Sneak Preview: The Borrowed Daughter

Chapter 1

Happy March, everyone!

To kick off my favorite month, I wanted to share two things:

1. The launch date for my next book, and

2. A preview of that book for all of you fine folks!

So, my next novel, The Borrowed Daughter, will launch by March 31, 2024! I will provide more details on how to reserve, review, or simply read this latest story in the weeks to come. For now, enjoy the first full chapter — and let me know what you think below 👇

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The Borrowed Daughter

Chapter 1: Sideways

The rock and metal dug into Stella’s clenched hand as she dashed through the crowd at the town square. She ducked down behind a loaded oxcart, where – as promised – her best friends were waiting. 

“Alright, I got ‘em!” she panted, holding out the shiny metal curve and smooth black stone.

Jessie jostled her shoulder. “Well done!” She nudged her glasses up her nose.

Suppressing a grin, Stella dumped the items in Warren’s hands. “What’s this for again? I can’t be gone long.” She scanned the crowd for her parents, but they were on the far end of the square and surely hadn’t noticed her absence. Yet …

“Just a little jape,” Warren replied, his green eyes glinting above his crooked smile. The glow of the Founder’s Festival gave his stocky form an orangish hue, and the chant of the crowd along with the music made him seem like just another part of the entertainment.

Stella scooted closer to the front of the cart for a better view. Tucked under the front wheel were a couple of foot-long wooden tubes. Warren adjusted one of them to line up with the marching band’s knees. “What are those?” 

“Spark sticks,” Jessie whispered, her coy voice tinged with pride. “I learned to make them from the journal of a traveler who went all the way to – ”

“Merrill tried one last night!” Warren burst in, giddy. “The blasted thing spit embers a hundred feet!”

Stella huffed impatiently. “Didn’t you learn from last time? You went half-blind settin’ that barrel o’ dry fish on fire!”

Jessie put a hand on Stella’s arm. “That won’t happen again. I tamed these accordingly. There will be a bang and some smoke, but no harm done.”

“Dunno if you’d say that if you were on the other side of this.” Warren fine-tuned his aim. “Grennett’ll blow her top once her precious parade gets mucked up!”

Stella winced. “She’s grand marshal again?”

“Well, she does pay for the entire event.” Jessie scanned her friend’s reactions and lowered her eyes, trading her matter-of-fact tone for an apologetic one. “I mean, she still deserves what’s coming to her ... ”

“You’re gonna prank the grand marshal?” They all winced at Stella’s loud tone, so she brought her voice down. “You’ll wreck the festival for the whole town!”

Warren sighed, his hands flopping to his thighs. “It’s a bit o’ flash and rattle. We’ll spook a few horses and break up the music, but that’ll be it. Just enough to put a wrinkle in that old bat’s britches.”

Eyeing the flint and steel she had given him, Stella frowned. “But it’s fire,” she pressed, her throat getting tighter. “You could set something ablaze!”

Warren waved her off, returning to his adjustments. “Run off then, like ya always do. No one’s forcin’ ya to stay.”

Her temper flared at that jab – Stella never backed out of a proper lark – but she bit her tongue. I only ran last time cuz Merrill took ducks-and-drakes too far, tossin’ that rock at the merchant ship. Speaking of, it wouldn’t hurt to have a cover if this all goes sideways … 

She searched Jessie’s eyes; the worry behind those glasses drew out Stella’s courage. Someone has to plan the escape, she concluded. Otherwise, Warren’ll get us all nabbed again, and the watch is through giving out warnings. Stella doubted they’d toss children in the dungeon like they said, but Father’s stories about the depths under the castle remained frightening enough to make her not want to risk it. 

She did a quick scan of the area to map out some escape routes. Most of the townsfolk were on the other side of the cart, cheering and singing with the parade. This lead-up to the annual spring festival always filled the streets, everyone eager to get outside after another long, lean winter. Across the street, Stella could make out dozens of familiar faces, shopkeepers and laborers, parents and their children, smiling at the procession as it passed. 

