Spotlight: Wing by Tara Maya

Today I am pleased to have Tara Maya on the blog as part of her online tour for Wing, the fifth book in The Unfinished Song series. We are spotlighting two of the main characters for you to get to know.

Title: The Unfinished Song: Wing
Author: Tara Maya
Publication Date: October 2012
Publisher: Misque Press
Series: The Unfinished Song Book 5
Available Format: eBook

UMBRAL SERVES THE DEATHSWORN. He exists for one purpose only: to hunt down the last girl with rainbow magic and kill her. Now he has Dindi at his mercy. But he discoverers that the Raptor Riders of Orange Canyon have played with dark magic that threatens all Faeath, and he needs Dindi’s help to stop them.

DINDI BARGINS FOR HER LIFE. She offers to help her captor rescue the White Lady from the Raptor Riders, who plan to use the faery as a pawn in a monstrous scheme. But Dindi will never forget that Umbral murdered someone she loved…and never forgive. She vows to escape and bring him to justice.

A DARKNESS UNCOILS IN ORANGE CANYON. If they can’t work together, the darkness will consume everything.

WELCOME TO FAEARTH…where humans are trapped between the immortal fae and the minions of Death. But one woman and the warrior who loves her will defy every taboo to protect their people.

This is the fifth book in The Unfinished Song epic fantasy series. Haven’t read the other books yet? Come taste the world of Faearth... The first book is available right now for FREE.

• The Unfinished Song (Book 1): Initiate
• The Unfinished Song (Book 2): Taboo
• The Unfinished Song (Book 3): Sacrifice
• The Unfinished Song (Book 4): Root

UMBRAL

 I don’t know who I was before.

It doesn’t matter.

I can’t live in the past. The past is dead. I know my future. I know my purpose. I’m told I chose it, this path, this shadow. Who knows. Do any of us really choose what we become? Does the stone choose to become the blade? The chips fall away from either side of the flint, and the edge is revealed by the stone-knapper. The edge was always there, waiting to draw blood. You can’t blame the stone-knapper for setting it free.

As a stone dies to be reborn as a blade, so a man dies to be reborn as Deathsworn. So I died to be reborn as Umbral: an edge sharpened to cut a single throat.

I have killed many. Men. Women. Children. Some in battle. Some in their sleep. Some I looked in the eye as I drained their lives. I felt their arms rub against mine, their palms press my palms, as if we were friends. I shadowed their auras as an eclipse blocks the sun, leeched their light and stole their power. Their faces accuse me in the grey mist just before dawn, before I chip free of them, each and every day. Those faces do not matter to any but themselves and me, and not even to themselves any longer. If I had not killed them, another Deathsworn would have.

There is one, however, that only I can kill. The girl with six colors.

DINDI

She was helpless. With a single touch, the man in black had reduced her to quivering flesh, yearning for more of whatever he had done to her. Even after he released her, the aftershock left her whole body tingling.

Dindi recognized the Deathsworn menhirs, but he had no right to bring her here. She was not wounded, condemned or sick. By the law of light and shadow, his kind had no claim to her. But he had stalked her, deceived her and captured her. If he knew the law of light and shadow, he obviously did not give a damn.

She still did not know why he wanted her.

His strange, dark beast crouched overhead, hiding them from the rain under huge leathery wings. The man in black lit a circle of flame around them with a single gesture.

His face. His lie of a face. Why did he have to have that face?

About the Author:

Tara Maya has lived in Africa, Europe and Asia. She’s pounded sorghum with mortar and pestle in a little clay village where the jungle meets the desert, meditated in a Buddhist monastery in the Himalayas and sailed the Volga River to a secret city that was once the heart of the Soviet space program. This first-hand experience, as well as research into the strange and piquant histories of lost civilizations, inspires her writing. Her terrible housekeeping, however, is entirely the fault of pixies.

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