QSFer K. Aten has a new queer steampunk book out (bi, lesbian), Mystery of the Makers book 3: The Rebels of Psiere.
If we know anything by the third and final installment of this thrilling trilogy, it’s that Royal Connate Olivienne Dracore is an adventurist, not a soldier.
Yet after the events over King’s Marsh, the people and land are in need of both. It’s a good thing her beloved Captain Castellan Tosh is one of the most powerful psi their world has ever seen.
Together, with Olivienne’s protective Shield team, they seek to not only right generations of wrongs perpetrated by one family, but to finally solve the mystery of the Makers.
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Excerpt
Excerpt (1000 words max) Shells exploded all around them and the ship shuddered beneath Olivienne’s feet. The air was acrid and thick from a nearby fire, choking her. Another large, black dirigible swung into view and the sharp retort of rifle rounds was interspersed with the louder whumps of the other ship’s rail guns. She was left exposed and unable to duck for cover in time. A body collided with hers at the last sec, taking the shells that would have ended her life. Olivienne screamed and clutched at the black clad soldier, tilting her chin just enough to see Castellan’s dead eyes staring back at her.
“No!” Olivienne thrashed her head in denial even as her screams pierced the air.
#
The terror was real, the anguish beyond anything Castellan ever felt through their empathic connection. She gently shook Olivienne to wake her from the recurring night terror. She hated that dream, seeing her own face from Olivienne’s perspective. “Wake up, ‘Vienne.” She didn’t rouse so Castellan tried again with a mental nudge. “You’re safe, my love. Let’s see those violet eyes, hmm?”
Olivienne gasped as she awoke and frowned until her eyes met Castellan’s. Then Royal Sovereign Connate, Olivienne Dracore, promptly burst into tears. Great, gasping sobs tore from her and all Castellan could do was hold on and promise to never let go.
They remained abed long after the crying ceased. Castellan could tell Olivienne wasn’t sleeping and continued to rub her back in comfort. Her voice was quiet in the darkness. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Six lunes had passed since they stood in the Temple of Antaeus and oathed to one another, yet the pall of war made it seem more like as many rotos. Attacks from the Atlanteens and southern rogues seemed never-ending and everyone was mentally and physically exhausted. Each weke brought new horrors to the Psierians split by a violent rebel uprising. Despite the passage of time, Olivienne had yet to move on from the loss of their long-time lieutenant, Gentry Savon. Nor had she properly dealt with what she’d done when Savon lay cold at her feet, and she stood heartbroken with mythical antoraestones clasped tightly in her hand.
Castellan sighed. “You have night terrors more often than not. ‘Vienne—you cannot keep going like this, witnessing my death over and over.”
“How do you know?”
“Some of the dreams are so powerful that I see them with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. But you need to address your fear because it’s eating you from the inside.”
Olivienne pulled back, anger raging to the forefront in a matter of secs. It was a classic sign of mental trauma that Castellan Tosh knew well after spending so many rotos battling the Atlanteens and such. “And what am I to do about it, hmm? Just,” Olivienne lifted a hand out from beneath the coverlets and gestured to her own head, “scrub it all from my memory? We both know that’s not possible. Instead, his death, and all the ones I caused, are like the blackest of stains.”
“I know, love. I know.” And Castellan spoke true because she had her own mountain of guilt from that dae. “But I’ve had rotos and training to learn how to deal with that very thing you bottle up inside. It will fester if you don’t let it out in a healthy way. I spoke with Gemeda last weke—” She paused when Olivienne turned her head enough that the lights from outside their dwelling shown upon her angry countenance.
“What exactly where you telling other people about me?”
Olivienne’s volatility was uncharacteristic and it gave Castellan pause, but she continued anyway. “I told our friend that we’re having difficulty coming to terms with the battle of King’s Marsh. She suggested that anyone who is struggling should speak with a professional therapeutist, but we both know that would be a difficult task for you with things the way they are right now. Gem then suggested that if a professional can’t be acquired, to find someone who can be trusted, even if they’re not of the correct career corp. Select a person you feel comfortable speaking with so you can, at the very least, get your emotions out in the open to be dealt with.”
Olivienne still wore a stormy look and Castellan rushed on. “I’ll understand if I’m not someone you lean on in this regard. Our backgrounds are too disparate. But perhaps you know someone else who has been through trauma and is not a soldier? Maybe they can listen and give insight. Perhaps your maman or papan?”
“I—” Olivienne threw herself backward onto the pillow from where she’d been propped up on her elbow. She sighed and ran a hand through the top of her hair in an attempt to untangle the inky tendrils. Fingers through the hair was a sign of frustration that Olivienne picked up from Castellan. “I’m sorry. I know you’re right that I can’t keep on like this. I’m exhausted each dae, never getting enough sleep.” She turned to look at Castellan. “Can you believe I missed three of ten bullseyes on the target yesterdae?” She scoffed, “I haven’t done that since I was naught but a child!”
“It seems very out of character.”
“You really think I should speak with someone?”
“I do, for both our sleeps and sanity.”
Olivienne smiled and shoved her. “What about you?”
Castellan turned onto her side so she faced Olivienne fully. “I have been speaking with someone twice a weke for the past four wekes. I am under mandatory orders by Renou to see a Corp staff therapeutist because of my role in the civilian casualties.”
“Is, um, is it helping?”
Castellan pulled her close, so that Olivienne’s head lay flush with her breastbone. A move she knew often soothed her love. “Yes.”
Olivienne whispered back, voice slurring with drowsiness, “Okay. I’ll ask my papan for suggestions after our meeting tomorrow.”
Author Bio
Award winning author and Michigan native, Kelly Aten-Keilen brings heroines to life in a variety of blended LGBTQ fiction genres. She specializes in speculative fiction, focusing on extra-ordinary women who are as flawed as they are compelling. She’s not afraid of pain or adversity but loves a happy ending. Kelly’s goal with each new novel is to make people #Think, #Feel, and #Discuss.
“Some words end the silence, others begin it.”
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