Still, a scattering of villagers hung back from the mob, mostly folks who wanted nothing to do with crowds. Old Man Watts lingered outside the pub, stooped over his cane and staring hard at the oxcart, but she doubted he could see past his crooked nose. Some older boys and girls gathered in knots here and there, sneaking off to steal a drink or a kiss. Luckily, the few guards still on duty were lined up on the far side of the square, or dotted the long, steep road up to the massive castle beyond. 

Plenty of escape routes the other way, Stella thought, smiling to herself. The alley behind the bakery and the gap in the stable fence seemed like their best bets; they’d have to dash across the open street, but the approaching twilight should make it hard for anyone to make out who they were if they kept their heads down as they ran.

“Fine.” Stella huddled closer under the cart. “But be quick. And when I say so, you all follow me. Fast.” 

Relief spread across Jessie’s face. “Aye aye.” She pushed her glasses up again. “On your mark.”

“Here she comes!” Warren waved the girls over. “As soon as her cart draws level with ours  ... ” He poised the flint and steel over the back end of one wooden tube.

Jessie crept past him to get a clearer view. “It’s a long fuse,” she rasped. “Strike it now!”

With a sharp clack, Warren struck the flint with the steel. Sparks jumped from the stone, but missed the wick at the back of the spark stick. He smacked them together again, twice, then a third time, and the bit of cloth caught fire right at the base of the tube. Smoke soon began to puff out.

“Look out!” Warren cried, lurching backward and pushing both girls behind him. The spark stick sizzled and coughed black plumes. 

BANG! 

The tube kicked up and split apart, clattering back to the ground and billowing smoke.

A few people nearby turned their heads toward the noise, buzzing with curiosity. Stella held her breath and made herself small, her heart hammering out the seconds. Then another tune began, and everyone returned their attention to the parade. The band continued past, and the next cart rolled into view.

“That was it?” The dismay in Stella’s chest surprised her. All rattle, no flash … 

“The other one!” Jessie insisted, crawling under the cart to fetch the second spark stick. “I know I packed that one perfectly!” She propped the tube through the bottom of the front wheel and straightened its wick along the ground. Wriggling her fingers toward Warren, she insisted, “Gimme!”

Without a word, Warren scrambled over and handed her the flint and steel.

Stella peered around the back of the cart and then crept beside Jessie. “She’s comin’ up!” 

“I’m trying!” Jessie fumbled the stones, her breath shallow and fast. She swiped the steel at the flint a few times, glancing off or missing altogether. On the fifth or sixth time, she whacked her thumb. “Ow!” she cried, dropping the tools.

“She’s right there!” Warren grunted, jabbing a stubby finger past their faces. 

The parade marshal’s festival cart, swathed with garlands of flowers, trundled past their hiding spot, the six horses in the lead clopping along in smart rhythm. The music had moved along, but the townsfolk grew louder, chanting and cheering. 

Lady Grennett waved to them from her cushioned seat, her lips pursed beneath her uptilted nose. Behind her sat Onya Grennett, her pale face decorated with only a pleasant (though forced) smile. Stella almost felt bad for her, waving from her mother’s shadow yet again. Then she remembered how Onya lorded her position over the other girls every time they gathered in the square. She deserves this as much as her stuck-up mom ... 

Stella seized the flint and steel with clammy hands. She clacked and clacked them together with practiced precision, her fists a blur. A clot of sparks landed on the wick and a flame hissed to life. It crept toward the end of the wooden tube, swelling as it moved. When it reached the opening, it ducked inside, awakening a plume of gray smoke.

“Back away!” Jessie insisted, scooting out from under the cart.

Stella followed suit, but kept her eyes glued to the now-glowing end of the tube. It sizzled like the last one, trembling. 

“She’s nearly past!” Warren dove between the girls, shifting the tube toward the back of the passing wagon.

Just then, a column of orange light sprang from the tip of the tube, shrieking as it spewed glittering sparks.

A woman screamed.

A horn blared a dying note.

A horse reared up, bringing the grand marshal’s wagon to a sliding halt.

“Now!” Stella rolled to her hands and feet, springing up. “C’mon!” She took off toward the alley behind the bakery. Ten paces out, she wheeled to a stop and looked back. Jessie and Warren remained under the cart, paralyzed. The tube had stopped spitting sparks, but the wheel had caught fire. The flames rose up toward the bed of the oxcart. Toward the mound of dry hay heaped on top.

