#Giveaway BODY’S LADY Cover & Chapter 1 by Amy McNulty #FridayReveals #Month9Squad #Month9Books

 

Today Amy McNulty and Month9Books are

revealing the cover and first chapter for NOBODY’S LADY! Book 2 in the Never

Veil Series which releases April 12, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and

enter to be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley!!

 

On to the reveal!

 

 

Title: NOBODY’S LADY

Author: Amy

McNulty

Pub. Date: April 12, 2016

Publisher: Month9Books

Format: Paperback

& eBook

Find it: Amazon

| Goodreads

 

For the first time in a thousand years,

the men in Noll’s village possess the freedom to love whom they will. In order

to give each man the chance to fully explore his feelings, the lord of the

village decrees all marriages null and void until both spouses declare their

love for one another and their desire to wed again. What many women think will

be a simple matter becomes a source of village-wide tension as most men decide

to leave their families and responsibilities behind.

 

 

 

Rejected by the lord and ashamed of her

part in the village’s history, Noll withdraws from her family and lives life as

an independent woodcarver. This changes when her sister accuses her of hiding

her former husband Jurij from her—and when Jurij eventually does ask to move

in. Determined not to make the same mistakes, Noll decides to support her male

friends through their new emotional experiences, but she’s soon caught up in a

darker plot than she ever dared imagine possible from the men she thought she

knew so well. And the lord for whom she still has feelings may be hiding the

most frightening truth of them all.

 

 

 

Excerpt

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

When I thought I understood real friendship, I was a long-lost queen.

When I discovered there was so much more to my life than love and hate, that those around me were

just pawns in a game whose rules I’d unwittingly put in place, I discovered I was a long-forgotten

goddess. But goddess or not, powerless or powerful, my feet were taking me someplace I wasn’t sure I

wanted to go. What did I hope to find? Did I truly believe I could hear him call me—that he’d want to

call me? Yes, I did. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to hope, even if I wasn’t sure I was allowed. If I

deserved to. I headed down the familiar dirt path beneath the lattice of trees overhead, pausing beside

the bush with a partially snapped stem that jutted outward like a broken limb. The one that pointed to

the secret cavern.

 

 

Only, it’s not much of a secret anymore, is it?

 

 

My feet picked themselves up. Glowing pools would never again

tempt me.

 

 

I reached the black, towering fortress that had for so long shaken and

screamed at the power of my glance.

 

 

For the first time in this lifetime, I stared up at it, and nothing moved.

My legs, unused to such steady footing while in the sight of the lord’s castle, twitched in anticipation of

a fall that never came.

 

 

There was no need. My feet dragged me forward.

 

 

At the grand wooden door, I raised a fist to knock.

 

 

But I stopped. I felt like if I touched it, the entire castle might crumble.

It had done so once before. Not at my touch exactly. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was

responsible for whatever destruction I’d find in this place. But that was presumptuous of me. He was

strong-willed, and he wouldn’t crumble at the prospect of freedom. If anything, he’d be triumphant over

it.

 

 

You can’t stop now. I pulled my sleeves over my wrists and propped

both elbows against the door, pushing until it gave way.

 

 

The darkness inside the foyer tried to deceive me into thinking night

had fallen. The stream of light that trickled from the familiar crack in the garden door called the

darkness a liar.

 

 

I gripped the small iron handles, the material of my sleeves guarding

the cold metal from my touch, and pulled.

 

 

My touch had come to the garden before me.

 

 

The rose bushes that surrounded the enclosed circular area were

torn, ripped, trodden, and plucked. The blooms lay withered, scattered and turned to dust, their once-

white petals a sickly shade of yellowish brown, smooth blooms turned coarse and wrinkled.

 

 

The fountain at the center no longer trickled with water. Its shallow

pool was stagnant, piles of brown festering in mildewing green liquid. Dotted amongst the brown was

pallid stone rubble. The tears of the weeping elf child statue, which belonged at the top of the fountain,

had ceased at last. But the gash across its face told me the child’s tears had not been staunched by joy. I

wondered if Ailill had had it carved to represent the pain I’d inflicted on him as a child. And I wondered if

now he could no longer bear to remind himself of what I’d done.

 

 

I hadn’t done this. But I felt as if I had. If Ailill had gone on a rampage

after he came back to the castle, it was because of what I’d done to him. Everything I touched turned

sour. I yanked and pulled, trying to draw my hands further into my sleeves, but there wasn’t enough

material to cover them entirely.

 

 

“Well, what a surprise.”

I gazed into the shadow beside the doorway. How could I have not seen? The stone table was occupied.

The place where I’d sat alone for hours, days, and months was littered with crumpled and decaying

leaves, branches, and petals, obscuring the scars left by a dagger or knife striking time and time again

across its surface. The matching bench that once nestled on the opposite side was toppled over, leaving

only dark imprints in the dirt.

