Agent Showcase

Fall Fiction Fest, CROWN OF BLOOD AND SNOW, YA Fantasy

Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 85,000

How Did You Fall for Writing: A Dragon, a wizard and a cat walked into a bar…


Dear Agent Fall Fest,

With a kick-ass heroine, YA fantasy CROWN OF BLOOD AND SNOW is a female-centric Gladiator meets Throne of Glass.

In the right mood, exiled General, Aerynn Silveris, can pick off a mosquito’s wings with the throw of a dagger or liquefy a man’s brains with the magic in her veins. Her tongue sharper than her blade, Aerynn numbs her longing for home with split knuckles earned in the fighting pits.

Ordered home by the Crown Prince, Aerynn tracks the King’s murderer. While the hunt revives her spirit, clashing wills with the Crown Prince ignites her heart. As Aerynn closes in on the killer, she uncovers the plot to steal an artifact that can release the Kruag King —a monster that fell from the stars— from its prison. If freed, the Kruag King will terraform the world until only kruag can survive.

With the killer and kruag attacking the city,  Aerynn must use the artifact to stop them, though the cost will be her magic and eventually her life. But when Aerynn learns of the Crown’s betrayal and her true ties to the killer, she must decide if the price is one she’s willing to pay —or if vengeance is worth more.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

First 250:

Aerynn stopped and drew in a breath of freedom. It reeked of piss and a hundred flavors of sweaty human flesh. She sighed. Compared to the week-old carcass slung over her saddle, the slum city of Carawen smelt like scented candles.

She shoved a strand of matted hair back into her braided chignon, and squeezed into the crowd. A stray elbow lodged in her gut. She cringed and tried to surface for air, but the push from both sides swept her along the dusty road. Tightening her grip on Faren’s bridle, she pulled the stallion through.

“Dara, dara, dara!” A group of boys stuck their hands in her face, while one slipped quick fingers into her pocket and another pawed at her sword. She ignored the pocket —it was empty anyway— but hissed at the boy who went for the sword. The boys laughed and scuttled off. Typical. Even children were tougher than death here.

Sighing, she turned down a lane of shoddy shanties with rusted, wrinkled walls. Reddish brown rags hung limp in the hot desert air and the stench of rotten flesh invaded her nose. She swallowed. She was close.

Her stomach churning, she entered the dusty lot of a looming stone building. Flies swarmed around the entrance and crowds trampled past corpses baking in the sun. Interspersed between the bustle and chatter rang a steady thwack, thwack, thwack.

Aerynn followed the rhythmic pound to a semi-detached shed. She held her breath, stopping in the crimson puddle pooling from the bloodied doorway.