Yup, there’s a sequel to The Trickster’s Lover.
It’s a short story, it takes place several months after the events of The Trickster’s Lover, and it’s called Honeymoon.
When is it coming out, you ask?
Eh, sometime next month.
You can subscribe to my newsletter for updates on the release, and I’ll let you know the very second the sequel is available.
Excerpt from Honeymoon
“Come away with me,” Loki said.
I raised myself on one elbow, staring at his smile. I think he’s serious. “I don’t know,” I said, my hand tracing the rise and fall of his chest. “I’ve got that interview with Stanford. And the publisher wants my revisions by next week, plus I’ve got that article to finish with Loncovic.”
“Come away with me anyway,” he said, his eyes dancing. “Let’s have a honeymoon.”
“We are going to have a honeymoon,” I said. “We’ve already booked the resort in Norway…”
My words trailed off as I watched his eyes darken. He is serious.
“Yes,” I said, reaching for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “Yes, I would very much like a honeymoon. With my husband.”
His lips curved into a smile as I kissed him –
-and then I felt a gust of gentle wind, and I opened my eyes.
We were standing in a field.
It was almost, but not quite, a normal field. The colors were a shade too vivid, the air a breath too soft against my skin. It was like we’d stepped into a painting, smeared with the golden hues of late summer. A distant pine forest murmured in the breeze and delicate, shell-like flowers nodded towards the sun.
I looked down and was immensely relieved to find I was not naked. I was wearing a soft black and gold dress, the cut similar to what I’d worn in Asgard. It matches his armor, I thought. My husband’s armor. I smiled as I felt my cheeks flush.
“Matching outfits?” I asked.
“Honeymoon,” he said.
“Where are we?”
“Álfheim.” He smiled at me. “The home of the Light-elves.”
There was a sudden gust of air, a sick, heavy twack noise. Loki’s body shuddered against mine. An arrow shaft thick as a ruler was embedded in his shoulder. I screamed.
“Oh, good,” he said, sinking to his knees. “They remember me.”
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