue-gray taffeta dotted with ivory, the sleeves capped and waist high, as was the style. \u201cAre we to dance?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On cue, the players began their tune, and a waltz streamed through the ballroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly if you\u2019re brave enough,\u201d Grant said with a grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m no coward,\u201d Kit said, and put her hand atop Grant\u2019s, even as her heart pounded. His other hand went to her waist, hers to his shoulder, and they began to move. One-two-three. One-two-three. His steps were strong and precise, his body warming the mere whisper of space between them. The fingers that skimmed her hip were hot enough to brand, as if they might sear the memory, or the connection, into her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They couldn\u2019t have been the only ones dancing, but Kit kept her gaze on his face, on the promise in his eyes, the determination in the set of his jaw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou waltz tolerably,\u201d Grant said, amusement lighting his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI waltz magnificently,\u201d she said. \u201cA ship at sea has the same rhythm.\u201d But the sea\u2019s music was different\u2014a thrum she felt in her bones. Kit was Aligned to it, could feel the particular magic that flowed through the waters surrounding the Saxon Isles. The magic that crisscrossed the earth, through soil and stone and underwater, deep and powerful currents that humans were trying to harness, sometimes with disastrous results.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure you\u2019d agree to a dance,\u201d Grant said as they turned a corner, Kit\u2019s skirts rustling with the motion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shouldn\u2019t have. She had no interest in members of the Beau Monde, with their haughtiness and pretentions. But then she\u2019d kissed him, and that kiss had been potent as any current of magic, and it had pulled at her like the tide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A bell struck, the sound golden and insistent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that a ship\u2019s bell?\u201d Kit asked, as the sound\u2014and what it signified\u2014clawed at her attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t hear anything,\u201d Grant said, but his voice sounded far away now, and his hands felt less substantial.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe bell is ringing,\u201d she said, raising her voice, but the words barely audible over the din. \u201cI need to check on the crew!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the floor undulated beneath her like the deck of a swaying ship. Water had begun to seep beneath the ballroom\u2019s closed doors, flowing toward them across the wooden floors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think I should . . .\u201d she began to say, and looked back at Grant. But he\u2019d begun to disappear, his image beside her fading as water lapped at their feet, staining her satin slippers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cObligations . . .\u201d he began, but his voice diminished to a whisper. \u201cYou must . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then the trickle was a swell, cold and dark, and covered them both.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She jolted awake, chest heaving and damp with sweat, and braced a hand on the swaying hull of the ship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wasn\u2019t in New London, nor in the palace. She was on her ship, the Diana<\/em>. On the water, somewhere in the Narrow Sea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBloody hell,\u201d she said, and pushed her short, dark hair from her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She actually had seen Grant across the ballroom, just after their mutual induction into the order. But she hadn\u2019t danced with him. The queen had called them both into her anteroom, where she and her spymaster, Chandler, had delivered the news: Gerard Rousseau, the self-proclaimed emperor who\u2019d waged war against the entire Continent, had escaped his \u201cprison\u201d on a fishing schooner. And, they\u2019d come to learn, had rendezvoused with the Gallic flagship the Continental powers had allowed him to keep\u2014the Fidelity<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No one doubted Gerard would return to Gallia, make his way across the country to its capital of Saint-Denis, and attempt to retake his throne. Otherwise, why leave Montgraf, the island to which he\u2019d been exiled, and the comforts he\u2019d been afforded there? It might have been a smaller kingdom than he was accustomed to, but it was still a kingdom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSearch the waters for him,\u201d the queen had ordered Kit, \u201cfor the Fidelity<\/em> and the magic he may be using. Find him before he breaks the world again. We are clever fools, Captain, and Gerard has played us all. The tide is turning, and it will turn swift and savage. We must stand before him and turn back his charge. The world depends on it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The queen had ordered Grant to the Continent, to resume his prior work as an observation officer, and the Diana<\/em> had been provisioned. That had been two weeks ago, and she hadn\u2019t seen New London\u2014or Grant\u2014since.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At twenty-four, Kit understood the ways of romance, and she wasn\u2019t one to pine over a man. Certainly not a viscount. But the fire ignited by seeing him across the ballroom\u2014the unexpected shock of it, the exhilaration of it, and the discovery that she needed to see him again\u2014hadn\u2019t diminished in the intervening weeks. It had left her feeling hollow in some deep inner corner of her heart that had never been opened before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Etchings of Gerard\u2019s warship had been shown to the crew as the Diana<\/em> flew across the Narrow Sea between Gallia and her home in the Saxon Isles, a predator seeking its prey. They\u2019d skimmed the coast within the blockade set by larger Isles ships, searching for Gerard . . . and waiting for war to begin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dreams, stark and disturbing, had begun when they\u2019d sailed into the Narrow Sea, which was on the isthmus between the Saxon Isles and the Continent. Its magic\u2014which had once flowed steady and true\u2014now fluctuated, as if the current of power was whipping about in the depths of the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit thought she knew why: Gerard\u2019s loyalists had built a new kind of warship at Forstadt, on the shore of the Northern Sea, and in doing so they\u2019d nearly destroyed the Northern Sea\u2019s current. The Diana<\/em> hadn\u2019t sailed so far north this time, so either the Narrow Sea\u2019s magic was seeping north to fill the void, or Gerard\u2019s people had done more damage to the current in the interim. Kit didn\u2019t know. But there was little doubt now that human activity was behind it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whatever the reason, the twisted magic\u2014and the dreams wrought by it\u2014had wrapped around her apparent desire for Grant like the tentacles of a kraken. They\u2019d become a leviathan that stalked her sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bell stopped ringing, but a fist on the door of her cabin replaced the cacophony of noise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA moment!