The Celery Patch

About the Author

Game of Secrets

About the Author

I hope they’ll feel as if they walked beside Shawn and Niall for a time, and all the rest in the story, that the inhabitants of the Blue Bells world have become people they knew and cared about. And many readers seem to very much feel that way. I hope they’ll carry with them the beautiful story of a man who recognizes his flaws and makes a decision to turn himself around. I hope they’ll remember the humorous moments and the poignant moments and smile long after the book is closed.

“…I enjoyed every bit of plot that I read and could take the storyline seriously. . . . I would recommend this to lovers of fantasy novels, and now-complete series with complex storylines, characters, and worldbuilding.”

Clive moved in silence beside him for a time, flashing his light around the cells that opened on their right, and down another passage.

“That one comes to a dead end,” Shawn said. “I’ll take a look. Stay here. Be ready for anything.”

He followed the passage, quickly, his mind on Niall. His brother would be searching too, neither of them knowing if Simon had crossed or not. He hoped Niall would be okay—not ambushed by Simon. He hoped he wouldn’t be ambushed himself, nor Clive, nor the chief. He doubted they could take on a medieval knight with years of brutal warfare under his belt.

Yes, Let’s Go Back to the Old Couple
Inverness, Present

“So you want to tell me where you were for a year?” his mother asked. “I’ve given you plenty of space, but I’ve waited long enough and I think you owe me some answers.”

Shawn stared into the fire. “An old couple in the west of Scotland?”

Carol snorted. “One of many stories you’ve told. if it were true, you’d have said so from the start.”
He took another long drink, letting the tea thaw out his insides. “What has Amy told you?”

Carol shook her head. “Nothing I can make sense of. A ring from Robert the Bruce. You turned up in the tower of Glenmirril. None of it makes sense.”

Shawn set the tea mug down, rose, and lifted the linen shirt made by Christina, revealing the scar.

Simon Arrives at Claverock
Claverock Castle, Northumbria, December 1317

Simon stared up with pride at the great stone walls of Claverock, at his banners snapping on its towers. His steward had kept the place up. It was all worth it, he thought. He drew breath. This was his moment! “Open the gates!” he bellowed up at his towers. “Your Lord of Claverock is home!”

Men looked down from the walls above the gatehouse. One pointed and shouted. Two ran, and soon the portcullis creaked, lifting. His steward raced through, falling to one knee, as he cried, “My Lord! My Lord, is it really you? We thought you dead, my Lord!”

Niall and Company Meet Christina Coming Home
Scottish Highlands, December 1317

They were two days into the ride, when a scout came racing back to them, spurring his garron. “Lochmaben ahead!” he shouted joyfully. “Milady Christina rides with them!”

Cheers rose from the men of Glenmirril. Relief washed through Niall. Their ruse with James Angus had not entirely silenced the whispers, though Margaret had been stalwart in looking down her nose at those who did so, reprimanding them and silencing them. He was grateful the rumors had not diminished the love of the people of Glenmirril for Christina.

Niall Meets Joan
Creagsmalan, Southwest Scotland, January 1318

Niall waited in the hills outside Creagsmalan as Conal, Lachlan, and Owen rode in. He and Hugh sat on a pair of boulders, watching sunrise spill light over the water beyond the town.

“Are ye sure she’ll believe it?” Hugh’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “Surely she knows the Bruce will not return his lands until he swears fealty.”

“Hope,” Niall said. “She wishes to believe it. Moreover, Bruce is known for mercy. She will count on that, for she does not wish to leave Scotland.”

Angus Warns Shawn

“Sit down. We need to talk.” Angus’s voice snapped Shawn’s attention back to the hospital room. Angus sat in a wheelchair by the hospital window, wearing jeans and a heavy fisherman’s sweater, a book in his hand. He laid it down on his lap.

“You’re up!” Shawn stopped in the doorway, feigning energy. In truth, he’d had multiple late nights, on top of a heavy load of arranging for the album Ben wanted out yesterday. He wanted nothing more than to be in bed, asleep. But when he collapsed in bed, he turned and rolled restlessly through the dark hours with nightmares—if he slept at all.

“Shut the door.”

“It is full of action, danger and romance, plus more…”

“I found the novel to have an interesting premise with realistic characters and development. I like that the story was told from the past, future, and present. Overall, it was an interesting book…”

Simon Meets Eamonn Again

“Good to go home to your young bride, eh?” The man gave a wink as he waved for a stable boy.

Simon grinned. It felt odd and light on his face. Smiles, in his experience, had always been a deliberate tensing of muscles. This time, his features moved on their own, without his will, and his heart lifted, too.

“Cat’s got your tongue,” the man laughed. “She must be a fair delight to the eyes!” He slapped his horse on the rump and melted into the crowd, leaving Simon alone and feeling foolish in the midst of the courtyard, as more men poured through the gates.

Amy Sees the Pool

He mentioned it as we entered his foyer. “By the way, I put in a pool.” A pool in the yard, I thought, a small pool or a hot tub on the deck. But this—this is beyond what anyone would conceive from, “by the way, I put in a pool.”

I stand on the terrace where Shawn loved to barbecue. Black velvet sky shows overhead. Starlight shines down—but now it pours through a glass ceiling. I catch my breath as I take it in—on my right, a room like a medieval castle vault; stone walls with Gothic arches at intervals, alternating between windows of leaded glass and stone niches framing….“Sconces,” I breathe. “You put in sconces.”

“They’re electric,” he says defensively. And then, with the child-like joy I loved, the innocent joy that made me believe his public self was the facade: “You like it?”

Beatrice and Simon
Northumbria, England, 1318

Beatrice’s head shot up as the door burst open, yanking back from her husband’s embrace.

“Sir Kenrick….” The guard, Erol, stumbled to his knees, shoved by a man in chain mail.

“Lord Claverock!” Kenrick jumped forward, reaching to help his man up off the floor as he said, “Why did you not send word you were coming? I’d have met you in the hall.”

Beatrice backed up, gripping her shift close as she studied her cousin. She’d not seen him in years, not since he’d been a vile boy, dropping spiders in her hair. The malice in his eyes had not changed.

“The Battle is O’er blends the excitement of a modern thriller, with the immersive details of the best historical fiction. Vosika clearly shows her writing chops here, drawing her story forward with a cast of colorful and relatable characters living through extraordinary circumstances. I’d highly recommend this to fans of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series.”

Escaping the Bishop’s Palace
Linstock, 1318

“Is he dead?” Lachlan whispered, looking at the man on the frosty ground.

Owen shook his head, working at the bolts on the huge doors. “A potion is all. He’ll appear to have fallen asleep at his post.” At the same moment, they heard a shout from the courtyard. Owen eased the door open a crack. They slipped through, onto the dock that ran alongside the castle wall and pulled the door shut behind them.

Lachlan scanned the river, whispering, “Conal!” His breath hung in the air.

The Battle is O’er

About the Author