This month I am SUPER excited to announce the first ever anthology published by Raven’s Hollow Art & Publishing! This April 21st Happily Ever After will be published and available in ebook and print! The ebook will be available on all major platforms and the paperback will be available to order online from Amazon and other paperback retailers, including Barnes & Noble and Walmart!
In the past, my books were only available on Amazon, however, I am trying out Draft2Digital for this anthology to see if I like them, and to make my paperbacks more widely available. If things go well, I might publish Docherty and The Necromancer series through them as well ^_^
Anyway! Below I have a snippet from my short story, Revenge Served Sweet from Happily Ever After. The anthology is a collection of high fantasy short stories about the quest for happiness. Whether it’s a young spellcaster looking to get into a magic academy or a goblin wanting revenge on the human who took his leg, Happily Ever after is a unique collection of fantasy short stories that I hope everyone can enjoy ^_^
I will be back in touch on the release date, so expect to hear from me one more time this month 🙂 Pre-orders are available and linked through the button below ^_^
Revenge Served Sweet
By Sarah WaterRaven
Devion leaned against the bartop and stared into his mead as the tavern owner continued his story. The owner’s voice was pleasant and easy to listen to, the kind of speech that was well practiced and accustomed to strangers. “The tavern has no name, ya sees. It’s been burned down more times than I can remember, been swallowed up by an earthquake, trampled by a giant, and last month, she exploded…”
Devion nodded, though the details of the explosion were lost on him. He was a couple of drinks in—maybe more than a couple—and had gotten distracted by a noblewoman who had entered the tavern.
Despite her attempts to hide her face under the hood of her cloak, Devion hadn’t missed how beautiful she was.
He had no doubt she was a noble, given the expensive velvety green of her cloak and the silver embroidery that made up the trim, but the daggers lining her belt and the strange scaly leather that made up her breeches had him especially curious.
What’s she doing in a place like this? He wondered.
“So, as you can sees, I can’t name the place. Otherwise, it gets destroyed. Me father, bless him, he tried ta name ‘er, but being so close to the Warlord’s castle, not a single beam nor brick is from the original building. There’s been the Angry Boar, The One-Eyed Goat, Two-Beams, on account of there being only two beams from the previous tavern. And the Pickle Barrel Tavern, on account of there being only pickles left to serve after that last explosion… So’s, no point in namin’ her. We just call her Tavern now, ya sees,” the tavern owner finished and then picked food from his teeth.
Devion took another sip of his mead and then waved his hand. “But isn’t Tavern really just another name? It is a tavern, yes, but now it’s The Tavern. No matter how many times it gets knocked down, you gotta call it something, and Tavern is a name, my friend. My thoughts? Why not move the location of the tavern farther away from the Warlord’s castle, instead of rebuilding in the same spot only to have the building destroyed again?”
The bartender stopped wiping the countertop and pursed his lips, giving thought to what Devion had said.
“You’re not wrong…” the bartender replied and then paused before continuing, “but everyone comes here to kill the Warlord and that means business is guaranteed. I’ve never had a slow day. I just can’t always keep the building standin’.”
Devion arched his brow but saved his response. It was true. It was likely half of the people in the bar were hired assassins, warriors with vendettas, or spies from border kingdoms. Everyone wanted the Warlord dead, including Devion.
Speaking of murdering warlords, Devion wondered if the noblewoman he’d spotted was here to do the same thing.
He stepped back and stretched, casually scanning the tavern as he did, and spied her in the back corner. Given she hadn’t been trying to hide her status with less obvious attire, he assumed she’d taken the first open seat and wasn’t trying to avoid anyone in particular.
Devion was probably going to die tomorrow, so he chugged the rest of his mead and then ordered two more and headed over to her.
“Evening, my lady. May I join you?” he asked, relieved he hadn’t slurred his words.
A smirk crossed her lips as she looked up at him. She was stunning to behold. It made it difficult for him to focus—and breathe.
Her silver eyes shimmered like an open chest full of treasure, and her auburn hair cradled her face in long, beautiful locks. Devion yearned to pull the hood of her cloak back so he could admire all of her.
“Tall, dark, and carrying an offering? How could a lady refuse?” Her tone was inviting and playful.
Devion sat down with a thud, spilling a bit of his drink. All of his confidence and charm dripped onto the floor. He hadn’t expected her to say yes.
