Welcome to your magical library, ! 🪄📚

Imagine a library just for you....it's small and cozy, with a fireplace and comfy chair, but it always gives you exactly the books you need. You come downstairs, grumpy after a long day, and it gives you a shelf of humor—or books full of existential angst—or romance. (Which do you use to unwind when you're tired and stressed?) You're reading to a child, and it adds a shelf of age-appropriate books in their favorite subject. You're getting ready for a river cruise, and it comes up with a bunch of stories about people on rivers.

Well, I can't send you a personal magical library, but I can give you Rian's magical library. It's available today, from all your favorite e-book retailers. (Also Google Play & Apple, although I'm not positive those links are live yet.) I can't wait to hear what you think! Scroll down for some inside details and a sneak peek, not to mention the shameful secret about my uncredited co-author (he's furry), but if you want to see the blurb:

Buy on Kindle!

Buy on Barnes and Noble!

Buy on Kobo!

What's new about this one?

• It's set completely in Heroic Ireland (approx. 3rd century CE), and none of the characters slips through time. However, the library itself is definitely from a different time.
• It's still a quick read, but it's longer than the earlier novellas in the series. I've heard from some readers that they want a little more, so this one (and the next) are a little longer (around 200 paperback-style pages).
• The story takes place over several years, starting when Rian is 11 and ending when he is 18. His voice and priorities change as he ages.
• The setting, at a training program for knights or warriors, is different from my other books—but will be very familiar to fantasy readers, a la Tamora Pierce, Arthurian YA, and really dozens and dozens of books. Also familiar: a girl who is determined to become a knight, despite the ridicule of (and danger from) her male peers.

But is it like the other Castle in Kilkenny books?

Yes! I deliberately keep the emotional reading experience similar.

• Despite the setting, this is not a battle book. There is almost no gore. Except for one scene with a pig, the characters fight off-page.
• It's a book about friendship and self-determination. And a library.
• Although the narrator is male, the female characters drive the story.
• There's magic, adventure—and I hope you enjoy the twists at the end!

It's always a little nerve-wracking to send a book out into the world! How much is in my head instead of the page? All the surprises feel obvious to me, but are they still twists for readers? How do readers feel about the characters? I can't wait to hear what you think!

Leave a review

Who are the main characters?

Rian (pronounced Ryan) plays an important role in The White Deer of Kildare. This book is his youth...and he's definitely coming back again!

Nessa is the character from Irish mythology. She became extremely important politically, but like Saba, is mostly known as someone's mother. She isn't even given a full name (I made up a logical family name for the book), and her pre-motherhood life has multiple quick, sketchy variations. I'll link the Wiki bio here, but be warned—it does have spoilers for the Nessa in my book.

What's next?

I just put Book #5 up for pre-order. If you've read Aiden's book, you know that he went on his adventure with two friends who did not behave very well...they both get consequences.

If you have not read Aiden's book, that's fine—this book introduces Hannah as a narrator, and she doesn't know what happened, either!

Pre-order the Lake of Regret

(psst... sneak peek ahead....)

I'm coming back to Maura and her family. Next up: Oona and the Swan.

I hope I can get these out sooner than the pre-order dates, since I already have them partially ready, but it depends on how graduation and early-summer-kid-chaos goes.

But I wanted a puppy picture!

Who am I to deny you?

Uh-oh, now you know my secret....Malin actually wrote this book! 😱

Keep scrolling (or save this email) to read a sneak peek...

(Although the formatting is better in the real book, I promise!)

Thank you for being with me on this journey... and reply to tell me what books you would find in your magical library!

Best wishes,

Christy & the Shelties

My face is squashed into the mud and there’s a rock jutting into my hip, but at least it’s quiet now. I stretch out my fingers, relieved to feel the hilt of my sword. Ache. Cold. Will just stay right here.

Today worked just the way I planned, but it hurts worse than I expected.

It’s awfully cold down here in the mud.

Someone shoves me with their foot, and I bite back a groan. Maybe if I stay still, they’ll just go away and leave me alone.

They kick me. Just lightly, against my leather backplate. If I weren’t so bruised, it wouldn’t hurt.

Another kick. “Get up, you worm. Come on!”

The voice surprises me enough that I half-roll so I can look at her directly. I expected the training master, or one of the servants come to take pity on me, but certainly not one of the other students—let alone one in the upper division, training to be a knight. Nessa mac Eochaid is a tall shadow, glowering down at me, her blond hair glowing against the sunset.

