Sherra
We belong to the King–those of us with the black roses tattooed on our left wrist, directly over our pulse. As if every beat of our hearts reminds us that we are not our own.
All the women with the fire burning within them are culled, tattooed and taken to the warriors, to provide more energy. Energy that the warriors will then use to defeat the barbarians from the ocean of sand. Women with black roses on their wrists are emptied of their power by those warriors, who care not that they die a shrunken husk.
In the King’s library, The Book of the Rose says to honor the tattooed women. More than anything, I want to spit on its pages.
As for running–there is one thing worse than having a black rose on your wrist. That is for the enemy to find you and see the black rose on your wrist. Your death will be slow and excruciating at their hands…
Über den Autor
Reinvention/Reincarnation. Those words describe Connie best. She has worked as a janitor, a waitress, a mower of lawns and house cleaner, a clerk, secretary, teacher, bookseller and (finally) an author. The last occupation is the best one, because she sees it as a labor of love and therefore no labor at all.Connie has lived in Oklahoma all her life, with brief forays into other states for visits. She and her husband have been married for more years than she prefers to tell and together they have one son.After earning an MFA in Film Production and Animation from the University of Oklahoma, Connie taught courses in those subjects for a few years before taking a job as a manager for Borders. When she left the company in 2007, she fully intended to find a desk job somewhere. She found the job. And the desk. At home, writing.
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