For the record, The PDF version of “The Memoirs of the Count de Rochefort” by Cortilz de Sandras (English Translation) is a complete disaster! Then again, maybe it is just the version of it for Kindle PC that is completely unreadable. Anyway…what’s with all these codes and HTML and nonsense?! It is so bad on the Kindle ap that it is completely unreadable. I just want to find out who thought it was ok to upload something so wretched to archives.org and ask what they could have been thinking. Thankfully, however, I have an actual physical copy and just have to figure out the difference between the use of “F’s” and “S’s” and you can pretty much get the general gist. I have always thought that a better rendition of the ‘Memoirs’ from the famous D’artagnan romances would be fantastic since, unbeknownst to most, they are based off of real people. Alexandre’ Dumas shamelessly ripped off both Cortilz and his co-writer, Auguste Maquet and yet gets all of the credit for being so bloody brilliant.
It is officially spring break which means a mad flurry of cleaning and fixing up so we can get the house appraised, refinanced and my ex husband off the mortgage, etc. Then there’s the eBook to finish up and the two manuscripts and upload them to Kindle. Then there is the FAFSA to finish, the scholarship application and the business plans for “Backwoods” and “Dragon Legacy”.
All this and I am supposed to get some sleep in there somewhere.
Attitude in relation to authority figures
Faelyn being High Lady and Queen of the Fortunate Island thinks of herself as an authority figure. As long as she agrees that that person or institution has equal or greater “authority” than herself things are fine. She is, though, a diplomat and can play the subordinate and the suplicant if it is to her calculated advantage to do so. She hotly resents the Christian Church, particularly the Catholic Faith, but she sees many protestants as being far worse in their subjugation and exploitation of women. She won’t be overt in her undermining those authorities, but she does work covertly in achieving her objectives.
There is no time than when a woman is with child that her dreams are the most profound – and perhaps frightening as well. Since the death of my husband, I had left Versailles, but only after having to beg my leave from the Court from King Louis himself. The King said that he was very sorry to see me go, but that he completely understood my reasons for doing so. He promised to send a mutual friend to check upon my progress. That night I left Paris and travelled to my husband’s ancestral home.
I dreamt last night that it was Louis de Rouvroy, Monsieur le Duc de Saint-Simon that the King sent to the Château de Rochefort. He was certainly one of the most well spoken and elegant of King Louis gentlemen at Court. He had a frank honesty about him that shocked many, and that Louis tolerated even when the Duc criticised him roundly for his excesses and those of the Court. When everyone there was quick to say, “Les femmes ne sont pas gens,” – ‘Women are not people,’ De Saint-Simon was the first to speak out against the idea. Continue reading
t had snowed for the first time just two nights before Christmas. Everything around the chateau was blanketed in white, the trees hung with ice and snow. A shroud of mist made everything glow with an ethereal blue-white light.
The forest was a kingdom of ice, my horse and I trod carefully among the ancient oaks and evergreens, weaving along where I thought the trail might be, the snow coming easily to the fetlocks of my mount. It was not a deep snow, but judging by the sky and the scent of moisture in the air it was clear that more snow was on the way.
On the Fortunate Island, we never have snow. But in England as well as Scotland and France, snow comes every year. Somehow it seems that everyone hopes for the innocent blanket of white to symbolize the anniversary of the coming of the Christ. All the while everyone around me both at Court and in the countryside was preparing for the Christmastide festivities, my heart was as cold as the snow.
“Joie – lynn,” I heard a man’s voice, cooing, coming from the nursery. It was not Sebastien’s voice, but it was no less familiar to my ears. “What a little miracle you are,” the voice continued.
I turned the corner to see my infant daughter in the arms of the Fallen One. Azazeal. If he had noticed my entrance, he did not give any indication that he had. Instead, he continued to coo at and nuzzle my infant daughter, “Did you know that your Papa, he was once dead,” he said as if he were telling her a grand Faerie tale, “but your Maman, well, she asked her friend for help so that she could bring back your Papa,” he nuzzled her closer now, “You are just like her, Jocelyn – just like your Maman, in that you know exactly what you want. ” he traced a line across her cheek and into the profusion of her dark hair with the back of his forefinger and bent to kiss her.
t was a matter of a few weeks after Sebastien’s death that I found his personal journal. I had not been looking for it, nor had I intended to pry into those thoughts that were most certainly his and his alone. The dark brown leathern covers looked well worn, used and kept amongst my husband’s private things. I thought, in our years together that were now all but too short a span of time, I had seen him writing in it, as he had seen me writing in my own, but far more immense book. This one now beckoned. It was an invitation, and I could almost see him standing there in front of the fire, holding his precious tome out to me and saying, “I want you to know, Faelyn. I want you to know all of me. See this beast of a man that you have married and locked your soul to for all that he is.” Wordlessly, but not without gratitude I accepted that invitation. Continue reading
There is a great deal to be said about those who serve. In some languages, Egyptian and especially ancient Sidhe in particular, to be a ruler or a teacher, means that you are a servant, if not a slave. It is the same word in any of those instances. What people do not realize is how much Power service truly has. There are those who wield Power and those whom are attracted to it. There are those who study it and there are those who seek to master it.
He was before her now, bound, blindfolded, naked and kneeling.