After a time away, I’m so pleased to welcome back my guest bloggers. I missed having my wonderful romance peeps at my place and am so pleased to welcome Daisy Banks today. Her newest, Marked for Magic, looks terrific.
Thank you so much, Rosanna, for helping me celebrate the release of my latest book, Marked for Magic, published by Lyrical Press, a Kensington Imprint.
I decided that as palmistry was the initial inspiration for this fantasy romance I’d offer you and the readers a little something on palmistry marks.
This image is of the main lines most people know:
1: Life line – 2: Head line – 3: Heart line – 4: Girdle of Venus – 5: Sun line – 6: Mercury line – 7: Fate line
The main lines above are fairly well known, but the lesser lines are not quite so well understood and it was these I was studying. There is a mark that can be found under the little finger. It is like three short slash marks. This sign is known as the medical stigmata. Here is a link to show you http://www.netplaces.com/palmistry/mounts-of-the-fingers/the-lines-of-family-and-healing.htm
This sign is one that shows talent for healing, nursing, caring in both a private and professional capacity. If you are involved in those activities I wonder if you have those marks. I’d love to know.
The witch mark on Nin’s hand is a curse. She has no magic powers, whatever the lore says. But the village believes. The old crone’s wisdom is to see her banished. Ragged and hungry, she must serve the Mage. Alone in his tower, she is his chattel. But Mage Thabit is not what Nin expected—the bright green eyes and supple form under his cloak are not the stuff of nightmares, and kindness hides in his brusque heart. Thabit senses that Nin is more than she seems, too. When true nightmares haunt the land, it is precisely her elusive powers that might deliver them…
She toyed with the idea of calling up to him, but she’d promised not to disturb his work, and his temper certainly burned short. If she didn’t call him, she couldn’t cook, and he’d be angry. Yet chances were if she did call him, he’d be angry, too. By the end of her deliberations, she’d grown angry herself.
She might as well get on with it. I’ve got to have a bigger cauldron!
The door to the stairs creaked on its hinges as she opened it. About to call up, she stilled when his tread sounded at the top of the stone steps.
“You have no need to yell up the stairs.” His voice echoed in the lofty darkness.
“I didn’t.” Was this part of his magic? What else could he do as well as hear what she thought? Only Alicia had ever heard the mind singing, but neither she nor her friend thought the trick was anything but a game. Mind singing couldn’t be magic.
“I distinctly heard you yell.” He hesitated, as though waiting for an explanation. When she offered none, he continued down the stairs. “The cooking pot is here.”
She moved out of the way. He brushed past to reach up to the top of the cupboard where she couldn’t see, and handed her a much larger cauldron than the one on the table.
He glanced toward the hearth and demanded. “Where is the small pot?”
She froze. Was he angry?
A spasm crossed his face and his lip twitched.
“I emptied it in the stream. I meant to use the small pot for the soup.”
“Gods, I am doomed!” His stare blazed green fire. “You have thrown away the finest batch of seeing mushrooms I have made in years.” He ran his hand over his hair. The blue coils around his wrist seemed to writhe like live, spring-woken snakes. “Foolish brat, did you not think to ask?”
She shook her head, gritting her teeth to keep silent.
He glowered. “Nin, a new rule. Here you touch nothing if it contains anything.”
“That’s stupid. You can’t say I mustn’t touch anything. You should have said not to use the small cauldron. I didn’t know.” Ready to bolt, she edged to the door.
“Well, you know now!” His yell almost lifted her feet. “Do you know what a seeing mushroom looks like?”
“Yes,” she murmured. Aunt Jen had pointed them out, so both she and her cousin Lettie knew them. Her aunt had always warned they should never go in the pot, no matter how hungry they all were. The seeing mushrooms were small, sour, but most of all, dangerous. “I’ve seen them.”
“Then go out and pick more. I’ll need twenty-four, at least. I want them before nightfall.”
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About the author.
Daisy Banks writes sensual and spicy romance in the Historical, Paranormal and Fantasy genres. She is an obsessive writer and her focus is to offer the best tale she can to readers. Daisy is married with two grown up sons. She lives in a converted chapel in Shropshire, England. Antiques and collecting entertain Daisy when she isn’t writing and she occasionally makes a meal that doesn’t stick to the pan.
Daisy Banks Links