An Agent's Inbox #23

Dear Agent, 

The last of her ancient order, Rapunzel refuses to sit in her tower and be hunted for the magic that now lives in her golden hair alone. Betraying the extraordinary abilities gifted to her through that very magic, she takes up arms and strikes back at those responsible for murdering her family as an assassin like no other. An assassin that won’t stop until the King burns. 

After a botched attempt on the life of the King’s one and only heir, Rapunzel unexpectedly finds herself squirming under the focus of the annoyingly charismatic leader of a growing rebellion group. Every task she undertakes for them forces her to delve deeper in to her past and pushes her towards a decision she hoped to ignore forever; embrace her magic and become the Light Keeper she was destined to be, or let the blood that stains her broken soul pull her completely in to darkness.

Light Keeper, a YA fantasy manuscript geared towards older readers and complete at 60,000 words, is a fairytale twist that will appeal to fans of Sarah J. Maas, Rosamund Hodge and Maria V. Snyder.

When my kids let me, I'm a writer, wanderluster, book nerd, Reiki Master and connoisseur of comfy sweaters and London Fogs. I’ve previously worked as a journalist for Alaska Highway News in Northern British Columbia and have published a motherhood column with them weekly for the past four years. 

As per your submission guidelines, please find the first 250 words of Light Keeper pasted below. The full manuscript is available upon request. Thank-you for your time and consideration. 

Regards,
B.Z.

LIGHT KEEPER

I am a shadow. 

Lurking. Waiting. My knife is cold against the flesh in my worn boot, my bow silent across my back. The patrons of the tavern slowly trickle from dulling their minds and senses with cheap brew and whores without even noticing me standing not three feet from them.

He emerges, loud and boisterous in his drunken state. Three barmaids support his weight out to the street and he rewards them with a firm hand on their bottom, a tongue to their turning cheeks and a casted eye to their chests that have been practically inflated with the pressure exerted by their girdles. They drop him in a heap and turn, giggling, back to the tavern that is still filled with men waiting for their turn. 

He lays alone in the street, sputtering and gagging on his own filth. I step away from the shadows, peeling them from my body like a film from a glass. My hand grasps the thick handle of my dagger, pausing as the swinging doors fly open once more and three men join my target. 

I return to the dark maw of the alley and scale the cobbled wall before swinging myself on to the unevenly tiled roof of the tavern, the gentle slope vibrating with music and voices below. Creeping to the edge of the roof, I peer down at the four men. They laugh and slap each other’s backs before thrusting their hips back and forth, igniting another round of obnoxious guffawing.