Hi, Iām K.L. Nooneāmany thanks to A.L. Lester for letting me drop by to talk about Magician today!
Magician comes out July 24 from JMS Books, and itās m/m high fantasy, with bisexual main charactersāat least, Gareth is bi, and Lorre is whatever ancient weary shapeshifting magicians are! (Heās been and done quite a lot, over the years, and at this point what he mostly isā¦is tired. But Garethās got a lot of enthusiasmā¦)
Itās very much about magicāprobably obvious! And also itās about past mistakes and guilt, and redemption, and trying to hide from the world on a deserted tropical island (because one might as well hide and feel guilty for oneās past mistakes in comfort!), and then itās about what happens when an optimistic young prince shows up on oneās island and believes with all his heart that the worldās last legendary magician has to help with his quest, because thatās how quests go, isnāt itā¦
(Itās also the novel I once referred to on Facebook as, āWell, now thereās a lot of tea and magical sex diamonds.ā So if those sound like your cup ofā¦erā¦)
This might be one of my favorite novels that Iāve written; itās one thatās lived in the back of my head for at least a decade. Itās technically a spin-off for a side character (in fact, the antagonistāthough heās not a bad person, just thoughtless!) from my short story āSorceress,ā which was my first-ever romance sale, way back then! I always knew the sequel was Lorreās story: what does a magician do after heās been reckless with his power and caused problems? And who would he fall in love with? The answer to the second question was, obviously, an Earnest Young Hero, someone who still believes that other people will help you if you ask them nicely, and who looks at a lonely and dangerous magician and asks how he can help, in turn.
(A fun and true trivia fact: Garethās name wasnāt necessarily going to be Gareth! I wasnāt sure it felt like him, but I needed to call him somethingāI thought I might change it later. But, around 30k in, Iād been writing him and thinking of him as Gareth, soā¦he was! And I actually quite like it nowāthe Arthurian reference fits nicely, I think. Gareth would also get along well with Prince Lir from Peter S. Beagleās The Last Unicorn, I suspectā¦)
There are also nectarines. And some discussion of giant turtles. And a bandit or five.
Magician also has two of my favorites of my own ending linesāone for the main story and one for the epilogue. I sometimes find ending lines tricky, but both of these just turned up and felt right. (The last word of the novel overall, by the way, is āyes.ā Itās an answer.)
I always write with music, and this playlist has a lot of The Proclaimers, The Pretty Reckless, and Volbeat on itāflavors of Edinburgh, of wild magic, of aging, of falling in love, of finding home at last. And some Against Me! because I suspect Lorre would sympathize with āI Was A Teenage Anarchist,ā and The Carsā āMagicā because, well, magic!
Hereās an excerpt, and buy links, and everythingāI hope you enjoy this world and these characters. Iāve loved them for a very long time, and Iām excited to share. And if thereās a third story in this world, itās got lesbian romanceāa sorceress and a princess, in fact, but weāll get there when we get thereā¦
Buy Magician! JMS Books : Amazon
The beginning of Magician
The worldās greatest living magician, lying on his back on a rocky ledge halfway up a cliff and bathed in sunshine, felt the boatās arrival on the island shore below like an uninvited knock at a private door. He did not enjoy it.
He didnāt move for a moment. He did not feel like it, and thereād be no rush. Nobodyād get past his wards.
He kept both eyes closed. Sun streaked red behind his eyelids; gold warmed his skin, his hair. His body soaked in the sensations of strong heated stone, sank into stone, became stone: learning how the rock felt when bathed in lush late-morning light. His edges blurred, softened: time slowed, thrummed, grew earthen and deep, salt-lapped and wind-etched. He mightāve been here for centuries, unhurried. Equilibrium and erosion, solidity and reshaping: a balance.
He had needed balance. Something heād thought heād known, once. Something he no longer understood.
Heād thought the island might help. Being rock for a while, or the wind, or the seaspray: being suspended amid them all. Being alone, because he was not sure he recalled how to be human, not well enough.
