Kathleen Bryan returns with the sequel to The Serpent and the Rose. Beautiful Averil is now the Duchess of Quitaine, but to keep her people safe, she made a vow to the traitor King of Lys. After a year, she would come to his Court in Lutece, and choose a husband from the men he offers her. Averil must produce an heir – not only to Quitaine, but also to all of Lys; for she is the only daughter of the King's sister, and he has no wife or child of his own. But Averil's heart is in the keeping of a powerful young Knight of the Rose, Gerient, a man she can never marry. The two share a bond of magecraft as well as love, for between them lies the power to raise the Wild Magic of the world, the only force that can defeat the King's quest to release the Serpent God of Chaos from his mystic prison. And when Averil learns that the King is building a fleet to attack the Ladies of the Isle, to destroy them as he destroyed the Orders of the Knights of the Rose in Lys, she rebels against her sworn duty, and flees to Gerient's side. Together they will raise their powers to protect both the Isle and the remnants of the Rose. “Strong, elegant writing lifts Bryan's fantasy debut… In the crowded epic fantasy field, Bryan's series opener stands out with its intriguing characters and a vivid story rich with potential.” ― Publishers Weekly on The Serpent and the Rose “First of a series illustrating the endless struggle between order magic and chaos magic. …A solid debut, with believable characters and intrigues and several excellent sequences that hint at good things to come.” ― Kirkus Reviews starred review on The Serpent and the Rose “Bryan has a clear eye for nuance and a love for high fantasy that shines through the page.” ―Kate Elliott, author of Spirit Gate on The Serpent and the Rose Kathleen Bryan lives in Vail, Arizona. She is the author of The Serpent and the Rose. The Golden Rose By Kathleen Bryan Tor Books Copyright © 2008 Kathleen Bryan All right reserved. ISBN: 9780765313294 THE GOLDEN ROSE (Chapter 1) "IT'S TIME." Gereint raised his head. He had been kneeling all night on the stone floor, half dreaming and half praying, but there was no sleep in him. He felt light, empty, exalted. Slowly his eyes focused and his mind came back from far and magical places. The chapel was full of shadows and whispers. Its jeweled windows were dark, its banks of candles burning low as the night wore its way toward dawn. The man who had spoken moved into what light there was. His face was somber but his dark eyes were smiling. "They're waiting for you," he said. "Already?" Gereint bit his tongue. His self-control was still imperfect, though he had labored long and hard to master it. "I don't think I'm ready. Maybe I should wait. Maybe--" "You are ready," said Riquier. "Come with me." Gereint was bound to obey. Riquier was a Squire and his teacher, and far outranked him. He rose stiffly, resisting the urge to crouch and stoop. No matter what he did, he would loom over most men of his nation. Riquier led him out of the chapel and through the cloister into the court of the testing, where he would either become a Novice of the Rose or die trying. He did not share his teacher's confidence, but it was too late to turn back. The only way out of this was through the test. They were waiting: all of the order that had escaped alive from the kingdom of Lys, and a good number of the Knights and Squires and Novices of the Rose on this island of Prydain. Gereint slowed and almost stumbled. He had not expected so many. Riquier tugged him onward until he stood in the center of the circle. The sky was just beginning to brighten with dawn, but the courtyard was full of light: clear and shadowless, born of magic and the combined will of the Knights. They were all gathered to watch their most troublesome Postulant attempt to become an initiate of the order. Gereint drew himself up. Maybe they wanted him to fail. If they did, he would put on a brave show. Riquier nodded as if he could read Gereint's thoughts. "Remember," he said: "from the mind to the heart and the heart to the hand--that is the secret of all that we are." He left Gereint in the middle of the sandy circle. Novices came out in his place, bringing the weapon with which Gereint would be tested: a two-handed greatsword. They had practice armor, too, and a light helmet, both of which fit him surprisingly well. Gereint rolled his shoulders under the padded leather, trying to work out the tension. He had been hoping, like a fool, for a different test. Books, now--he had been studying diligently all year long, and could recite whole pages in three languages, almost four. Or magic. He could control it now, mostly. He had mastered all of the simple spells; he could make an almost clear rod of glass, though shaping it was still giving him trouble, and binding magic into it was more than any Postulant was trusted to do. Weapons were his worst weakness. If they had brought o