The
Sand Prince
The
Demon Door Book 1
by
Kim Alexander
Genre:
Epic Fantasy
Two
worlds. Bound by magic. Divided by a door.
On
the barren, war-ravaged demon world of Eriis, the fierce queen Hellne
fights to keep her people alive and her son Rhuun's heritage a
secret.
On
the green and gentle human world of Mistra, demons have faded into
myth. Only a handful of old men and fanatical children still guard
The Door between the worlds.
Different
and shunned by his demon kin, Rhuun finds refuge in a book that tells
of a human world of water and wonder. Forced by his mother's enemies
to flee Eriis, he finds himself trapped on the other side of The Door
in the very place he has read and dreamed about—Mistra.
Chained
to the deadly whims of a child who guards The Door, Rhuun must
balance serving and surviving, even at the risk of exposing his true
identity. Riskiest of all is his task of kidnapping an infuriating
young woman who is about to find out that the demons of Eriis are
much, much more than just an old bedtime story.
The
Heron Prince
The
Demon Door Book 2
The
Demon Door can be opened...but the price is deadly.
Prince
Rhuun has found acceptance among the humans on Mistra, something he
could never have in the demon realm of Eriis, not even as heir to its
throne. What's more, he has even found love with the prickly,
passionate heiress, Lelet va'Everly.
The
idyll can't last. The prince has enemies who are after more than his
throne. They are out for his blood…which holds the key to unsealing
The Door between the two worlds, and the demons want in. When Rhuun
is lured into a trap on Eriis, Lelet has no choice but to turn to a
motley group of exiles, children, and madmen to help save him.
Lelet
soon discovers that, like all things, rescuing the prince comes with
a price. The secrets in Rhuun's blood may be worth killing for, but
are they worth dying for?
The
Glass Girl
The
Demon Door Book 3
Love
opens all doors…but betrayal locks them forever.
Newly
blessed (or cursed) with wings and fire, Prince Rhuun of the demon
realm of Eriis sees hope for his life on the human world of Mistra
with his fierce human lover, Lelet va'Everley. She literally went to
hell and back to save him, and she's not about to let anything—or
anyone—ruin their perfect future.
All
too soon, the claims of family, duty, and justice force Rhuun and
Lelet to confront new griefs and old mistakes as they attempt to
restore balance to the throne of Eriis. But, with every jealous rumor
and each vengeful whisper, friends turn, family schemes, and
forgotten enemies creep from the shadows.
Treachery
in Eriis and betrayal in Mistra jeopardize what Rhuun and Lelet have
fought so hard to build, threatening to tear apart the two lovers,
their families, and even their worlds.
The
River King
The
Demon Door Book 4
SOMETIMES
LOVE DOESN’T CHANGE THE WORLD. SOMETIMES IT CHANGES ALL OF
THEM.
Rhuun,
the half-human and wholly-reluctant prince of the demons, has finally
reunited with his fiery Lelet. It’s too bad they must hide behind a
facade of icy indifference to fool those who are determined to keep
demons and humans apart...by any means necessary.
There
is more at stake than bringing the miracle of rain back to Eriis.
It's not just sand and lost royals poised to come through the
newly-opened Door. Something ancient is hungry, and fat, complacent
Mistra won't stand a chance. Even worse, whispers and shadows speak
of blood magic that could destroy not just The Door, but all
Doors—forever—barring the way home for lovers and enemies
alike.
Will
the love Rhuun and Lelet have moved worlds to share be the very thing
they must sacrifice to save their worlds?
Full
of her signature blend of exquisite world-building, sly humor, and
poignant prose, The River King is the gripping conclusion to Kim
Alexander's critically-acclaimed Demon Door saga.
Excerpt #1
In this excerpt, the young Queen Hellne tries out a magic spell involving a bit of blood, and a magical book...
She unwrapped the book and put it on the bed next to the baby. Then she took her needle in one hand and one of the child's tiny fingers in the other.
"I won't take much and you won't miss it," she told him. "I promise I'll take a lot less than those hooded freaks downstairs. Ugh, I can't believe I brought you there. Hellne, get yourself a maid."
For his part, the baby laughed and tried to grab her hair.