“Up!” She swings back her foot, enough for a proper kick, so I scramble—

Well, not anywhere, really. I’m stuck in the mud, and my too-large armor has slid around uncomfortably, and my left shoulder won’t do what I tell it to. But I wriggle and struggle towards being upright, and apparently that’s enough for Nessa, because she doesn’t kick me again.

I don’t know why she came all the way out here, or why she would care about me. She’s high-born enough to dine with the Family, and practically an adult at fourteen.

I manage to get to my knees before I have to stop, panting. I think I need to get the breastplates off, so I yank at the cords.

“Up,” Nessa snaps again, but this time she reaches both hands for me.

I hesitate.

“C’mon, what, you afraid to get a girl dirty?” she mocks. “Grab on.”

Of course I know Nessa doesn’t mind getting dirty, or bloody either, but normally I’d no more grab her with my muddy hands than I’d bother Prince Ardgal. He’s also one of us, technically. Almost a full warrior. But he’s royalty and I’m… me.

Knowing there’s no help for it, I put out my hands and let Nessa haul me out of the mud. She’s none too gentle about it.

“You’re bleeding.” She twists my elbow to look at my shoulder.

I yelp. I don’t care if someone thinks I’m a coward, and that hurt!

“You’re stupid! You know what can happen with an open wound? There’s no point to it, bleeding on a Trial day. You idiot. Come on.” She heads back towards the castle, picking her way to the edge of the field, which is churned to muck.

“Where are we going?” I yank my wooden sword out of the mud and follow.

“Well, do you want to get that cleaned up and live to fight another day? Or are you going to get a fever and die, right now, at only eleven years old.”

I slog after her, not answering. I don’t like either of those options. I sure don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be a fighter, either. I never did, I never chose this life, and it’s really no good. I want to go home. Lacking that, I want the other boys to stop bothering me.

Once we reach the back courtyard, Nessa works off my breastplate, then dumps buckets of water over me. Six months of training have done their job, I guess, because it hurts real bad but I stand tall and don’t make a squeak.

Nessa points to the bin. “Leave your clothes there. The blood in them will go sour and make you sick.”

In my village, men didn’t take off their léines around women, but here we are all supposed to treat each other like warriors, not men and women. I strip down, feeling like a bug under Nessa’s unblinking glare. She’s elegant and important and the best fighter in our entire training program, and I wish she would leave me alone. I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know why she cares.

She grabs my good elbow and hauls me into the castle, naked and leaving wet footprints, down a few stairs and around a corner and a corner again. Before I came here, I’d never even seen a building with more than one room. It would make a fine story for my brothers and sisters around the evening fire; trying to tell them all the rooms in this place, and what each one is for.

Several turns later, Nessa leads me through a door. Mother would like this room. I inch towards the fire, trying to remember every detail for her, while Nessa bangs jars and bowls onto the counter.

She swings to me, hands full of bandages and a strong-smelling bowl. “Well? What’s it going to be?”

“What is what going to be?” Is it me being muddle-headed, or does her conversation jump more than a pond frog?

“Your choice.”

“What? I don’t understand!!”

I didn’t mean to snap, but a grin spreads across her face.

“There, that’s a bit of spunk. Do you want to live or die, Rian of Kilkirk?”

“Live, of course!” I can’t get home if I die.

Nessa dips the wooden spatula in the bowl, coming up with a glistening glob. “Then you have to promise to never do that again.”

“But—”

“No conditions. You must promise.”

I drop my head, discouraged. That’s what it’s like, here—I was just going to say I didn’t understand what she’s saying, but no one cares. They all want me to jump and swing and promise, no explanations. “I promise,” I tell her.

“Do you vow it on the graves of your ancestors?”

“I vow it on the faerie meadow where my youngest sister was born.” My people don’t bury their dead.

“Fine then.”

Without warning, I’m hit with a splash of cool ointment, and Nessa’s fingers press against my shoulder. I grit my teeth, refusing to wince or cry out again.

Well, I try not to. From the way she’s working it, I can tell this is messier than my usual wounds. We were using wooden weapons today.

I know the weapons wasn’t the biggest part. I know—

“They took advantage of you, didn’t they?” Nessa demands.

“Harrr.” It’s all I can manage.

“Four against one?”

I squeeze my eyes closed. So she was watching.

She glares at my wound. “This is a mess! I’m putting in extra moss, the kind that keeps away the fever. But it will soak through. Come and find me again tomorrow so I can do it again. Don’t go to the training master! He won’t be careful enough. Come to me.” She gives the bandage a final tug.

