Today we are very excited to be spotlighting The Shadow of Theron by author of the Frostbite series and Notes from the Undead Kathryn Troy!
Read on for a glimpse of The Shadow of Theron before it releases February 28th!
The powers of old are fading. A new Age is dawning.
Holy relics are all that remain of Theron’s sacred legend. Now those relics, the enchanted weapons forged by the Three-Faced Goddess to help Theron defeat the wicked Sorcerer Argoss, are disappearing.
Lysandro knows the village magistrate Marek is responsible, and he searches for proof disguised as the masked protector the Shadow of Theron. But when Marek wounds him with an accursed sword that shouldn’t exist, Lysandro must find a way to stop Marek from gaining any more artifacts created by the Goddess or her nemesis. The arrival of the beautiful newcomer Seraphine, with secrets of her own, only escalates their rivalry.
As the feud between Lysandro and Marek throws Lighura into chaos, a pair of priestesses seeks to recover the relics and return them to safekeeping. But the stones warn that Argoss is returning, and they must race to retrieve Theron’s most powerful weapon. But as they risk their lives for a legend, only one thing is certain. The three temples to the Goddess have been keeping secrets: not just from the faithful, but from each other.
Wheel of Time readers and fans of Sarah Maas, Saladin Ahmed, and Trudy Canavan will delight in this fantasy adventure duology infused with romance.
Sancio screamed and stumbled backward, tripping on his robes and landing on the wooden floor with a hard thunk.
“Don’t ever do that to me again!”
“Sancio, I’m in love!”
Sancio’s back stiffened as he scrambled to his feet. “You’re in love?” he repeated, smoothing out the front of his robe.
“With Signorina Seraphine Alvaró. Oh, Sancio,” Lysandro swooned, dropping onto the bed against the left wall and rumpling the newly washed linens that Sancio had just spread out with great care. “She’s absolutely perfect.”
“No one is perfect,” Sancio replied. He turned his back to Lysandro as he folded the linens on the other bed into prim corners.
“She’s perfect to me. She’s smart, and witty, and worldly, and her beauty—” Lysandro stopped and swallowed hard. “Her beauty is like staring into the sun. It’s overwhelming.”
He hadn’t slept a wink; the small hours of the night had been devoted to reliving every step of their unending dances, the way she’d felt in his arms, and the conversation that had struck a chord deep within his soul.
“You barely know her,” Sancio murmured without turning around.
“I’m getting to know her,” Lysandro countered. “I want to know everything. She’s agreed to come to the gallery with me.”
“Of course she did.”
Lysandro blinked. “What does that mean?”
Sancio turned, his face tight. “How do you know she’s being honest with you?”
“How do you know she’s not just putting on a face, telling you what you want to hear, so she can trap you into a marriage?”
Lysandro laughed. “Marrying her would be a wish come true.”
Sancio shook his head in dismay.
“You’re just jealous!”
Sancio’s head snapped to attention. “No I’m not. What? No! Why would you think
“You’re jealous that I’m free to marry and you’re not.”
The heat prickling on Sancio’s cheeks faded slowly with each breath he took.
“We danced and talked all night,” Lysandro said, his voice deep and dreamy. “She wouldn’t dance with anyone else. And she had plenty of requests. She even refused Marek!”
Lysandro sat up on the bed, his eyes glittering. “He tried to cut in while insulting me at the same time.”
“That must have been pleasant.”
“She called him an idiot, and we just floated away. It was brilliant! Sancio you should have been there.”
“That was a mistake,” Sancio observed.
Lysandro’s face turned grave. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sancio answered his question before it could even form on his lips.
“When has Marek ever let someone make him the butt of their joke and let it slide?”
Lysandro bounded off the bed and was already halfway out the window again.
“Wait! What are you going to do?”
Lysandro was deaf to his friend’s pleas as he raced across the temple garden back the way he had come. He leapt onto his chestnut bay mare and headed for the Alvaró family home. He was already dressed for it, he thought. He had planned on calling on Sera that morning, but as his friend’s warning echoed in his ears, his purpose for visiting changed dramatically. It would not be easy or convenient for Sera’s father to turn Marek away if he came calling. But if he could just talk to Don Alvaró and get him to agree, Lysandro would be able to keep Sera safe. He pushed his mare as fast as she would go, wishing for the speed of Hurricane underneath him.
