Today we're excited to share a excerpt for D.E. Night's The Crowns of Croswald as part of the YABC Scavenger Hunt!
Read on for more about D.E. Night and her novel!
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Meet D.E. Night!
D.E. Night lives, dreams, and writes in South Florida amid her menagerie––two dogs and two cats––with her husband. “The Crowns of Croswald” is her first book. She draws inspiration from silver-screen storytellers, magical imaginings, and her younger brothers. A day spent in Croswald, or another whimsical world, is her favorite kind of day.
Meet The Crowns Of Croswald!
In Croswald, the only thing more powerful than dark magic is one secret...
For sixteen years Ivy Lovely has been hidden behind an enchanted boundary that separates the mundane from the magical. When Ivy crosses the border, her powers awaken. Curiosity leads her crashing through a series of adventures at the Halls of Ivy, a school where students learn to master their magical blood and the power of Croswald's mysterious gems. When Ivy s magic and her life is threatened by the Dark Queen, she scrambles to unearth her history and save Croswald before the truth is swept away forever.
~ Excerpt ~
From the scaldrony at the Castle Plum, where Ivy is the servant in charge
of caring for the scaldrons (small domesticated dragons, bred to be ovens).*
She distributed the buttery batter amongst the sour pans and then popped
them into the scaldrons’ mouths, where hot breath would roil over the dish
for a few moments before it reached a caramelized golden brown. (The
sourness of the pans kept scaldrons from eating everything whole.) As she
put the last pan in, giving the beast an affectionate pat on the head while
taking care to avoid its fangs, a certain wheezing caught Ivy’s attention.
Any other maid in the house would have passed the wheeze off as the typical
scaldron snore. Not Ivy. She knew that shallow, high-pitched breathing
could mean only one thing: flue flem. The sickness was highly contagious
amongst scaldrons and the bane of a scaldrony maid’s existence.
She dashed in the direction of the noise and found the smallest of the
scaldrons lying flat at the bottom of his cage, listless. This
black-and-white creature—scaldron 19—was one of the scrawniest of the crew,
a bit of a slow cooker, and one that Ivy had been training and building his
capacity. Number 19’s eyes were dull and rheumy and the only movement he
made was for his labored breathing. The telltale pink smoke was seeping out
of his nostrils. This was not good news. Helga was the type of house
manager whose specialty was flying off the handle in a rather violent,
eruptive manner. She hated anything unexpected, especially unexpected
“No no nonononono! Please. This can’t be happening! Not today!” Ivy’s
mutter turned into a wail. “You heard Helga! She said she’d put you out if
you so much as burnt the morning muffins again! Come on. You’re okay,
He wasn’t. The scaldron shot a pathetic look at Ivy, clearly feeling sorry
for himself. With some encouragement and a bit of gentle prodding the
scaldron managed to get up. Berry batter dripped out of his mouth, uncooked
and runny. Looking around in horror, she saw that there was a considerable
pool of the uncooked blue mess around the scaldron and seeping out of the
Ivy panicked. She whirled around to scramble for a mop, a rag, anything and
ran smack into Helga’s generous bosom.
“Girl! Where are the griddlecakes? They are late and you know how I feel
about late and—”
“So sorry, ma’am, I’ll bring everything up in one moment,” she interrupted,
spreading her hands wide in a gesture of apology and conveniently hiding
the mess that scaldron 19 was rapidly becoming.
Just as Helga advanced, number 19 made a small sniffling noise. Then,
Number 19 sneezed massively, spewing the contents of its oven mouth onto
both Helga and Ivy. Helga took the brunt of it and was covered in blueberry
batter (and even a bit of last night’s dooger stew) from the wart on her
forehead down to her pointy black boots. Helga nearly slipped. She whirled
around and when she spotted Ivy, her face changed from its usual
disagreeable pink to a surprising shade of lilac.
A complete silence fell on the room. Number 19 and Ivy made eye contact,
the scaldron looking nervous and guilty. The short-lived silence was
pierced by Helga’s shrill scream, reaching decibels new even to her. Both
rows of scaldrons shook in their cages as Helga unleashed.
“Ack! What is this? Disgusting!” she screeched. The goop, like slippery
glue stuck to her body, smelled worse than her horrific breath. Ivy
hurriedly started mopping the floor, hoping that erasing some of the mess
would help bring Helga out of her rage orbit.
The Crowns of Croswald
By: D.E. Night
Publisher: Stories Untold
Release Date: July 21st, 2017
Three winners will each receive a box with an ARC of the book, a light up "glanagerie" bottle, a card to the reader, and instructions for the glanagerie bottle
~ (US Only) ~
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