Open me for DETAILS ON “Trickster in the Palace & Other Tales”‘s release week, and all the fun that comes with it! ✨
Greetings Gentle Reader from the Land of Whimsical!
Keep scrolling to find:
- Our anticipated summer release, Trickster in the Palace, releases soon! Last chance to preorder with goodies (including 2 surprise bonus gifts for each preorder 👀) AND a new hardcover edition that you can add to your shelves!
- You can get an ARC of Trickster In The Palace (last chance!) and The Crafting Con, on both NetGalley and Whimsical!
- Come meet Whimsical in Nelson!! At the Nelson Farmers’ markets from July 24th – 25th
Trickster is nearly here!! 😱
Our summer release is fast approaching! Hurry while you still have time to hop on the ongoing preorder campaign, Trickster In The Palace by Kaitlyn Carter Brown.
Only 2 days left to preorder this gorgeous novella as a paperback OR a hardcover (yay!!) edition to add to your Instanolde collection! And come on, this cover is absolutely stunning, and WE ARE OBSESSED WITH THE ART! Just look at the art of Razhar and Elerek from @suzelfruz.draws, @theogwhimsicalartist and @icandrawiswear!
Want to check out more of the vibes first?
Here’s what Trickster is all about:
Three tales, one story.
Trickster in the Palace: For Razhar, life in the palace of Instanolde came with an extensive list of perks. Endless opportunity to pull pranks on the soldiers, to use his wit and charms to secure dessert, and to come and go as he pleased. Not to mention having a prince as a best friend to get him out of trouble.
Daughter of the Desert: Lystra, a young noble daughter with an unmatched love of the desert and her cardants, would do anything to take part in the yearly races. She has trained her reptiles and assembled her team, but she is untested, and the races are not for the faint of heart. From the dangerous desert canyons to the gilded palace of the new king, Lystra must learn to navigate race politics and treacherous alliances as well as the hopes of her own heart.
Royals of Instanolde: King Cormek, still growing accustomed to his new crown, dreams of a new dawn for his kingdom. But there’s one haunting shadow that remains in Instanolde, the cursed Prince Elerek. And Cormek wants nothing more than to bring his brother into the light with him, but is such a task even possible?
Step into the desert world of Instanolde, in a time before a queen rose from the fires of tragedy and a prince wielded a curse to save his kingdom. This tapestry of foundational tales weaves together a story of destiny, of ferocity, of loyalty, and seeking hope’s shining thread.
Also, as a new fun bonus we will be including 2 little surprise extra gifts with each preorder, but only for the preorder period until June 16th (not pictured here… they’re, well, a surprise)! Trickster’s release week starts TODAY! And runs from June 14th – 17th and includes a ton of fun such as:
- June 14th: Kaitlyn Carter Brown’s birthday today!! (Go wish her a happy birthday)! Plus, keep scrolling for a sneak peek at the first part of the first short story in this novella
- June 15th: Author live chat with Kaitlyn Carter Brown over on Whimsical’s IG at 10:00 AM PDT, come chat all things Trickster, writing, reading, editing, and stick around to the end for a giveaway
- June 16th: Trickster release day!
- June 17th: Giveaway of a copy of Trickster with the preorder gifts & bonus gifts
But don’t forget, the preorder incentives are only available for the first 40 preorders of this stunning little book!
Not only that, but Trickster in the Palace, & Other Tales is going digital! You can preorder the e-book from Amazon, and the audiobook will be available on Audible (release date to be announced soon), read to you by Erik Homme!
Alright, we promised you a sneak peek! Here it is, the first chapter of “Trickster in the Palace”, the first of three short stories in this novella. 💛
Trickster in the Palace
Chapter One
Razhar had two options; arrive at the competition on time or arrive without sweets.
A terrible predicament. Scampering down the dusty street, dodging the enormous reptilian forms of cardants and elegant carriages, Razhar squinted into the sunlight before skidding to a stop at the street corner. He huffed, panting as his desperation cramped his long, gangly legs. Just shy of eighteen—a single month shy, in fact—he’d done his share of mad dashes in competition with the sundials, but this really was cutting it close.
Betting on cardant races is a terrible habit.
Well, he had, and the deed was done. The festival of Tavahna lasted two weeks and the allure proved irresistible to a youth like him, like a jewel poking out from the desert sands. All sorts of events were hosted along the golden streets of Instanolde, filling the long summer days with sports, exotic markets, and endless opportunities for adventures.