As the Alvaró estate came into view, Lysandro began to sweat. He wiped his slick palms on the supple coat of his horse’s neck. He struggled to compose his thoughts.A great many odes to love danced and flitted away from him, taunting him, so near but just out of reach. The ballads and tales he held sacred abandoned him now; he had no idea what he was going to say.
The main house was constructed of pale yellow bricks. Deep green vines crept up the impressive front, giving it an inviting appearance. There was no sign of Seraphine at any of the iron-framed windows. His heart lodged itself in his throat at the prospect of seeing her.
He left his mare outside the wrought-iron gate marking the edge of the property and entered a small but well-kept garden. The first person he encountered was the groundskeeper, who stood as Lysandro approached.
“Good morning, Don de Castel,” he called out with a smile.
“Good morning. Is Don Alvaró at home?”
“Yes, Signor. Please come in.”
Lysandro followed him into Don Alvaró’s study. He did not spy Seraphine in any of the rooms they passed. He tried to smooth away his fear. He folded it up and tucked it underneath a cool, detached bearing as Don Alvaró entered the room.
“Don de Castel, what a surprise to see you again so soon,” he said, coming to shake Lysandro’s hand.
“A good surprise, I hope.”
“Yes, of course. Please, sit.” Alvaró gestured toward a pair of leather-backed chairs. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” Lysandro’s tongue was so dry he could barely speak.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m here to inquire after your daughter.”
“Ah, yes. She’s a beautiful young girl, no?”
Lysandro’s mouth only twitched in response, showing a mere hint of a smile. He turned the conversation in another direction. “Our families are well-matched. Better matched than an appointed official, such as a magistrate.”
Alvaró’s face widened in a knowing grin. “Yes, but perhaps she would be happier with a man with more vigor. You’re a fine gentleman, Don Lysandro. But perhaps too gentle. She may choose a bold, assertive man who can protect her.”
Lysandro’s hackles went up. But he just wanted this conversation to be over so he could have a conversation with Sera of an entirely different sort.
“Marek has no lands and no money,” Lysandro answered in a blunt tone. “He’s not a don. He will never be able to provide her with the security and stature she deserves.”
“What you say is true. Under any circumstances, you would undoubtedly be the highest bidder.”
Lysandro didn’t appreciate Alvaró’s language at all. He understood perfectly well that Marek was not a viable suitor. But Lysandro was meant to believe he was, to drive up the bride price. Seraphine was Goddess-sent, a vision of charm and beauty. She was not the base means by which Alvaró could enrich himself. He grimaced, but said nothing.
Alvaró continued. “What would you have me do?” he asked.
“I have no desire to compete for a bride.”
“You would have me turn Marek away?” Alvaró asked, incredulous.
“And anyone else. At least until I have an answer.”
“Wooing her holds no interest for you either, I presume. It’s a long journey between our houses—all that riding and song-singing would be too much exertion. I’ll make your case to her, if you wish.”
What Lysandro wished was to punch him square in the jaw. He was about to protest when he heard a sound that froze his blood. The voice of an angel.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to persons living or dead, locales, businesses, or events is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, electronically or otherwise, except with the express written permission of the author. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted material in violation of the author’s rights.
*Meet the Author: Kathryn Troy*
I’m a history professor by day, a novelist by night. I like to write what I read – fantasy, romantic fantasy, gothic fiction, historical fiction, paranormal, horror, and weird fiction. Horror cinema and horticulture are my other passions.
When I’m not reading or writing or teaching, I’m gaming, traveling, baking, or adding some new weird creepy cool thing to my art collection. I’m a Long Island native with one husband, two children, and three rats.
Connect with the author: Website ~ Facebook ~ Instagram ~ Amazon ~ Goodreads
Title: The Shadow of Theron (Age of Shadows Book One)
Genre: Romantic Fantasy/Epic Fantasy/Fantasy Adventure
Word Count: 141k
Date of publication: Feb 28 2023
Price: $4.99 (digital), $15.99 (paperback)
Number of pages: 546 pages
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64898-297-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-64898-296-5