She stabbed his finger. His face was a picture of surprise, and then it screwed itself up into a howl.
She looked at him curiously. "You felt that?"
She hadn't expected that, but perhaps she should have. His father, she recalled, was as delicate as a new flower. She looked at his tiny hand, at the bead of blood welling, and frowned—it was just a little needle, after all. She stabbed her own finger and felt nothing more than a slight warmth. Well, maybe the child was just startled.
Do babies startle?
She held the little finger over the back page of the book, where Malloy had made some sort of human looking scrawl. Blood made the ink run for just a second, and then it righted itself, unsmearing before her eyes. More human magic, they were just so fond of their words.
She held the book at arm’s length. Would a crack in The Door open here in her room?
She waited. Nothing.
"Well, not today, then. Still, I imagine this might be useful later. Maybe one day you'll figure this out and go visit your father. Won't that be exciting?"
She set the book aside and blotted the baby's finger.
"See? You're fine."
The baby had stopped crying and was back to gazing at her with its big, red, and round eyes. It was unnerving, the way it watched her. Normal babies had tilted eyes and a subtle gaze, never resting on anything for very long, a habit that carried them into adulthood. This child was so direct, the only one who had ever stared at her like that, she suddenly recalled, was a hunting hawk she'd had as a girl. A gift from her father from the human world. The bird's eyes were amber, not red, but perfectly round, and it held her gaze just this way. Watching her, taking the measure of her, silent and constant.
"Rhuun," she said, remembering. "My hawk's name was Rhuun. He was my weapon. He would fly so far I couldn't even see him at all, but he always came back to me."
The baby looked up at her as if he were listening.
"Will you be my weapon, Rhuun?"
The child gurgled and tried to catch her finger again, his tears forgotten.
"You have quite a good grip for someone so small", she told him. "Perhaps we'll have a little Naming party for you after all. Let all those gossips get a good look at you. 'Eriis is his father', I'll tell them. 'He belongs to the city and to me.’"
She picked him up, a bit awkwardly. He grabbed a handful of her long, black hair and stuffed it in his mouth. She laughed.
For the first time, she could look at him and see something other than Malloy's face looking back at her.
"I made you," she said "and you'll always come back to me."
She sat back on her bed and watched the low clouds whip past her window and held him until long after he'd fallen asleep.
Excerpt #2
Another excerpt, because I want you to meet Rhuun, my wayward demon prince. He's an adult now and is calling himself ‘Moth.’ Lelet, the young woman he’s kidnapped, is trying to figure him out.
Moth—now hatless—squinted through the trees. "It’s getting dark. We’ll stop here." He climbed down from the front of the cart, warily approaching the horse.
She folded her arms and glared at the back of his head. She was hungry, and while having an adventure seemed like an exciting idea, being carted through an empty forest in a dirty cart—there was a distinct smell of garbage—was both boring and a little scary. The only way to get her captor, whatever he was, to talk to her was to provoke him. He was certainly good looking enough to be interesting, but he sat there like a stone, he didn't pay her any attention at all. And this whole being a demon thing, the thing with his eyes, well, there had to be some trick to it she wasn't seeing. Rane was going to have to come up with the explanation of a lifetime. She'd deal with Rane in due course, but right now she was in a mood—a Low Snit. And this person—Moth of all things, honestly, what sort of a name was that? —wanted to stop.
"What’s the difference?" she said. "You’re just going to slit my throat and eat my flesh."
"You might as well be rested when I do."
"Was that a joke? Are we joking about murdering me now?" Low Snit was quickly escalating.
"I am not going to murder you," he replied. "I am also not going to eat your flesh, skin you, cut off your hair, cut off your feet . . . what else was it you said before? Oh, I’m not going to make a necklace of your eyeballs. You are very imaginative, though. You should write a book."
Did he actually think this was funny? He was doing something with the horse, which turned into a slow-motion ballet of him trying to tie the leads to a tree and the horse pulling just ever so slightly far enough away to prevent it. She stalked up behind him and grabbed the leads away and secured the animal, which calmed down when he moved away from it.
"I am so glad you can see the humor in dragging me off in the night and throwing me in a filthy wagon. Or did you not do that, either?" she snapped.
