Freda Warrington is known for the lush sensuality of her writing, in which she creates compelling characters and weirdly atmospheric worlds. She lives in rural Leicestershire, where she also enjoys crafts such as stained glass and beadwork, all things Gothic, yoga, walking, Arabian horses, conventions and travel.

Aetherial Tales 3: Grail of the Summer Stars by Freda Warrington

An Aetherial Tales novel that can be read as a stand-alone or as the third compelling volume following Elfland (winner of Romantic Times Best Fantasy Novel Award) and Midsummer Night. Grail of the Summer Stars is an eerie, spellbinding contemporary fantasy in which a small mystery builds to an epic confrontation.

Stevie Silverwood's quiet life as the manager of an arts museum is disrupted when a painting depicting haunting scenes of a ruined palace and a scarlet-haired goddess in a fiery city arrives with a cryptic note saying, "The world needs to see this." Stevie soon realizes that Daniel, her ex-boyfriend from art school, painted the image, but her attempts to contact him reveal that Daniel has gone missing. Concerned, Stevie rushes to his studio where she bumps into a stranger, Mist—an Aetherial from the Otherworld—who has mysteriously risen from drowning in the depths of the ocean. Together they are determined to find out what has happened to Daniel—and the meaning behind the haunting image.

Stevie and Mist must uncover their lost past in order to understand the greater secrets the painting holds, and what cataclysmic events it might portend. A twisty, perilous journey awaits as they encounter friends and enemies both old and new, charming and dangerous. Who can they trust? Entwined histories reel them towards a single path, a spire of ice and a conspiracy older than humankind.

In Grail of the Summer Stars, a haunting, powerful tale of two worlds and those caught between, Freda Warrington weaves an exciting story of suspense, adventure and danger that fulfills the promise of the Aetherial Tales as only she can.

CURATOR'S NOTE

Magical, vivid and lyrical, this is a stand-out fantasy from a writer at the peak of her powers – check it out! – Lavie Tidhar

 

REVIEWS

  • "The Aetherial Tales are some of the most enchanting fantasies I've read in years and I highly recommend them."

    – Fantasy Literature
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

Prelude

Daniel's hands shook as he checked his watch. Five to six. Dusk had fallen two hours ago and he'd turned off the lights, relying on an orange wash of streetlight that spilled through the windows. The studio was an empty industrial space around him, darkness massing above the high steel beams. Easels and store cupboards stood stripped, the wide shallow drawers of plan cabinets yawning open. He hardly noticed the mess he'd left: scraps of paper, curled-up paint tubes, a layer of charcoal and gold-leaf dust coating everything. There was no time.

He worked fast, fumbling as he covered the surface of the last panel with protective paper, folded the outer wooden leaves into the center, then bound the triptych in layers of bubble wrap. Better too much wrapping than too little. Nothing cooperated: clouds of plastic billowed around him and he kept losing the damned scissors. The sticky tape clung to his fingers, to everything except the edges he was trying to seal. In frustration he tore the tape with his teeth. He could barely squeeze the last, overwrapped artwork into its packing case.

The tiny luminous bars of his watch hands moved on. Ten past six. Rain dashed the windows.

In his rush to fasten the lid of the last case, Daniel gouged himself with the screwdriver. He barely felt the pain.

Where the hell was the courier?

He heard the elevator rising one floor from ground level, its doors opening onto the communal landing. Footsteps rang out and wheels rumbled along the metal walkway that jutted above the art center's large public foyer. Hurriedly Daniel completed the delivery label. As an afterthought, he scrawled a note––too late to place it inside, so he folded the paper and stapled it to the crate. The noise grew louder as it bypassed other studio units, stopping abruptly at his door.

There was a loud knock. His heart jumped into a wilder rhythm. A figure waited outside the glass-paneled door, dark against the fluorescent lights of the landing.

Daniel held himself together long enough to exchange pleasantries with the courier as he double-checked the forms and handed over payment. Then the courier hefted all four packing cases onto a trolley, grunted a word of thanks, and went.

Softly, Daniel closed the door behind him. It was done.

For a moment, he thought of running after the courier, shouting at him to wait, he'd written the wrong address… Too late. Automatic doors hissed shut and he heard the elevator trundling downwards. No, his decision couldn't be unmade. He knew he'd done the right thing.

Oliver, though, would not see it that way.

Daniel walked to the middle of his studio and looked up at a steel beam above his head. He reached out to a low cabinet nearby and picked up the tangle of rope he'd left on top. The rope was a thin blue nylon twist, designed for lashing together heavy goods… strong enough to bear the weight of a lean human body. He positioned a high stool. Standing on the seat should give him enough height to lash the noose to the beam.

The letter he'd written to his mother lay inside the top drawer of the cabinet. There was nothing else to say.

He looked up, testing the strength of the rope between his hands. He felt no fear, only a whooshing sensation that shook his whole body. It was a trance-like feeling, a flood carrying away all clear thought. His visions would end and there would be peace…

"Daniel."

He heard the voice, glimpsed the flash of glass as the door swung open. Turning, he confronted a silhouette with light spinning a white-gold halo through the edges of its hair.

"Are you ready?" said the shadow. "It's time to go."