\u201d she called out, willing herself awake to face whatever\u2014gods knew what\u2014awaited her outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit closed her eyes\u2014shutting out the sight of her cabin and the sea beyond\u2014and reached down for the current. Past dark, cold water, the glimmer of light fading as she felt, deeper yet, for the silver cord of magic that surged through the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some called the currents ley lines; others believed they were remnants left behind by the old gods, spots where they\u2019d touched the earth and left behind the fingerprints of their great and terrible power. Whatever their origin, they were tributaries of power, spread unevenly across the world and ever moving, ever shifting, like anemones in the tide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The current may have been thin here, less a cord of magic than a shadow of it. But it was, at least, a connection to the sea, to her magic, to whatever in her birth had linked her soul to this place. That comforted her, gave her energy enough to throw her legs over the side of her bunk, pull on her thin night rail, and stride across wooden planks to the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She opened it, had to lift her gaze to the dark eyes of the tall, lean man who looked down at her with humor. Jin Takamura was her second-in-command. An officer by commission, but a thief by aptitude. Behind him, sailors scurried through the passageway. The watch bell had signaled the change of shift.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jin\u2019s expression was mild; it wasn\u2019t the first time he had woken her. \u201cCaptain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCommander. What\u2019s happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He cocked his head at her, a smile in his eyes. \u201cWhat will happen if I suggest you look like you\u2019ve been dragged by sea dragons for a few hundred fathoms?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That he\u2019d asked the question signaled there was no immediate threat to her crew, so she let herself breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit grunted, pulled the thin night rail tighter. The briny air that blew down the companionway from the deck was bracingly chilly. \u201cI will suggest you are perilously close to insubordination.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFortunately, I can walk a very narrow line.\u201d As if to prove his point, he lifted a foot and balanced on a single plank of decking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHilarity.\u201d She paused. \u201cI had another dream.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His brow furrowed. \u201cThe rising sea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit nodded. The plot of the dreams varied, but that was a common theme. \u201cReport, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt pains me to say this,\u201d he began, looking slightly mortified, \u201cbut we believe we\u2019ve spotted the Fidelity<\/em> in port.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPort?\u201d Kit asked. \u201cWhere are we?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFour miles offshore from Auevilla, to the west of the Touques and the docks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit lifted her brows at the speed. The Diana<\/em> didn\u2019t stop sailing\u2014and the crew didn\u2019t stop working\u2014just because she slept. She was sailed without pause, through changing shifts of sailors and officers. But she hadn\u2019t expected them to make such progress along the Gallic coast overnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSteady wind,\u201d Jin offered, apparently reading her surprise. \u201cAnd your very good crew, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Kit said, and recalled what she knew of the landscape here. The Touques flowed to the Narrow Sea just east of Auevilla, and the village\u2019s docks were located in that conjunction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat would Gerard be doing in Auevilla?\u201d she asked. It was a Gallic town of gambling, turf races, fine cuisine, and seaside strolling\u2014not military offices or barracks. The Beau Monde had adored it before the war and had returned when the conflict was over. \u201cI\u2019d enjoy a stroll in Auevilla,\u201d she muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo say we all. And we don\u2019t know if he\u2019s still there, only that there\u2019s a ship.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho found it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now Jin paused. \u201cMr. Wells.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit rolled her eyes. \u201cThis is the eighth time he\u2019s spotted the Fidelity<\/em> since we left New London. The last two weren\u2019t even ships.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn fairness,\u201d Jin said with a smile, \u201cone was a ship-shaped island. And, if I was the type to speak freely, I\u2019d suggest the captain ought not have offered a piece of gold for the sailor who finds it. It tends to encourage . . . hopefulness.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit just looked at him. \u201cBut you\u2019d never speak freely to your captain without leave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a damned twinkle in his eye. \u201cOf course not. I have a wife and children at home, and they\u2019d prefer I not be forced to walk into the sea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit sighed again. \u201cI\u2019d rather be bothered with an error than miss the ship. I\u2019ll dress. Hold us steady.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAlways,\u201d Jin said, and she closed the door again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

A SWIFT AND SAVAGE TIDE will be released on November 20, 2021. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ready to preorder? <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Amazon<\/a> | Barnes & Noble<\/a>\u00a0| Indiebound<\/a>\u00a0| Target<\/a>\u00a0| Kobo<\/a> | Audible<\/a> | Apple<\/a> | BAM<\/a> | Walmart<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Note:  I am an Amazon affiliate and may earn a commission if you buy goods at Amazon through one of my links.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

She despised aristocrats, save one: the damned viscount. Colonel Rian Grant, Viscount Queenscliffe, looked more soldier than member of New London\u2019s Beau Monde and was as honorable a man as she\u2019d ever met. She was no simpering miss herself, of course. Captain Kit Brightling was a member of the Queen\u2019s Own Guards and\u2014with Grant\u2014a new[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-8792","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8792","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8792"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8792\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8882,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8792\/revisions\/8882"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8792"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}