NEW RELEASE
Book Title: Asher and the Prince: The Apex Blade
Author: Evan J. Corbin
Publisher: Atonement Book, LLC
Cover Artist: The Book Cover Whisperer: OpenBookDesign.biz
Release Date: October 28, 2024
Tense/POV: Past/third person
Genres: MM Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Young Adult
Tropes: Enemies to lovers
Themes: Unintended consequences for emergent technologies, coming out
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Length: 79,000 words/ 332 pages
It is the first book of a series. It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
Asher and the Prince: The Apex Blade is a thrilling blend of medieval fantasy, LGBTQ romance, and science fiction, where a forgotten past may be the key to salvation.
Blurb
Asher Snow is no ordinary peasant. Seventeen-year-old Asher’s sharp mind and selfless devotion to others have always set him apart in a kingdom where survival hinges on luck and cunning. When he crosses paths with a powerful witch, Asher seizes the chance to make a wish—only to be dismayed by the witch’s condition that it be a selfish wish. But to avert a looming war, Asher must play a dangerous game.
Feigning love for the kingdom’s handsome prince, Asher persuades the witch to grant his seemingly selfish desire for the prince’s love, believing it to be the key to preventing a war. But as he weaves his web of deceit, Asher is entangled in a perilous journey where power, betrayal, and forbidden love collide. As political tensions rise and the threat of war looms on the horizon, Asher must decide if his risks will lead to his salvation—or his undoing.
Asher and the Prince: The Apex Blade is a thrilling blend of medieval fantasy, LGBTQ romance, and science fiction, where a forgotten past may be the key to salvation. Will Asher’s daring gambit secure his future—or set in motion a fate darker than he ever imagined?
Excerpt
Asher Snow closed his eyes, cupped the dice in his hands, and rattled them together. He could visualize the cards. Seven high cards and nine low had been played. He held one of the two remaining low cards in his hand. He calculated the probability. The numbers implored him to pass on the bet, but he disregarded logic. Logic took too long for jackpots. It was a night to take risks. He held his breath and tossed the dice on the table. Double windens. His face burnt crimson as the dice came to rest on the table in their most dreaded configuration. With the deftness of an expert thief, Shafer appropriated Asher’s last chips, sliding them across the board.
“Betting all your chips at once is a bold move,” Shafer told him. “Big reward if you’re lucky. Quick game if you’re not.”
Asher knew Shafer was right, but he had been counting on luck. More than that, it was what he had paid for. He retraced his steps: He bathed the night before, eating only roots for dinner. As if there was a choice. He took care to let the charm only touch cloth, never flesh. The charmed coin was in his left pocket with the dragon tail against his thigh, just as the witch instructed. He spun three times before going inside the tavern, drawing the most quizzical stares of onlookers. The witch, with no apparent regard for how ridiculous the ritual was, assured him that this was necessary to power the charm.
Asher’s stomach knotted. His humiliation was a further indignity wrought upon him after purchasing the lucky charm with half his share of last season’s profits. The other half of his profits now sat neatly stacked under Shafer’s nose. Asher scowled as Shafer’s meaty hand cupped the chips close to his chest. He recalled the carnival witch’s face, her eyes alluring with the hue of a winter moon, smirking at him through the throng of fairgoers whose fingers were slick with fat from roast pheasant dripping through the trenchers. Feeling an uncanny recognition from the stranger, he pushed past stalls and vendors hawking their wares, surrendering himself to her trap—a trap so devious that its snare remained obscured until he considered it now. If there was any enchantment, it was only to part him with the coin he spent to procure the charm. Asher resolved to find her again that very night—to confront her and demand his coin back before his parents noticed his missing contribution to the month’s expenses.
Rosen leaned back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head. “Let the young one learn the hard way. Bold moves may impress the ladies when they work, but temperance and discipline win the game.”
Shafer grunted. “Asher wouldn’t have an interest in impressing the ladies. But at least there aren’t any young lads here tonight who may judge him foolhardy.”
Asher was still taking a measure of Rosen, the newest addition to the Wednesday night boxtin game, forming an impression with the deliberation of a painter toward his new subject. Three of the last four times Rosen held high cards, he tilted his bulbous nose up, looking down toward his hand. Just as often, Rosen would signify a deck of low cards by scratching what remained of his hair under his diplomatic cap, a patchwork of burgundy and amber mosaics that mirrored Barbshire’s royal crest. To Asher, the Crown’s uniform illustrated the necessity of the oft-repeated warning to avoid slaying the messenger.
About the Author
Evan is a member of the LGBTQ community who fancies himself as a playboy socialite, living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Between work and lucid moments of sobriety, he writes a little. His debut novel is a light-hearted work that still manages to confront religious hypocrisy and contemporary LGBTQ struggles to balance their loss of culture with new-found civil rights.
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