The Emerald Sea, plunges readers into a world teeming with rich atmosphere and gripping intrigue. Join Lord Willenborg and Lord Arron as they navigate treacherous landscapes and face the mysteries and dangers lurking within the fog-shrouded hills and dense forests on their journey to Rosymorn.
Rosymorn, a vivid and bustling marketplace, the contrast between the lively activity and the inner turmoil of Salea Rumshi. As Salea grapples with her own identity in a world undergoing profound change, she finds herself inexorably drawn to the enigmatic figure of the new Lord and the impact he has on Emerald Grove.
Tensions reach a boiling point as the occupying lords attempt to impose their statutes, sparking shouts of rebellion and setting the stage for a dramatic confrontation. Against a backdrop of escalating conflict, the knights stand ready for battle while the Lord struggles to maintain control, fueling the palpable sense of tension and uncertainty.
At its core, The Emerald Sea delves into the internal conflicts of its characters as they navigate the murky waters of deception, betrayal, and self-discovery. As readers journey deeper into the heart of Rosymorn, they are thrust into a world where secrets abound and dangers lurk at every turn.
The Emerald Sea, plunges readers into a world teeming with rich atmosphere and gripping intrigue. Join Lord Willenborg and Lord Arron as they navigate treacherous landscapes and face the mysteries and dangers lurking within the fog-shrouded hills and dense forests on their journey to Rosymorn.
Rosymorn, a vivid and bustling marketplace, the contrast between the lively activity and the inner turmoil of Salea Rumshi. As Salea grapples with her own identity in a world undergoing profound change, she finds herself inexorably drawn to the enigmatic figure of the new Lord and the impact he has on Emerald Grove.
Tensions reach a boiling point as the occupying lords attempt to impose their statutes, sparking shouts of rebellion and setting the stage for a dramatic confrontation. Against a backdrop of escalating conflict, the knights stand ready for battle while the Lord struggles to maintain control, fueling the palpable sense of tension and uncertainty.
At its core, The Emerald Sea delves into the internal conflicts of its characters as they navigate the murky waters of deception, betrayal, and self-discovery. As readers journey deeper into the heart of Rosymorn, they are thrust into a world where secrets abound and dangers lurk at every turn.
The fog was the worst so far. Shadows and fog danced together, twirling like a whirlpool, and the once calm atmosphere turned into gale-forced winds, chilling everyone to the bone despite the protective layers of linen and wool.
âHow could this once fertile land look so wilted?â
âA trick of the magical realm, no doubt, to lull us into a false sense of reality.â
Hearing the exchange behind him, Lord Willenborg allowed a faint smile of irony to crest his lips. He frowned almost instantly after that and shifted in his saddle. His eyes, so dark as to appear bottomless, narrowed slightly while they scanned the surrounding countryside. It was a wild, undeveloped land spread before them. Rolling hills were mantled in thick grass, dense forests that still offered a canopy of leaves despite the lateness of the season, and sparkling springs that fractured the sweeping meadows.
âThere are rumors that these woods are inhabited by fairy folk.â Riding at Willenborgâs side, much like he had done for many years, Lord Arron nodded toward the nearby forest. âA paradise of spirits both good and evil.â
âA gateway to a distant realm, more like,â muttered Willenborg.
âPray that they donât hear of your ingratitude, my old friend,â Arron responded sarcastically.
âAh, but I am grateful.â Once again, with a slight hint of amusement, almost mocking, set aglow with the intensity of his gaze. âGrateful enough to risk death in these foreign lands.â
Willenborg tightened his grip on the reins and glanced back over his shoulder. Nearly forty knights and squires had decided to come with him. Riding in a double column along a narrow, cobblestone pathway, they were fully prepared to follow wherever their Lord led.
The late afternoon sun broke through the fog for a fleeting moment, lighting fire to his long, dark hair and beard. He was tall and powerfully built, his face chiseled with determination, and his manner was one of utmost confidence.
âUnless Iâm mistaken, Willenborg, we are almost at our final destination,â Arron noted with a wry smile of his own. He, too, had instinctively lifted his head to the brief appearance of the benevolent warmth of the sunâs rays. Even taller than the man he was riding beside him, his worn face creased as he muttered, âRosymorn, a curious name.â
âNo more curious, Iâll wager, than the cottages and farmlands of Emerald Grove,â Willenborg replied as his gaze scanned the horizon.
The fog had reclaimed its treasure as the sun was no longer in view, returning the chill, gray, and unwelcome pallor to the sky above. In the distance, the destination they were riding toward rose like a monstrous, sprawling structure situated atop a broad highland at the joining of two rivers. Towers and ramparts lifted upward out of the fortress walls that were more than a hundred feet high to pierce the fog-shrouded gray of the mid-afternoon sky. Apparently, the gates had been opened in full anticipation of the new Lordâs arrival, yet no one ventured forth to welcome him as he approached. Banners should have been flying from the ramparts. There were none.
