Release date: July 20, 2018
Subgenre: Mannerpunk, Steampunk
About A Quiet Rebellion: Restitution:
Jonathan burns for revenge after fleeing the city with only a stolen
uniform and shoes—and a murder charge hanging over him. Unscrupulous
scientist Silvers imprisoned him to experiment on, because Jonathan's
cursed with a secret, dangerous power. Jonathan will have to survive,
reach Silvers and kill him to prevent him from doing further damage.
Rural herbalist Annetta is mortified after accidentally triggering Jonathan's power the last time he visited her town. Convinced he's a threat, she throws her efforts into developing a remedy to prevent him from killing again.
An escaped murderer is just another headache for Eleanor. It's not easy being queen. She needs to negotiate the moral maze that curses raise and avoid being assassinated like her father.
With such disparate goals, will the right people come out on top?
Rural herbalist Annetta is mortified after accidentally triggering Jonathan's power the last time he visited her town. Convinced he's a threat, she throws her efforts into developing a remedy to prevent him from killing again.
An escaped murderer is just another headache for Eleanor. It's not easy being queen. She needs to negotiate the moral maze that curses raise and avoid being assassinated like her father.
With such disparate goals, will the right people come out on top?
Excerpt:
Artur rang the bell pull at the servants’ entrance to the palace
then squeezed himself into the shadow of the doorway. Although it
was unlikely someone would pass by and see him, his presence might
raise some eyebrows. Clutched in his sweating hand, his overnight
bag weighed him down further every second. In accordance with the other instructions on the queen’s missive, he wore work overalls. In
deference to her elevated position, he had donned his newest set.
What was the queen planning? Surely this wasn’t a joke at his
expense. She hadn’t struck him as the frivolous type, no matter
what the gossips said. Might she have a workshop in addition to her
library? Maybe she wanted help with some new techne. His breathing quickened. Maybe she even wanted him to—
The door creaked open with a waft of mushroom and garlic smells. A
plump woman in the pink uniform of the palace staff looked down her
nose at him. “Yes?”
Despite the chill in the early evening air, sweat prickled his
back. “I’m Artur. Uh, Blimp Engineer Granville, ma’am. I was
requested to report here by Queen Eleanor.” Was that as odd as it
sounded?
For a moment she frowned. Was she going to send him away? Maybe the
queen had changed her mind, despite her enthusiasm during that
first visit. That might be a relief, although a disappointment too.
But no, the woman’s frown transformed into a beam. She stepped back
and beckoned him in. “Of course. You’re just not quite what I
expected. I’m Martha, the head housekeeper.”
Hunching his shoulders, Artur stepped inside. Maybe he’d
misunderstood the message. Should he have hired a formal suit
again? Overalls of surplus blimp fabric—constructed by his frugal
mother—might not be suitable attire.
“I thought you’d be more bookish. Like a clerk or librarian.” She
looked him up and down. “Not quite so sturdy.”
His face heated.
Martha led him through the kitchen and up four flights of service
stairs, their footsteps echoing in tandem. A pair of red-clad royal
guards stood at each landing. The older ones scowled at Artur while
the younger ones grinned. One even gave him a thumbs-up. Artur
winced. Hey, it’s not what it looks like. Though he wasn’t even sure of that. Maybe she wants—He yanked his thoughts away.
On the residential floor, he tiptoed down a hallway behind Martha,
his heavy work boots creaking. What if he trod grease into the
plush carpet?
The housekeeper opened a door. “Go on in, lad. This is your room
while you’re here. Someone will collect you shortly.”
When he paused in the doorway and blinked, she pushed him inside
and shut the door behind him. Her footsteps scuffed softly as she
moved off.
He dropped his bag in the middle of the room, which was lit by
free-standing oil lamps. So, they’d only installed electrical
lighting downstairs. A padded couch with silk cushions stood
against the wall, underneath a portrait of King Frederick. He gave
the king a cautious nod. A carved oak writing desk and chair
occupied one corner. Through an open door he could spy the edge of
a bed with an embroidered coverlet. Craning his neck, he took a
step towards the doorway—
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About M.H. Thaung:
M.H. Thaung was born in Scotland and has moved progressively
southwards throughout her career in pathology, ending up in a
biomedical research institute in London, England. (As a staff
member, not a specimen!) She loves her job and academic writing.
With dozens of scientific publications under her belt, she's now
venturing into the realm of speculative fiction. After all, both
types of writing start with "What if...?"
A Quiet Rebellion: Guilt is her debut novel and the first book in a planned trilogy.
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