 

 

“A pity you could not make yourself at home here when you were

welcome.”

 

 

My breath caught in my throat.

 

 

The man at the table was clad entirely in black, as I knew he would

be. The full-length jacket had been swapped for a jerkin, but I could see the embossing of roses hadn’t

been discarded in the exchange. He wore dark leather gloves, the fingers of which were crossed like the

wings of a bird in flight. His pale elbows rested on the table amongst the leaves and branches and

thorns. He wore the hat I was used to seeing him wear, a dark, pointed top resting on a wide brim. Its

black metal band caught a ray of the sunlight almost imperceptibly. But I noticed. I always did.

 

 

His face was entirely uncovered. Those large and dark eyes, locked on

me, demanded my attention. They were the same eyes of the boy I’d left alone to face my curse—not so

long ago from my point of view. He was more frightened then, but there was no mistaking the hurt in

those eyes both then and now.

 

 

“You are not welcome here, Olivière.”

 

 

His words sliced daggers through my stomach.

 

 

“I … I thought I heard you call me.”

 

 

He cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes moving askance. “You

heard me call you?”

 

 

“Yes … ” I realized how foolish it sounded. I was a fool to come. Why

had I let myself fall for that sound again, for my name whispered on the wind? Why was I so certain it

was he who’d said my name?

 

 

He smiled, not kindly. “And where, pray tell, have you been lurking?

Under a rose bush? Behind the garden door? Or do those rounded female ears possess a far greater

sense of hearing than my jagged male ones?”

 

 

I brushed the tips of my ears self-consciously. Elric had been so

fascinated by them, by what he saw as a mutilation. This lord—Ailill—wasn’t like that. He’d touched

them once, as a child. He’d tried to heal them, thinking they were meant to be pointed.

 

 

The boy with a heart was the man sitting there before me. Even after

all we’d been through, he’d still done me a kindness by healing my mother. “No, I just thought—”

 

 

“No, you did not think, or you would not have come.”

 

 

I clenched my jaw. My tongue was threatening to spew the vile anger

that had gotten us into this mess to begin with.

 

 

He sighed and crossed his arms across his chest. “I gave explicit

instructions that I not be disturbed.” He leaned back against the wall behind him, his chin jutting

outward slightly.

 

 

I wiped my sweaty fingertips on my skirt. I wouldn’t let the rest of my

hands out from the insides of my sleeves. The sweat had already soaked through them. “I needed to

thank you.”

 

 

He scoffed. “Thank me for what? For your prolonged captivity, or for

not murdering both your mother and your lover when I had the chance?”

 

 

So you admit you took Jurij to punish me? You admit they were both

in danger in your “care”? Quickly, I had to clench my jaw to keep down the words that threatened to

spill over. He’s not who I thought he was. He wouldn’t have harmed them.

 

 

I loosened the muscles in my jaw one hair’s breadth at a time.

 

 

“For healing me when you were a child. For accepting me into your

castle instead of putting me to death for trespassing in it. For … For forgiving me for cursing you, even

though you were innocent.” My voice was quiet, but I was determined to make it grow louder. “For

saving my mother’s life.”

 

 

He waved one hand lazily in the air. “Unfinished projects irk me.”

 

 

“But you didn’t have to.”

 

 

A shrug. “The magic was nearly entirely spent on the churl anyway.”

 

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

 

He leaned forward and placed both palms across the rotted forest

remnants on the table. “My apologies,” he said, his lips curled into a sneer. “I simply meant that I

wasted years and years and let the magic wither from my body to save a person of no consequence. You

may thank me for that if you like. I would rather not be reminded of it.”

 

 

How odd it was to see the face I’d imagined come to life. The

mocking, the condescending—it was all there. I just hadn’t known the canvas before.

 

 

And what a strange and beautiful canvas it was. That creamy peach

skin, the brownish tint of his shoulder-length tresses. He was so much paler than any person I had ever

seen. Save for the specters.

 

 

Despite the paleness, part of me felt I wasn’t wrong to have mistaken

one brother for another. Elric had been dark-skinned, but they seemed almost like reflections of the

same person; they shared the same brows, the same lips, and even eyes of a similar shape if not color.

Perhaps the face before me was a bit gaunter, the nose a bit longer. It was easier to focus on the

differences. Thinking of the similarities made me want to punch the face in front of me all the

more—and that would undermine everything I had set out to do when I made my way to him. I wanted

to see if you were really restored to life. Say it. I wanted to know if you really forgave me. Say it. I

wanted to know why I … Why I feel this way about you, why I keep thinking about you, when I used to

be unable to stand the sight of you. Say it, Noll! I dug my nails into my palm and shook the thoughts

from my head. He’d called my mother a “churl.” I couldn’t just tell him everything I was thinking. “Have

you no sense of empathy?”

