Book Spotlight and Excerpt: Sea of Shadows (Sea and Stone Chronicles, Book 2) by Amy Maroney

 

1459. A gifted woman artist. A ruthless Scottish privateer. And an audacious plan that throws them together—with dangerous consequences.

No one on the Greek island of Rhodes suspects Anica is responsible for her Venetian father’s exquisite portraits, least of all her wealthy fiancé. But her father’s vision is failing, and with every passing day it’s more difficult to conceal the truth.

When their secret is discovered by a powerful knight of the Order of St. John, Anica must act quickly to salvage her father’s honor and her own future. Desperate, she enlists the help of a fierce Scottish privateer named Drummond. Together, they craft a daring plan to restore her father’s sight.

There’s only one problem—she never imagined falling in love with her accomplice.

Before their plan can unfold, a shocking scandal involving the knights puts Anica’s entire family at risk. Her only hope is to turn to Drummond once again, defying her parents, her betrothed, even the Grand Master of the Knights himself. But can she survive the consequences?

With this captivating tale of passion, courage, and loyalty, Amy Maroney brings a lost, dazzling world to vivid life.

Sea of Shadows is Book 2 in a series of stand-alone historical novels packed with adventure and romance.

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 EXCERPT

Summer, 1459

Rhodes Town

They passed through the Sea Gate with the jostling crowd and descended toward the harbor. Azure waters shimmered within the embrace of the honey-colored stone seawalls. The canvas sails of windmills along the eastern wall turned in the wind.

The heavy iron chain that separated the harbor from the sea had been released. Sleek galleys, ponderous merchant ships, and battered fishing vessels entered the harbor one by one. Sailors fanned out over the decks and riggings, their commanders shouting orders. A fisherman’s wife screamed a curse at the gulls circling her husband’s small craft. 

Anica eyed the place where Colossus had once straddled the entrance to the harbor. She wondered for the hundredth time how the great bronze statue had been constructed and assembled—or if it had even existed. Perhaps it was just a figment of some ancient storyteller’s imagination.

Once on the quays, they drew near an enormous merchant ship. A short distance away stood a group of knights in black tunics emblazoned with the white eight-pointed cross of the Order. Seabirds soared overhead, their plaintive cries mingling with the voices of the sailors, fishermen, merchants, and others who milled about.

Papa bent down to murmur in Anica’s ear. “How many today?”

She looked at him with delight. “You wish to play?”

He nodded, smiling. It was a game they played, honed to perfection over the years. They each got one point for Catalan or French, two for Arabic or Hebrew, three for Armenian, Russian, or any Balkan language, four for English or German, and five for any language completely unintelligible to either of them. They had not played the game since her brother’s death.

“One point for French,” Papa said, cupping a hand to his ear, pointing in the direction of the knights. “And another for Catalan.”

Before Anica could respond, the knights began moving in their direction.

Heleni pushed her headpiece back so her luxuriant black hair gleamed in the sun and her face was naked to the world. At this, Mamá came to life. She took hold of the trailing edges of her daughter’s headpiece and tugged it forward.

“Mamá, it’s so hot!” Heleni protested, batting away her mother’s hands.

“Cover your hair, or we leave at once,” Papa warned her, his expression darkening.

Heleni pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as Mamá arranged the folds of cloth around her face.

The knights paused in front of them, watching Heleni’s antics with amusement. Anica’s face burned with shame. Why did her sister have to draw attention to their family in this way? She moved forward, partially blocking their view of Heleni, and raised her chin.

“I notice many families standing along the quay,” one of the knights said in French, his tone silky and polite. “What brings the townsfolk to the harbor?”

Anica stared at him in astonishment, her protective instincts derailed. He had a finely wrought face, with heavy brows over startling blue eyes, and a clean-shaven jaw. And he looked very young—like her, he had likely not yet seen twenty winters.

She felt her sister take a breath to speak and squeezed Heleni’s hand in warning.

“The whole town turns out when a merchant fleet arrives,” Papa responded, also in French. “There is much to see and hear. And goods on display.”

“What kinds of goods are you in search of today?” the knight asked, his eyes sliding from Papa to Anica and back again.

“When the vessels unload their cargo, we’ll see what’s on offer and make our choices, sir,” Papa said coolly.

“My father is an artist, seigneur,” Anica interjected, giving Papa a pointed look. These knights were all nobles. A mere “sir” would not do. “Sometimes merchants bring materials he needs for his work.”

“An artist, you say,” the knight mused. “I shall need ornament in my quarters. Perhaps I shall visit your atelier and see your work, then. I’ve heard there are few here who speak French the way it ought to be spoken, but you and your daughter prove otherwise.”

Papa looked taken aback. “I bring examples of my work to patrons, seigneur. It’s easier that way.”

A flicker of disappointment arose in the man’s eyes. “I am Émile de Chambonac,” he said. “From the langue of Auvergne. I shall lodge at the Inn of the French until my home is ready—ask for me there.”

The knights were divided up into langues—or tongues—depending on their kingdom of origin, each one responsible for different duties within the Order. Anica could never keep straight what each tongue actually did, nor did she care to. The less time spent thinking about the knights, the better. Their presence was a continual reminder of war, of preparations for the siege that everyone believed would come one day soon from the shores of Turkey.

“I will look forward to it,” Papa said.

“Good day to you all,” the knight replied, his gaze lingering on Heleni. His lips quirked as if he were holding back a smile. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Anica glanced sideways at her sister. Heleni’s mouth was slightly open. She was studying the knight under half-lowered lids, an expression of abject admiration on her face.

Papa gave the knight a curt nod. “Thank you, seigneur. Good day.”

With obvious reluctance, the knight bowed and moved away.

Amy Maroney

Amy Maroney studied English Literature at Boston University and worked for many years as a writer and editor of nonfiction. She lives in Oregon, U.S.A. with her family. When she’s not diving down research rabbit holes, she enjoys hiking, dancing, traveling, and reading. Amy is the author of The Miramonde Series, an award-winning historical fiction trilogy about a Renaissance-era female artist and the modern-day scholar on her trail. Her new historical suspense/romance series, Sea and Stone Chronicles, is set in medieval Rhodes and Cyprus.

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