“I, uh, worked up the courage to come ask you if I could sit with you, but didn’t prepare any material,” he admitted. He moved some of his thick black curls out of his eyeline.
“Hm. Let’s start the way travelers do when they first meet,” she said as she pulled the hood of her cloak down. Devion gripped the table as the bounty of her hair was released in waves of autumn.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She smiled and blushed.
Devion cleared his throat and added, “Forgive me, I—I… My name is Devion. What’s yours?”
She eyed the second tankard he’d brought with him and asked, “Is this for me?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I mean, it was either that, or I drank two because you turned me down.”
She laughed, pulled the mead toward her, and took a sip. Smiling, she said, “Well met, sir Devion. This is delicious.”
Devion wouldn’t have called it the best mead he’d ever had, but perhaps it was her first time trying it.
She sipped her drink again and then said, “I am called Leoness. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Devion.”
As the night went on and drinks were poured, conversation got easier—a little too easy. In fact, despite his intentions to enjoy what was likely his last night on earth, Devion admitted to Leoness that he’d come on a mission of vengeance. He’d come to kill the Warlord.
She sat quietly, absorbing his confession, before she spoke again. “It is no secret that many in this tavern have been tasked with such a mission, but why you, Devion? You don’t seem like the type of man who takes orders nor do you seem like someone who lives the lonely and secretive life of an assassin—and if you were an assassin, forgive me, but telling a stranger about your mission isn’t the smartest of moves.” She giggled, her cheeks coloring.
Devion’s eyes fell. “He killed my family—and not just my mother and father. My brother, Derek, and my wee baby sister, Lara. Also my cousins, my aunt and her son, and my grandmother. He wiped us all out.”
Leoness reached across the table and put her hand over his. She searched his eyes. They shimmered again like treasure in sunlight. “Not all.”
“All,” Devion assured her. He pulled away and shook his head. “I am a ghost.”
Leoness sat back and held her mug thoughtfully. “A shame. I would have liked to have known Devion in life. He seemed like a good man.”
He looked away from her and out at the night through the brand new window. “It would have been nice. Alas, tomorrow, I intend to make sure no one else has to suffer as I have at the Warlord’s hand.”
***
Despite his hangover, Devion was up early, finishing breakfast.
He’d left The Tavern late in the night and stumbled to his campsite in the woods, where he had been camped out in the same spot for a week and had set up traps and alarms to ensure no one could sneak up on him and slit his throat while he slept. Getting to his bedroll safely last night had been quite the task indeed.
Since his arrival, he’d been shadowing a band of warriors—and if Devion weren’t mistaken, an assassin from the tavern as well. One night, he swore he’d glimpsed a black tattoo peeking out above a man’s collar that resembled a serpent’s tail. The black vipers of the Sirian Assassins Guild were feared across the continent, and the mark of their guild was unmistakable. If an assassin had come from Siria, it meant the Warlord’s army had finally crossed the river and begun enslaving the border cities of Siria.
The warriors below his campsite were another thing entirely. They were loud and obvious. Devion marveled at how their campsite hadn’t been raided by the Warlord’s patrols already, but that was the way of the Fridrik tribes. They were never sober and charged fearlessly and head-on into battles. Thankfully, his camp overlooked theirs and tonight, when they hopefully made their assault, he’d ride their coattails to victory.
For now, he thought it best to spend the morning warming up and scouting the forest for any potential threats.
A warm bed with a beautiful woman would have been his ideal last night on earth, but staying at the tavern would have made him an easy target.
Devion had been stupid to get drunk and spill his guts to Leoness. She was a noblewoman, and for all he knew, she could have been the Warlord’s daughter. He’d spent his youth training for this day, and he may or may not die because of drunken over sharing. Still, he couldn’t deny those brief moments of happiness he felt being with someone who would have been special to him in another life.
He swallowed his last bit of breakfast before fastening his sword scabbard to his waist. Securing his buckler to his arm, Devion pulled his hood over his head, then gripped his crossbow and slung it over his back.
Whatever happened tonight, he had no regrets.
To continue Devion’s adventure, you can purchase the anthology on April 21st in ebook or paperback or pre-order the ebook below!
Toodles!
WaterRaven
Ravens Hollow 
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