He looked up from fiddling with a collection of rocks. He was making a pile, like a small pyramid, with bigger stones at the bottom. "I am to deliver you. That’s all."
She knew he wouldn’t say where or to whom, having asked more than twice. "What are you doing? With those rocks?" she asked, more out of frustration with his behavior than actual curiosity. After all, how many different things could you do with rocks?
"It will be cold tonight. I’m going to light them," he told her. Unsatisfied with their formation, he carefully rearranged several near the top. As he did, the form collapsed. He again said something that sounded like rush toe or rich tea, and started over.
She barked a laugh. "Light them? Do you think they're made of wood?"
"There isn’t much wood where I come from." This time the pile seemed to be the right size and shape, and he sat back on his heels and brushed the dirt off his hands.
"On the other side of The Door," she said, hoping to catch him in a lie. But he was sticking with the demon thing and said, "Well, obviously we don’t call it that."
She put her fists on her hips. "What do you call it?"
He looked back at the rocks, did something with his hands, and they began to glow. "It’s called Eriis. We call it home."
Excerpt #3
Here, my human heroine and her demon prince lover have been on the run and sleeping in the open for about a week. Now that they’ve found an inn, he wants to hit the sheets at once. She’s all, Dude, let a girl have a bath!
(Lelet) put Moth to work washing her hair. “No, it doesn’t get clean with just water, just use a little of the soap—the green one—that’s it.” She slapped his hand. “That is not my hair! Focus.”
“Lelet,” he said, pouring clean water over her head, “There’s something wrong with your hair.”
She looked up at him. “Is it falling out or something?”
“No, it’s a different color where it’s growing. It’s changing color.” He had a horrible thought. “It’s not going to be pink again, is it?”
She laughed. “I am the only one who liked the pink. No, it’s going to be dark, not as dark as yours, though. But I’ll probably make it white again when I have the chance. I don’t know anyone who has naturally white hair.”
He marveled. “Humans. So many colors, and you use them all.”
She stood up, water streaming from her hair and down her slender form, and reached for a fresh towel. “If you want a turn...”
“Maybe another time. But I do need the tub when it’s empty.” The thought of sitting in a pot of water did not appeal, it was a little too much like making soup. As far as he was concerned, if there was water, it was going to be his river. Or maybe her ocean, if it really existed. He took a breath and said, “I want to change my form, and I don’t want to set anything else on fire or scorch the floorboards.” He busied himself drying her back.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you sure about that? You know I’ll be able to see you. I can close my eyes, I guess. If you don’t want me to watch.”
He shrugged. “You keep telling me you like how I look. This is part of how I look. Just don’t come too close.” He wasn’t sure at all, but he wanted to give her something, and he had nothing else.
She sat on the bed with her knees tucked under her, and as he stepped into the empty copper tub her eyes never left his face. He took a deep breath. She nodded. He wanted to close his eyes or look away, but she didn’t, so he didn’t either. It only took to the count of ten, and he was himself again. A scattering of ash lay at the bottom of the tub.
Since she hadn’t leapt to her feet or run for the door, he lay down beside her. Instead of the disgust he was used to feeling upon showing his true face, right now he felt only calm.
“I have to tell you,” she said, “I was expecting something...else. I didn’t really see you, that other time. It was dark and I was so tired. But now? You looked sort of like a statue of yourself, made out of ash and smoke. You looked soft. I wanted to touch you. It wasn’t ugly, although if I didn’t understand what you were doing I might have been afraid. But ugly? No.” She watched his face. “Do you believe me?”
“You don’t have to keep asking me that. I believe you.” And, he realized, he nearly did.
Excerpt #4
Dun Dun! The demon prince has been betrayed and he’s in trouble! Here we find out a little bit about who is related to whom, and how far Lelet will go to save the man she loves. (BTW the book they talk about really exists—I wrote it! You can get it here: The Claiming of the Duke)
“…This was an exciting adventure, but it’s time to take your pretty dress and go home, back to your friends and parties,” said Brother Blue.
“I am a Fourth, and he came here to see you,” said Lelet. “We came here even though we knew there was a chance The Door might open, because of you.”