 

 

“What a coincidence that you should mention that. I am sending Ailill

to the village with an edict. He can escort

 

you there.”

“Ailill?” But aren’t you him? Could I have been mistaken? Oh, goddess, help me, why do I do this to

myself? Why do I think I know everything?

 

 

He waved his hand, and one of the specters appeared beside me from

the foyer.

 

 

The specters. There were about a hundred of them in the castle. Pale

as snow in skin and hair with red, burning eyes. Mute servants who seemed to anticipate the lord’s

every command. Only now I knew who they really were.

 

 

Oh. “You call him by your own name?” I asked.

 

 

He raised an eyebrow. “I call them all by my name. They are me,

remember?”

 

 

His icy stare sent another invisible dagger through my stomach. “Yes,

but—”

 

 

“A shame you never cared to ask my name when you were my guest,”

he said. “I have a feeling things might have turned out much differently—for all of us.”

 

 

“You knew what would happen! Why didn’t you warn me?” I had to

squeeze my fists and teeth together to stop myself from screaming. This wasn’t going at all like I had

hoped. But what had I hoped? What could I have possibly expected? I thought I’d be forgiven. I thought

that Ailill and I might start over, that we could be friends, perhaps even … What a fool I’ve been.

 

 

Ailill turned slightly, his attention suddenly absorbed in a single white

petal that remained on a half-trodden bush beside him. “I was not entirely in control of my emotions,”

he said, “as you may well know.”

 

 

“I tried to give you a way out!” My jaw wouldn’t stay shut.

 

 

Ailill laughed and reached over to pluck the petal from its thorns.

“Remind me exactly when that was? Perhaps between condemning me to an eternal life of solitude and

wretchedness and providing yourself with a way to feel less guilty about the whole affair? And then you

just popped right back to the present, I suppose, skipping over those endless years in a matter of

moments.” He crushed the petal in his hand.

 

 

“A way to let myself feel less guilty?” He wasn’t entirely wrong. But it

wasn’t as if he had done nothing wrong.

 

 

Ailill bolted upright, slamming the fist that gripped the petal against

the twigs and grass on the table. “Your last words to me were entirely for your own benefit, as well you

know!”

 

 

If, after your own Returning, you can find it in your heart to forgive

me, the last of the men whose blood runs with his own power will free all men bound by my curse.

 

 

“How is wishing to break the curse on the village for my benefit?”

 

 

“Perhaps because the curse was your doing? Perhaps because you

only wanted the curse broken to free your lover from it in the first place?”

 

 

“Stop calling Jurij my ‘lover.’ He’s not—”

 

 

“And you did free him with those words. You knew I would forgive

you.”

 

 

“How could I have known? I didn’t think it possible you’d forgive me,

not after all we’ve been through.”

 

 

“You knew because you knew I wanted to be free myself. That I would

do anything—even forgive you for half a moment—to earn that freedom.” His voice grew quieter. “You

never wanted anything from me, not really. I was just a pawn in your game, a way to free the other men

in your village, a way to punish the men from mine.”

 

 

I fought back what I couldn’t believe was threatening to spring to my

eyes. No tears, not in front of him.

 

 

“The men of the old village deserved everything they got,” I spat at

last, knowing full well that wasn’t the whole story.

 

 

Ailill scoffed and put both hands on his hips, his arms akimbo. Oh,

how I tired of that pose. The crushed petal remained on the table. Its bright white added a bit of life to

the decay.

 

 

“There were plenty of young boys not yet corrupted,” he said. “And

some that might have never been.” He took a deep breath. “But, of course, you are not entirely to

blame. I blame myself every day for ever taking a childish interest in you. That should not have counted

as love.”

 

 

I swallowed. Of course. Before the curse of the village had broken, a

woman had absolute power over the one man who loved or yearned for her. When I visited the past

through the pool in the secret cavern, I discovered a horde of lusty men who knew nothing of love but

were overcome with desire. Since so many had lusted for any female who walked before them, and I

had carried the power from my own version of the village with me, it had been child’s play to control the

men. But why had that power extended to Ailill? He had only been a boy then, broken, near silent—and

kindhearted. He couldn’t have regarded me with more than a simple crush on an older sisterly figure,

but it had been enough.

 

 

“But you did forgive me.” Why couldn’t I stop the words from

flowing?

 

 

Ailill shook his head and let a weary smile spread across his features.

“Forgive you? I could never forgive you. No more than I could forgive myself for daring to think, if just

for a moment, that I … ” He stopped.

