I’m writing to you from my cozy warm office, where curtains of icicles frame the windows. I’ve got my blanket on and a view of the snow, and I’ve got some news for you, a snippet from my latest book I’m working on, and a fab sale…
Mage Slave is on sale, along with all these other lovely books – today only!
My latest updates on the Forest Book
my latest work In progress
Since February 2025 and into this year, I’ve been working on the same book. My progress has been remarkably steady for what I’m used to, which has been delightful. Something about this particular book just plods along. It still takes a long time to find my way through the forest, but it’s worth it.
I mentioned this book in my last update, but in case you haven’t seen this, I’m exploring a new world with elemental magic, shapeshifting forest druids, and flame-wielding volcano druids. It also deals with themes of love and obligation, consent and duty, and the power of knowledge.
I think I’m ready to start sharing more about the Forest Book, so here’s my first, short snippet.
This is from a scene where the heroine, Vesta, is about to be married to a wild forest barbarian lord whom she’s never met. As she’s reflecting on what might happen and all that may come, she realizes something about herself.
Vesta followed her sister into the suite from the baths, trying not to grumble as they dried her and rubbed sweet orange across her wrists.
“Have you seen this dress?” Anala held the bottom hem of the skirt in the tip of her fingers, eying the garment like it had six arm holes or the dressing stand had three talking heads. As delicate as her name sounded, Anala was not much for anything fancy or formal. “How do you even get inside this?”
“I think it’s beautiful,” her aunt put in, running an affectionate hand down the length of fabric. In truth, it was very lovely, lengths of black silk that wrapped artfully around the mannequin. Twinkling black crystals danced across the bodice and in long smooth sweeping lines down the skirt, curving like petals on a flower. Each crystal glistened with a slightly different sheen of green or purple or gold across the deep black base. Delicate strands of more crystals draped across the shoulders and down the arms, some decorative, some disguising their function as straps.
“You would, you picked it,” Anala joked.
“Well, someone had to. I asked for you to have something made years ago. Dresses of this quality take ages to construct. And who would answer me? None of you but Isha. I couldn’t let you get in trouble, Vesta. You get in enough on your own. So I made something up.”
Isha grinned. “Well, I think it’s lovely. The only lovelier thing here is our sister.”
“Come now, let’s get the dress on.” Her aunt waved at the air.
Isha dutifully applied makeup Ves couldn’t muster an opinion about. She tried to keep the grumbling to a minimum. They insisted on asking her thoughts, of course. Silver dust or gold? Passionate ruby lips or the pink of youth? Isha selected gold to highlight the sheen of the gems, brushing it across Vesta’s eyelids, her cheekbones, mixed with other powders black as night around the eyes. Her lips they painted red as blood.
Would the color of her lips or a gold sheen really sway the Wolf Lord? It wouldn’t be enough to overlook her father’s bad deal. Well, my dear, your father is clearly evil, and he’s made me look like a fool, but your glorious beauty has made me forget all that, and now I’m madly in love!
She shook her head at herself, accidentally setting off a flurry of action as her attendants thought she was displeased at the arrangement of her hair. And she was displeased—but not at their efforts.
Falling in love. How ridiculously selfish. That had never been her destiny, and yet here she was discovering that she’d somehow held out a slim hope for romance. Perhaps she was the optimist of the three of them.
Vesta did not believe in giving up in a fight, though. Not when people were dying, not when lives were on the line, even if it meant bending the rules—or breaking them.
Unfortunately, it would be her own life on the line now. But Isha was right, she had her battle strategy. It would not be an easy fight, wooing the Wolf Lord.
What would be the chances she could love a man she’d never met, whom her father had chosen for her? And that that man could also love her?
A snowflake had a better chance of surviving a volcano.
— R.K. Thorne (pre-editing, subject to change)
I’m really enjoying writing this book, and I can’t wait to share it with all of you…
Charity Anthology
I also have a brand new story in this anthology. Proceeds go to fight book banning. Available only in February.
You can get it here: https://geni.us/romantasyrebels
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