To the east was the main village, nestled in a valley near a river, a tidy collection of cottages and shops with cobbled pathways; it was the very definition of rural quaintness. Strangely, however, there were no signs of activity amongst the townsfolk in what should have been the busiest time of day. There was no one crossing to-and-fro the various shops, no one harvesting crops, no children playing or animals scampering about. If not for several columns of smoke being whipped aloft from several cottages, Willenborg would have thought he was surveying a ghost town.
A sudden, sharp uneasiness crept over him, but he urged his steed forward through the gate. Without hesitation, his entourage followed. Their horsesâ hooves thundered along the cobbled pathways to announce their arrival into the central courtyard. They were met with an almost eerie silence. The courtyard was deserted. Yet even worse was that the spacious, muddied courtyard was filled with broken furniture, fetid vegetation, animal manure, and stagnant waterâcombined to produce a ferocious stench.
Willenborg drew his steed to a halt and swung down from its saddle. His eyes gleamed harshly. A single muscle twitched in the ruggedness of his face as he battled the intensifying anger building within him. Neglect and despair were painfully evident at every turn. The fields looked sickly, and the crops appeared afflicted with various diseases. The cottages and pens of the farmers and shepherds looked ill-kept as if their owners no longer cared about them. The shops and stalls of the villages looked dilapidated and old. Everything seemed to be in shambles. If there wasnât evidence that some of this damage happened recently, it would have been easy to believe that Rosymorn was abandoned for years.
âIt appears the housecarls have been somewhat remiss in their duties,â Arron said cryptically. He dismounted and ordered the entourage to do the same.
Willenborg sensed the disappointment that no one would voice as he sliced a furious gaze toward the keep and whirled about toward the outer stairwell. He flung open the massive wooden doors and strode through the darkness into the great hall. Damp and smelling of must with stone floors covered in a mossy patina and rotted wood ceilings, creaky wooden doors with rusted iron fastenings, faded tapestries and floor coverings, and monochromatic discoloring from spiderwebsâit had none of the comforts the weary travelers would desire.
Willenborg listened to the gale winds howling woefully through the cracks in the thick stone walls. His expression now stoic. There was little doubt in his mind that the rest of Rosymorn would yield the same dilapidation. âRosymorn,â he muttered, then a brief, humorless smile appeared on his face.
âScribe,â Arron bellowed as he suddenly appeared in the great hall, âshow yourself at once!â There was, of course, no response to his demand. âWhere is that lazy mongrel?â
âGone. If he ever existed,â replied Willenborg.
âGone? But were you not toldâŚâ
âWhat I was told doesnât matter,â Willenborg cut him off. His voice edged with a faint bitterness.
âItâs a mistake, surely!â Arron set to reassure him.
âYes, my own.â Removing his fur-lined cloak, he tossed it impatiently to the floor. He lifted his arms and folded them across his chest. Glancing down, he caught a glimpse of the coat of arms displayed on the front of his crimson tunicâa golden hell sphere. His eyes darkened with memories he tried, yet failed, to forget. âMore a fool am I to think my fate has changed.â He muttered to himself.
âThe King is dead; there is no one you can appeal to.â Protested Arron, quickly closing the distance between them. âI cannot believe that he would have wanted our blood to freeze in such a place!â
âHe would have us do his bidding,â Willenborg asserted calmly. âYou forget, Arron, we were not sent here for our pleasure but to secure his. I was charged with holding Rosymorn, which is exactly what I plan to do.â
âBut with the King dead, we can hasten back to our homes at first light before the court has even left.â
âWe will not return home,â Willenborg said with an air of weary resignation. His gaze made a quick assessment of the great hall. âFor better or worse,â he decreed somberly, âwe are here to stay.â
Tempted to provide further argument, yet knowing full well that it would avail nothing, Arron acknowledged defeat. Dropping his hands to his side and temperament schooled to impassiveness, he asked, âWhat would you have us do?â
âPrepare for the approaching night. Set up the last of our provisions and gather whatever wood can be found. The men must have a hot meal. God knows that theyâll find little warmth within these walls.â Willenborg walked over to the fireplace, bracing a hand distractedly upon the ash-covered stones. âTomorrow, we begin repairs.â
âTomorrow,â Arron echoed. Giving a nod, he wheeled about and headed toward the doorway. He hadnât yet stepped outside before Willenborg halted him.