Stella raced back to the oxcart. “Jessie! Warren!” The grand marshal’s wagon sat cockeyed in the square, its horses swaying their heads and flashing their hooves. A number of men from the crowd helped Lady Grennett and her daughter to their feet, while women and children huddled and cried from afar.

A surge of flame shot up from the oxcart, crackling as it reached toward the darkening sky. Hunching as she approached her friends, Stella grabbed for them. “Move! Now!”

Boots trampled by as men shouted for help. Clumps of flaming hay flew into the square as they tried to scatter the fire. They coughed as they struck at the wagon, shaking it above the children’s heads.

“Come on!” Stella growled through clenched teeth, seizing a fistful of Jessie’s sleeve. Bracing herself against the back wheel of the cart, Stella dragged Jessie into the clear. The fire had already climbed over the top of the mound, and its dazzling heat pushed them back. Black clouds billowed upward, blotting out the sky.

Pulling her friend behind her, Stella made for the alley again. By now, even the distracted teens noticed the commotion in the square and began talking excitedly. When a pair of older girls spotted Stella and Jessie running away, they screamed. “It’s that Sunter girl again!” one of them yelled. “She’s makin’ a getaway!”

Old Man Watts shouted something rude at them when they passed, and a few young men argued over who would chase them down. A trio of them had clustered near the alley, so Stella shifted course toward the stables.

“Warren!” Jessie panted, her clumsy feet catching on the stones as Stella pulled her along. “We can’t ... leave him!”

“He’ll be fine!” Stella insisted, slowing as they reached the stableyard. She shoved a hand toward the loose board in the fence and wrenched it aside, slinging Jessie through the gap. Despite the crowd surrounding the blazing oxcart now, Warren had somehow wriggled free and was hustling away. When his wide eyes met Stella’s, she turned away and followed Jessie, letting the board slide back into place behind her.

Jessie stumbled across the muddy grass of the enclosure, dodging the larger piles of manure. Stella sped after her, catching up as they neared the barn. “Around there!” she directed, pointing to the rear of the building. A cow stared dully at them as they rushed past, oblivious to the chaos at their backs. A few goats gathered in their wake, certain they had something tasty to share.

“Over there!” A pair of boys was running up the street, bound for the barnyard’s front gate. “Get ‘em!”

Jessie slowed, gripping Stella’s arm. “We can’t!”

With a smooth motion, Stella slipped her arm free and plowed onward. She reached the gate before the boys and flung it open. The goats behind her spilled into the street, charging downhill toward the approaching boys. Some sheep and cattle joined the escape, confounding their pursuers entirely.

“This way!” Stella took Jessie’s hand again and cut right, hugging the back wall of the tannery. The girls tried not to breathe in the awful stench of the place, swinging wide around the pits full of wet animal skins. They gasped once they reached the dirt road by the river; it was a winding path uphill from here, but they knew their way home.

Taking several shortcuts through the trees, the girls emerged just south of the church, their breathing steadied at last. Some of the first parade members milled around out front, perhaps unaware what had happened back at the square. A few watchmen patrolled the area, but they were more interested in lighting the lamps than looking out for troublemakers. On this end of town, the evening air was clear and quiet, the first stars waking up in the dark sky above the lofty castle.

Pausing for the first time to truly take a breath, Stella soaked in the view. She smiled at Jessie, giving her sweaty hand a jiggle. “We’re good,” she said, exhaling. “We’re safe.”

Jessie’s eyebrows bunched above her crooked glasses. “But Warren ... ?”

Stella swallowed. “He’s fine,” she asserted, resuming their walk homeward. “He’s gotten out of tons of scrapes before. I’ll bet he dodged the watch and joined the fleeing crowd without a trace. Might be he’ll get home before either of us!” She added a chuckle to try selling the story.

Jessie’s chin bunched up, and she shook her head. “No,” she whispered, dropping Stella’s hand. Stopping, she nodded down the road.

“Make way!” a man shouted, stomping along with four more men around him. They were dressed like regular townsfolk, but Stella didn’t like the way they moved – too stiff, too urgent. One of them lagged behind the rest, his arm cocked up at a strange angle.

And hanging from his hand, stubby legs kicking in the air, was Warren.