She’d have to marry a Pirn boy.

  Teela hadn’t thought about that before.

  In fact, it was probable that she’d already met her future husband—or seen him, at least. If Mother and Leroh were to select a man for her, surely they’d choose among the town boys that they interacted with on a daily basis, someone they had a relationship with and trusted. Maybe one of the cobblers’ boys? Or Jempe the butcher’s son, he was about her age. Or would they try to match her with an older suitor? She didn’t like that idea.

  Maybe Teela could sway their decision if she found a boy she wanted for herself before they could select one for her. They might just let her do that without posing too much resistance, if she chose well. But only if her choice was one they could respect. So it would have to be someone with a decent living, capable of maintaining her and their children and of cooperating toward her family’s business.

  Who could that be?

  Teela didn’t like any of the boys she’d met in her last few years as a young woman. They did not interest her in the slightest, in fact. They were all secretive, and unpleasant, and had always laughed at her or dismissed her when she’d tried to approach them for conversation.

  They didn’t like her, either, she understood.

  Could there be more boys in Pirn, ones she’d never met who might be interested in Teela, and whose personalities she could find appealing? Perhaps. She’d look.

  Teela only realized how upset she’d made herself with that line of thought when her lower lip gave a sudden tremble.

  Silly. It was silly to feel upset about such things. She’d find a husband and love him, she decided. Mother had loved Father, or so Leroh seemed to think, and their marriage had been arranged for them by their parents. She’d only been unhappy with the rearing offspring aspect of committing herself to a man for the rest of her life. That part, Mother had not wanted to participate in, and there was nothing Leroh could say or do to convince Teela otherwise.

  The woman was hateful, almost resentful of them for simply existing. And she’d been the one who’d birthed them in the first place!

  Teela had loved her mother once, but had then quickly abandoned the unrequited sentiment. As a child, she’d yearned for Mother’s attention, doing anything to try to earn her approval. She’d tried imitating the woman, helping in the kitchen and following her around, attempting her exact steps to the best of her child’s ability to try to gain her respect, but that had only resulted in her getting yelled at for doing things the wrong way and making a mess. She’d tried forcing a bond that wasn’t there by lingering in Mother’s vicinity, starting meaningless conversations, offering useless help or little presents such as special pebbles, flowers or insects that Teela thought interesting enough to preserve.

  At the memory of those earlier years of her life, Teela grimaced. She now felt ashamed of her past behavior, for she could clearly see, through the lens of hindsight, that there was nothing she could have ever done to acquire her mother’s regard. Mother simply didn’t want to give it, and Teela had only been humiliating herself and enhancing the woman’s dislike of her with her immature conduct.

  As she’d grown older and more intelligent, Teela had learned to stop wasting her time and hopes. She’d discarded that fruitless chase to exchange it for a new goal in life—one that she now had to give up, too, apparently.

  She wondered why Mother had always seemed to despise her so much more than she did her brother. It was not a new question. Teela had been trying to decipher that disparity for years without success.

  Her current theory was that Mother resented her for her willfulness of spirit—something she’d never herself developed, and perhaps would have benefitted from having when she’d agreed to follow a life’s path that clearly made her unhappy. Mother hated Teela for her undue ambition and sense of nonconformity, both characteristics that she herself lacked, and ones she hence judged and envied in equal measure.

  Or perhaps Teela was just a more difficult child to raise than Leroh, and there was nothing more to it than that.

  What would Mother do to them when they returned from their foolish adventure?

  Teela didn’t want to think about that.

  Where was Mantis?

  She’d not yet returned, which was odd if all she’d gone to do was to drop off their clothes for laundering. Perhaps she’d gone looking for another man to kill, Teela thought. It was entirely possible for Ombira to have ordered that she murder another person, and Mantis would have had no alternative but to do it, to find and kill them and then eat their brains with her mouth link, just like that.

  A shudder racked Teela’s body from the mental image that painted. She definitely did not want to be “a Mantis”, as the Goddess had said. Certainly not.

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  Who could she marry?

  She didn’t even know any children her age. In fact, Teela had only ever befriended two human people, and both of those friendships had rapidly seen their ends.

  A number of years before, an amiable neighbor girl had tried to teach her how to play daisies, a simple game that involved telling truths and lies. To play, all players held a flower, and they would take turns to state a fact about themselves as truth. Other players would then decide whether their statement had been true or false, with those whose guesses were incorrect losing a petal from their flower, and the speaker conceding a petal for each person who they did not manage to deceive with their statement.

  The friendly girl had come to the tavern with her mother and aunt, and promptly gotten bored of their adult conversation. She’d then approached Teela wearing a shy smile and uninhibitedly started making conversation, asking inane questions about Teela’s interests and personal life. Teela hadn’t known how to react; she’d not been accustomed to such probing inquiries. The girl had then evidently picked up on that discomfort for she’d quickly offered to get to know each other through a game of daisies instead, pulling out two wilted white wild flowers from her pinafore pocket. “I was going to play with my friends earlier, but ma said we had to come meet with aunt Lety here. We can use these to play,” she’d explained.

  But the game did not make sense. Teela had seen no point in limiting one’s attempts to play by counting down on the flower’s petals, and she’d not been able to find the logic or fun in guessing the veracity behind someone’s words. How could she possibly have known if the veritable stranger’s younger brother truly liked frogs or not? She’d never even met him! So when it had come to her own turn to say something about herself, she’d tried to make it an interesting fact. “When I was only two years old, my father died defending our tavern from a fisherman’s attack. I don’t even remember him.”