 

 

I shook my head. “The curse wouldn’t have been broken. The men in

the village wouldn’t now be walking around without masks. Nor you without your veil. If you hadn’t

forgiven me.”

 

 

Ailill tilted his head slightly. His dark eyes searched mine, perhaps for

some answer he thought could be found there. “I would still need the veil even now?” he asked, his

voice quiet. “Are you certain?”

 

 

Removing the veil before the curse was broken would have required

the Returning, a ritual in which I freely and earnestly bestowed my heart and affection to him. It would

have never happened, not with the man I knew at the time to be mine. So yes, he would still need the

veil to survive the gaze of women. I was sure of it. He’d been arrogant, erratic, and even cruel. Perhaps

not so much as Elric, Ailill’s even more volatile older brother, the one who wound up with a mob of

angry, murderous women in his castle and a gouge through his heart. But even so.

 

 

It was my turn to cross my arms and sneer. “I said you could break the

curse after your own Returning, and I specified that you didn’t need my affection to have a Returning.

All you needed to do was crawl out of whatever abyss I’d sent you to.” I shifted uncomfortably in place.

“And I suppose I should be grateful—for my mother’s sake—that you did.”

 

 

Ailill waved a hand at the specter beside me and brushed aside a pile

of clippings on the table to reveal a hand-written letter. It was yellowed and a tad soggy. “Yes, well, the

endless droning that made up your curse gets a bit foggy in my mind—assuming it even made sense in

your mind to begin with. I am afraid I lack the ability to retain exact memories of an event that took

place a hundred lifetimes ago when I was but a scarred child terrified of the monster before him.” He

looked up to face me as the specter retrieved the letter from his extended hand. “But I suppose it was

not all that long ago for the monster, was it?” He turned again to the table, shuffling brush about

aimlessly. “Take her with you to the market,” he said.

 

 

The specter made to grab my arm as he passed. I slipped out of his

reach only to back into another specter who had appeared quick as lightning from the foyer. He grabbed

one arm, and the first specter seized the other.

 

 

“Let go of me!” I shouted as they began to drag me away.

 

 

The specters didn’t pause, as they once would have.

 

 

“Stop!” called Ailill from behind me. The specters did as they were

told.

 

 

Ailill spoke. “I forgot to inform you that my retainers lost all desire to

follow your orders when I did.” He waved his fingers in the air. “Carry on.”

 

 

I struggled against the grip the specters had on my arms. Again. He

has me under his thumb again. “I can walk by myself!” I screamed as my toes slid awkwardly against the

dark foyer floor. “I don’t need to go to the market!”

 

 

A black carriage awaited us outside the castle doorway. A third

specter opened the carriage door, and my captors heaved me up into the seat like a sack of grain. The

one with the letter slid in and took the seat across from me. He stared vacantly at the top of the seat

behind me.

 

 

I leaned forward, whipping my hand out to stop the carriage door as

one of the specters moved to close it. I didn’t care what I touched in the castle anymore. Let the whole

thing crumble.

 

 

A black-gloved hand covered mine. I jumped back. Ailill stuck his head

inside the carriage. His face stopped right before mine, the brim of his hat practically shading me under

it. The sight of his face so close to mine, unveiled and painted with disdain, caused a thunderous racing

of my heart. It was as if I’d just run the length of the entire village.

 

 

“You kept your hair short,” he said. He reached his free hand toward

it, then pulled back.

 

 

I’d once let the bushy mess of black hair grow as long as it wanted,

but once I cropped it closely to my scalp, I found it easier to deal with. “There hasn’t been enough time

for it to grow, anyway. Not for me.”

 

 

He snorted. “Of course. But it makes me remember you as you were,

long ago. When you cursed me and every man whether he deserved it or not.” He leaned back a bit,

putting more space between our faces. “I think you will be most interested in going with my servants to

the market,” he said. “But there will be no need to thank me in person afterward. I would rather not see

you again.” His eyes drifted upwards, thoughtfully. “In fact, remind the villagers that I am closed to all

audiences. My servants will be out there to see that my edict is obeyed.”

 

 

Before I could speak, he leaned back and let my hand fall from his. He

reached around the door to close it.

 

 

“Wait—”

 

 

And slammed it in my face.

 

 

 

 

 

About Amy: 

 

Amy McNulty is a freelance writer and

editor from Wisconsin with an honors degree in English. She was first published

in a national scholarly journal (The Concord Review) while in high

school and currently writes professionally about everything from business

marketing to anime. In her down time, you can find her crafting stories with

dastardly villains and antiheroes set in fantastical medieval settings. Visit

her website at amymcnulty.com.

 

 

 

 

Giveaway Details:

 

 

 

1 winner will receive an eBook of

NOBODY’S

GODDESS and an eGalley of NOBODY’S LADY. International.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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