Please welcome Julia Knight to the blog, author of Ilfayne’s Bane and Love is My Sin. Thank you for agreeing to answer my nosy questions and share them with everyone visiting today.

Thanks for having me!

Q: To begin, please share which genre(s) you write in…
A: Well I get ideas for all sorts – but my first love is fantasy, with generous helpings of romance.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: About three years – not all that long really! When I got my first acceptance I thought it was one of my friends playing a prank *laughs*

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: My new one Love Is My Sin, so far. I learnt so much in the editing process for Ilfayne’s Bane and that all translated into a stronger book the second time around. Besides I’m a sucker for my hero….He’s a rather intense, noble sort of chap, and that always makes me swoon

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: Not really – though I find inspiration always strikes more when I’m somewhere I can’t write it down. Then I have to try and remember it till I can find a pen. At work they’re used to me running up shouting ‘Pen! Pen!’ and they keep a notebook handy for me too.

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?
A: This is going to sound really odd…There’s a scene in Love Is My Sin where two people argue and then make up in the best possible way. Now as it’s a sweet romance, I didn’t want to suddenly get all graphic and I was stuck as to how to go about it. I decided to read a little to clear my mind – American Gods by Neil Gaimen. And there I was, reading about a woman blowing maggots out if her nose when BANG! It hit me, the right way to do this particular love scene. Yes, I’m weird.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Oh, I’m going to cheat here. Read, write, read, write, keep going. Perseverance and the ability to keep on learning are key.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: I have an evil day job, though I’d love to able to write full time. Although I deal with some rather yummy builders ( many with extremely sexy Eastern European accents) so it has its perks

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: I am officially not sane. Or maybe that’s not such a surprise! I was diagnosed with bipolar in January. It made sense of a lot of weirdness in my life.

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: Okay, well, when I swear I tend to string a whole load of swear words together. But I almost always end it with ‘Soapy Tit Wank’ because it makes me giggle.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: Three tattoos – two dragons and a Rohirrim flag ( I am completely in love with Eomer from Lord of the Rings) and two more planned – each with parts of my covers.

Q: If you could be intimate with three people (not necessarily all at one time *g*) without getting in trouble with your significant other, who would they be?
A: Karl Urban ( Eomer in Lord of the Rings and Bones in the new Star Trek), Johnny Depp ( provided he’s being Captain Sparrow) and this is going to sound bizarre, but I’ve got a thing for Triple H, the wrestler. He makes me giggle so much, and I want to see if he’s all in proportion

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: I’ve always promised myself I’d finally get a horse if I had the money. I spent several years as a groom, and I love to ride.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: All of them! I am not a domestic goddess.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?
A: Cheese, I love cheese. Stilton is king.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: Book would be the Chronicles of Morgaine. *sighs* This is the one that made me want to write, to be able to create a hero that other people could fall for too. Movie would be The Brave, with Johnny Depp – and another inspiration to start writing.

Q: If you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: I’m working on a few things at the moment – the third and last installment of the Oathcursed trilogy – the sequel to Ilfayne’s Bane and Love Is My Sin, plus an historical erotic romance ( with pirates!) and a romantic fantasy tragedy. I like to keep busy.

Q: In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release (& share a yummy excerpt for those who aren’t yet familiar with your work)
A: Well Love Is My Sin is the second in the Oathcursed series, and my secondary character from Ilfayne’s Bane, Lord Hunter, gets more of a look in. He manages to fall in love with an unobtainable woman – again – and his own values get in the way of ever finding happiness.

Break his oath, he loses his soul. Keep it—and he loses his heart.
Oathcursed, Book 2
Devastated crops force regent Lord Hunter to do the one thing he always swore he’d never do: form an alliance with the neighboring tribal kingdom. The oath to offer his beloved foster son in marriage, however, begins digging holes in his heart the moment he meets the intended bride. He can’t afford to fall in love with the alluring Reethan Chieftain, not if he’s to keep his oath—and his soul—intact.
Nerinna has always used her charms to manipulate her tribal chiefs, as tradition demands. But Lord Hunter’s honest, passionate nature intrigues her like no other man’s has before, challenging her cynical notions. Her wiles have no effect on him. In fact, her every action only seems to alienate him more.
Although their desire hangs thick and heavy in the air, Hunter keeps to the letter of his oath—until the god of justice decrees that Hunter must die. Nerinna knows of only one way to save him: offer herself in exchange. It’s a sacrifice Hunter can’t allow her to make, but to defy the priest means he must choose a side.
With his god—or against him.

Excerpt

Sweat trickled down to stick Hunter’s shirt to his back under his mail. Gods knew he hated having to wear it here but wear it he must, until the formal introductions were over. Armour was not tolerated in the Reethan palace, for which he gave thanks. At least the heat soothed his arm, made the pain fade, just a little. Yet not back to the levels it had been before.

He shifted carefully against the chafing and blinked his eyes against a salty drip that threatened to blind him. Everything was brown and dry as dust from the sun, not the lush, cool green of home. He tried not to notice he was surrounded by dark-haired, jet-eyed and dusky-skinned people who reminded him at every turn of Ilfayne. Hunter shuddered in the heat. At least he didn’t have to deal with him.

Beside him Aran fidgeted in the saddle, Valguard a pace behind on the other side. They nudged the horses forward under the scalding sun ahead of the contingent of soldiers, advisors, nobles and assorted servants. The cavalcade passed through the streets of Kadara, chief city of the Reethan lands, towards the palace that sprawled lazily across the top of a low hill in the centre with all the understated grace of a cat sunbathing.
Hunter had never seen a city like it, so teeming with life and poverty in the narrow dusty streets and shaded alleys that seemed to beckon him in to find all their secrets. It even smelled strange, an odd mix of spices, donkey and the ever-prevalent whiff of the tannery mingling together and pervading everything.