Nessa probably won’t remember me tomorrow. I’ll just go to the master; he does just fine—

“Don’t disobey me now!” Nessa puts fists on her hips, blocking my way to the door. “You’ve sworn loyalty to me now.”

I don’t recall doing any such thing. She really does jump about. “I’m too young,” I answer, instead of arguing.

“Not fealty. Just…” She furrows her brow. “Well, I guess you didn’t. So. Rian of Kilkirk, swear loyalty to me!”

I’m about to say I won’t, but she puts out her hand, two fingers tucked in. It’s the symbol of fighting together.

Of equals.

She’s offering something too.

I tuck my two fingers and clasp her hand. “Nessa mac Eochaid, I swear loyalty to you.” I don’t know what happens now, but I don’t understand anything around here, so what’s one more thing.

Nessa nods, sharp. “And I swear loyalty to you, Rian of Kilkirk—as long as you never do anything stupid like that again.”

I shiver. “What did I do?” How can I fix it if I don’t know why she’s mad?

Nessa sighs, a gust of winter wind. She unpins her own cloak, wraps it around me, and shoves me onto a stool by the fire.

“I didn’t even know this room was here.” What I mean is that I’m not sure I can find it again.

Nessa goes to tidy the counter. “It was just another storeroom. I moved everything in, and I barter for the herbs and oils. We’re allowed to take all the firewood we want. So now…” She shrugs, smiling like she’s pleased with herself.

She’s made it cozy. It’s a little space, earth on one side and the rough palisade logs for the other wall, with an actual door that opens and closes. The fireplace is only knee-high, but the stone hearth radiates warmth. She’s even decorated it—there’s a worn cowhide underfoot, a faded tapestry on the wall across from her workbench, and a cheerful red earthenware vase with only a few chips out of it.

“It’s really nice here.”

Nessa must hear the admiration in my voice, because she turns and grins at me. Something flashes between us, and I feel a little bit…good.

Nessa starts humming, and I join in. I prop my feet on the warm stones while she ladles water into a dented kettle, props it in the fire, and settles herself on the other stool.

Sensation tingles into my muscles along with the warmth, and that hurts. But I’m a little giddy, since I’ve been dreading today. And I might be injured, but I did what I planned. Lugaid and his buddies won’t care about me any more. Maybe I can make it through the training program after all, and then I’ll be able to go back home and lead our village defenses. I’ll fulfill what the druids predicted, and my mother will be pleased.

The kettle boils, and Nessa pours water into two mugs. The tangy smell of herbs fills the room.

“What did I do wrong?” I finally work up the courage to ask.

Nessa stirs the teas and narrows her eyes at me. “Today? On the battlefield? You tell me.”

“It wasn’t a real battle.”

Nessa snorts.

“Fine, I know we’re supposed to act like it is. But it’s just the other boys. Our swords weren’t even real.”

“It’s establishing your order for the entire yearl! Even among the youngest cohort, the best warrior must be the leader. That’s the way it works!”

Despite her anger, I flush with pleasure. That’s right; Lugaid is our new captain, and he’s the biggest and has the highest rank from home. The other boys are happy to follow Lugaid, and I can stay quiet in the back, out of their way.

“You should have been awarded the Squire’s Trumpet today.” Nessa speaks with so much venom that I hunch away from her, pulling her cloak tight across my chest.

“But I’m from a village! And a Fir Bolg! And—just a no one.” And all the other boys hate me enough already.

“But you’re smarter and quicker than any of them.”

“They ganged up on me.”

“You could have defeated them all four at once!”

“But they’re bigger!”

“They’re clumsy louts!”

“I tried but—”

“You did not!” Nessa half-screams. “This is what I mean! You did not fight with honor!”

“You know what?” I rub my eyes with a fist, like a stupid child. I’m so tired and angry, not to mention naked and sore and bleeding, and it’s worse to be yelled at when it’s the one person who has been friendly to me. In months. “I’m tired of hearing about honor! I’m tired of bravery and valor! Do you know what really matters?”

I’m braced for Nessa to yell again, or punch me onto the ground—I’ve hit it plenty today.

She cocks her head. “What? What matters to you, Rian? And drink your tea.”

Startled by her change in mood, I slurp the brew. It soothes my throat, and I drink again, breathing in the bright and woodsy smell.

“This.” I lift the mug, thanking her. “The blessings of the earth. Being together. Do you know what spring means?” I start to cry for real now. “My father and all my uncles are plowing the fields. My mother is sorting the seeds from the storeroom, and my brothers and sisters are gathering the fresh new sprouts in the woods.”