Including betting on the races, which was illegal for those boasting the fine age of seventeen.
At eighteen, one could be drafted into the ranks of King Lorkin’s armies—and bet on cardant races. Razhar shrugged and shook out his still cramping calves. He was almost eighteen. Besides, he’d struck a bit of luck with his picks and procured enough winnings to spend on the sweets––sweets he planned to devour during the final rounds of the slingshot competition.
Except, of course, he was going to be late. Very late.
But if he was already going to be late . . . Razhar spun on his heels, turning away from the circle of game pavilions dominating the city skyline, decked in gold and brilliant banners of orange, and towards the avenue of food vendors. If he possessed one skill worthy of his pride, it was prioritizing. Just a few minutes later, he started back up the avenue, this time a small basket of ghoriba bahla cookies cradled in his hands, still warm and wafting a tantalizing scent of nuts with a dash of sesame.
Razhar smiled, his tardiness now justified.
A flash of green burst in his peripheral vision, turning his head and slowing his feet. He blinked once, barely aware that he stood stilled on the busy street as shoppers shoved past. The vendor before him peddled a rainbow, deep tones too vibrant to be real among the neutral shades of the desert. Silks and scarves woven with threads that shimmered in the summer sunlight. But that one, folded neatly upon the edge of the table, shaded the deepest emerald, held Razhar in rapt attention.
Bright colors always had a way of finding him, and he gathered them like the goatherds gathered their flocks. A bit of finery was something to smile about, the colors adorning his figure feeling like a far off embrace from a long lost loved one. Not to mention, a definite improvement from his impoverished roots.
Stars above, he needed that green silk. The perfect addition to any ensemble, whether as a sweeping scarf or the most perfect turban. Still clutching the cookies, he approached the table, eyeing the merchant. He’d gotten quite good at reading them. And the shrewd eyes and curled lip on this one wasn’t boding well.
“Oi.” Razhar held his head high, trying to make himself look taller, broader, anything more than a scrawny teenager. But only a teenager, certainly not one draftable for the armies. “How much for that one?”
An outrageous number would follow, of course. This merchant wasn’t the type to settle for anything less. He rose off his stool, staring down at Razhar with an aloof expression, rubbing his hands, decked with gold rings, together.
“Thirty.”
Razhar raised an eyebrow. His vocabulary wasn’t polished enough to find a word to convey “beyond outrageous,” but he didn’t know anyone who’d pay thirty for a silk scarf—and he’d attended some fancy parties.
“Stars, no.” Razhar shook his head. “Twelve would be sufficient.”
“Bah! An insult,” the merchant scoffed. “Get out of here, boy. I’ve real customers to court.”
“Fifteen?” Razhar took a step closer. “Surely we can find a bargain.”
To that, the merchant snarled, “I said get out. There’ll be no bargains here. The price is the price.” Then, his face faded into a smile of a most malicious sort. “Looks like you’ve got company.”
Only then did Razhar notice the sound of boots and heavy armor behind him.
“Is there an issue, merchant?” A smooth voice spoke from over his shoulder. “Is this gutter rat insulting you?”
Stars above. Razhar’s insides rioted. How had this gotten out of hand so quickly?
Standing just to his left was the proud profile of an Instan soldier. His armor had been polished to silver perfection, and a cape of royal orange draped from broad shoulders. But the face peering out from beneath the orange-turban-wrapped helmet belonged to a boy—one scarcely older than Razhar himself.
“What are you doing here?” Razhar sneered. “I didn’t think you patrolled the gutters, Nabil.”
“Stationed on loan from the palace guard to the city militia for the festival.” The soldier, Nabil, glowered at him. “As if I have to explain myself to you.”
“No, suppose you don’t.” Razhar sniffed. Something about that look, that taunt in the young soldier’s eyes, the type that wanted to be tested, always demanded a reaction and Razhar too easily found himself provoked. “But you are anyways.”
Nabil snarled, the bad blood between them properly boiled now.
The merchant pointed at him, his eyes vile and dark. “This boy insults me and my wares. I was promised paying customers of the upper city, not this rabble.”
“Excuse me.” Razhar lifted his coin pouch from his pocket, aware that he only possessed eight coins inside, the product of his unlikely winnings. “I am a paying customer, thank you very much, and I do live in the upper city. I live in the pal—”
“That’s enough now.” Nabil seized a fistful of his shirt at the shoulder, nearly upsetting the basket of cookies. “I apologize for the trouble, good merchant. You won’t see this one again.”