People stopped and stared as they passed, and one or two barefoot children ran alongside, jabbering away in their odd tongue. Women hung out of windows or shrank back to let them pass in the narrow streets but there were very few men, and those were old or infirm in some way. They passed shabby temples and a multitude of little shrines along the road, all covered in flowers or offerings of fruit. More than one was dedicated to Regin, and they were among the most favoured by the looks of it.

Valguard sniffed and muttered at each one. “Heathens.”

Hunter suppressed a bitter smile. Valguard had kept his tongue the last few days, but he couldn’t keep quiet about this. Hunter took the opportunity for a little dig of his own. “They worship the same gods we do, just in other ways.”

“They don’t hold Oku above all.” Valguard’s pursed lips showed what he thought of that.

“As I recall, Oku is not chief of the gods.”

Valguard sneered. “In Ganheim he is, as it should be in any right-thinking man’s eyes, if not in yours. But I spoke of the shrines, the worship of those that are not gods.”

“You don’t consider them gods, maybe.”

“I most certainly do not! It’s heretical.”

Hunter adopted an innocent look. “Wasn’t Oku a man once?”

Aran choked back a laugh as Valguard’s hands tightened on the reins hard enough to make his horse jig under him in protest. “People worship what they believe in, you can’t change that, and it’s not for me to say where that belief should be stowed. And Regin’s shrine is staying in Ganberg, you can’t change that either, not while I’ve a say in the matter.”

Valguard looked vaguely sick. “They worship Regin because you do, not for any other reason. You take them from their true faith.”

“I don’t worship him, I revere my ancestor, that’s all. There’s never been any law against that.” It was common practice for a family to have a shrine dedicated to their most illustrious forebears, and Hunter had many of those, though none greater than Regin the Wolf.

“A fine line, and an easy one to cross. ’Ware you don’t.” Valguard glared at the next shrine they passed and Hunter made a show of bowing his head.

They reached the gates of the palace, and a phalanx of guards dressed in bronze and silver lifted their spears smartly to let them enter. None of them looked a day over sixteen, and not a one had more than a single tattoo to record his bravery in battle. The Reethan must be very short of men. But of course, that was why they were here.

Hunter urged his horse through the gates a half pace ahead of Aran and Valguard, onto a long winding road between well-watered, alien-looking trees. A wooden framework stretched over the way, planted with sweet-smelling climbing plants so that at least they rode in the shade. Thank Kyr for small mercies. Hunter would swear his skin sizzled from the heat and his undershirt would surely never recover from the sweat ground into it.

They emerged from the shade and approached a wide, gracefully proportioned terrace where a large group awaited them. Hunter drew up his horse at the base of a shallow flight of steps and dismounted, swiftly followed by Aran, Valguard and the other nobles. The movement made pain grip his left arm and he clenched his teeth against it. It was apparent enough that he was crippled in that arm; he couldn’t show the pain too. Not now. Not when any sign of weakness would be pounced on. The Reethan could be cruel and unforgiving of any failing, from all he’d heard.

A woman came down the first step, dressed in a filmy bronze gown that all but matched her skin so that in the glare of the sun she looked nearly naked. Fine gold bangles snaked their way up her arms, and the floating fabric around her neck moved to show an intricate gold necklace studded with precious gems. Every item dripped with little charms that chimed when she moved, and for a moment Hunter was sure Ilfayne was there with them. She slid a slim leg forward, so that her honeyed skin peeked through a slit in the dress, and bowed her head in greeting.

Nerinna, Chieftain of the Tribes of the Reethan, whose timely offer might well save the lives of many in Ganheim and Armand. A woman of twenty-two who had taken up the role at seventeen when her father had died in the war that had decimated all the Three Kingdoms, who had astutely managed the warring tribes and kept them together in the wanting aftermath. Nerinna had kept her tribes from starvation, kept them from asking anything of anyone to rebuild themselves. The people he’d seen were poor but not starved and there had been a joyful attitude in the streets. The Reethan were on the road to recovery. As Ganheim and Armand had been.

And now she wanted an alliance. Why now? What exactly was it she wanted? Men, soldiers her ambassador had said, but for what purpose? According to reputation she had a shrewd and subtle mind; this could be a cover for almost anything. But still, Ganheim and Armand needed this alliance too.

He bowed a little, just enough, and looked up at Nerinna. Sloe eyes studied him from under languorous lids. She was more glorious than even rumour had made her. Black hair slid artfully across an eye and she allowed her lips the hint of a smile. Allowed was right; Hunter knew what she did to gain political
advantage among her tribesmen. She used her looks as a tool, a bait to trap the unwary, and she used them whenever she could. If only half the reports were true then her shrewd choices made her a formidable woman, even if she was only twenty-two. No regent for her these last five years.

He looked up into dark, cool eyes that appraised every inch of him in a flickering glance. “My lords.” Her melodic accent sent a delicious shiver down Hunter’s spine. “You are welcome in my house.”

Hunter wished he were not so much older, wished that he were not half-crippled. Wished she were not the woman she was, with the reputation she had. That he was not the man he was, with an oath to uphold.
Regin help him, he was here to finalise the marriage of Nerinna to Aran, and he was not at all sure he wanted to, because he wanted her for himself.

---

To learn more about Julia Knight, please visit juliaknight.co.uk