The island was warmāLorre had always shamelessly adored being warmāand far enough from the mainland that heād been mostly undisturbed, and close enough to trade routes that he could occasionally walk on water out to a boat and barter some repairs or some healing for some news of the Middle Lands and King Henryās court at Averene and the Grand Sorceress Liliana. Lorre had promised not to magically check in on Lily or their daughter; he was attempting to keep that promise.
Equilibrium. Difficult. Sunlight was easier. Sunbeams were weightless. Stones did not have to think about human promises. Human perceptions.
The knock came again. It was not physical, or not entirely. It was a presence, an unexpected intruder standing below, shuffling feet in the sand and no doubt wondering where precisely a magician could be found, being faced with a towering blank cliff and no visible habitation.
Lorre sighed, pulled himself back from frayed edges and heavy sleepy light, and sat up, pulling a robe on in an unfussy tumble of blue and gold, mostly just because he liked the caress of silky fabric on bare skin. His senses shifted, dwindled: more human, though not entirely. Heād been a magician too long to not feel the threads of brillianceācliff, vines, fish, grains of sand, sea-glass polished by wavesāall around.
He peeked over the side of the ledge. Behind him the cave yawned lazily, reminding him of sanctuary: he could simply walk back inside, the way he had for several years now, and ignore the new arrival. That generally worked.
He was rather surprised someoneād found him at all. He wasnāt exactly hidingāoh yes you are, said a tart little voice in his head, one that sounded like Lilyāsābut the island, after a bit of work on his part, nearly always concealed itself from maps and navigation charts. At the beginning a few enterprising adventurers had managed to track it down, young heroes on quests or proving their worth by daring an enchanterās lair or begging for Lorreās assistance in some revenge or inheritance or magical artifact retrieval scheme.
Heād ignored all but two of them. The illusion-wall kept everyone out, simple and baffling; the island had fresh water but little in the way of food. Mostly the adventurersād given up and gone home, years ago; he couldnāt in fact recall the face of the last one. Two had become nuisances, loud and shouting; one of those had actually threatened to drink poison, melodramatically demanding Lorreās assistance in collecting a promised bride from a glass mountain, claiming heād die without her.
The young man currently standing on the beach was neither loud nor melodramatic. In fact, he was calmly considering the sheer cliff-face, which revealed nothing; he stepped back across the small curve of beach, shaded his eyes, seemed to be measuring. After a second he put a hand up, obviously checking the edge of the cliff: having noticed the very slight discrepancy where sea-birds dropped behind the illusion-wall a fraction sooner than they should vanish in reality.
Intelligent, this one. Lorre dangled himself over the ledge at an angle which wouldāve been dangerous for anyone else, and watched.
The young man had dark reddish-brown hair, the color of autumn; he wore it tied back, though a few wisps were escaping. Heād dressed for travel, not in shiny armor the way some knights and princes had: sturdy boots and comfortable trousers, a shirt in nicely woven but also practical fabric, a well-worn pack which heād swung down to the sand. He wasnāt particularly tall, but not short: average, with nicely shaped shoulders and an air of straightforward competence, not trying for impressive or intimidating.
Lorre, despite annoyance at the interruption, couldnāt help but approve. At least this one had some sense, and didnāt walk around clanking in metal under the shimmering sun.
The young man called up, āHello?ā His voice was quite nice as well, not demanding, lightly accented with the burr of the Mountain Marches but in the way of someone whoād been carefully sent to the best schools down South. āGrand Sorcerer?ā
Lorre mentally snorted. He didnāt have a proper title, not any longer; if anyone did, itād be Lily. His former lover, now wife of the brother of the King of Averene, was by default the last Grand Sorceress of the Middle Lands; sheād started up the old magicianās school again, welcoming and training apprentices. Lily always had been better with people. Lorre was not precisely welcome in Averene.