“Well, that’s highly unlikely, but if it got him back where he—it—belongs—”
“He read your stupid book, old man.” Blue gaped at her. “All the way over there on Eriis, he somehow got a copy of The Claiming of the Duke, and thought you were some kind of genius. He told me your book changed his life. Just because he has crap taste in literature doesn’t make him a monster.”
“My....what did you say his name was?” Had the room gotten colder? Blue felt a chill.
“He told me his name was Moth, but that isn’t his real name. I don’t know it and it doesn’t matter. But he did tell me who his mother is. He’s the Prince. His mother is the Queen.”
“And who is this prince’s father?” Blue asked faintly.
“He doesn’t know the man’s name. But he does know one thing and that does matter. His father was a human.”
“Lies,” Blue whispered, “Lies.” Hellne...did you figure it out after all? That little escape hatch I came up with a hundred years gone, you gave it to your son, and he came here…he’d be a man by now….it cannot be... He passed a shaking hand over his face.
Olly stepped in front of the desk. “Can’t you see he’s ill? This day has been too much for him. You both need to go.”
“Go?” Lelet pushed the boy aside. “There’s only one place I want to go. You want to keep your precious Door in place? Because pretty soon, it’s coming off the hinges. That’s what he’s for, that’s why they want him back. He’s not a monster or a criminal or a key. He’s not a beast. He’s a weapon. Now, I don’t care if there’s a Door or not, but I’m not going to let him die if there’s even a chance I can save him. And you’re going to help me.”
Brother Blue had gone quite grey. “Is this possible? Is it true?” Hellne, what else were you keeping from me?
Lelet looked at Scilla and at Blue. “You’re both so clever, aren’t you? A whole building full of clever people. Well, now you’re going to figure out how to get me there.” She slammed the dagger on the desk. “You’re going to figure out how to hide my face, and I’m going to Eriis and I’m bringing him home. And then both of you and this place and that damned Door can go straight to hell.”
Blue caught Scilla’s eye. She might be of use after all, he thought.
“It is not impossible...” he began.
“Is there precedent...?” she asked.
“Olly,” said Blue, “I am going to need some books. I’ll make you a list.”
The white-haired sister, who had finally stopped her wailing, curled up in the corner in Blue’s good chair. She held the ugly dagger up and stared at the light on the blade. Blue thought she looked a little mad.
“Hurry,” she said.
What did you enjoy most about writing this book?
Other than having a huge crush on my hero (is that normal?) I think the most fun was coming up with origin stories. There were two worlds for me to play in, and in particular the demon kingdom of Eriis needed a tremendous amount of world building, and that includes religion, faith, traditions, and a sort of bible. I absolutely loved writing myths and legends of a different set of gods. That sort of leaked into the next ‘fun part’ which was creating a limited language for the demons of Eriis. I mean, everyone likes to swear, so those were the first words I came up with. Rushta, for instance, means both ‘sand’ and ‘shit’, something the demons have in great abundance that has no value. (The title of the book is a play on that concept.)
Once you know how they pray and how they curse, you have to figure out what they wear, what they eat, what they love and what they find abhorrent. Seriously, world building is so much fun, I want to do it again! (I am, in my next book 😊)
I also spent so much time with the story and the people in it that when I figured out the ending (it’s actually chapter 55 of The River King) I was so excited I didn’t know what to do with myself. It made sense! It all worked! It tied together every clue I’d left for myself right back to the first page. And that’s one of the true pleasures of writing—knowing something is so important, it has to go in, even if I don’t know why. If my brain is telling me HE HAS TO WEAR A HAT GIVE HIM A HAT ITS HAT O’CLOCK I guarantee you somewhere in the next chapter or the next book, that hat is going to come into play. So, writing has taught me to trust my inner voice and try to be patient.
Kim
Alexander grew up in the wilds of Long Island, NY and slowly drifted
south until she reached Key West. After spending ten rum-soaked years
as a DJ in the Keys, she moved to Washington DC, where she lives with
two cats, an angry fish, and her extremely patient husband who tells
her she needs to write at least ten more books if she intends to
retire in Thailand, so thank you for your patronage.
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