“And fish in the streams,” Nessa says.

“Yes.” I put aside my empty mug and wipe my nose. “Honor and bravery are just words. Just a reason to hit someone. What really matters is sitting together. And family. And telling stories. And”—I hiccup a bigger sob than I meant—“Mother is having a new baby this spring, and it’s the first one I won’t get to hold. My brother Euchu is old enough to set snares, and I could be teaching him. Everything is green, except the Fair Valley is full of yellow blossoms, and the Shy Mountain glows purple with all the heather. And it’s beautiful and the farms and the people and that is what matters, not who gets the silly Squire’s Trumpet!” I gulp a breath and sit back, waiting for her to scold. Here in the lowlands, warriors are more important than new babies or spring planting or beautiful sunsets. They’ve been trying to beat that into my head all these months.

“Oh, Rian.” Nessa just shakes her head. She takes a breath, and it shudders a little. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Eight, with the new one. I am the eldest.” Of course, there is no way to send word unless a traveler passes through Kilkirk and here, and the back of my mind prickles with fear that something could have gone wrong this time. But Mother has always birthed a healthy baby. I have to trust that they’re all there, and I will go back some day.

“You must be very proud.”

It’s not the lecture I expected, but Nessa sounds sad, even though that doesn’t match the words she is saying.

So I wait.

“But Rian…” Finally, she looks up, and her eyes are haunted. “Don’t you see, that’s why all this matters? And that’s why you must never hide your true strength and be any less than you are.”

“I don’t see.” I bury my mouth in the cloak, and finally burst out with the truth. “And I don’t want to be a warrior at all!”

“But you are one. And everything you said—don’t you love it? Don’t you want your father to have his fields and your mother to rock her babies?”

“Of course!”

“Then it takes warriors. Good warriors. The best warriors to protect them!”

“The raiding bands don’t come up so far into the hills. The kings don’t care about where we are.” But even as I say it, I remember that my aunt’s village was burned when I was little. It’s in one of our story-songs, and sometimes when I was hunting I came across the ruins, charred beams sinking into the vivid green woods.

“Then do you not care about anyone else’s farms and families?” Nessa asks.

That blow strikes my heart. I turn away, pressing my mouth together. Already, I care about people in the Theastír village, the vast sprawling castle with all its maids and guards and lords and laughter. It’s beautiful here, too. I don’t want this land to be lost to blood and fire.

“Rian, sooner or later the raiders come. The clans start another feud, or the war-boats come from across the sea. That, or there are simply…bad men.”

I turn back, curious. Nessa has her own story here. “What bad men?”

“Evil men. Who want evil, nasty, bad”—Nessa gasps, tangled in her own words—“evil things. Like…Cathbad the Evil.”

I suspect this is not his real name, but I’m intrigued. “What did he do?”

Nessa shakes her head, coming back to herself. “Never you mind. It’s a story for another day. But the point is, if you can be a warrior, you have to be a warrior. That’s the only way to keep the rest of it! The farms and the babies and the tapestries and the harps and the flowers and…all of it.”

I really want the story, especially since now it’s got harps in it. I definitely didn’t mention harps.

“No—stop looking at me like that!” Nessa laughs. “I’ll tell you more later.”

She’s a little confusing, the way she is so caught up in one thing but then a moment later she’s totally different. But it’s fine. Talking with her is kind of fun, especially compared to all the boys who just want to bash people with swords. And I bet she’s got lots of good stories, being a high-born woman enrolled in warrior training and all. That’s probably even trickier than being a Fir Bolg boy in the lowlands.

“But listen. Here’s the point. And then we’ve got to get supper and get to bed. But the thing you’ve got to remember is that the evil men might come for us at any moment. And they’ll come for your baby sister and your mother and Euchu and his snares, don’t think they won’t! And you never know when the moment is going to come, and what if Lugaid is the leader of the squires and he makes a mistake and does something wrong that you would have done better?”

“The invaders aren’t going to worry about the squires—we’re not warriors yet!”

“Don’t you know the tales?” Nessa shakes her head, and her shoulders crumple. “You never know when one person could have saved everything. If only he knew what to do. If only he were doing his best.”

I don’t think I’m that important. I don’t think the adult warriors would falter and let the castle’s defense rest on the squires, but…

My mind leaps through a thousand possible stories.

But if it happened, Lugaid would make a mistake. He’s far too predictable, which I proved in the trials today. Nessa is right; I could have beat all of them and not gotten hurt, either. I could lead them better.

If they listened to me.

If I dared.

Continue reading The Squire & His Magical Library