Oh, but he would. Razhar craned his neck as Nabil marched away from the booth, dragging him along. That perfect green scarf became obscured by the crowds as they made their way toward the contest pavilion, and Razhar thought the world became a bit duller for it. Such a fine scarf hadn’t seen the last of him, despite the bleakness of his coin purse.
“I should’ve known you’d be here, stirring up trouble,” Nabil growled, releasing him on a vacant street corner.
Razhar caught his balance with a small teeter and straightened his vest. “Is my predictability finally catching on? I’ll have to switch tactics . . . keep you on your feet.” He winked, hoping that Nabil wouldn’t be dense enough to miss the reference.
It had been an accident when Razhar had knocked over a jar of cooking oil, but absolutely intentional when he’d used it to coat the corner stairs where Nabil frequently was stationed at the palace.
There’d been no need to worry, the soldier’s armor—which always looked rather bulky on Nabil’s scrawny frame—had done its job protecting him when he’d slipped.
Had Razhar gone too far? Well . . .
Nabil puffed out his chest and cleared his throat, indicating that he did indeed catch the reference. “Did I say gutter rat earlier? I’m sorry, I meant canal rat. For your homeland.”
Razhar looked away, feigning indifference. Jabs at his homeland were pathetic these days, particularly with everyone hating on the Kushite tribes after years upon years of bloody skirmishes. But he wasn’t the only Kushite in Instanolde, easily identified by his bronze skin and dark hair, just the one available for Nabil to torment.
The jabs hurt, of course, but they didn’t deter Razhar from keeping this rivalry alive and well.
“You ought to be commended, Nabil, for keeping the lovely streets of Instanolde clean from such calamities as myself.” He flashed a toothy smile. “And since you’re such an upstanding citizen, perhaps you might do me a good deed and purchase that scarf? I’ll pay you back.”
Nabil scoffed. “Pay me back? With what money?” Then, his eyes took on a particular gleam. “Which brings me to the reason why I’m even wasting my breath on the likes of you.” He moved closer, a grand show of intimidation, and seized the coin purse from Razhar’s hand.
“Oi!” Razhar glared, reaching for the purse. “Give it back!”
Nabil shook the purse to evaluate its contents, then clicked his tongue. “I know exactly where these coins came from, and how you illegally acquired them. Underage betting is a punishable crime in Instanolde, you know.”
Razhar’s face warmed, the heat reaching all the way to his ears.
“I take it your picks were poor?” The taunt returned to the soldier’s voice, droning like a gravelly millstone. “Certainly not enough for that scarf, at any rate. You’re lucky it was me the bookkeepers reported you to; you should thank me.”
“Oh really, why is that?” Razhar’s hands curled into tight fists.
Nabil lifted an aloof chin. “I’m not going to report you. You see, when the military draft catches up to you—and I hear you’ve got a prestigious birthday in a few weeks—I’d like your record to be clean. Can’t have anything jeopardizing that.”
Razhar rolled his eyes before yanking the purse out of Nabil’s slimy fingers. “Your care and concern is very touching. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He ducked and slunk around Nabil, hurrying to put a few paces’ distance between them before any of the insults burning on his tongue had the chance to escape.
“You can’t get away from the draft, canal rat,” Nabil called after him. “But go ahead, try.”
“I will!” Razhar walked on without looking back. “Don’t forget, Nabil, I live in the palace!”
Yes, the great, golden palace of Instanolde, home to kings, princes, and him, the most mischievous trickster of all.
Isn’t it fantastic!?
We know. 😎 Hurry, go preorder your copy now so that you can still get it with all of the bonus gifts, before they’re no longer available!!
Don’t forget all of this fun!
Alright, all that being said, here’s the summary of dates… don’t forget!
- June 14th – 17th: Trickster in The Palace & Other Tales’ release week, starting today
- July 10th – 16th: Whimsical’s Christmas in July sale
- July 10th at 10:00 AM PDT: Author live chat with Whimsical’s owner Hannah and founder Micheline
- July 14th: Shooting Stars goes live on NetGalley
- July 24th – 25th: Whimsical will be at the Nelson, BC Farmers’ Markets
As always, thank you all so much for supporting our journey thus far. We’re a small team and we appreciate and see all your comments, messages, and orders. As a family run press, it means the world!
Until next time,
Whimsical Publishing 🩷🦩