  And the girl had not shown much interest in continuing the game after that.

  Teela knew now, obviously, that it had been a Sea raid that had taken her father, not a fisherman. She’d only ever heard a vague description of their attackers then, from a careless tavern patreon who’d been talking loudly of the attack by ‘those bastarding Seamen who’d plundered the town’. Now, so many years later did Teela come to the funny realization that even though she’d been trying to best the girl with a truth that sounded more like a lie, her mistaken notion of who’d really killed her father had made her statement a lie regardless of her intentions. Silly.

  The only other youth she’d ever tried to form a bond with had been a boy around her age who she’d met while receiving a delivery of grain and ale on a cold winter morning. He’d come with his father to help with the heavy lifting of the sacks and barrels, and when Teela had gone to pick up a bag he’d put down, he’d told her “Careful with that one! It’s heavy.”

  “I know how to lift a bag,” she’d said. Teela had taken offense to his words, for it had seemed to her at the time that he considered her incapable of performing a simple task. But later in the season he’d come back for another delivery of goods and given her a friendly smirk.

  “Ey. Girl. Will you help me to pick up this barrel? It’s full to the brim. That is, unless you only know how to lift bags?”

  She’d scowled at him then, but his kindly laughter had plainly told her he’d meant no insult, only harmless jesting. She’d spoken to him a few times after that, about the day, or the size and quality of the deliveries, or the busyness of the tavern. Their conversations had been nothing groundbreaking, but they’d been nice.

  He’d been fine, that boy. Teela might have wanted to marry him.

  But she’d never even learned his name, and when he’d eventually stopped showing up to the tavern with his father on the front seat of their creaky old delivery cart, Teela had resolved to forget him forever, for that had decidedly hampered their blooming friendship.

  It seemed to her now that her only worthwhile bonds had existed with beings incapable of complex thought. She remembered very well the time when she’d befriended a little mouse who’d frequented their pantry looking for food. So perhaps her problem was socialization with other humans, rather than just in general.

  He’d been no larger than the size of her big toe and brown like an apple seed, with little ears disproportionately big for his head and pink in color. She’d given him a name and cared for him lovingly for days, feeding him food scraps and aiding him to remain hidden from Mother to the best of her ability. But Teela had eventually stopped seeing him, and she’d never had the courage to ask Mother or Leroh if they knew what had happened to him. She’d preferred to believe that the mouse had simply gone away on his own.

  And so, aside from her tiny pantry friend, and the neighbor’s elderly dog, and a few birds she’d managed to approach without them flying away, Teela had only ever had Clover to consider as a true friend. And Homely. But he was gone now, too.

  Teela sat up on the edge of the bed and watched the wooden door to her right expectantly. Why hadn’t Mantis returned yet?

  Leroh was deeply asleep. Teela went to explore.

  Just outside of their room was a long hallway lined with doors to the other inn chambers. It was silent. Teela walked over to the curved staircase at the end of the dim space and went down to what was the entrance to the establishment. Just outside the main doors stood Mantis with her arms crossed over her chest and her frowning gaze directed at Teela. Beside her stood an older gentleman, cleanly dressed in nice cottons and linens of green and brown. His back was very straight and his posture seemed rigid and tense. He continued speaking to Mantis without noticing Teela’s observing them, “I don’t want to cause offense, miss, when I say this, but I do not believe any properties can be made available here for…one such as yourself. Again, I mean no affront, but this is a free community. We don’t normally welcome…well, that is—”

  “I said it’s not for me,” Mantis almost barked at him.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. But, well, you see, the folk here won’t be happy to do business with a God servant, especially one…so well known. They’d be reluctant to deal with, well, with you. Ma’am.”

  When silence spread and the man pinched his lips to avoid saying anything else, with the woman doing nothing but staring furiously at him, Teela could contain herself no longer. “What is he talking about, Mantis? You want to buy a property here?”

  Dark steampunk fantasy

  The world of Rohana exists beneath a barrier of luminous crosses that has enclosed humanity in a dome. Within it, people bow to Rohai and his Church of Harmony, who have divided the world into city dwellers who harness crystal technology and villagers who reject it.

  Haran Baratti fled his homeland with his infant son, Heron, and found refuge in a remote village in a neighboring country. But the sanctuary they seek does not last, and events revolving around Haran's past leave Heron alone, forcing him to return to his father's homeland. But to get there, he can only do it by obtaining a special passport, which will allow him to travel to different kingdoms.

  Having been raised in a different culture, Heron will have to navigate a world of mechanical cities powered by crystalline powers and governed by various social structures. There he'll meet allies and face dangerous foes. And those whom he encounters have secrets; some of them, if revealed to the public, may reshape the very foundations of the Rohana Federation. Will Heron, in learning those secrets, realize that maybe some of those secrets should have stayed buried?

  What to expect:

  ? Dark steampunk-inspired power fantasy with extensive world-building

  ? Magic systems where power comes at a psychological cost

  ? Visceral, well-choreographed combat sequences

  ? Mysteries that unfold across multiple volumes

  ? Steampunk aesthetics merged with elemental magic

  ? Stories where the actors are often found in morally grey areas