The young man said mildly, āI expect this is a test; I thought you would do that, you know,ā as if he thought that Lorre might answer, as if they were having a conversation; and looked around. āIām meant to find you, is that it?ā
That was the opposite of it. Lorre on a good day barely recalled how to be human, and certainly wasnāt fit to interact with them. Heād lost his temper with the melodramatic poison-carrying prince, strolled invisibly onto the shore, asked the poison to turn itself into a sleeping draught, and then poured it into the idiotās water flask. Then heād found a passing ship and dumped the snoring body onto its deck. He hadnāt known the destination, and hadnāt bothered to find out.
His current young man was looking at driftwood. Lorre wondered why. He was getting a bit dizzy from leaning nearly upside down; he considered the sensation with some surprise. A swoop of gold swung into his eyes, distracting and momentarily baffling; he pushed the strands of his hair back with magic.
The young man found a stick, one that evidently met his standards for length and strength. He kept it in front of himself; he walked deliberately toward the cliff, and the illusion.
Oh. Clever. Avoiding traps. Testing a theory. Lorre found himself impressed, particularly when the young man watched the tip of the driftwood vanish and nodded to himself and then set rocks down to neatly mark the spot.
The island was not large, and the beach even smaller: a jut of cliff, a tangle of vines, a small lagoon and a trickle of water down to the shore. The illusion hid the cave-opening, but there wasnāt really anywhere else for someone to be; the young man figured that out within an hour or so of methodical exploration, and returned to the shore, and looked thoughtfully at the cliffs. Heād rolled up his sleeves and undone the ties of his shirt, given the heat; he had a vine-leaf in his hair, along with a hint of sweat.
Lorre, in some ways still very much human, couldnāt not stare. Something about those forearms under rolled-up sleeves. That hint of well-muscled chest. The casual ripple of motion, broad shoulders, heroic thighs.
āI suppose,ā the young man said, very wry, still looking at the cliff as if perfectly aware Lorre was watching, āI should introduce myself. I think I forgot to, earlier.ā
I suppose you should, Lorre agreed silently. Since youāre here. Disrupting my life.
He ignored the fact that heād had no real plans. Meditation. Quiet. A hope for calm.
A hint of dragon-fire slid through his veins, under his skin. A memory. Restless. Beckoning. Dangerous.
Blurb: A magician in need of redemption. A loyal hero on a quest. And only one bed at the inn.
Once the worldās most legendary sorcerer, Lorre fled the Middle Lands after his own curiosity — and a misguided transformation spellāturned him into a dragon and nearly killed a king. He isnāt a dragon anymore, but he is hiding alone on a tropical island, avoiding people, politics, and his own reputation.
But now a hero has found him. And not just any hero. Prince Garethās full of patience, intelligence, a kind heartā¦and unfairly attractive muscles. And he needs Lorreās help: his tiny mountain kingdom is under attack from ice magic, and Gareth hopes the worldās last great magician will save his people.
Lorreās very much done with quests and princes and trying to change the world. But Gareth might tempt him to believe againā¦in heroes, in himself, and in magic.
Meet K. L. Noone
K.L. Noone employs her academic research for writing romance, usually LGBTQ+ and often paranormal, fantasy, or historical! Her full-length romance novels include the Character Bleed trilogy (Seaworthy, Stalwart, and Steadfast), Cadence and the Pearl, and A Demon for Midwinter, available from JMS Books, and A Prophecy for Two, available from Inkshares. Sheās also the author of multiple romance novellas and short stories with JMS Books, and previously with Less Than Three Press, Circlet Press, and Ellora’s Cave. Her non-romance fantasy fiction has appeared in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress and the magazine Aoife’s Kiss.
With the Professor Hat on, sheās published scholarly work on romance, fantasy, and folklore, including a book on Welsh mythology in popular culture and a book on ethics in Terry Pratchettās fantasy. She is happily bisexual, married to the marvelous Awesome Husband, and currently owned by a long-legged black cat named Merlyn.
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