âArron!â
âYes, My Lord?â
âMake it known that I will release anyone who wants to leave.â The words were spoken softly and leveled; the effort on which they were said was not lost on Arron. âNone will accept the offer,â he replied. Suddenly, his mouth curved into an impulsive grin. âLike it or not, Willenborg, you will have sufficient company in your misery.â With that, Arron left the room. Willenborg stared for a while, then cursed himself for being the fool and headed off in his friendâs wake. All was quiet.
The storm, while mercifully brief, was so ferocious that it left a multitude of puddles glistening under the night sky. The wind was now nothing more than a whispery breeze that caressed the rolling hills and stirred the rain-soaked leaves.
Sitting alone in the fire-lit darkness of the master bedchamber at the very top of the keep, Willenborg cast a pensive glance downward. The squires and knights were temporarily quarantined in the great hall below. They slept on the cold stone floor; their blankets spread as close to the makeshift fire as safety would allow. Arron and five other aristocrats, who usually would have sought comfort in their private quarters, had also chosen to remain in the hallâit was by far the warmest and driest room in the castle. Outside on the battlements, four guards had been posted at each corner of the towers.
The new Lord of Rosymorn had lifted his hand to the thick, rough-hewn mantlepiece above the fireplace, and for him, the hours had crawled by with an agonizing unhaste. His eyes moved back toward the flames dancing on the other side of the hearth. The firelight played softly across his face, casting long shadows upon the walls. Behind him, a huge four-poster bed carved from oak offered a damp and musty respite from the dayâs worries. Rain and wind found their way through holes in the walls and ceiling, wetting the mattress and the faded brocade curtains left undisturbed by the castleâs plunderers. The only furniture in the room was a small table beside the bed, a large yet empty wooded trunk, and an ancient chair that had already provenâyet only brieflyâof supporting Willenborgâs large frame. He was too restless to sit.
Still, deep in thought, he turned and walked toward a high-arched window, noting that four of the nine lead panes of glass were missing. The night air blowing into the bedchamber was cold and scented with a putrid combination of smoke and the garbage in the courtyard below. Inhaling deeply nonetheless, he gripped the edge of the stone sill. His eyes fogged with sudden hardship, a hardship dulled by time but never quite forgotten. What a fool he had been.
Iâm so in love with you. Her betrayal still haunted him; it still served to make his blood run hot. Damn that woman! Would he never be free from her?
He muttered another curse under his breath and flung a glowering glance at the retreating brilliance of the moons. The first soft, hesitant colors of the new day had already begun to set aglow in the sky. He left the window and returned to his troubled stance before the fireplace. He was tired. Dear God, he was tired. And he was in Emerald Grove. He exhaled a long, uneven sigh and closed his eyes momentarily. It was then, in a rare and unusual stillness of the dawn, that he could have sworn he heard the soft, passionate strains of a womanâs voice.
Fantasy books have a unique ability to pull the reader into the world that has been created and still leave them wanting more. The Emerald Sea is no exception to this rule. This is a world that has many other stories to tell, and makes readers excited to return.
The desire to return to this world after finishing the novel does not mean that this story, the story of Salea and Willenborg, feels incomplete. Willenborg is the new Lord of Rosymorn, recovering from heartbreak and determined to do his futy as a new Lord. Salea is a descent of the old leaders of Emerald Grove, the land connected to Rosymorn. When Willenborg comes in with strange new laws, he immediately clashes with the locals. When he and Salea meet, however, sparks fly instantly.
Despite their intial dislike, the fact that the new laws make any relationship between them forbidden, and the fact that Salea is reluctantly facing an arranged marriage, the two are drawn to each other. As their worlds collide, they must decide if what they feel is truly love, and if they are willing to risk it all for that love.
This story was gripping, and an excellent example of enemies to lovers. These characters have good reasons to not trust each other, but as time goes by, their opinions change. The romance is slow but believable, without being too graphic.
The supporting characters also feel real, and not like props. They contribute to the action in real ways. Even the "villian" of the story has real motives and hurt (even if the reader disagrees with his decisions). Finally, the writing is luscious and paints a vivid picture.
There was a strange inconsistency with Arron's name. Arron changed to Aaron in Chapter Four, but his character remained consistent. This made it easy to forget through the rest of the novel.
Another thing that could cause confusion is that Willenborg and Salea both know that the other is into them, and that any protests during romantic moments are half-hearted. This leads to several scenarios of romance that can feel uncomfortable at times. However, as the reader is in the minds of the characters, that helps make it less uncomfortable. The fact that we know both characters are struggling with their feelings helps ease that discomfort a little.
If you like the Disney movie "Beauty and the Beast," you'll find things to love about this book. If you are interested in magical and interesting worldbuilding, this is also a wonderful book to check out. For a fan of enemies to lovers, this is a must-read.