Maria Snyder - Maria V. Snyder Collection - Poison Study

Dear Reader,

There’s something magical about firsts. The first day of school, first dates, first dances, and first kisses. The unknown combines with excitement, anticipation, worry, and fear to make the whole experience like no other. And that’s even true for first books. Before writing, those same emotions churn, and the results can be as surprising and unexpected as that first kiss.

That’s why I’m very excited about this special collection featuring Poison Study, Storm Glass, and a sneak peek of my new novel, Touch of Power . They are the first books of my three fantasy series, and they all have a special place in my heart.

Poison Study is not only the first of the Yelena Zaltana Series, but my very first book written. Ever. I didn’t have a drawer full of manuscripts, or a stack of rejection letters when I started. I had an idea to write a story about a food taster named Yelena. I worked on the story while caring for my young children. After three years, I had the first draft of my first book. Then began a series of more firsts. First round of revisions, my first rejection letter (of many), my first acceptance, my first editor…etc. I went on to write two more books about Yelena ( Magic Study and Fire Study ), but even though they are near and dear to me, there’s nothing like the first.

Then came Storm Glass and, while the fantasy world was the same as Yelena’s world and many familiar characters returned, for the first time I had a new main character, Opal Cowan. Again my emotions churned. Would my readers like Opal? Would she be too similar to Yelena? I must admit, I had to re-write the first three chapters of Storm Glass because Yelena kept telling Opal what to do. I had to exorcize Yelena from my mind so Opal’s voice could be heard in this book and in the next two, Sea Glass and Spy Glass .

And then came Avry of Kazan Realm in Touch of Power . A new character in a whole new world of the Fifteen Realms. Another first for me. You would think after writing six books, I’d be blasé and confident that all would be well. You’d be wrong ϑ. Excitement and anticipation mixed with the unknown and I was once again sailing in unfamiliar waters.

I sincerely hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. They’re filled with adventure, mystery, mayhem, suspense, romance, and many many firsts.

Best wishes,

Maria

Maria’s upcoming series Avry of Kazan launches with

Touch of Power

Also by New York Times bestselling author Maria V. Snyder

The Study series

POISON STUDY

MAGIC STUDY

FIRE STUDY

The Glass series

STORM GLASS

SEA GLASS

SPY GLASS

The Inside Series

INSIDE OUT

OUTSIDE IN

www.mirabooks.co.uk/mariavsnyder

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Without the support from my husband, Rodney, this book wouldn’t exist. Thanks, dear, for all the printing, the copying, the critiquing, the willingness to be a single parent from time to time, for not complaining about conference fees, for being there when the rejections came in, and the million other things that I don’t have room to list! To my children, Luke and Jenna, for understanding (most of the time) that I’m not playing on the computer (really, I’m not).To my parents, James and Vincenza McGinnis, thank you for always believing in me. To my sister, Karen Phillips, for reading the book and for giving me the support that only a sister can give. To Chris Phillips for his good ideas, and for putting up with all of us. And I can’t forget the babysitters: Sam and Carole Snyder, Becky and Randy Greenly,Amy Snyder, Gregory Snyder, Melissa Read and Julie Read—without you I would still be on Chapter Two.

Many thanks go to my fellow Muse and Schmooze critique group members: Shawn Downs, Laurie Edwards, Julie Good, Lisa Hess,Anne Kline, Steve Klotz, Maggie Martz, Lori Myers, Kim Stanford, Jackie Werth, Michael Wertz, Judy Wolfman and Nancy Yeager. Without your help and support this book wouldn’t have made it this far.

A heartfelt thanks to Helen French. She made the call I had been dreaming of, and her enthusiasm for this project has been wonderful. Thanks to Mary-Theresa Hussey, who has been an excellent editor. Thanks to my agents, Sally Wecksler and Joann Amparan-Close, for helping with the contract.

Very special thanks go to Alis Rasmussen, who took the time to read and critique my manuscript. Your advice was truly invaluable.

To my husband, Rodney, for all the support he has given,

is giving and will give. I’m spoiled rotten.

In loving memory of Frances Snyder, Jeanette

and Joseph Scirrotto.

“They would talk to you and make jokes while

they were feeding you poison.”

—Kathy Brandt on chemotherapy; a good friend

who lost the battle.

1

LOCKED IN DARKNESS that surrounded me like a coffin, I had nothing to distract me from my memories. Vivid recollections waited to ambush me whenever my mind wandered.

Encompassed by the blackness, I remembered white-hot flames stabbing at my face. Though my hands had been tied to a post that dug sharply into my back, I had recoiled from the onslaught. The fire had pulled away just before blistering my skin, but my eyebrows and eyelashes had long since been singed off.

“Put the flames out!” a man’s rough voice had ordered. I blew at the blaze through cracked lips. Dried by fire and fear, the moisture in my mouth had gone and my teeth radiated heat as if they had been baked in an oven.

“Idiot,” he cursed. “Not with your mouth. Use your mind. Put the flames out with your mind.”

Closing my eyes, I attempted to focus my thoughts on making the inferno disappear. I was willing to do anything, no matter how irrational, to persuade the man to stop.

“Try harder.” Once again the heat swung near my face, the bright light blinding me in spite of my closed eyelids.

“Set her hair on fire,” a different voice instructed. He sounded younger and more eager than the other man. “That should encourage her. Here, Father, let me.”

My body jerked with intense fear as I recognized the voice. I twisted to loosen the bonds that held me as my thoughts scattered into a mindless buzzing. A droning noise had echoed from my throat and grew louder until it had pervaded the room and quenched the flames.

The loud metallic clank of the lock startled me from my nightmarish memory. A wedge of pale yellow light sliced the darkness, then traveled along the stone wall as the heavy cell door opened. Caught in the lantern’s glow, my eyes were seared by the brightness. I squeezed them shut as I cowered in the corner.

“Move it, rat, or we’ll get the whip!” Two dungeon guards attached a chain to the metal collar on my neck and hauled me to my feet. I stumbled forward, pain blazing around my throat. As I stood on trembling legs, the guards efficiently chained my hands behind me and manacled my feet.

I averted my eyes from the flickering light as they led me down the main corridor of the dungeon. Thick rancid air puffed in my face. My bare feet shuffled through puddles of unidentifiable muck.